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mindninjax · 3 years

Text

Awake

Bakugo x Reader (duh)

wc: 1.7k

A/n: Had a full on mental breakdown yesterday. Tried to sleep tonight. Couldn’t. Wrote this instead. I listened to Rain Clouds by The Arcadian Wolf while writing it and it’s the song that’s referenced in this. I could link it but I’m lazy and depressed so I’m not gonna *dabs sadly*. Anyway here’s a comfort Fic I guess.?

Bakugo: Hey

(2:38AM): uh…hey?

Bakugo: You up?

(2:39 AM): clearly… clearly I’m up Bakugo. Why are you?

Bakugo: Can't sleep.

(2:39 AM): oh. I’m sorry.

Bakugo: Come outside?

(2:40 AM): like outside outside?

Bakugo: What other outside would there fucking be?

(2:41 AM): don’t curse at me stupid. I meant the balcony? Or are we going for a walk or something?

Bakugo: Fine. Nevermind. Forget I asked.

…

Bakugo: Balcony.

(2:52 AM): gimme five to put on pants.

Bakugo: Ok

(2:52 AM): folk or classical?

Bakugo: Ugh neither.

(2:53 AM): neither wasn’t an option shit head. Pick one.

Bakugo: Whatever you played last time. It helped me feel far away.

(2:54AM): Folk it is.

You put your phone down, the light dying and drawing you back into the darkness of your room. It’s quiet, you can hear him rustling on the other side of the wall, hear the balcony door slide open in his apartment next door and then shut.

You sit in bed for a moment, your heart the only thing thrumming in your ears as you take a deep breath. The city is quiet for the first time in a long time. There are no cars on the street, no sirens, just the sleepy lazy sound of the wind blowing and alley cats slinking through the garbage filled alleyways.

Then you get up, grab a pair of sweatpants and exchange the large holey t-shirt you’re wearing for a comfy but secure cami top. You search around your room for the little Bluetooth speaker and pause when your eyes fall on your acoustic guitar. You smile to yourself, it's perfect. You’ve been thinking about the song, the chords should be easy enough to grasp, and the words have been drifting around your head for days now.

You grab your phone to send him another quick text.

(2:58AM): Change of plans. The roof.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Bakugo: Ok.

He’s up on the roof of your city apartment building before you are, gazing out at the city lights , the moon in the sky blazing white shimmering light through his ash blond locks. He doesn’t turn around or acknowledge your presence when you land delicately on your toes and deactivate your air quirk. He’s wearing a red tank top, must’ve had to change out of the usual black one he wears to bed from all the sweat. His shoulders look broad and you can see the scars rippling down the muscles of his arms.

“Took you long enough, even with your floaty little air quirk,” he taunts, back still to you.

“And yet you’re still here,” you quip back, rolling your eyes and grabbing a crate to sit on. You pull another over and plop it down across from you the same time he turns to join you on the other crate. He has dark circles under his eyes, there’s still a gleam of sweat shimmering on his jaw and neck. He watches in anticipation as you ready the guitar on your leg and hook your arm over it, expert fingers finding the correct chords to strum a lovely tune.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, gesturing to the guitar. You smile down at the guitar, concentrating on the correct note in your mind to start the song.

“It’s a nice night,” you murmur, eyes still focused on the instrument on your lap.

The muttered “It is now,” is swallowed by the sound of you strumming the strings softly diving into the tune as you rock back and forth. You close your eyes and hear Bakugo take a deep calming breath in and out before you start singing the lyrics.

I'm being frightened by the people

They look at me like I'm a scar upon their perfect skin

Perfect to only them

I'm being shadowed by my past

Reminding me of what I was and what I could become

My sins should stay where they belong

The wind is blowing gently and you can smell Bakugo’s sweet scent on the breeze. His crisp pine scented body wash mixes with his smoky sweet scent and it almost feels like the two of you are sitting around a campfire. Your voice drifts dreamily over the lyrics, enunciating the words and basking in the ease of the notes while putting your own lovely spin on it.

Listen to my voice

Close your frightened eyes

Hide behind my love for you

Fear's only a choice

One that we all must make some day

So know you're not alone in this

It’s clear and strong like a bell, punctuating every phrase with meaning that sits in Bakugo’s core and makes his heart do that weird thing where it’s fluttering but also extremely tranquil at the same time. When you end the song and finally open your eyes, he’s looking at you incredulously.

“How do you do that?”

“Hmm?” you say, placing the guitar against a huge wooden pallet gently.

“How do you fucking do that? Every time. It’s fucking creepy.”

“You mind elaborating, dummy? I’m not a mind reader.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he grunts, rolls his eyes and folds his arms, pouting.

You roll your eyes before chuckling and answer the question you already know he’s asking. “Somewhere out there. Someone has made a song for every feeling you’ve ever felt. So I won’t take credit for that.”

“But you show them to me.”

“Yes,” you say this as if it’s an obvious statement.

“And play them for me.”

“Yes.” Again, another obvious statement. Why wouldn’t you play them for him. It’s why the two of you are here. Right?

“And make them….ya know… sound good and shit,” he says, stuttering over the words as his cheeks and ears start to turn pink.

You smirk, “You can say I sound pretty. I won’t tell anyone you said it,” you tease.

“Tch. Idiot.”

There’s a beat of silence, you’re lost in your thoughts staring up at the starry sky before you look at him again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re going to even if I say no.”

“Correct. Why do you text me when it happens? Why me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looks away sheepishly and doesn’t meet your questioning gaze. "Don't know.”

You raise a suspicious eyebrow, “Yes you do”

He sighs, holds out a hand to gesture as if it’s obvious. Why would you be asking this? Especially after the many nights the two of you have done this. “Just feels right I guess. And after we talk I can go back to sleep just fine.”

“You realize what that is right?” You lean in closer to him, elbows on your thighs, chin in your hands. “That’s called trusting someone.”

“Sure I guess.”

Another beat of silence and then a long winded sigh from you, one that definitely says “I’m tired of this” and it makes a shiver of fear run up his spine.

“Look Bakugo. I’m not usually one that skates around feelings. And as much as I enjoy late night jam sessions or sneaking out and gazing at the moon with you until you feel ok enough to sleep, I…”

He holds his breath, “What?”

“Hmm…” you have a finger up to your chin in the universal thinking pose.

His heartbeat picks up and his fingers start to fiddle in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Fucking what? You just said you don’t skate around feelings so what?”

You frown at him, “Hold your flippin’ horses I’m thinkin’ first.”

“‘Flippin’ horses?’ You’re such a weirdo.”

And now you’re glaring. "Speaking of thinking before speaking. You should try it.”

“Fuck you.” There’s no hostility to it and he knows you know it.

“Very original. ANYWAY, I was going to say despite your constant attitude and constant shouting, I still really like hanging out with you. So I’d like to not only hang out at…”you pull your phone from your pocket and gaze at the tiny blue screen, “4 AM”

Another pause as he processes his elation. He’s happy you’re not telling him this is the last time. But this isn’t the hard part. “Ok.”

You squint suspiciously. “I mean it.”

“So do I.”

“Then say it aloud to me,” you challenge.

This is the hard part.

He takes a few deep breaths and then… “I don’t wanna be just friends with you. I don’t know what any of that shit even means. All the stupid lovey dovey shit Raccoon Ey-”

“Ashido.”

It’s his turn to glare. “Fine, Ashido talks about all the time. All I know is no one talks to me the way you do. And I always feel calm around you. Calmer than usual. I always wanna hang out more with the idiots when you’re around to hang out with them too.”

You smile but hide it behind your fingertips. He doesn’t look finished so you nod to encourage him to finish.

“And I don't know what it is. But whenever I wake up from the fucking …” He doesn’t say the word “nightmare”. He struggles with it like if he says it he’s surrendering to weakness or something. “Whenever I wake up the only thing I think of is you. Wishing you were there, like a fucking idiot. But it never goes away, not until I text you and I see you and I hear your voice.” His head is in his hands, like he’s ashamed to admit this to you.

It’s quiet again, some cars from below have started bustling on the street. The morning wind carries his scent and the city's waking smells of coffee and fresh baked bread. You stand quietly and walk over to him, head still hanging in his hands as he crouches over on the crate.

You hug him, force yourself between his legs and wrap your arms around his head. And at first he stiffens but he doesn’t pull away from you or move out of your grasp. He just sits there with his arms hanging limply at his sides,eyes wide, and your arms wrapped around his head. His ear is pressed against your chest, listening to the city waking around you. You're warm and you smell impossibly good and he knows this is what he craves when he wakes up from those terrifying nightmares. Your embrace is the cure.

“I like being here. I like being there for you.”

Then his arms move up to wrap around your waist and he hugs you back and sighs into your chest. He stays there for at least 10 minutes listening to the steady beating of your heart.

And then he quietly mutters, “Thanks.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #marquie writes #yea it’s unedited #I just told y’all I was depressed #sheesh #idk what I’m doing anymore #I’m numb and empty 🙃

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

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Happy birthday, Alexander

A Malec Oneshot 🔞

Having your birthday on a Sunday has its perks. You can sleep in, have a relaxed breakfast in bed, can cuddle with your partner for hours. Okay, you might have to interrupt it for all the birthday calls, but really, no one can drag you out of bed if you don't want to.

And Alec definitely doesn't.

The bed is empty beside him, but he can hear Magnus puttering about in the kitchen. He probably has bought Alec's favourite chocolate cake from the Parisian patisserie they had their first overseas date at. Or maybe he conjures up a French toast feast or Belgian waffles. Alec scents the air, but the bedroom is too far away from the kitchen to smell what Magnus might be up to.

It doesn't matter anyway. Alec is already in high spirits. This is their day, painstakingly shovelled out of their busy schedules. It's one of many things that Magnus has taught him. It's important to take time for the things you care about. And caring about their husband, both of them do.

There are footsteps and the sound of quietly clacking dishes coming through the open bedroom door, and it doesn't take long for Magnus to appear in it, a delicately filled breakfast tray in hand, red rose and all. He wears the maroon dressing gown that Alec loves so much on him and the warmest smile that still elicits tiny butterflies in Alec's stomach. This man is his, and Alec is the luckiest guy in the world.

"Good morning, Alexander."

Alec smiles back at him. "Good morning, love."

Magnus puts the tray on the bedside table and leans in for a languid kiss that makes Alec's blood rush south. By the Angels! Magnus is such a good kisser.

Alec pulls Magnus on top of him, and then they make out for long minutes, only shortly interrupted by a snap of Magnus' fingers to keep their coffees and oven-fresh pains au chocolat warm.

Alec's hands run over the smooth fabric of Magnus' clothes. He loves the feel of Magnus' muscles under his hands, the knowledge of how wonderful the skin itself would feel if he'd pull the gown away from his husband's perfect body.

Alec knows every millimetre of skin, every edge and curve of Magnus' body. He mapped it out a thousand times with his hands and lips. He loves his scent, especially in the morning when the remnants of his shampoo and shower gel have dissipated and Magnus only smells of himself.

Alec rolls Magnus on his back and kisses him fiercely. Magnus lets him, moans quietly into his mouth. It's a heated slide of lips and tongues, teeth joining now and then. It's perfect, familiar and still full of surprises. Kissing Magnus never gets dull. And judging by the way the warlock returns it with enthusiasm, Magnus would agree with his husband on this.

Alec pulls back after a while, catching his breath. He sends a questioning look down to chocolate coloured eyes. They perfected these silent conversations over the last two years, the wordless 'Can I?' hanging in the air between them.

Magnus smiles at him softly as he usually does, his lips red and slightly swollen. Alec gets rid of his boxers, opens the belt of Magnus' bathrobe and pulls his satin shorts down, just enough to settle his throbbing erection in the crease right above Magnus' hip bone. To his surprise, Magnus lets out a discontent sound. Alec furrows his brow in confusion.

"It's your birthday, Alexander."

Alec huffs a laugh. "Yes, and?"

"You can have me."

It takes Alec embarrassingly long until he understands. His cock gets the message immediately after, though, and a shiver works itself through Alec's body.

"You don't have to," he replies nonetheless when the spike of arousal subsides. It's nice that Magnus is willing to sleep with him from time to time, even though he doesn't derive any pleasure from it. At least not in the traditional sense of sexual satisfaction. But Alec would never expect this from him, much less over the fact that it's his birthday. He wants Magnus to be in the mood for this kind of intimacy.

Magnus cards his fingers through Alec's hair, just the way the shadowhunter loves it. "I want to," he simply states.

And it is that simple. Honesty, that's what they promised each other. No pretending to be fine, no important words postponed to later, no doing things out of a misguided sense of duty.

Alec dives in for another kiss. He'll never get enough of these lips, of this man, of holding his heart and Magnus his in return.

He brushes the fabric to the side and kisses a long trail from the spot behind Magnus' ear to the place where he should have a belly button. Alec grins and enjoys the goosebumps that he can conjure on Magnus' skin when he does things like this. His husband is so responsive, and Alec loves it. Loves him so much.

When Alec pulls down Magnus' shorts, his dick is lying there, not even semi-erect. Alec ignores it. He learnt that Magnus' arousal is unpredictable and says nothing about how much he loves him, of how beautiful Alec is in his eyes, of how much he likes to feel and taste him.

Alec's eyes roam over Magnus' caramel skin up to his beautiful cat eyes. They smile at each other for a long moment as if frozen in time. Alec could bathe in the glow of their love for all eternity.

Magnus breaks the moment with a snap of his fingers, and Alec chuckles in surprise when he feels his fingers slick with warm lube.

"Impatient, are we?" Alec smirks.

"For you? Always, darling." Magnus grins up at him and spreads his legs invitingly. Alec's eyes fix on the inviting hole. He gives his own cock a few strokes before he touches the rim, a heady feeling overwhelming him.

It's not that they never have sex. No, far from it. Alec enjoys Magnus' body, his hands and mouth ever so often. But this here? This is special. This is something they haven't done since their wedding anniversary.

Alec loves being inside Magnus. It's not that he loves it more than all the other sexual things they share, but it's different. Very good different. Nothing compares to the tightness of Magnus' ass, the way he clenches around him, the feeling of being so utterly connected that they become one.

It's stupid, Alec thinks, as if we weren't one at all times and especially in bed. But tell that to his cock that springs excitedly at the mere thought of burying himself in Magnus' narrow heat.

Alec pushes a finger slowly inside. It always fills him with wonder how easily Magnus lets him in. It's trust in its purest form, and it doesn't cease to amaze him, doesn't cease to flood his body with all-encompassing want. Magnus does this for him out of love because he wants to give him what Alec could live without but is happy that he doesn't have to. They always do this on Magnus' terms, and knowing that his husband wants it, too, makes the sex for Alec only better.

"I love you so damn much," Alec breathes, looking up in his husband's eyes, and Magnus clenches around him as he laughs.

"I love you too, Alexander." It's spoken with such joy and sincerity, it takes Alec's breath away. How is this not a fairy tale?

"I can take more," Magnus states, and Alec chuckles. He complies, feels Magnus stretching around his fingers.

Briefly, Alec wonders if he is the only gay man with a cis partner who has no clue where his lover's prostate is. He only knows that he will stimulate it by mistake when he adds a third finger. But Magnus takes it. Alec hates it when he makes him bolt up the bed, the touch too intense and arrow sharp, nothing like the pleasure Alec experiences when Magnus does the same to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"It's quite alright, Alexander," Magnus breathes. "I think I'm ready."

Alec furrows his brow in concern, but Magnus is already moving. He cleans Alec's hand with a snap of his fingers and pushes him on his back. Alec can't help but think that he's one lucky bastard as he watches his husband getting ready to ride him. He loves the sight of Magnus hovering over him, lining himself up with his dick. He looks so good like this, all sexy muscles framed by maroon silk, a masterpiece of art.

But it's nothing compared to the feeling of Magnus sinking down on him. Alec closes his eyes for a moment, tries to keep in the lewd moan threatening to fall from his lips.

Magnus clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Let me hear you, Alexander. Your passion is my greatest reward."

And so, Alec lets it out, moans Magnus' name and praises him as he starts moving. The drag of Magnus' walls over his cock, the quiet moans falling from his husband's lips—Alec can't help but think that Magnus enjoys himself.

It's not exactly true, he knows that. But Alec learnt to relish it nonetheless. Magnus wants to make him feel good, and who is he to deny his beloved anything? Magnus is in charge, can control the intensity of what he feels. And Alec is in for the ride, can enjoy the pressure of Magnus' hand on his chest and the slide of his ass over his cock.

Magnus moves his hips exactly how Alec likes it, pulls himself up just to slam down again, a constant assault on Alec's nerve endings. It feels like ages and seconds, an eternal tide. Alec gets lost in it, lost in Magnus' loving ministrations.

Alec hums when the telltale sign of concentred heat pooling in his stomach announces his near climax. He doesn't warn Magnus, well-knowing he might stop and prolong their love-making. But this is enough, will always be more than enough for Alec. The fact that Magnus allows him to have him like this—glistening with a sheen of sweat, eyes closed in concentration, his body moving in ways Alec's blood-drained brain can't properly process but that he enjoys to the fullest—is the greatest gift of all, birthday or not.

But something must have given him away. Magnus surely knows how to read his body, or maybe his mind even. He opens his unglamoured eyes, looks at him with so much adoration and love, it pushes Alec only closer to the edge.

"Come for me, darling," Magnus huffs out, strain clear in his voice, as he keeps on slamming their bodies together with clear intent. And Alec does. His body spasms, his sight is replaced with darkness and fireworks. He moans Magnus' name as he fills him as if there were a way to get even closer than this.

When he opens his eyes afterwards, his brain still far from being back online again, they are already magically cleaned, and Magnus lies in Alec's boneless arms.

"Happy birthday, Alexander," he chuckles against his shoulder.

Happy birthday, indeed.

#alec lightwood #magnus bane #fluff and smut #birthday sex #asexual magnus bane #malec fandom #malec fic #malec fanfic #malec fanfiction

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bakugohoex · 4 years

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Heyheyheyy, just binged your blog and can I just say I'm in LOOOVE with your writing style?? Like it's so unique and nicely detailed muahhh thank you for all of your hard work. Anyways, I was thinking of a todoroki fic where he has a crush and really likes them/her(??) And he wants to get closer to them but he doesn't know how because he's socially awkward blepp, so it's jus him trying again and again to get his crush's attention BUT PLEASE MAKE IT SO HE DOES GET THEIR ATTENTION IN THE END AHA

”i thought you hated me”

pairing: shoto todoroki x female reader

cw: fluff, slight angst, kissing, language

word count: 3100+

a/n: hi thank you so much for the support anon, it means a lot, hope you enjoyed this

summary: in which todoroki has a crush on you, and whilst trying to get closer to you his social awkwardness kicks in, making it harder and harder to not mess up whilst talking to you, but in the end he finally confesses after a whirlwind of a week

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Monday.

The wind rushed past your skirt, you could almost feel it lift up, quickly bringing your hands to stop it from flashing anybody. Todoroki noticed after walking with Midoriya to class, you were with Ururaka talking about what you wanted to do next Sunday. His eyes gazed at your palms pushing against the fabric, he felt a cool wind come and knew the back of your skirt would lift up. He walked a bit quicker, Midoriya barely noticing as he spoke, before he was just beside you.

“Hey Y/n.” Midoriya noticed you and Ururaka, he went past Todoroki and went to talk to the girl. You mumbled a hey back before gazing at Todoroki, his eyes concentrated and piercing at how your hands tried to straighten out the skirt.

“Hi Todoroki.” You smile about to wave at him, even though the two of you were close enough that a wave was unnecessary.

He took his blazer off, tilting your own head in confusion at the action, “here.” He passed it to you but even then, you were till puzzled by the action, “wrap it a…around you, the wind might lift your s…skirt up.”

He scratched the back of his head, you smiled at his instruction, wrapping the blazer that smelt of him. It was always a sort of fresh crisp air in the early mornings of December and a fire blazing in a forest type of scent. It engulphed your nose, thanking the boy before trying to make conversation, “last night was tiring deciding roles for the festival.”

“Yeah, it should be a good stress reliever, you’re dancing aren’t you.” Your heart warmed at him remembering what you were going to do.

You were about to say the thing but Kirishima and Denki had come up to you both and started conversing with you two, the blazer still wrapped around your waist. You missed talking to just him and he seemed to want to talk to you, well that’s what you thought. He wouldn’t have come up to you or offered the blazer if he didn’t want to spend time with you.

Arriving at the classroom, you undid the blazer, watching Todoroki go straight to his seat. You held it tightly in your hands, “thank you again for letting me use it.”

“Of course, you can keep it.” You gave a confused look.

You spoke deadpanned, “It’s your school blazer.”

“I…I…” Before he can say anything, you had heard Aizawa come in and rushed to your own seat.

Todoroki began to think what the actual fuck is wrong with him, you can keep it, it was a fucking school blazer not a pen, he put his head in his hands looking down. This wouldn’t be the first time this week he’d say something that came off a bit weirder than usual but even then, his stuttering and social awkwardness was kind of cute.

Tuesday.

You were at lunch the next time you saw Todoroki; he had spent the whole night thinking about what he said, how he really had just wanted to tell you how much he liked it. He noticed you sitting beside Ururaka, taking the seat opposite next to Midoriya, you and Ururaka were talking about your plans on the Sunday, he had overheard yesterday. It seemed like the two of you were going shopping, he watched you bite down on the apple, your soft fingers wrapped around the red core. Your soft plump lips being licked to savour the sweetness, “oh hey Todoroki.” You waved having noticed him.

His breathe hitched at how you smiled at the boy, even putting the apple to wave at him, he waved back before looking down. He continued listening into how you spoke between the group, even conversing to Iida, before landing back on him. “Are you okay?” You spoke with concern, gently kicking his leg to make him pay attention.

“Yeah, I’m f…fine.” He was normally composed but at the sight of you, your soft locks of hair had made him melt.

You nodded, before standing up, the rest of the group in their own worlds, “come on.” You put your hand out, his eyes widened, “I don’t bite.”

He nodded taking your hand, he had imagined how soft your hands would be, but now holding it, the ways your fingers trapped his own. You both left the hall, and you took him outside, “Y/n.”

You turned to face him, you had been dragging him along without realising, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, you can do whatever.” His eyes widened at what he had just said, why was he saying such stupid things, what did that even mean.

You gave a soft chuckle, before feeling the cool air hit your face, the exposure of sun running across your face. “I thought you needed some air.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, you looked down.” You turned to face the boy, his eyeline not meeting your gaze, his hair seemed a bit messier and you remembered him being a tad bit late in the morning. You had hoped to walk with him, but it was fine, you had now at least.

“Oh, I wasn’t, just tired.” You nodded, trying to catch his eyes, he spoke again, “actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you?”

“Go on.” He watched the tenderness in your smile how your teeth peaked through, he loved how comfortable you were. How you didn’t worry and took everything on with a grin.

He started to speak, “I wanted to k…know if you wanted to g…go o…” He didn’t know how to finish it, he watched your eyes on his own and in a moment said something he was going to regret, “get the supplies with me and Kirishima.”

Your mouth fell, you had expected something else, something more between the two of you. You put on a smile, seeing him play with his fingers, a collection of rings embodied between his veined hands. You loved the rings, even having gone with him to get some before summer had come, but that didn’t count as the both of you being alone. It meant nothing, it was a short two-minute trip and you both just talked about your lives, it wasn’t what you wanted. What you needed.

“Sure, we’ll go Thursday.” The façade of your grin was gone at the sight of seeing it was time to go back to class, “I’ll catch you later.”

You walked away, your shoulders had been tense and you finally let them fall. Maybe you should ask him out instead, then he might say yes, maybe he was trying too, or maybe he really just wanted to ask you to come with him and Kirishima to get supplies.

Wednesday.

The day had been a bore and you had grown excited for tomorrow, even if Kirishima would be there. It was still spending time with the boy; it was still being around Todoroki and that’s all that you had really wanted.

You spotted him walking to the dorms alone and ran up to him. “Hey Todoroki.” You smiled at him; it was the same one that melted him in one the spot. But he kept his composure smiling back as you spoke, “I saw that cool move you did on Deku.” You praised the boy.

You had been watching him, his brain was going into overload, you had watched him and noticed him. He felt his heart raise, “Thanks.” He scratched the back of his head, “I saw your win against Denki.”

Smiling at the boy you began to tease him, “aww where you watching me?” This was your chance to ask him out, start with some flirting and then ease into the asking out.

If only it was as easy as you had thought, “no, no, of course not, I wasn’t staring at you or anything, I, I just saw Denki pissed and that’s all, I don’t watch you or anything.” He was rambling and you looked at him with your mouth open.

The opportunity to flirt back had been ruined and you decided to be more upfront, his face had gone beat red. Why had he rambled so much, why did he keep talking about watching you. He didn’t want to be seen as a creep to you, yeah maybe he was watching you but how could he say that to you.

“Oh, well I wouldn’t have minded if you did.” He looked confused but continued listening to you, “we should hang out sometime.”

You had said it with ease, but Todoroki hadn’t caught on, if he had been thinking properly maybe he would have. No, defiantly if he had been thinking with his normal smart brain he would’ve understood, he would’ve made it into some sort of joke and said that it was his job to ask you out. But he became a mess under you, and he spoke something regretted once again.

“We are hanging out, tomorrow, remember?” You watched his nose scrunch in confusion and your own eyes wide.

“Yeah, I know b…” You were about to continue but you both had arrived back to the dorms and Midoriya and Iida had come up to you both, “yeah I’ll see you guys later.”

You left the situation and most of all you were confused if he was saying it to be nice or if he was genuinely unaware of what you had asked. You shrugged it off, maybe tomorrow, he’d ask you out, maybe.

Thursday.

Kirishima had swinged by your room, seeing you putting on some shoes. “You didn’t have to come with us Y/n.”

“No it’s fine, Todoroki asked.” You had gotten over the events of yesterday, Todoroki hadn’t however, he had been pacing in the kitchen. So in thought about the events, why was he acting like this, acting awkward. He needed to get rid of it and fast, he saw Bakugo walk past and shouted his name.

“What do you want Icy-Hot?” Bakugo raised an eyebrow a sneer on his lips.

Todoroki looked at the boy before taking a sharp breathe, “punch me.”

“What?” The confused Bakugo walked up to him, “where?”

“My arm.” Todoroki closed his eyes, waiting for the punch, Bakugo didn’t even question it, complying due to being able to hurt someone.

He swinged his fist right to Todoroki’s upper arm, “Oww.” Todoroki squealed opening his eyes, he felt better, maybe Bakugo’s punches had some power of their own. But he was glad, he stopped being nervous and awkward.

“Let me know if you want me to do it again.” The blond walked away, and the pain began to set in, it stinged and he felt like Bakugo used his quirk to cause more damage. He rolled his shoulder to lessen the pain seeing you and Kirishima walking down from the elevator.

He noticed how close you two were, how easily you both spoke with one another. Did you like him, he tried to disregard the thoughts, but the way you’d knock against Kirishima’s shoulder made him concerned.

“You two ready?” You both nodded, walking out from the dorms. It was easy to get permission to leave for the festival and as the three of you walked towards the craft shop that was ten minutes away.

Kirishima began the conversation, “she’s a real life-saver agreeing, isn’t she Todoroki.” He knew of the half haired boys feelings for you and was trying to help, stressing the trying.

“Yeah.” It was blunt and Todoroki was in his own thoughts, his own world, did you like Kirishima, what could he do to make you like him? The oblivious boy stayed quiet, Kirishima shaking his head knowing this was going to be a lot harder than he expected.

“Why don’t you two get this stuff?” He passed the list, easily ripping it in half, “and I’ll get this.”

“Are you sure, that looks like a lot?” You questioned, Todoroki watched you, would you rather have gone with Kirishima. It put his mood even lower, but he saw Kirishima walk off into the store and you still with him. “It’s long, we better get started.”

He nodded, grabbing a basket, “about yesterday.” He didn’t know where he was going with this, but then again Bakugo’s punch had given him some confidence, if he could get through the punch of an angry body then he could ask you.

“Oh yeah.” You hummed grabbing the stuff and chucking it into the basket.

He watched you kneel digging out the best option from the back, his eyes warmed, even in a position where you struggled to reach you still looked as pretty as ever. He bent down, putting his hand where yours were, your fingers grazed his, as he grabbed the material that was needed.

You both stayed kneeling, you stared into his eyes, they were perfect, beautiful even and even the scar, it was an apart of him. Something that you had fallen for, his personality, kindness and everything about him, every detail down to smallest of scars to the biggest. You didn’t care, you saw him for him and the close gap between the two of you made your eyes soften. You saw a small crinkles under his eyes, it was adorable, moreover your hand had reached to cup his face.

Just as you were about to touch his cheeks, he spoke, “I wanted to apologise, I didn’t want to go out with you here.” Your heart shattered at those words, you had tuned him out in your head after the ‘with you’, you moved your hand away. Standing up and the realisation of how Todoroki had phrased the sentence had dawned on him. “Wait Y/n…”

Before he knew it, you were gone, he genuinely hadn’t meant to say it like that, he wanted to tell you he wished he had taken you out properly and now a whispered “fuck” under his breath was all he could say. He had messed it all up, you had run off probably crying and it was all his fault. He wanted to run after you, but knew you needed time and that when he saw you next, he’d explain it all. Prove that he didn’t mean what he said.

Friday.

He hated you, you just knew it, you had ran straight back to the doors, running into your room and sobbed the entire night. He didn’t have to be so cruel about it, the words replayed in your head. You couldn’t think of any explanation, he didn’t want to go out with you ever.

You walked dully into class, your hair tattered and uncombed, your eyes dull and tired. The normal happy you who greeted your classmates, instead stumbled inside and collapsed into your chair. Todoroki had watched the entire movement, even the class had noticed your lack of awareness throughout the day. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to go up to you after class. But you left quickly not meeting people’s gaze, he wanted to talk at lunch, but you were nowhere to be.

Hell, he even asked to swap partners but was dismissed, he watched you fight against Denki using your quirk to your might and then glumly hurrying out back to the dorms. He had tried, he had wanted to talk to you but how could he confess, when he had made you feel like this.

His next bet was your room, it was private, and he could confess without the worry of anybody. “Bakugo.” Todoroki spoke seeing Bakugo walk in with Kirishima.

“Punch time.” Todoroki nodded and Bakugo charged at the man, punching the other arm. Kirishima looked at the scene and didn’t dare asking about what the two idiots were doing.

“It’s only one punch, idiot.” Todoroki muttered using his quirk to make Bakugo stop punching the ice shield around his arm.

Bakugo shrugged walking back to Kirishima, Todoroki really needed a new method than to get the angriest boy alive to punch him when he needed some confidence. He began walking to your room, you had been closed off since everybody arrived and now was your time.

He saw Ururaka come out from your room a confused look on her face, “hey Todoroki, Y/n said she doesn’t want to see anybody.” You hadn’t told her of the events, or she would’ve probably been angry at the boy. He nodded but continued on with his path, Ururaka not bothering to stop him knowing how much you liked the half haired boy.

He stood in front of the door, hearing the music come out from your room. He stayed listening before knocking, “Ururaka I told you…” You stopped mid speech seeing the boy.

“Can I come in?” You nodded, letting the boy into your room.

You sat on the bed grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around your body, he stood there watching how adorable and comforted you looked. “I wanted to apologise, i…I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Okay and what did you mean then?” You muttered looking down.

“I didn’t want to take you out to a craft store with Kirishima…” He looked down, “I wanted to take you o…out for real, on a d…date.”

Your eyes widened, looking at the boy, he felt a relief wash over him. He had confessed and you looked at him lost, “you wanted to take me out.”

He nods before coming closer to you, sitting beside you, his gives a soft smile. A tear falls down your cheek, it wasn’t the same as the ones you had had the prior night. It was relief that he didn’t hate you, that he wanted you, liked you and that it was just a misunderstanding. “I thought you hated me” It was spoken with a tone of sadness, he felt guilty looking down and speaking.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to…”

You interrupted grabbing his hand that had been on your bed, “I’d love too.” It was a soft whisper and he noticed how your body had come closer to his own.

How your breath fanned his face, how the blanket had dropped from your shoulders. The way the loose shirt fell down your frame, your exposed shoulder and the way you licked your lips at how close you were. You both tilting your head, feeling the need for each other’s lips, the soft movements to one another, bringing each other’s mouths closer and closer before finally feeling united. The soft lips that he had dreamed to be his were finally on his own.

Your hands seemed rougher than normal but even then, ingrained onto his cheek he felt your thumb caress his face. His own hands on your waist, the sensation of the soft kisses before hearing you give a nimble moan at how he felt on you. His tongue guiding your own inside your mouths, it was seductive and filled with lust from the waiting and confusion that had occurred the past five days.

He had confessed, he had asked you out and now here he was, making you his.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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jademakean · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

𝑷𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔.

｡･:*:･ﾟ

Drizzles of water began coating your body as you rushed to your best friend's porch, hurriedly knocking on the wooden door.

The extra holiday break from school allowed you to spend more time with Pauline, meaning: chaotic sleepovers

“Hello?”

You looked up meeting a pair of green eyes you hadn't seen in a long while. “Timothée?”

Once the slender figure came to the realization of who was waiting at his front step, his mouth went agape mirroring yours.

You both had been close since you were little. You became friends with Pauline in middle school and met Timothée through her. From then on you were a trio and would do everything together, but that all changed.

Him, being three years older than you meant that he'd go to college first and in the end, there would simply not be any time for you both to be together. You did try to hang out once every two weeks but his college was way too far and he needed to spend his time focussing on his studies. It ended in a bad note, with many hurtful words shared.

Before you knew it, Timothée had you in bone-crushing embrace “I haven't seen you in months, more than a year maybe! God, I missed you.”

“Why didn't you tell me you came back?” you couldn't hide the slight disappointment of him not thinking about letting you know. “I wanted to but I switched phone numbers and my sister wanted me to surprise you instead. I just didn't know I was going to see you this soon.”

Though you both shared your relief in seeing each, there was some strange tension in the air.

“I gotta visit my aunt right now but we should celebrate tomorrow or something.” He suggested, breaking the silence.

“Yeah totally. I'm sleeping over anyways so we'll probably see each other after dinner. Just be careful, the weather seems to be getting worse.”

“Oh yeah of course. If you need some clothes you can get some from my room, they're in a box on my bed. I know that Pauline's clothes are too small for any human being to wear.”

You giggled at his over-exaggeration nodding “Thanks. Stay safe.”

Once the door shut you felt your mood change. It's not like you weren't happy to see him, you were, but not being able to have the same connection you once had made your heartache.

“DJ Paulina in the house mother fuckers!”

You jumped at your best friend's sudden outburst but laughed nevertheless.

“Holy shit, you're wetter than the pacific ocean!”

You roller your eyes “Really? Damn, I wonder why. It's alright though, Timothée allowed me to borrow one of his shirts.”

“Wait you already saw Timothée?”

“Yeah, he just left.”

Paulina grimaced slightly knowing how hard it might've been for two introverts to reunite after a long period of time, let alone after they had a fight last time they were together. She quickly changed the subject not wanting to upset you.

That didn't mean she wouldn't plan on rebuilding your bond.

The snaps of thunder kept you awake and the heavy drops of rain overtook your mind.

As the time pasted you began wondering what would happen if there was a monster under your bed, if a ghost yanked you by your leg, or if the shadow of the hanging coat was actually a person.

Full-on scaring yourself.

And Pauline's sleep talking was not helping the situation.

Both of you spent the day baking, eating and watching movies. Though it's not how most teenagers take up the opportunity of an empty house, it was more than enough for you two.

What was irritating you at this precise moment was the fact that you were exhausted during the day and still are, except you, can't bring yourself to actually fall asleep.

Creaking sounds were heard throughout the room as your feet made contact with the wooden floor.

You grumbled making your way to the kitchen for a cup of fresh cold water.

The bright electronic clock on the stove displayed the time. 2:23 A.M.

You were so dazed and distracted by the clock that before you could fill your glass with water, the cup fell on the counter.

You felt your heart stop the second the loud sound emitted throughout the quiet space, fearing you'd break your best friend's parent's glass. But once you realized that everything was still stable, you proceeded to finish your plan.

“What are you doing still awake?”

Your body jumped at those words. You turned to see Timothée with hooded eyes and slumped figure, clearly more than half asleep.

“Sorry, I'm a light sleeper and the thunder was keeping me awake.”

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

He smiled softly with a droopy gaze

Not gonna lie, initially some inappropriate thoughts crossed your mind, but vanished once you remembered how every time you had trouble falling asleep, you'd get in his bed and he'd make conversation until you fell asleep.

“Sure.”

Timothée was probably too out of it to understand why it had taken you so look to answer, which you were grateful for.

He lazily intertwined your fingers and led you to his room.

It looked the same as before, maybe some items we're missing so he'd be able to decorate his new apartment, but other than that, still the same.

You hesitantly laid down turning your body away from the curly-headed boy. You felt yourself heating up as last time you shared a bed you were a quite innocent 15-year-old, and to be fair you've always seen him as a bother figure.

But two years have passed and he was now 20, it felt like being with a stranger even though he wasn't.

“You alright?”

He mumbled quietly

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” You chewed your lip anxiously. You've never been good at confronting people.

“Is there a reason why you got mad at me when you left. All I remember was you telling me how we couldn't be friends because of all the work you had and how you couldn't handle too many things at the same time. But in the end, you suddenly got mad at me and it ended in a huge fight.”

You could tell that Timothée was now fully awake, definitely not expecting you to mention the topic at this time of night.

“Well, in all honestly I knew you wouldn't want to give up on our friendship. I've always seen you as a loyal strong friend and I didn't want to disappoint you by continuously bailing out on our plans.”

Thought his solution was a stupid one, you understood what he meant. You would most definitely get let down many times and eventually get mad at him, even if it wasn't fully his fault.

“I understand. Just-- Just don't do that again. I'd rather have a relationship with you even if we rarely saw each other, instead of not seeing you at all. I miss being with you.”

Timothée's heavy arm hugged you closer to him. So close you could feel his gentle heartbeat against your back.

“I'm not as much of a mess I was back in the first year of college. I have more spare time, even if college is too far we can face time and meet once a month.”

It was nice to witness his change in attitude regarding the situation, he's now more open-minded and optimistic.

“Is that why you seemed so tense when you saw me today?”

You suddenly felt yourself redden from slight embarrassment “I mean yeah. I kinda overreact a lot, but you know that. I didn't even recognize you, you've changed and I didn't know how to feel.”

You felt chest shake from a deep chuckle as you played with his fingers “Is that a good thing?”

He was making you flustered and he knew it.

“I mean, yeah. You look mature for a 20-year-old. When you were 18 you still had your baby face- it's not a bad thing at all, but now you, um, okay I'm just going to stop talking.”

Once again, Timothée's body shook slightly from his laughter which eventually died down.

There was silence once again, the downpour was hitting the window aggressively but managed to make you feel calm. The heat that radiated from the man's body was wrapping you in a warm blanket, his cold breath tickling your neck.

“How do you see me?

The silence was halted by your simple question “What do you mean?” his raspy voice asked, not understanding the question very well.

“Before you said that you saw me as a loyal friend. How do you see me now?”

Timothée turned your body to face him “Well, you've changed as well. You don't look like a little kid anymore.”

You hummed in response staring into his eyes. The moonlight was shining through the window behind Timothée, illuminating his hair, making it look as though he was wearing a halo around his head.

“Has anything interesting happened while I was gone? House renovations, dead grandma, boyfriends..?”

You had to cover your mouth from bursting out laughing “How the hell do you go from dead grandma to boyfriends?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders waiting for an answer “I had a boyfriend for a little while but it didn't work out.”

Timothée nodded for you to keep going

“He treated me differently when we were around his friends, kinda like he didn't want me. We would get into a lot of arguments and I just wasn't happy. So I ended it.”

He took your hand caressing it carefully with his thumb. You knew he was trying to make you feel better though you weren't actually sad about the breakup. You decided not to say anything against it since his action-filled your heart with butterflies.

“He's an asshole for doing that.”

“Yeah well, most of them are.”

There was a small pause in the air before Timothée spoke up again

“I wouldn't do that to you.”

You were taken aback from his sudden confession. You expected him to joke around about some dumb stereotypes.

“If you were my boyfriend, or just in general?” you asked genuinely curious to which he answered:

“Both.”

You being the anxious human being you are, decided to play it off as a joke. Like always.

“Yeah right, you would never date me, you might as well be one of those extra frat boys that-”

“Why would you assume I wouldn't date you.”

You were becoming more and more agitated, not fully grasping the meaning of his words, and why he was now saying it.

“I've always adored you. The reason why I never said anything is because I'm three years older than you and didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why are you saying this now?” You shuttered out as he moved closer to your body.

“I didn't realize how much I loved you until we separated. Now I'm realizing how much time I wasted.”

Timothée began breathing heavily, his eyes focusing on the different features your face held.

“Would you date me now?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. “Even if we wouldn't see each other often?”

He nodded once again, this time speaking “I haven't seen you in two years and I still have feelings for you, they won't go away even if I tried.”

Timothée let his fingers gently brush against your lips studying them thoroughly making your mind hazy.

You were so focussed on each other that the background noise was now muffled.

Your mouths were agape wanting one thing and one thing only.

“Can I kiss you?”

He whispered breathlessly. If he wasn't studying you so closely he would have missed your little nod.

But he didn't miss it.

The second the small gesture was caught, was the second his lips made contact with yours.

The kiss was heated and desperate, your eyebrows furrowed hopelessly from the connection. Tongues soon intertwining as Timothée held himself on top of you for better control of the situation. Not giving you room to escape.

You sighed through your nose not being able to break from the kiss, not wanting to break from the kiss.

His front pressed flush against yours, allowing his hands to travel all over your body with no hesitation.

You mumbled Timothée's name against his lips before you broke apart. “Did I go too far?”

You smiled at his worried state “No, I loved every second of it.”

He copied your smile resting his forehead on yours “Sorry, I could help myself.”

He laid on his back before you cuddled to his side, leg wrapped with his and head resting on his shoulder.

Timothée observed your crimson cheeks and swollen lips. He wanted to tease you about it but he knew damn well that he looked the exact same.

Sleep eventually took over you. The soothing sound of the storm was the last thing you heard, and the motion of Timothée's chest calmly rising and falling was the last thing you felt.

#timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee angst #timothee fluff #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet

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somedayonbroadway · 3 years

Note

I found a quote from Ally Condie that could be used as a prompt: Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.

I have no idea if this is good or not, but let’s post it anyway, shall we? ;)

Can be seen as romantic or platonic, and I missed posting for you guys. Ya’ll are the best.

TW: mentions of bullying and slight mention of child abuse, teen pregnancy, sick background character

“Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.” ~ Ally Condie

They were just kids once, kids that believed in monsters and fairy tales and true love, kids who came from two different places and still ended up at each other's side all because one moment, one single instant that changed everything.

David had gotten hit in the back of the head with a dodgeball.

It wasn’t that David had been trying to play sports. In fact it was quite the opposite. David much preferred sitting in the classroom and reading a book. His twin sister said he was just boring. They were six.

On this day in particular, Mrs. Mills had closed the classroom for recess. Something about needing private time and David needing fresh air. David had been out there for almost a full seven minutes and he did not understand what all the hype was about. He could hardly focus on the words he was trying to read on the page. It was much too noisy and the kids out there pulled on his hair and spat little papers at him.

Still, David sat by the wall, curled up with his book, his knees to his chest as he dared devour every word.

No one really understood him. Hence, the dodgeball that hit his head.

David looked up quickly at that, his wide eyes searching for the monsters who had disturbed his concentration. There was a group of kids, two boys and three girls, snickering at him. He neatly put his perfectly crisp bookmark between his pages and carefully set the thing down on the ground. Then he waited for more.

“Get him!” one kid yelled, Morris Delancey, one of the snickering boys. David didn’t make any move to run. Logically, he knew he wouldn’t get very far. He would take the headache over some scrapes on his knees and elbows. So he waited for the attack patiently, making sure his book was safely out of the way.

The dodgeballs came flying.

All David could really do was try and stop the things from hitting his face. Other than that, he was an open target. That is, until another voice from the crowd called out, “Hey, everyone, free ice cream in the cafeteria!”

Eyes snapping up at that, David watched the dodgeballs drop from the other kids’ hands as they all ran off, squealing annoyingly as someone grabbed his wrist. David barely managed to grab his book before he was almost dragged across the playground into the grass. “Here! They won’t find you over here,” another boy said.

His book hanging at his side, David tilted his head. “There’s no ice cream in the cafeteria,” he stated obviously, as though the other boy with the messy brown hair and forest green eyes should know that.

But the boy only shrugged. “They don’ know that,” he stated, sitting down under the tree and then twisting over to lay on his stomach. There was a piece of paper laying in the grass. It was a dry day, so the paper wasn’t wet. David still wondered how this boy was okay with one side of the page being dirty as he moved his pencil over the page. “I’m Jack. Jack Kelly,” the odd boy introduced, not even looking up at him. “You can call me Jack. Or Kelly. It don’ matter.”

Squinting a bit at that, David hesitantly sat on the grass, cringing at the dirt that would now be on the back of his pants. “I’m David,” he said back. “I haven’t seen you before,” he mentioned, picking at the cover of his book.

Jack just shrugged again. “That’s cause I’s new,” he stated. “Prob’ly won’ be here long. I don’ think my foster ma likes me so much.” Jack said those words like they held no weight at all and David did his best to understand. Jack ma didn’t like him. He didn’t get it. A mother always loves her kids. That’s how mothers worked.

With a small shrug, David just nodded like he knew exactly what Jack was talking about. “Thanks for helping me,” he said, sitting down under the tree they were close to. He picked up his book and opened it back up.

Smiling a little as he doodled, Jack responded, “sure, Davey.”

“My name’s David,” the boy tried to correct.

Jack nodded. “Okay, Davey.”

And that was the beginning of something good. Something that was meant to be. That encounter was fate. Maybe some of their teachers warned against this relationship. Maybe Jack and David were too different to be friends, to even be allies. David always had his nose in a book and Jack was always getting into trouble from that day forward. It was odd. They were odd.

But they were inseparable ever since.

—

Years went by and the two stayed the same, only, Jack never got to stay in one house for longer than six months. By some miracle, the two still lived close enough for a nine year old Jack to knock on his only friend’s window at midnight.

The two knew each other too well. Jack had known that Davey would have his nose once again stuck in a long, long book that he would go on and on about for the next week and a half. He knew his friend wouldn’t be asleep. He knew Davey would let him in.

“Jack, what happened to your eye?!” Davey gasped as he turned a light on and helped Jack climb in.

“Shhhhh!” Jack hissed, terrified of waking someone else up. “Nothin’, I just fell over,” he insisted, immediately collapsing in Davey’s bed and curling up in the blanket, shoes and all. “What are you reading?” Jack always asked. Maybe he just liked hearing Davey talk. Something about it was calming, familiar and steady. He didn’t hang on every word. He let them wrap him up in an invisible, warm blanket.

Trusting his friend, Davey jumped on the bed in front of Jack and grabbed the book. “I can read it to you!” he offered. And Jack’s eyes lit up.

See, Jack had never been the best reader. Davey knew that. The words were all jumbled when Jack tried to read. None of it ever made sense and it hurt his head when he tried to focus. His teachers always got mad at him. But not Davey. Davey liked to read to him. So Jack nodded, and watched his friend get comfy on the bed next to him as he started to read off every word. Jack just watched him in amazement, wondering how everything was so easy for Davey and he could still care about someone like him.

Davey had a lot of things. He always said he didn’t, but he did. Davey had a nice sister and a cute little brother. And he had his mother and father. He called them weird names, but maybe they weren’t so weird to Davey. Ima and Abba. Davey had a whole room to himself and more books than Jack could read in a whole lifetime.

Sometimes, Jack wished he was Davey. He wished he could have a nice family and a nice house and nice warm food that wasn’t locked away and out of his reach. He wished he could curl up in this bed without a care in the world.

But then he thought that Davey deserved this life more than him. He was just glad to have Davey there with him.

So Jack covered Davey with more of his blanket and then yawned beneath the safety of the heavy thing before letting his best friend’s voice lull him into a dreamless sleep. “Goodnight, Jackie,” Davey whispered.

“Goodnight, Davey,” Jack managed to mumble back.

This was not the first time this had occurred. And it would not be the last.

—

Still, the boys had to start growing up eventually, no matter how they tried to stop it.

Jack was there when David was told he’d be the man of the house.

His dad was sick.

Jack and Davey sat side by side in that waiting room. Their feet only barely touched the floor. Jack had refused to leave ever since they’d gotten the news. “You don’t have to stay,” David said. They were thirteen and terrified.

Jack shrugged and picked up the book that was next to his friend today. “What are you reading, Davey?” he asked.

Shaking his head, David wiped at his face. “It doesn’t matter. You should go home—“

“I’d rather stay here,” Jack shrugged, looking around awkwardly, wishing he knew how to make Davey feel better, wishing there was anything he could do to make the other boy smile. So he opened up the book, grabbed his pencil and started sketching. David didn’t stop him. He loved it when Jack doodled. Only, Jack was beginning to do a lot more than just doodle.

The picture caused David to snicker a bit as a few loose tears fell down his face. He ended up laying his head down on Jack’s shoulder and just laying there, letting himself be sad. And Jack didn’t move away. He didn’t speak. He just sat there with that book in his hand, those pages opened up, doing everything he could to be there for his friend and his friend’s family.

Sarah, David’s twin sister, sat down beside them with their baby brother Les in her arms. “Are we gonna be okay?” she whispered to David, trying not to upset the boy in her arms.

But David didn’t even have to answer. Because Jack was there. And Jack answered expertly, “You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll be right here for ya… whatever ya need,” he promised.

It was a promise that Jack kept. And David could be nothing but grateful. He leaned on his friend and closed his eyes, trusting he would be safe for the rest of the night.

—

Davey was there when Jack found out he was getting adopted.

Davey thought it was supposed to be a happy day. Jack was terrified. “He don’t even like me!” Jack insisted, pacing across Davey’s room like he’d done so many times before, his fourteen year old voice breaking as he told Davey everything. “He’s doin’ it for the money! N’ he don’t give a single penny of it ta me! Ain’t that money s’posed ta be for me?”

“Jack,” Davey called, noting that his friend was frustrated. “You’ve always wanted to be adopted—“

“No!” Jack argued, pausing and thinking about it. “Okay, fine, sure I have, but… not by him…” he sighed, collapsing on Davey’s bed beside him. “Can I stay here tonight?”

All Davey did was shrug. “Always, Jackie,” he promised. “The real question is, what movie are we watching?”

Relaxing at that, Jack climbed into Davey’s bed, curling up beneath his covers and pulling the book out from beneath him when he found it. “Anything as long as we can convince Sarah ta make us some cocoa,” Jack decided.

With a small laugh, Davey put on a movie that Jack would forever refuse to admit was his favorite and he let Robin Williams explain the story of the lamp as he curled up beside Jack. “You know you’re part of this family, right?”

Looking over at him, Jack squinted. “What?”

“You’re practically a Jacobs,” Davey muttered, texting Sarah on his flip phone for some cocoa and popcorn. “You know, you’re just… a Kelly,” he shrugged.

Jack squinted at that. Davey was usually so good with words and here he was leaving Jack confused in a whole different way. But before he could ask what the meant, Sarah was standing in the doorway saying, “yep, just making sure you both still had two legs. Go get your own stuff.”

With a dramatic groan, Jack pouted. “But I’m a man in distress!” he groaned.

So Sarah rolled her eyes. “You owe me one, Kelly.”

The two boys snickered as Sarah walked away, curling up only slightly closer and watching their movie.

—

They grew up, side by side, much too quickly. They’d laughed together and cried together and fought and played and gotten each other through hard times and breezed through the best times. And now came this time, this time when Jack and David were sitting across the room from each other, fifteen years old and confused and terrified.

“I got into Roosevelt—“

“I got Amelia pregnant—“

They both froze at each other’s words. Jack could’ve cried. “Roosevelt?” he whispered. “Davey… that’s… that’s in Santa Fe—“

“You only slept with her once because of some stupid game! How the hell is she pregnant?”

Neither of them felt like they could breathe. “Davey… y-you can’t leave me here like this— if Snyder finds out—“ Jack shook his head. “I-I don’t know what ta do…”

David shook his head, turning back to his suitcase and continuing to fold up his clothes. “I told you not to play that stupid game—“

“Davey, I get it! I’m an idiot! Just please don’t go!” Jack begged. “Davey, I…”

Turning to him, the taller boy finally revealed the tears falling down his own face. “You think I want to leave you?” he whispered. “Jack, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

“Then why is this happening?” Jack asked.

“Because it has to. Maybe… maybe it’ll be good—“

“I just knocked some girl up! Snyder is going to kill me and my best friend is moving across the country!” Jack rushed out, his voice breaking. “What am I supposed to do?”

Pulling Jack to his chest, David sighed. The two of them just stood there for a long moment, clinging to each other until Davey pulled away and handed Jack a book. “Want me to read to you?” he asked innocently. All Jack could do was nod.

They had no idea what was truly going to happen next.

—

The phone calls used to be constant. The messaging was daily. But those were gone within the first year.

Jack’s child was born. He was kicked out to the streets. He was left with nothing. And he was too proud to ask for help.

David’s career fell into place. He was drowned in paperwork and student debt. He had to work two jobs in order to make it all the way through law school.

The letters grew fewer and fewer until one day they stopped. Years past and Facebook was the only thing that told them the other was alive. Jack posted about his art and his life as a single, teenage dad, and Davey posted about his life as a successful lawyer.

It just never felt the same.

It wasn't until one day, when David picked up a book for the first time in months that a few clever little doodles made him smile. He ran his fingers over the things, opening his computer almost fifteen years later and clicking on Jack’s profile, a picture of him and a boy named Tyler James. The boy was almost fifteen. David smiled to himself and opened up the messages, typing in a simple quote.

“Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.” ~ Ally Condie

And then he waited. For a long time, he just stared at that screen, watching nothing until those terrifying three dots appeared.

“You know if you want to meet for coffee, you could just ask,” came Jack’s reply.

And David smiled wider than he had in years.

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rune-writes · 3 years

Text

Dear Zack... (I'll be here)

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 3: Letters

Word Count: 1916

Rating: G

Summary: What did Aerith write to Zack in the four years he was missing?

Note: this is my first time trying out this format. I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 3 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

Dear Zack,

How are you? It's me, Aerith. Sorry to send you a letter out of the blue. You haven't been answering your PHS lately. Tseng said you're busy, that your last assignment took you to the western continent and it'd be a while before you can return. So I figured I could send you letters instead. Mom said she used to do this with her husband when he went to the war. Isn't it nice? Exchanging letters like the old couples in stories. Tseng also offered to personally send this to you, so I'm sure you'll get this. Besides, I don't have a PHS, and I'm not going to borrow the Turks' all the time. I know they'll want something in return for letting me use their stuff. Anyway, how is work? Knowing you, you’re probably doing a great job at it, right? How is it like there? I heard you went to the mountains? Is the air as nice and fresh as they say? I hope you can take some time off between your work to enjoy the scenery. I'm sure it's beautiful. Maybe take a picture for me? I'd love to see the places you've been to. I’m fine here, by the way. So is Mom. Don’t worry about me okay and just focus on finishing your job. Take care, Zack. And stay safe.

Sincerely, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

How are you? Are you still on the mountains? I still haven't heard back from you yet. But no pressure! I know how busy you must be! I can wait hehe. In return, I hope you don't mind me sending you all these letters. I hope they give you some sort of respite, no matter how small. The flowers bloomed especially brilliant today. I brought them around to decorate Leaf House and the community center. The elders all loved it. Are there any flowers blooming where you are, Zack? If there are, what kind? Our flower business is also gaining traction recently. More and more people come to visit our flower wagon. I have the kids to thank for that, I guess. They’ve been telling everyone that I’m on a mission to have flowers bloom all around Midgar. I hope everything is alright on your side, Zack. Stay safe.

Sincerely, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

The Protection Squad is now well under way, and it seems it’s very well-received. Miss Livy from Leaf House (she’s the headteacher, if you don’t remember) said that since the orphanage operates thanks to everyone's donations, it’s only right for them to return the favor. So the kids have been going around patrolling the areas. Yep, that’s what they call it. They run errands and help people. They’re really turning out more and more like you. Which is a nice thing, actually. Some almost went as far as to accompany me to the playground. Because of the monsters, they said. Someone needed to protect me while you’re away. I appreciated it of course, but I couldn’t let them actually meet monsters, could I? The teachers would kill me if the children had all gone so far to a different reactor. Playing with me at the church is one thing, but going to Sector 6? I would say I could protect them—and I could, mind you—and I always take the safest road there too, but when you have six children under your care then three flying beasts come at you… I’d rather not take that chance. Anyway, enough about me. How is it going for you, Zack? It's been months since we last spoke. I hope everything’s alright there? Are you okay? Are you safe? I hope you get a lot of rest between your jobs. And meals. Some good healthy meals once in a while will do wonders. But I wonder if you can get those in the front lines. I would send you something, but… it’d probably go stale once it reaches you, I think. I pray for your safety, Zack.

Love, Aerith

***

Hi Zack,

Are you still busy? Tseng says you are. Sadly I don’t have anyone else to ask, so I guess he’s the only one I can trust. But sometimes, I wonder if he’s keeping things from me. Won’t be the first… won’t be the last either. You know, I had the most surprising guest today. Some girls visited me at the church, and from the accessories they were wearing, I think they’re your fan club. It’s funny to think you have a fan club. I’m not jealous, though! I just never thought SOLDIERs had fan clubs. I wonder if the other members have one too? That reminds me, I never asked how many of you there are, have I? It was nothing important though. They asked me if I knew you, and when I said I did, they asked what I thought of you. And if I had any messages for you. Weird, huh? It's not like I can't tell you that in person. Well, not now, maybe, but later when you come back. What's weirder is that they all looked so somber. I wonder what happened… Hey, Zack. Did something happen? I… overheard something… They were talking and I heard… It's not true, right? Tseng won't tell me anything, let alone the other Turks. They only said that you're fine. Just super busy that you barely have time to reply. And having bad reception. I can trust them, right? Please talk to me, Zack. I'll wait for you, however long it takes.

Yours, Aerith

***

Zack…

I can't stop thinking something might've happened to you. I don't know who to trust. I don't know who I can talk to. Tseng says you're fine. People say you might've gone missing. I don't even know if these letters are reaching you. Maybe Tseng's been lying to me from the start. Maybe something happened to you that day I couldn't reach you. Do you remember? That afternoon you called me all those months ago? You have no idea how happy that had made me feel. I was so afraid I'd been imposing on you when you’d been so busy at work, so when I received your call, my heart had almost burst! You told me that we could talk the next day, that I could call you if I wanted, and I did, but I couldn't reach… Zack, where are you? Tell me you're alright. Please.

***

Dear Zack,

I'm sorry for being so emotional in my last letter. I asked Tseng to give the letter back, but he said he'd already sent it to you. I'm not sure if I believe him now. I had another surprise guest today. A friend of yours. He said his name was Kunsel. Actually, he's been visiting me for a while now. Kind of regularly. Checking up on me, he said. On your behalf. That's sweet. You have such sweet friends. We talked, then took a walk outside. The weather was really nice this morning. I remember you talking about him a few times, but I didn't realize you were so close. Friends since your early SOLDIER days, he said. I'm… I'm holding onto hope, Zack. I know you're out there. Somewhere. I don't believe what they say. I don't believe what Tseng says. I only believe that you're still alive somewhere. So I'll be here. Always.

Forever yours, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

I spotted wildflowers today. Just outside Sector 5. Funny, I never noticed them before. I never thought flowers grow anywhere outside the church, or my garden. I stared at them for so long, the people who saw me asked if I was alright. I was fine, of course. Mostly. I miss you, Zack. I wonder if this is the Planet’s way of telling me you’re alive somewhere. You know how wildflowers are, right? They’re small, but no matter how much people trample them, no matter how much the weather beats them down, they always persist. They endure, and survive, and I know that you’re going to pull through whatever ordeal you’re going through right now. I believe in you, Zack. I’m sending a pressed flower I did of one of them. They’re not much, but I hope they give you strength. I… don’t know if these are going to reach you, but I hope the Planet hears my pleas and sends my prayers to you.

Sending you all my love, Aerith

***

Dear Zack,

The sky was really bright today. I find myself looking at it more and more now. You're right. It's not as scary as I thought. I told you the reason I'm scared of it, but that's not all there is. I never did tell you about my mom, did I? Not Elmyra. My other mom. My real mom… She died when I was young, before Elmyra took me in. She died, and I saw her rise to the sky. As if it was sucking her in. I… never saw the sky growing up. You'd think that's why I fear it. But on the contrary, listening to Mom's tales about the outside world, seeing the big, open blue depicted in picture books… I couldn't help but be curious. But then Mom died, and the sky sucked her in. But I'm alright now. I think. Mostly. Because… I need to see if it'd sucked you in too. I want to know if you're still here.

Aerith

***

Dear Zack…

Lately, it feels like I’m just talking to myself here, with these letters. I don't know why I'm still writing these. They’re probably not reaching you anyway. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Maybe it's become a habit by now. Maybe writing to you gives me some sort of solace, some sort of notion that you’re still here. That you’re not gone and I can still see you. I had a dream. You were standing at the edge of a precipice in a landscape of white. It was warm and cold. I tried calling for you, but my voice wouldn’t come out. I chased after you, but the distance between us only grew. Is it my fault, somehow? Were you not supposed to have met me? The Planet is not answering my prayers and even in my dreams, you refused to see me. I hate this. I don’t want this. You’re still out there, I know it, but my heart grows heavy with each passing day. I didn’t realize waiting was so hard. I wonder how Mom endured it, standing on that train platform all day everyday, hoping against hope that her husband would return. Give me strength, Zack. I want to see you. I want to wait for you. I want to believe you'll come back. I don’t want to lose you.

***

Zack…

Where are you?

Come home

***

Dear Zack…

I feel like I should apologize. We promised to sell the flowers under the sky together, but this morning, I braved myself to take the train to the upper plate. It was daunting, to say the least. But I know what you mean now. The sky really opens up when you don't have steel plates covering it. It's… really not scary at all. Though I'd be lying if I didn't keep my head down half of the time. But it's a step forward, right? Now I can look up at the sky even if I don't have you with me... It's really beautiful, Zack. I wish you could see it with me.

Aerith

~ END ~

#zerithweek #zerithweek2021 #aerith gainsborough #zack fair #zerith #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #ff7r #ff7 crisis core #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

Text

Adore You [H.S]

Summary: Harry meets Lily in the summer of 1965, after graduating Uni he flies to the states to work as a photographer. It's at one of his boss's house parties that they meet and sparks fly.

But when Harry is asked to go to Viatnam and photograph the horrors happening there, will the distance tear them apart? And what about the darkness surrounding him when he returns? Will she be able to heal him.

And she...she's not the same either.

Taking in the beauty of the sixties, this is a love story that spans years and culminates in one final admission. Harry will always adore her.

Chapter One:

"And we drink our coffee and pretend not to look at each other." Charles Baudelaire

The party was in full swing when Lily arrived, nervously walking up the path to her old friend's home. People lingered outside as music thumped from inside. It reminded her very much of the parties they attended at Berkely only three years ago. It was amazing how time could fly and people could change.

"Lily!" The first person she sees is dear old Louis Tomlinson. The two of them had dated in college, albeit briefly, but that hadn't gotten in the way of their friendship. Lily rushed into his open arms, laughing as her friend embraced her warmly. "Let me get a good look at ya love," she smiled, not realizing how much she had actually missed his accent. He had come from overseas. England to be exact, a town called Doncaster. She loved his heavy accent.

He took in her outfit. Lily wore a creamed colored skirt and white blouse tucked into it. She wore a pair of black ballet flats and had a few gold bracelets on her wrists, not one for jewelry, she decided to skip the rings and a necklace, fearing if she got to drunk she may actually lose them.

"You look lovely as eva," he praised, causing her to blush slightly.

"I could say the same about you," she complimented back, almost shouting in his ear. Louis wore a white button down shirt and grey slacks. He would look good in a paper bag. Lily thought jealously. He was always so effortlessly cool looking. "Have you seen Marie around? She invited me and I never got the chance to thank her." Louis shrugged, bringing his beer to his lips.

"Not since the party started actually. She's been a proper host." The music changes, The Beatles 'Love Me Do' begins to play. "Fancy a dance love?" Louis shouted over the music. Lily nodded, taking her friend's hand as he set down his beer.

They made their way through the crowded living room, Louis pulling her in front of him as they begin to dance. Louis was never good at it, jerking and playfully teasing Lily with his moves. She couldn't help but laugh out loud at just how silly she was.

"I never realized how much I missed you." She said as he pulled her close after spinning her out. She can feel him grin against the top of her head.

"Missed you too, Love." The sound of a motorcycle pulling up outside stops their conversation. Heads turn towards the door as the music dies down and people look to see who's got the bike.

With the front doors of Marie's house open, Lily can just see a glint of black metal under the street lights outside her home. A shadowy figure getting off the bike and walking up the path towards the house. People begin to disperse, the momentary curiosity lapsing as they go back to their conversations and alcohol. But Lily looks on, curious.

"I thought she said she didn't invite him." She heard Louis say behind her. His voice slightly strained.

"I'm sorry, who?" She asks. She watches Louis swallow hard before explaining.

"His name is Harry. He's a photographer, it's rumored he does a lot of boudoir and naughty pictures, no one knows for sure. He's sort of a bad boy mystery." Lily watched as the man took off his helmet, shaking out thick curly locks that she instinctively wanted to run her fingers through.

"Oh." She said nearly breathless. He looks up, hooking his helmet under his arm. Lily feels her heart skips a beat when he locked eyes with her. His eyes were green, so light and pretty, she had to look away before she got lost in them. "I better go find Marie. She is the reason I came tonight." Lily said, clearing her throat.

"Right." Louis said, reaching out to hug her. He could see Harry was watching them, a blank expression on his face as Louis pulled away. "I'll talk to you soon...and Lily," he reached for her hand before she walked away. "Stay away from 'im please. I don't know what I'd do if you eva got hurt." Lily gave him a sweet smile before walking off to find Marie.

Harry didn't usually come to these things. He perfered to keep to himself, stay at home and catch up on some reading or work on some pictures he'd taken. But Marie was his boss and she'd been nothing but kind to him since he started working for her. It was almost a dream really, right out of Uni he had gotten the call. Someone in the States had seen his portfolio and really admired his work. It had all gone from there. So if anything he was grateful for the opportunity she had given him.

Everyone had stared at him when he pulled up on his bike. It was still a work in progress, but he hadn't thought it looked that shitty. He avoided the stares and questioning looks as he entered the party, hoping to only say hello to Marie and then leave.

It was when he had taken off his helmet and felt someone staring at him that he saw her.

She stood in the corner of the living room, right by the record player, eyes locking with his intensely. Her dark hair fell down around her shoulders in simple, loose curls, brown eyes gazing at him with curiosity. She looked away too soon.

Lily never ended up finding Marie. She pushed her way through the crowded house and out into the fresh night air. There were a few couples scattered about here and there but everyone was mostly inside, the party was kicking up a notch and that was her cue to head home.

She thought about the man. Harry, as she kicked pebbles with her shoes, arms crossed against her chest as the cool breeze swept through her hair. She should have brought a jacket maybe. But it had been warmer earlier so she hadn't thought to. It was close to midnight and she could feel exhaustion seeping into her bones as she walked the three blocks to her apartment.

The rumble of a motorcycle behind her startled her, causing her to cry out and nearly stumble. She turned to see the head light of the bikes nearly blinding her as it came to a stop beside her.

"Hey," the driver pulled his helmet off and she felt her heart jump into her stomach. It was him. "Need a ride?" He asked. Lily opened her mouth to reply but thought about Louis's warning.

"No thanks. My apartment is close."

"It's a little late to be walking home alone don't you think?"

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." Harry grinned, she was quick. He shut off his motorcycle, climbing off of it and steering it towards the curb. He let up the kick stand and walked back over to Lily, shimmying out of his jacket.

"Here," he offered, holding out his coat. Lily was taken aback by his demeanor. He spoke to her so easily, as if they were friends and hadn't just met. "I noticed your arms. A bit nippy out tonight yeah?" Wordlessly Lily takes the leather jacket, it's heavy, but warm from his body heat as she wraps it around herself.

"Thank you." She managed.

"No problem....please. Let me walk you home. I can't leave without knowin' ya made it. Would weigh heavy on my conscience." Lily laughed softly at his words, he seemed so formal, almost stiff.

"I suppose. As long as you don't plan on stalking me." He smirked, coming to walk beside her.

"Course not. My mum raised a gentleman."

"How did you find me anyway?" She asked. He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his Jean's.

"Was goin' home myself an saw you. Couldn't jus let you go off alone." She nodded.

They walked in silence for a bit, Lily didn't know what to say really. She was surprised and impressed by his kindness. But Harry's growling stomach ended up speaking for both of them.

"Sorry." He said shyly, patting his belly. "Haven' are in a while."

"There's a diner around the corner from my place....if you wanted to stop and grab something really quick?"

"You sure that's alright?" He asked her.

"Sure. I'll buy, pay you back for your chivalry." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"No need to do that love."

Frankie's was a 24 hour dinner. Lily came there many a night during college to cram for exams and drink enough black coffee to kill her. It was her place, but it felt a little weird bringing Harry there. She only just met him.

"Hey Martha." Lily said as they slid into a booth by the window. The older woman had walked over almost immediately, throwing Lily a kind smile.

"Who's this handsome young man you've brought with you?" Martha winked at Harry. He smiled, unable to contain his laughter.

"'m Harry. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand.

"My what a gentleman." Martha said, dramatically crossing her hand over her heart before shaking his. "What can I get you kids?"

"I'll have a chocolate milkshake and a burger, everything on it." Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. Lily was a little girl, he hadn't expected that.

"And you?" Martha asked.

"I'll have wha' she's havin' sounds good." Martha scribbled the order down before walking away. Lily cleared her throat, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"So your accent? You're british?" Harry nodded.

"Proudly."

"What brought you to the states?"

"I always wanted to be a professional photographer. Went to Uni for it. When I was getting ready to graduate we had to set up our portfolios. Marie saw mine and liked it. Offered me a job almost a week after I graduated. So I took the time to get the paper work done and now I'm here on a work visa." Martha brought out the milkshakes. Lily took a long sip of hers, savoring the chocolate taste on her tongue.

"So that's how you know Marie."

"How do you know her?"

"We were roomies in college. We went to Berkely together. She was into all the marketing and stuff. I went for Women's studies and Philosophy."

"I'm impressed."

"Don't be. It's not that great."

They chattered a bit more before their food came. Lily learned that Harry had one older sister and two older step siblings. The way he spoke about his mother and his sister, you'd have thought they hung the moon and threw the stars into the sky. Lily found herself listening closely, palm on her chin as she focused on his words and the calm slow cadence of his voice.

"Tha' was delicious." Harry said, licking his fingers. Lily laughed dipping the last fry into ketchup. She started to fish out her wallet, only for Harry to hold up his hand.

"I said I got it Harry."

"At least let me split it."

"Fine." They split the bill and each leave a little tip, waving good bye to Martha as they left the diner, it was later now, nearly two in the morning and Lily could feel the exhaustion catching up to her.

"How much further from your flat are we?" Harry asked. He reached out, taking her hand in his as she led him down the street towards her apartment.

"Right here," she said, turning towards a painted white door, surrounded by a wrought iron fence and bricks. Harry walked her up to the door, taking his jacket back as she shrugged it off her shoulders.

"I'm glad you decided to walk me home." She acknowledged, a small and sleepy smile on her face.

"I'm glad you let me." They stared at each other for a moment more, electricity vibrating between them as they locked eyes. Harry swallowed hard, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

"G'night Miss. Lily."

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #solo harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #hs imagine #hs fandom #hs fanfic #hs1 #hs2 #hs pics

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lifesbetterasamermaid · 4 years

Note

I'm so curious about what Niall was thinking during that breakup in the last chapter *eye emoji*

a fun fact: this story was born from my boredom back when the world kinda imploded in march and i wrote/shared this with two friends and it was all in niall’s pov....and then i got REALLY bored and decided to write a whole thing

anyways, below the cut is the end of part 4 (also known as the only break up i’ve ever written) from lost in the light set in niall’s pov. enjoy :)

Some people needed a reason for everything. Niall was one of those people. Sometimes it was just little things he was curious about; why did every sunset look different, why did mosquito bites itch so badly, why could he never understand maths while in school. Small, inconsequential things. But Niall always wanted to know. More often than not it got him in trouble. No one ever liked the kid always asking, why? Then he grew up. And the thing with growing up was life got even more confusing.

All those small curiosities evolved. Taking on a life of their own. Like the night his mum had packed Niall and his brother, still in pajamas, in the back of the car and driven away -their home nothing more than a still life in the rearview mirror. Niall had babbled endlessly, asking his mum why they had left. Eventually, she had pulled the car over, face in her hands, and explained they would have two houses now. There was the time Niall had been sixteen and his first proper girlfriend Riya had broken up with him outside the pub. Shattered, Niall hadn’t been able to help but ask why? Turned out she had wanted someone with real goals -university, a degree a career. Not someone who wanted to play in pubs and try out for reality shows.

Looking back on that one, there is a certain irony to it.

Years when Niall’s life had made no sense and there had been no reason behind the success that he could put a finger on. Just a kid plucked out of the middle of fucking nowhere in Ireland playing stadiums. Dumb luck, he figured.

That was a lie though. Maybe luck in the beginning, behind everything there was a reason though. Looking back on his life -the records he had made, the success he had now -what had started as a random stroke of luck had morphed. Days and months and years, Niall had run himself ragged. The reason behind his success was hard work. His life had reasons behind nearly every aspect of it. Niall understood why things had played out the way they did. It made sense to him.

But now, with a small box of Charlie’s things packed neatly by his front door, Niall really couldn’t seem to figure out a reason for how they had ended.

Sure, Niall had said some pretty shitty things that kept him awake and staring at the ceiling for the past few weeks. And hindsight, he should have called Charlie the second his publicists told him about the photos. But Niall hadn’t really expected her to say, I don’t want to do this anymore….I can’t do this anymore.

Standing in his living room, Niall lifted the beer to his lips, offhandedly thinking he should stop drinking.

One, single box.

It seemed odd to him how Charlie fit into one box. The past year she had seemed like the biggest thing in Niall’s life. This larger than life presence who had imploded his world with her snark and random knowledge of plants and brown eyes. That was his Charlie. No -not his. Never had been. Because even now Niall could hear Charlie giving him an earful about how women were not things who belonged to men.

None of that was in the box.

The box was filled with such practicality it bored him. Her toothbrush that had fit in the spot next to his on the bathroom counter. A half empty bottle of shampoo Niall knew she would want back because it cost nearly fifty dollars. A random coffee mug she had left in his cabinets ages ago. Her favorite coffee, which Niall was pretty sure he had bought but he didn’t mind. A million little details of their relationship were scattered throughout this house. Evidence of how their lives had woven together seamlessly.

And now it all fit into an old Amazon box.

Outside was cruelly perfect. A warm breeze blowing through the open back doors, bringing with it the smell of eucalyptus and orange trees. And the sun was just arching over the Santa Monica mountains.

Niall had loved this about this place. So different from how he had grown up. This city was always moving, always changing, the sun always shining. The city demanded people to do something. Because when the days were this perfect it seemed careless to waste it.

Suddenly, Niall had a longing for home. Grey skies and misting rain, Nothing but small brick homes dotting the landscape and endless green hills stretching all the way to the cliffs. The air so cold your breath froze before it got all the way out. Puddles littering the narrow streets, smoke filling the pubs, and old wooden floors sticky with spilled beer.

Once, Niall had mentioned to Charlie the idea of showing her where he had grown up. While they had laid in hotel robes off some highway in Colorado. Even half asleep he had felt her tense beside him. Because Charlie always wanted to keep Niall at arms length. They could pretend all they wanted, but the moment anything got to real, Charlie would run.

But Niall had wanted it all. To take Charlie home. Show her London and Dublin and all the tiny places in between. Have her meet his friends in the city and show her all his favorite spots. Then take her out to the country. Show her how the night sky should look. Watch her run through the fields. Introduce her to his mum.

Maybe that was what really ate at him. All the things he and Charlie never got to do.

Whatever it was, it had him stomping into his bedroom and throwing open the closet doors. Hands wrapping around an old denim jacket. Tossing it into the box, and then reaching down to fold it nicely and tuck it into the bottom. Even if he was pissed, Niall hated messy things.

And if Charlie wanted to run. Hide away and pretend it had been nothing but casual sex between them. Niall wanted her to have something to remember what a massive lie that was.

His thoughts were cut short as his phone lit up on the coffee table. He dragged his hands over his face. Christ mate pull it together, he thought.

I’m out front, want to let me in?

“Fuck,” Niall breathed out, falling down onto the couch. It sunk under his weight as he reached for his beer. Eight words. And all Niall wanted to do was scroll up through their messages to a couple weeks ago. Was this how it always happened? One week everything was fine, the next nothing more than polite strangers.

Weeks ago, Charlie would have punched the code in, used her key, and walked in like she lived here. Because she practically had. Now? Now she asked to be let in even though she had a code. And Niall would bet she would even knock.

He sent back an equally polite reply and then opened up the gate. Did he sit here? Wait? Stand up? Wait awkwardly by the door?

Quickly, he downed the rest of his beer and then ran over to the kitchen to throw it away. Couldn't have Charlie thinking he had done nothing all day but drink beer and be sad. Sure, that was exactly what he had done but she didn’t need to know that.

As expected, a knock echoed through the house. Freezing Niall halfway between the living room and front hall. He wiped his palms over his jeans and closed the distance to the door, reaching for the handle.

She still looked the same.

Niall wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting. Something different maybe. Something to physically show there had been a shift between them. But Charlie looked just like the girl who had laid around in his bed wearing his old shirts and who had danced around in his kitchen making omelettes. Only now she was the girl with a key in her outstretched hand.

But on a second look, there were the subtle differences in the Charlie in front of him and the Charlie he had seen four weeks ago. Lilac colored bags under defiant eyes. Back ramrod straight, daring anyone to bother her. Her lips were chapped and pressed tightly together. And she seemed smaller than the last time Niall had seen her. Always had been small, but the edge of her jaw looked sharper and her clothes hung on her frame more than before.

The end of a relationship was an odd thing. Because what was there left to do? Charlie had made up her mind. And Niall knew her, he knew there was nothing that could change this. Hurling insults or begging would achieve nothing. Charlie would still pick up the box and walk away. That’s who she was.

So, they wove through the intricate parts. Small talk between two people who had held each other in the middle of the night. Both, eyes darting around and hesitancy on their lips. Polite nothings and the exchange of keys and Niall rambling to keep Charlie standing at his front door a little longer.

But then it came.

Their end.

Charlie turned on her heel and walked down the steps and Niall couldn’t breath. Because was he really about to just let her get in the car and drive through Laurel Canyon and not know?

“I love you.” Niall blurted out. Palms sweating and heart about to burst out of his chest. Three words. Surely if Charlie knew, they could fix the mess they had found themselves in. Niall briefly wondered if he should elaborate because while Charlie had stopped, she hadn’t turned around. Explain. Niall needed to tell Charlie how he wanted to know everything about her the moment he walked in on her in the men’s room. How he thought about sleeping with her the first time their hands brushed passing the sugar at the diner. How he wanted to love her when he combed out the tangles of her hair that one night when Charlie watched him in the bathroom mirror with fresh stitches above her left eye. How Niall knew he loved her when they had danced around his house back in the summer, laughing in each other’s mouths.

But Niall didn’t. Because those words weren’t enough to make her stay. I love you, wasn’t enough to make Charlie change her mind.

“That’s against the rules.”

And something in Niall cracked a little with those four words.

#thanks for asking this :)#it was nice to write again after a bit of a break #anon #fic: lost

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azulafangligo · 4 years

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I know it's a bit late, but I wanted to share another story for @azulaweek . It's for day 4. I was happy to be part of Azula week for the first time and I'm looking forward to participating next year. Stay flamin :))

A mother's love

This story takes place about a week before the flashbacks in Zuko Alone

Everyone in the Royal Palace was sleeping at this late hour, except Ursa. She couldn't sleep a wink. She tried really hard to fall asleep, but to no avail.

It was a warm night in the Fire Nation. The moon shone high on a cloudless, black sky.

The princess left her bedroom with a candle in her hand, walking through the empty, dark corridors of the palace toward the kitchen to drink a cup of water. She could have ordered a servant to bring to bring her some water, but she didn't want to wake anyone up and start a commotion. Besides, she didn't like ordering others around. Ursa respected the people who served her and her family, but she didn't like relying on them for every little thing and exploit them, even though most would argue it was their job. It just didn't seem right and she wasn't comfortable with it.

As Ursa got closer to the kitchen, she entered the corridor with Azula's and Zuko's rooms. She passed by Zuko's room quietly, but when she was a few meters away from Azula's, she heard a creaking sound as the door was slowly opened. She stopped as she saw her daughter walking out of her room while rubbing her eyes and closing the door behind her. Azula spun around to see her mother after she noticed the candle light. She looked startled, but also tired, having small dark circles under her eyes which had been half open until she saw her mother. She was now facing Ursa wide-eyed.

"I was just going back to my room," Azula said after a few seconds, putting her hand back on the door handle.

Ursa looked at her, worried.

"Are you alright, Azula?" she asked.

"Yes. I just wanted to drink some water," she said, annoyed. Even though she was obviously tired, she seemed in a rush to get away from her mother. This saddened Ursa. She really loved her and cared about her, but she knew she wasn't always doing the best job of showing her that. She tried hard to be a good mother for both Azula and Zuko, but her husband made that very difficult.

She stepped closer to Azula and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong," she said gently. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I already told you, mom. I was thirsty. Now I'll go back to sleep," Azula said coldly. She looked away from Ursa and folded her arms. "Since when do you care about me anyway? Don't you have to worry about Zuko? Or you're here just because he doesn't need you right now and you want to make sure I don't get into trouble?" Azula said acidly.

"Azula, I love you and I care about you. I know I don't show it to you enough, but I'm doing my best for you and your brother. I want to help you if something's bothering you. You don't have to keep it to yourself. You can tell me. " Ursa smiled encouragingly at her, urging her to say what was on her mind.

Her mother didn't usually speak like this to her. She was always so busy giving Zuko all the attention that she neglected her.

Azula stood there for a second. She couldn't sleep all night. It was really frustrating and she wasn't sure what to do. She thought maybe a breath of fresh air and a few minutes in the gardens would help, but her mom came out of nowhere and she had to go back to her room now. Azula didn't have anything to say to her and just wanted to go to bed and be left alone. She'd be fine just by herself and she'd fall asleep eventually. It's horrible. I just want to sleep, but I can't. I hate this and I don't need her. I never did and I never will. She was about to go back to her room, but she thought how she'll stay in her bed for hours, struggling to catch some sleep, all alone. As much as Azula wanted to avoid her mother, she admitted trying again to sleep would be really hard and unpleasant. Maybe even more unpleasant than spending time with the woman that, no matter what Azula did, wouldn't appreciate her and would only criticize her and complain how she was mean to her favourite child. Azula didn't know why her mother pretended to care now and there was nothing she could do to help anyway, but it was better to tell her the truth instead of being all alone. This is probably a bad decision and I might end up regretting it, but here we go.

"I can't fall asleep. I've been trying for hours, but I can't," Azula told Ursa.

"It happens sometimes. I can't sleep either. Would you like us to go to the garden for a while?" Ursa said.

Azula looked away again. She still wasn't sure she wanted to be in her presence. It wasn't nice to be mom's least favourite child, but she had no trouble with that. Azula didn't need anyone. She did great just by herself. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to go for a walk outside, since she wanted to do that anyway. However, even though at first she would have preferred to be alone, perhaps it'd be good to have some company.

"Alright," she said.

Ursa smiled at her again.

"Come on," the princess said, a hint of joyfulness in her voice.

As they entered the garden, Azula felt the gentle wind on her skin. It was warm and pleasant outside. The bright stars were sparkling on the dark sky. She looked at the scenery overhead for a few moments.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Ursa asked.

"I guess," Azula replied in a neutral voice.

They walked a few meters to the pond and set down. Minutes passed without either of them saying anything. Azula looked at her reflection in the water. In the darkness, she barely saw the dark circles under her eyes, but they were there. She frowned. I ought to get some sleep, but the problem is I don't feel tired at all. She looked tired though, because she struggled to sleep and she could see it in her face.

After sometime, Ursa finally began speaking.

"I'm sorry I haven't been a good mother. I haven't given you enough attention and I haven't told you how much I love you enough times. It's just… It's hard to raise two kids at the same time-"

"Yes, because I'm so mean and horrible and Zuko is so great," Azula cut her off.

"Azula, I never said that."

"But you mean it," her daughter replied, looking her in the eye.

"I don't. I know I left you the impression I prefer him over you, but that's not true. You're both amazing children and I love you equally. I admit I spent more time with him, but that's because your father isn't giving him any attention."

"Don't blame father," Azula said infuriated. "If Zuko would be good enough to deserve his love he'd get it. He doesn't deserve your love either."

Ursa was surprised and outraged that Azula spoke like that about her brother. She opened her mouth to tell her how awful it was to treat Zuko that way, but stopped, feeling her anger dissipate. It was mean to say something like that, but Azula only thought these things because she didn't feel loved enough. That was why she wanted to be better than Zuko at everything-so she'd be appreciated by her parents. Ozai had a very bad influence on her. He turned her against Zuko and made her see him and everyone who wasn't perfect as a failure. Azula was a wonderful child and the only thing her father did was give her bad examples, cultivate negative thoughts and feelings inside her and turn her into a competitive and hateful person. He had too many expectations and put too much pressure on her and, to be honest, he didn't even love her. It hurt Ursa to admit this, but it was true. Ozai loved neither of his kids nor anyone else in his family. He didn't even love Ursa. They had an arranged marriage just so he and Azulon could be in control of Avatar Roku's bloodline. But this wasn't about her. It was about Azula. She needed to know her mother cared about her and was proud of her.

"Azula, I'm sorry your father has so many expectations and induces you to feel so much anger and hate. I know it's very frustrating, but I'm here for you."

"What are you talking about? Dad's great and he teaches me to be the best. How is that bad?" Azula said, but a hint of doubt made its way into her mind. She hated to admit it, but sometimes she got tired and it became hard to catch her breath struggling to be the perfect child. I am perfect, I shouldn't listen to her. Dad wants what's best for me. He wouldn't have so many expectations if he didn't think I am up to the challenge. It's his way of showing how capable he thinks I am to do anything I have to. Azula wanted to believe these things, she really did, but she couldn't dismiss the thought that her mother was right. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself mom just wanted her to be nice to Zuko, she couldn't. Something in her voice, in her eyes told Azula she actually… cared. She was angry to think this stuff about dad, but, deep down, she knew it to be true. This made her really angry and also sad.

"I shouldn't have let him influence you like this. I know you're suffering and it's exhausting to try to be flawless everyday. I let you down, Azula, but I'll make it up to you," Ursa said, putting her hand on Azula's.

Azula didn't want to say anything bad about her father. She loved him and he loved her, but, for the first time in her life, she felt the need to say what was on her mind. She just couldn't hold back her thoughts, regardless of how much she tried. She felt weak and miserable and she despised it. I… I've never seen mom like this. It's the first time she actually wants to talk to me and know how I feel. She actually seems to be honest…

Azula slid her hand from under Ursa's. Then, she put her head in her hands, staring blankly at the pond.

"Sometimes it's… really hard. I do my best to please dad, but it's never enough," Azula said.

Ursa than unexpectedly hugged her tightly. Azula stared in surprise for a couple of seconds before she embraced her mother as well.

"I think you're great the way you are. You don't need to prove anything to me. I love you so much and I'll prove that to you more often," Ursa promised.

"Thanks, mom," Azula whispered.

They let go and just sat there in silence. Azula didn't know how much time they spent at the pond. It might have been minutes or hours, she had no idea. However, as time passed by, Azula gradually lost awareness of her surroundings. She was unable to concentrate on anything as the sight before her eyes became blurry. Soon, it was very hard to keep her eyes open. Her eyelashes slowly closed, everything turning black as she finally drifted off to sleep. Azula propped her body against her mother's arm.

Ursa gently put her hands around her daughter's waist and placed her on her lap.

In the few remaining seconds of consciousness before Azula fell asleep, she felt her mother gently caress her on the top of her head. This brought a smile on her face as she felt really calm and relaxed, but also happy.

Mom loves me after all… she thought.

#Azula Week 2020 #Day 4 #Fanfiction

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years

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Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 4

(Chapter 4: Pleasant company)

Josuke leaned back in his chair, sipping quietly on his French Vanilla coffee. It was a little sweeter than he was used to but it was undeniable that they made it with REAL Vanilla bean, not just cheep flavoring. The coffee was undeniably strong too, so rich he could feel a buzz in his finger tips.

It was undoubtedly one of the best cups of coffee he had ever had.

However that meant trouble for him because if this was anything like Okuyasu and him discovering Italian Food, he was going to have to ask his Mom for a Coffee bean grinder for Christmas this year and a book on how to brew fresh Coffee.

Comfortable silence had reigned between him, Leone and each of their stands (who surprisingly hadn't vanished again).

In fact, if he had been just another kid on the streets of Italy, the man would've probably already proposed to him joining Passione and being recruited onto their team. Bucciarati was always saying it would be nice to find another member or two.

Abbacchio found himself enjoying the plesant company and peaceful quiet just as much as Josuke was, taking the time to mull everything over as he sipped his tea.

Josuke was a decent kid and Abbacchio was typically quite cold and judgmental when it came down to things meeting and trusting new people (you couldn't blame him really, he was in the Mafia afterall), so thinking Josuke a decent kid was quite a feat for just meeting him.

He would never forgive himself if he ripped all that hope away from the teenager like it had been ripped away from him.

However, Abbacchio knew better. This kid was still a student, a tourist even, he probably had a bright future in over Japan.

He had been like him once. Young, eager, full of potiential... those things were rare in the world nowadays and they certainly didn't last in the Mafia.

What was it that stands talked about anyways?

Josuke kept his eyes on Moody Blues (he couldn't get over how cool they were), still hovering nearby and holding some kind of inter-stand conversation with Crazy Diamond from across the table.

Both of their unblinking gazes were locked tightly onto one another, neither one moving or making a sound.

Did they talk about their users? Their powers? Other stands? Did they spill secrets and gossip?

Abbacchio watched idly with some interest, he had seen his stand doing the same with Sticky Fingers several times.

Whatever was happening in the communication, they both seemed pretty invested.

Moody Blues hovered next to Abbacchio with their hands folded neatly behind their back and their head craned forward. Crazy Diamond stood directly behind Josuke, their elbows rested on the back of his chair and leaning comfortably on it.

Though the quiet was comfortable, Josuke wasn't one to sit in silence so he found himself breaking it.

"Your stand," he began. "how long have you had them? Since Childhood?"

He could only reveal so much of course...

The question was unexpected but not unwelcome, Leone hummed and set down his teacup, pursing his lips as he focused on his reply.

Josuke was curious, and that didn't bother him, but the matters of his stand could be a touchy subject.

"Nah, I'm not a natural." He replied. "Mine was awoken in a fight."

Josuke stiffened somewhat in his chair, setting his mug down with a light clink, a small frown pulling on his lips. "In a fight?"

Abbacchio wasn't a natural stand-user and that intrigued the teenager, by the way he handled Moody Blues so well he would've guessed otherwise... but this info also frightened him.

Sure, he knew some stands could be awakened by certain events in someones life, even something like strong overwhelming feelings could cause a stand to spawn into existence, but there was definitely something about the way Abbacchio said it that made the familiar feeling from earlier come back.

This time, the feeling was unwanted.

Leone nodded, "I was.... grabbed and pierced by a powerful stand. When I finally come to afterwards 'Blues was right next to me."

Josukes throat felt way too dry all of a sudden and his heartbeat was growing more deafening in his ears by the second.

The deliciously rich French Vanilla he had been savoring suddenly turned to water in the teens mouth.

A powerful stand? Pierced? As in.... an Arrow wielding stand?

Flashes of everything between the last few months moved like pictures within his mind and he unconconciously started to grip his knees tightly, unaware of the instantaneous sweat now beading on his face as his heart and mind raced.

Did Abbacchio even know about that kind of stand? The power it possessed? The damage it could do?

Did he know the danger he could be in? More importantly, the danger of Italy itself?

If there really was a stand wielding an arrow, there could be a much worse repeat of what happened back in Morioh here in Naples.

If Kira had been just the teeniest bit stronger than he was, maybe even just a little more careful, Josuke knew he very well wouldn't be sitting here in Italy a month later.

Josuke and his friends had only gotten lucky in the end, a sheer coincidence ending it all for good, nothing more.

He more than any of his friends knew that if it ever happened again, they might not have that luck on their side.

His stomach lurched as there came the memory of disgusting coppery blood in his nose and the sound of a head being squashed accompanied by screams and the beeping of an Ambulance.

The older man across the table frowned deeply, furrowing his brow. The kid suddenly looked like he was going to be sick all over the place. He didn't miss how Crazy Diamonds coral colour eyes turned downwards to its user and the air about the stand turned a little more serious.

Something was definitely off.

Abbacchio couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Josuke knew something. Something bad. And he had a hunch what it was about.

Josuke knew more about stands than he had bargained. But the question was, how did he know?

He opened his mouth to ask if he needed some water or maybe just a breather outside in the fresh air because Josuke had turned a ghostly pale, verging on green even, but was suddenly cut off.

"Leone?"

The new voice speaking was enough to pull Josuke from the numbing static of his thoughts and he blinked himself back to reality, looking towards the archway leading to their private area.

Abbacchio turned, a small smile pulling on his lavender lips as his momentary worry was forgotten. He hadn't expected Bruno to come to dinner so soon but it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise.

'He has hair like your Mother...' came the telepathic whisper from Crazy Diamond, who sounded somewhat amused by it all.

Standing in the archway was a tall, lean man with the deepest bluest eyes Josuke had ever seen, dressed in a fashionable (but no doubt expensive) looking white suit dotted with reverse black teardrops and an open chest, revealing lacy black patterns underneath.

The most notable thing about him however was the giant golden zippers adorning the coat that dangled and jangled as he moved.

If Josuke hadn't just been about to lose his lunch, he would've been blushing red and probably would've punched the cheeky pink and blue stand in the arm.

Not that it would do much but give him a pain in his own arm anyways... so he simply just willed Crazy Diamond to disappear, ignoring the chuckle ringing throughout his head as he did.

Now Josuke felt his face heat up, burning red as if a fire had been set under him, when the pair closed even more distance between them in a quick peck on the lips.

Leone stood up from his chair, going to greet the other man at the doorway.

"Bruno." He said simply, closing the distance between him and the other man in a sort of halfway embrace.

Oh... this was Abbacchios partner.

It wasn't that this new info bothered Josuke, he actually found it a little endearing, it was just that he hardly knew them and felt like he was intruding on something intimate. Like he had just disrupted a date they were having.

Plus, he didn't really take Abbacchio for the type to be in a relationship at all. The man had such a "lone wolf" attitude.

'You know what happens when you ASSUME, Josuke...' His Moms words rang clear in his head suddenly and he almost rolled his eyes remembering the end of that particular lecture.

He also thoroughly enjoyed seeing the other man blush at the time, even through all the foundation on his cheeks.

Bucciarati smiled dotingly at Abbacchio, he didn't miss how the Goth was wearing the lipstick he had picked out for him.

Normally the man wore the blackest shade of lipstick you could find on the shelves but Bruno presented him with the beautiful violet one the other day, telling him it would match the lovely purple in his eyes.

"I didn't think I'd see you here so early."

The white-haired man chuckled, "I could say the same about you. We've been here for a while actually."

Abbacchio returned the look with a roll of his duel-coloured eyes.

Bruno peered past him to the table, blinking in surprise when he saw someone he didn't know seated there (who was still somewhat averting his gaze), before breaking into a soft smile.

His eyes turned back to his partner for a fraction of a second, raising an eyebrow at him, a look that read "Since when did you start picking up strays?".

They would talk about it more later, nothing needed to be said between them to know that it would be.

"Hello there." He began. "I must admit, didn't expect any company for dinner. Leone tends to like his alone time."

Bruno approached the table, taking the chair directly next to Leone, seating himself with a smile that made Josuke feel warm from the inside out.

This man was like warm sunshine on a rolling sea while Abbacchio was like moonlight on a snowy mountain.

Well, he supposed being mugged right beforehand would do that too.

Josuke found himself smiling, holding back a laugh as he watched the Goth seated next to Bruno shoot a weak glare in his direction.

He felt himself relax again as the man tested the waters with him. This man was admittedly much easier to read than Abbacchio and he didn't fear being pounded into the floor for making a joke this time around.

"Heh. Sorry, I guess I kinda followed him here like a stray cat." He laughed a little, giving a joking shrug before extending his hand to shake. "I'm Josuke. Josuke Higashikata. It's nice to meet you."

"Bruno Bucciarati. The pleasure is all mine." The dark haired man replied, clasping his hand.

He wondered if they were dicking around outside and silently prayed Narancia wasn't trying to do a headstand on the post box out there.... again.

"Where've Larry, Curly and Moe gone to?" Abbacchio questioned with a frown, peering out towards the dining room.

They were being too quiet and uncharacteristically hadn't come bursting through the door yet, two whining about being hungry and racing for a good seat at the table while one scoffed and growled for them to quit it.

"They decided they wanted to order some take-out tonight so they're back at the house watching movies." Bruno replied, barely batting an eye as his partner grunted out a sigh of relief.

The two missions today had gone successful to say the least (hence why he was early of course).

Josuke assumed whomever Abbacchio was asking about must've been the others he mentioned previously and settled for sitting quietly and watching the interaction between the pair.

Bruno had teamed up with Mista and Narancia with Fugo. Mista didn't even have to use the pistols this time, their target was easy and too piss drunk to put up a real fight. Almost sad if you asked them.

According to Fugo his mission with Narancia hadn't gone quite as smoothly as theirs had. Their targets had brought back up and tried to make a get away by splitting up in cars. Their tires were full of lead by the time Aerosmith got to them and so were their bodies in the end.

The way they talked so comfortably with one another, holding hands over the table so naturally, it made Josuke wonder how Koichi and Yukako were doing. Those two were really the only couple in his life.

Seeing these two so calm and collected but still have an undoubted twinkle of adoration for one another in their eyes was much better than that gross love. He found himself smiling again.

He had never really been in love before but he had always seen it to be sickeningly sweet when portrayed in those movies on tv, making him a little wary about experiencing it. Those endless scenes where couples would fawn over each other every two seconds and act all lovey dovey made him want to puke sometimes.

Not to mention how the girls from his class back in Japan would hang on his arm and follow him everywhere, gushing about how handsome he was and sometimes even go so far as to try to fight one another for his attention. It made him want to just tell them to bug off some days.

"Please tell me about yourself, Josuke." Bruno began, both mens attention rested solely on him now.

☆☆☆

Talking to Bucciarati was actually quite easy.

The dark-haired Man listened so well and his face itself radiated warmth as Josuke talked and talked, hanging on every word as if he were talking about the most interesting things in the world.

Josuke found these things quite mundane and not exciting in the least, he realized he really did live a plain old everyday life apart from being a stand-user and protector of his City (that was also not counting being friends with an actual Alien from outerspace).

Josuke wasn't quite sure where to begin at first, he didn't want to bore the man, so he started out by telling him he was a tourist from Japan.

Things unfolded from there and he moved into his life as a Highschool student in Morioh.

But Bruno listened, nodding his head, very interested in seemingly all of the mundanity.

He asked him his likes, his dislikes, about Morioh, his Home, his Education and any plans for the future furthering it and the more Josuke answered, the more he felt himself opening up and starting to tell him particular memories and moments with his friends and his Mom.

Bruno actually barked out a laugh when he recounted the story of how he made the mistake of giving Mikitaka a cup of coffee last month without thinking twice (leaving out the part he was an Alien of course) and that ended with him having to drag the buzzing blonde pointy-eared humanoid (whom he spent 2 hours trying to pry off his ceiling) home to his "Mother".

Abbacchio snorted when hearing the story about the time Okuyasu got stuck in a kiddie swing at the park, causing both the Police and Fire Department to have to come to the playground and cut him out of it.

He blamed Koichi for putting the idea in his head of course.

They talked for so long, Josuke didn't even remember how hungry he was (the cake from earlier was heavenly but it wasn't quite filling) until a particularly loud growl of his stomach interrupted him during his speech.

"My you're hungry!" Bruno laughed softly as Josuke felt his cheeks burning. He barely had time to blink before there was a waiter there at the table (a different one from before at that) and a menu being set in front of him.

'At least here I can choose what I want...' he thought to himself as his eyes focused on the ornate little booklet filled with long confusing Italian words in fancy handwritten font.

Oh...

Wait......

He had to choose what he wanted.

Once again, he felt like a Kindergartener helplessly squinting at a word longer than 4 letters being written on the blackboard.

He had no idea what any of it meant or what any of these dishes were.

He almost laughed thinking back to his first visit to Tonios little Trattoria with Okuyasu and how put out they were about him not using menus, opting to read palms to "order" instead.

That seemed like such a better option right now than letting his eyes burn holes into a book of nonsense words.

"Something the matter?" Abbacchio piped up, raising a well styled eyebrow at him. He had already discussed with the kid that money wasn't an issue, so that couldn't be the reason the kid looked so nervous.

Josuke bit his lip, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked up to meet the pairs puzzled gaze.

"Uhh... It's just that I... I can't..."

"Please." Josuke laughed a little, holding the menu out as the man scooted closer to him.

Bucciarati blinked, his eyebrows raising in realization from beneath his bangs.

"Oh, I see." He said. "Would you like some help?"

Patiently, he went through the entire thing with him, pointing to each dish and telling him what they consisted of. Josuke nodded and listened more intently than he ever did in class, trying his best to remember certain names.

"I think I'll have the... the..." Josuke helplessly pointed to the particular dish, his face tinging a little pink.

Bruno was so patient and calm Josuke wondered if this man actually could be a Mother.

He once again chose to ignore the chuckle ringing throughout his head.

"Saltimbocca di pollo alla Romana." Bruno supplied.

He didn't want to embarrass himself further by even attempting to parrot that back. Thankfully, Bucciarati did the talking when the waiter returned.

Josuke didn't have to wonder if this man was a stand-user because he felt that familiarity pull at him again, this time it comforted him, and Josuke found himself smiling.

The teenager had quite forgotten about arrow wielding stands, psycho murderers and blood baths among all the laughter and friendly conversation over the table...

#Diamante d'Italia #josuke higashitaka

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burtlederp · 5 years

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Writing Blurb 2

Heyyyy this is actual whump! Got an idea for a thing, decided to write it out and post it for all y'all to enjoy. It's not my best piece of writing, but it's better than nothing.

TW minor gore, violence, blood, knives... uh idk, if I missed something, someone tell me lol. Hope y'all enjoy!

Moe leaned against the wall, huddled in a corner, eyes squeezed shut. His brown, shaggy hair lay in clumps on his bloodied head, his hands bound behind his back, chest rising and falling with shuddered gasps. Broken ribs made every lung of air agony, while his head throbbed, his sore, raw wrists protesting being tied back any longer. But he ignored the pain, just trying to focus.

The demon, the spirit, the ghost, the monster that haunted his mind had been so much louder since the torture had started. It howled and screamed and bellowed constantly, slamming its claws against the mental cage he had put it in. It wanted out. But Moe didn't want to lose his body, not to it.

The door screeched open, causing Moe to flinch, pressing his cheek against the wall. "N-no…"

"Yep, I'm back," His captor said casually, shutting the door behind himself. "Did you miss me?" He asked sweetly, standing over Moe's weak and huddled form. His face soured when his captive didn't reply.

"Open your eyes and answer me," He growled, a hard slap connecting with Moe's exposed cheek. He gasped, not expecting it, and did as he was told, forcing himself to raise his head and look his captor in the eyes, lip quivering.

"P-please, no more…" He whispered, voice hoarse from screaming. He couldn't take it. Not anymore. He had had enough. One more waterboarding session, one more set of lashes or beatings, and he'd lose control.

"Yeah, sorry. Not an option." The captor reached down and grabbed a handful of Moe's hair, yanking him to his feet. He whimpered, knees barely able to support himself, muscles weak. His captor smiled at him, turning his head slightly to see all of Moe's face.

"I like how you're looking, Momo." He nodded. "We're not quite there, but close," He suddenly yanked Moe's hair again, knocking Moe's skull against the concrete wall. He gave a choked gasp, sliding to the floor.

"I just want to make sure, for this next video we send, you," The torturer punctuated his word with a kick to Moe's stomach, knocking the wind out of his chest. "Look," Another kick, right on top of the first. "Like," Yet another. "Hell." The captor hissed with glee, and his kick went higher, into Moe's upper chest. He coughed, gasping for air, curling into a ball, struggling to focus, but it was difficult when your brain wasn't receiving enough oxygen.

Breathe, Moe, Breathe… Don't… You can't let him win… He thought desperately, but the beast disagreed.

Let me out, and I can save you from him, It tempted. Moe swallowed, peering weakly up at his captor, who was reaching for him.

"No…" He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again as he was lifted by the shirt and dragged to the middle of the floor.

"Now let's see you, yes," He crouched, turning Moe's head side to side, rough fingers squeezing his bruised jaw. Moe clenched his teeth, trying to bite back tears. What was going to come next? How long would this last? Was anyone coming for him?

"Oh, come now, you can cry," His captor's voice was full of false kindness, a hand gently brushing hair off of Moe's face. Moe looked up at him, heart pounding, trying to breathe without choking on blood.

"Please… P-please… No more… I can't…" Moe begged, voice cracking. The captor pulled out a pocket knife, flipping out the blade, smiling as they leaned in close.

"Y'know, you're rather handsome," He said, wiping blood off his captive's chin, who tried to pull away from his grasp in vain. "Too bad that won't be the case anymore. I want to know what you look like with a scar…" The knife's point pressed against the cheekbone, just below Moe's left eye. He whimpered, trying to jerk away.

"Ah-ah, don't move, or I might put out your eye," The captor warned, and Moe held still, eyes shut, tears beginning to well up, waiting, waiting, waiting for the knife to go in.

Let me take the reins, A slimy voice said in the back of his mind.

"No…" Moe whispered, and the knife sunk into his flesh, causing Moe to let out a pained cry.

I will protect you, The voice insisted.

You won't, you won't, Moe tried to remind himself. "No, no, no…!" He wailed behind his teeth.

"Yes! Very yes," His captor grinned, dragging the knife down his face. Moe shrieked, trying to keep his jaw still. He felt hot, sticky blood, his own blood, flow down his face, pooling in his ear and crawling down to the back of his neck. He could feel his hands being crushed beneath him, bent and twisted in the wrong way, threatening to give at any second. His gasps only made everything worse, forcing broken ribs to expand with his chest, pulling the pieces further apart.

The captor twisted and yanked the knife out from Moe's jaw, prompting another gasp. Tears began to flow down his face. He couldn't help it.

Let me out! The voice shouted.

"No…" He moaned, and screamed as suddenly the knife was buried into his arm, and twisted. He arched his back, trying to pull away, but he couldn't, a hand painfully gripping his other arm to keep him in place. His captor was enjoying this, loving every second of Moe's pain.

LET ME OUT!

"No!" Moe sobbed, and howled as the blade was removed, then was pierced through his ear. He couldn't do this. Moe just couldn't.

LET ME OUT!!!

"No! No, I can't, please…" His breathing hitched with every sob, every breath a gasp for air.

"We're almost done," His captor said softly, and began to drag the knife across Moe's forehead.

LET ME OUT!!

Moe just cried, unable to fight anymore. He drew into himself, eyes stinging as blood flowed into them.

"There," The captor leaned back, closing the knife. "You look half-dead. Perfect." He got to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute with the camera, you baby. Don't move an inch!" He laughed, exiting the room.

Moe lay on the floor, feeling his grip on the chains of the beast loosening. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. It was too much.

"I yield," He cried to the empty room. "I yield."

Steven hummed to himself, fiddling with the camera as he walked down the hallway. He had washed his hands, he had his cool mask, the tripod was tucked under his arm. He wouldn't film too much, he didn't really feel like editing today, all that was needed was an update, anyway. Keep the buyers aware that every second they weren't here, every moment they spent unable to find him, their friend was closer to death.

He opened the door to the cell, cheerily calling to his captive. "Moooe, I'm ba--" He stopped. Moe wasn't here. There was blood on the floor, still fresh, where he had just been, but he himself was not in the room. Steven turned, looking down the hallway, feeling anger bubble in his stomach. How?! He thought, about to step back out, when a drop of warm liquid plopped onto his head. He stopped, reaching up to his face to gather the wet on his fingers. Pulling away, he found blood there.

Steven looked up, and didn't have enough time to scream before a dark body slammed down on him, smashing him into the concrete floor. Teeth sunk into his shoulder, clawed fingers digging into his throat, but he wasn't able to cry out, all the air knocked from his lungs. The attacker yanked back, taking a chunk of Steven's flesh with them in their teeth. Feeling the grip of it loosen slightly, Steven scrambled free, cutting his hands on the sharp pieces of the broken camera as he crawled to the opposite wall, pressing himself against it as he tried to breathe. Finally able to see his attacker, he involuntarily shrieked in fear.

There was his captive, but it wasn't. Moe sat, or rather crouched, but his eyes were black, glowing yellow rings set on their prey. His back had warped, a couple vertebrae too many now, his limbs seeming longer than before. His fingernails had disappeared, instead his fingers now giant, sharp claws. The bloodied, mutated form of Moe grinned at him with razor-sharp, needle-like teeth, holding his flesh in its mouth.

It suddenly stood--yes, it was definitely taller now, its feet had grown longer and were clawed too--staring down at Steven. The light behind its head, he could only see the yellow circles of its pupils, the rest of its face in shadow. He heard it swallow.

"It's been a looong time since I was in control," Moe's voice came from it as it stretched, but it was drier, raspier, more sinister. "Feels nice, I'll admit. I see why you were enjoying it." Blood dribbled down its face and its neck, from new cuts and from its lips.

Steven stared up at the monster in fear, wishing he could sink into the floor. He hadn't prepared for this. He had no plan. But he wasn't going to die without a fight. He swiped his leg under those of the monster, knocking it off balance. It stumbled to the side as Steven pushed himself off the wall, staggering out of the cell as fast as he could, breathing hard, holding his shoulder with one hand. Blood was already spilled down his front, but he ignored the pain of it. He had to run, he had to get away.

He heard the sound of clawed feet scraping against the ground, heard snarls of something inhuman behind him. He tried to run faster, but it felt like a bad dream, the sounds getting closer no matter how fast he ran. He screamed, panic rising up into his throat. He was silenced abruptly as he was tackled, those awful, wicked clawed hands wrapping around his throat, tight enough to cut off air. He struggled, flailing in the beast's grip, but it was so much stronger now. It turned him over, staring down at him with those terrible eyes, that horrifying grin. It moved its hands, one slipping quickly up to his forehead, and the other pressing down so hard on his chest he could almost feel his ribs snap, leaving his throat exposed. Steven's eyes widened.

"N-no, no, please, no, NO--!!" The dying wailings were cut short as those sharp teeth ended him. There was no voice now, just the sound of a monster, feasting.

#whump #torture #mine #my writing #whump writing #writing blurb #burtleblurb #monster #possession #inner demon #gore #blood #whump community

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

Note

So many options, I'm picking 8,16 and 37 (separately of course) also bring on the NSFW 🥵🥵

Thank you for the prompt request, Anon! As I can only respond to your ask once, I’ll be fulfilling prompt 8, but rest assured that I’ve received another request for 37, so I’ll get to that one as well.

Hostel FeelingsPairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 4826

8. “There’s only one bed.”

The Spider-Man-community-appearances thing was really takingoff. In fact, it had taken off sowell that Peter was beginning to understand the lives of his superhero mentorsin ways he’d never really thought he would get a chance to. Mr. Stark and Mr.Rogers had both been in the spotlight a lot, for very different reasons, andPeter thought he could finally comprehend… just how much those spotlights madeyour back sweat. Seriously, rivers down his spine. Nanotechnology was cool andall, but Peter felt like Mr. Stark could’ve maybe taken a page from Nike orAdidas’s book instead and build in some kind of sweat-wicking layer. Metaldidn’t breathe.

Apparently, the old suit wasn’t as impressive. Didn’t havethat shine seldom seen outside Mr.Clean ads like the new suit did.

Oh sure, the metal Spidey-suit was fun to wear, filled Peterwith pride, and looked awesome―all gleaming and eye-catching for the generalpublic and flocks of photographers―except once it was heated under thoselights, it was a human barbecue, expensively and meticulously molded to fitPeter and only Peter. (Or some other guy about his height, build, and shoesize. Or girl. Or even, like, any well behaved dog. Maybe a Border Collie? Hewas confident that the old model mask would stretch to fit a long snout, havingonce seen it filled by Ned’s foot. There’d been an explanation at the time, butit had been so weird that Peter had given up trying to understand and basicallyforgotten about it since then.)

Anyway, Peter may have made some subtle complaints about thelights and suit combo. Even though―he swore!―hehadn’t done it to bug Happy, next thing he knew, he was getting a call fromPepper, who totally ratted on Happy as bringing Peter’s ‘whining’ to herattention. She had a plan, or her people had a plan, or the Avengers’ PR team(who still could’ve been Pepper’s people, Peter didn’t know) had a plan.

Then there were informational meetings and strategy meetingsand branding meetings and itinerary meetings and somewhere between ‘summerworld tour’ and ‘big white marquees,’ Peter heard the word ‘shade’ and said theword ‘yes.’

May was in, of course, thrilled by the idea of a vacationand hopefully nothing else, if it was up to her nephew; Happy was going alongtoo and Peter knew his aunt knew, and that she knew he knew she knew, and thatthis might still not be enough to head off any potential canoodling. He didhave to thank their disturbing occasional flirting for one thing though: itgave Peter the idea to ask if MJ could come too. Not for all of it, just acountry or two.

He’d also asked about Ned tagging along, but once again,Happy got wind and refused to include Peter’s best friend on any of the stopsoutside of the continental United States. Apparently, Ned made Happy feel likehe was on a game show―not the win-a-million-bucks kind, but thehave-questions-rapidly-fired-at-you kind. But Happy hadn’t met Peter’sgirlfriend, so some unvoiced reason prevented him from barring her from thetrip. Ethics or something. The point was, MJ was coming with him. And that MJwas his girlfriend. That was also the point.

It had turned out to be easier than Peter had thought toconfess his feelings to MJ. Especially after she told him she knew he wasSpider-Man… and then that she knew he liked her. Luckily, she liked him too,which she was also prepared to disclose. Peter was aware that he was thesuperhero, but MJ was definitely the brave one.

Between the tour’s schedule and MJ’s (which she repeatedlyinformed Peter was the more important of the two―always said with a teasingsmirk on her face), they would meet up in Italy for three weeks in August. Thatwas kinda nice, since they’d both enjoyed Venice during the school trip. MJalso appreciated that all of her expenses were being covered, including the flightover so that she wouldn’t have to worry about booking tickets last minute whentheir schedules finally aligned.

To give Peter additional time out of the suit (wow, Happymust have really laid it on thick about Peter’s so-called ‘whining’), it wasarranged that he and MJ would be allotted extra travel days between appearancedates. They could visit museums, eat, take pictures, eat, go shopping,eat―generally get a feel for a ton of places in Italy that their Midtown triphadn’t covered.

A week into Peter’s MJ time (he never called it that outloud), he was getting sick of hostels, their accommodations of choice. Only itwasn’t the stuff about hostels that people usually got sick of, like, havingtheir belongings stolen, or rooms with too many bunkbeds and not enoughprivacy, or rats. Peter had heard that there were sometimes rats. What wasmaking him restless was brushing his teeth next to MJ after dinner in thecommunal washroom and seeing her foamy toothpaste smile in the mirror. Passingher in the hall, both of them in pajamas, as she headed for the room reservedfor girls, while he went to the one for guys. Catching her eye as they eachshut the door of those rooms and knowing as surely as he knew he was Spider-Manthat he was going to suffer all night because he couldn’t roll over and see herface or pull her warm body close to his.

That was a thing too. The thought of them sleeping together.In senses of the word that he was not comfortable discussing with May in themiddle of a public restaurant, no matter how many times she tried to spring theconversation on him, claiming she wanted to make sure he was mentally preparedand, jeeze, a lot of other stuff that he’d drowned out by loudly chewing astarter salad. May had also been the reason that Peter and MJ sleeping togetherhad not happened at all, let alone as many times as he would’ve liked it to.(Ideally more than once a day, and twice on Saturday mornings.) His aunt wasjust around. There was nothing more to it than that. Peter loved her so much,but he sometimes wanted May to decide that he could be alone in the apartmentall night, no questions asked.

He probably could’ve finagled something with theaccommodations during this trip if the thought of going up to Pepper andrequesting one hotel room for him and MJ to share didn’t make him feel like theheated embarrassment on his face was trying to burn him alive. Peter hadpracticed a couple of times in bathroom mirrors while the tour was movingthrough France; no good―he was an easy blusher.

The only thing he was capable of doing was behaving himself,holding MJ’s hand all day long and breaking off kisses while he still felt likehe could. Peter kept his underlying frustrations well hidden. Meaning MJprobably knew everything.

For years, Peter had been developing the belief (and thenbeen mentored into it even further by Mr. Stark) that science was the answer.The question didn’t matter. Being in a school lab, theorizing new chemicalcombinations, or taking stuff apart―possibly not always being able to fixit―let him be both excited and totally calm at the same time. Probably likepeople who climbed really high mountains, with icepicks or whatever. God, hehad tried that, fiddling with tech in the non-metal suit he had packed in hisbackpack for emergencies while the metal one was carefully housed andtransported with Pepper and the rest of the tour crew. Evidently, even themight of science was humbled in the face of teenage hormones. So he was goingthe route of a true man of science and trying a different approach totemporarily escape his desires.

“Fresh air?” MJ asked again, looking skeptical and also so beautiful as they walked out intoearly golden light. Peter didn’t look back at the hostel they’d just checkedout of. It was no friend of his.

“Yeah,” he said excitedly, “I was researching on my phonelast night and I found this plum orchard place that’s only like, an hour out ofour way, and it’s really scenic and rural and it’s kind of like a bed andbreakfast too? And it said they make their own―”

“So,” she interrupted as Peter was extracting his phone fromhis pocket to win MJ over with pictures of the property, “this is like adaytrip or we’re changing our plans and staying overnight there?”

“Um, the second one. Is that ok?”

“Yes, dork, it’s ok with me. But I’m not the one bankrollingthis little holiday.”

“I called this morning to let…” He paused, cautiously eyeinga couple ambling past them. “…our friendsknow. They said the rooms are taken care of under some company name that won’tmake it obvious that one of us is an Avenger.”

MJ frowned at him, then yawned massively. Well, herirreverence over him dropping the A-word would keep him humble.

“Jeeze, Peter, how early were you up? And you stayed up latelast night figuring this out too?”

Peter attempted an innocent closed-lipped smile.

“Oh, just couldn’t sleep.”

One coach bus ride with a group of Austrian tourists later(Pepper’s people really could gettickets for anything), and Peter and MJ were deposited at a stately yet homeywhite villa surrounded by green Tuscan countryside. He wasn’t sure he’d everseen anything so green. The Hulk could come here for hide and seek. But it wasbetter to keep a lid on these supernatural-themed remarks, so Peter didn’t sayanything out loud. The two of them crunched across gravel, craning for one lastglimpse of the sprawling orchard of plum trees on the other side of a hedge.Well, Peter was craning. MJ could probably see over it no problem.

She was blinking, eyes adjusting to the indoors, when theyentered, so he steered them over to someone who looked like staff. Not being ahotel, there wasn’t an obvious front desk or anything. At least they had areservation. That was comforting.

“Hi, um, buon giorno.Uh, mi chiamo Peter Parker.”

“Ah, benvenuto!”the man said immediately, warm eyes sparkling in a way that Peter was beginningto find very Italian.

“Grazie,” he andMJ replied together. Phew, that was one of the words he definitely had down.

He assumed the guy recognized his name because the rooms hadbeen booked so recently. It set Peter even more at ease and he followed the manto a computer where he assumed his booking was being pulled up.

“Bene,” the manconcluded, glancing at his guests with a friendly smile. “Already paid,” heproceeded in lightly bouncing English. “The room upstairs with windows facing east.”

“The rooms,” MJ jumpedin with a reassuring smile. Peter guessed the smile was to show she wasn’ttrying to be condescending by correcting the man’s mistake, just accurate. Shecould be particular like that sometimes.

Except, uh oh, the guy was frowning.

“Una camera,” he said,eyes darting back to the computer.

“Due,” MJcountered, holding up two fingers. She and Peter exchanged a glance too shortto allow him to convey everything he was thinking.

The man did some more staring at the screen.

“Due persone, una camera,” he concluded, facing themand holding his hands palms-up.

“He thinks the reservation was for two people in one room,”MJ told Peter.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought I was getting,” he replied.Still having a lot of feelings about that.

“Con bagno,” theman supplied, going with a conciliatory smile.

“There’s a bathroom attached,” MJ muttered automatically.Yeah, she’d totally been putting in time with her English-to-Italiandictionary. What a nerd.

“It’s just,” Peter said to the man, willing a certainoutcome with his eyes that he wasn’t ready to admit to out loud, “we meant toeach get a room. Each of us in our own room.”

“All of the other rooms have been booked,” the man said.“Last reservation was for you. But one room is ok, yes? You’re having abeautiful vacation with your girlfriend.” He shot MJ a playfully sly look.“Everything has worked out,” he concluded in a tone of absolutely certaintythat Peter had also identified as very Italian.

The man handed MJ the key and pointed in the direction ofthe stairs. As they talked on the way up, Peter didn’t think he’d hadbutterflies like this since he’d found out she liked him back.

“It’s not like it actually matters,” his girlfriend said, cutting their situation down tosize.

“No, not really,” Peter agreed.

He kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Did sherealize? Crap, they did it at the same time. His gaze shot forward.

“Sharing a room with one person I actually know is going tobe nothing after hostel life,” she continued. This was practically rambling forMJ. She’d said ‘actually’ twice. Peter clamped his lips together, trying not togrin.

“For sure. It’ll be roomy.”

“Exactly.” They arrived at the top of the stairs and wentdown the hallway. MJ was nearly marching, fully of what appeared to be newfoundcertainty that she had a handle on everything. “I’ll be in my bed and you’ll beway across the room in yours.”

“Right.”

The word ‘bed’ made swallowing a struggle. Peter wasofficially an idiot. Then again, MJ’s hand was shaking as she unlocked the doorto their room, signifying that she was an idiot too. It would be fine though.He would act normal. Sleeping in the same room? Not a big deal. It’d be likesleepovers at Ned’s.

The door swung open. They both thought it―Peter knew theydid―but MJ was the one who said it.

“There’s only one bed.”

They discovered that there was a lot to do (outside,isolated, away from urban distractions) all day when returning to their roomwasn’t an option, and a lot to say to each other when mentioning the room wasalso off the table. After making sure it was allowed, Peter and MJ took alengthy walk down avenue after leafy avenue of plum trees. His heart surged ashe squinted through dappled light at her smiling face. When the heat rose inthe afternoon, they feasted on bruschetta at a shaded table next to thehouse―the owners’ homegrown tomatoes were also in season. MJ had gone up totheir room alone to change before lunch and the bright, wet red of the dicedtomatoes against the dazzling summer blue of the plate their food had beenserved on was almost enough to keep Peter’s eyes off her legs.

The afternoon stretched luxuriously while they stayed insideto escape the hottest hours; Peter worked out some equations in a notebook andMJ read Dante’s Paradiso. (She saidshe liked to theme her holiday reading based on location―her bookishness madehim starry-eyed.) After a while, not planning to, he realized his notebook wasin his lap and he was watching her. This place kind of was paradise, thoughPeter missed New York, but he was definitely in hell. How was he supposed to…?What was he going to…? Man, she was pretty.

He couldn’t remember what they ate for supper, diningcommunally with the handful of other guests. Any fresh, local ingredients werewasted on Peter that night. Was it possible that he hadn’t stared at MJ acrossthe table for the entire meal? Yes. Was it probable? No. He made excuses abouttoo much sun, pretending like he’d zoned out and his gaze had only happened toland on her because she was right in front of him.

“Your face is kindof red,” she agreed, then reached over to lay her fingers on his forehead. Itcould have been clinical if MJ hadn’t brushed her fingertips through his hairbefore she drew her hand back.

Peter smiled, feeling weak.

“Sun,” he repeated.

They were quiet going upstairs. The wooden steps had acomfortable old groan to them that managed to feel familiar to two people wholived in apartment buildings with concrete stairwells. Their arms skimmed asthey walked. Peter exhaled slowly through his mouth, drawn closer to MJ in ahallway settling into its own navy shadows.

“Hold on a sec,” he finally said while she unlocked thedoor. His hand was suddenly on her wrist, then stroking over the back of herhand.

MJ kissed him before Peter could tell her why he’d asked herto wait, which was great because he had no idea. He kissed her in return,slowly, holding her face with one hand so it stayed where he wanted it. Thesoft bump let him know that yes, he really had backed MJ up that tiny half-stepit took to hit the closed door. She slouched against it, keeping their kisslevel while everything inside Peter unbalanced. Somehow, his thigh was pushingwith its own determination between her legs. He wondered what her skin feltlike right below the hem of her white denim shorts. He wondered what it feltlike underneath them too.

Peter’s hands went to her hips with a squeeze that woke himup a little. He put his palms on the door instead. Gradually, the kiss loosenedand the distance between their mouths grew until their lips didn’t touch again.The last thing he shifted away from her was his lower body. He’d been hardagainst her. That was another fact for MJ to collect, another detail. It wasn’tmuch work to be observant with him. Peter gave it all away.

She finished letting them into their room while he tried notto pant on the back of her neck like a wolf about to sink its teeth in. Therewas a feeling between them, he thought. This was nothing like strolling into ahostel together after a gelato excursion or holding hands in one of a millionpiazzas. Piazze? MJ had more wordsdown than he did.

So they got changed separately―Peter in the bathroom and MJin the bedroom―but they tugged each other’s pajamas when the two of themslipped by at the threshold between rooms. And they brushed their teeth side byside― he splashed his mouth to clear away toothpaste―but he saw MJ breathinghard when water rolled down his chin, her dazed eyes on it until it passedunder the neck of his t-shirt. And they caught each other watching each other―Peterfolded down his side, she kept hers squared up to the head of the bed―as theycrawled between the sheets.

MJ had opened the large window earlier and the air had comein with the low sounds of people talking while they drank limoncello. Maybe Peter and MJ moved closer because of the breeze.Or maybe there was no breeze because the heat of an Italian August is still andinevitable. They could’ve related to part of that, if they’d thought about it.

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to be way across the room,” MJmurmured. Her foot found his.

The bedroom wasn’t so dark for him and his eyes traced thecurves of her face.

“Pretty sure you’re the one who didn’t stay on their side ofthe bed.”

“Prove it,” she said as her ankle crossed his.

Peter’s clipped laugh accompanied a smile that went widethen disappeared completely. His heart pounded.

“I’ll see you in court,” he said, lips hitting hers when hespoke.

She rolled on top of him and Peter gripped the back of herthigh just below her ass as his tongue shoved into her mouth. Her body forcedthe breath out of him―not her body’s weight, but its presence―and when he couldinhale, it was with an audible waver. Using his other hand, Peter inched theside of MJ’s tank top up until he could put his hand on her bare waist. Shedragged him deeper into the kiss, found the hem of his t-shirt and, with moreconfidence than he’d used, jerked the fabric upward as far as she could whileit was mostly trapped between them. Her pulse seemed to be right there, in herstomach when their skin met. Peter liked it, how MJ felt against him. A lot.

Their lips unlocked and they stared at each other. Her hairtickled his cheek.

“I’m on the pill,” she abruptly informed him.

“O-oh.” His face probably looked surprised, but he hoped itwas at least a good surprised,because that was how he felt.

“Apparently, sending a teenage daughter abroad to meet hernerdy yet deceptively well-muscled boyfriend in a country famous for its nudeartwork is the kind of thing that makes mothers nervous. Or so I’ve found.”

MJ pushed herself up on her elbows enough to shrug. Peterwas still struggling to exist, but knew it was time to generate a response.

“I’m… glad?” he tried, then frowned slightly. Did that makeit sound like he was happy her mother was worried? A second attempt wasnecessary. “Was the description of me your words or hers?”

“You weren’t actually mentioned during the birth controlacquisition outing, but you were strongly implied.“

Peter gathered her hair at the back of her neck, the slackcircle of his fingers standing in for an elastic.

“So, what you’re saying is that it’s your description.” Hegrinned at her as she rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, nerd. It was just a statement of facts. Am Isupposed to have somehow not noticedyour body?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ve just noticed it,” he countered, gaspingin a breath when her palm smoothed over his abdomen. “I think you’ve thought about it.”

She went in for a kiss, probably to shut him up, but Peterdodged her, thanking his supernaturally speedy reflexes. Sighing like she wasgoing to complain about his teasing became much better sighing as his mouth ranalong her neck. Slowly, Peter started to kiss her skin. MJ’s upper body grewless tense and she dropped back onto him completely. Then, she started to pant.He licked a line, chasing her pulse.

“Fucking hostels,” she groaned and grabbed his face to kisshim on the lips again.

He moaned into her mouth as she wriggled to push her soft PJcapris off. Helpfully, Peter lifted the hand on her leg, then put it right backdown on naked skin. He raised his hips, grinding into her thigh. When she gavehim a little more space, he was sad, but not stupid; he hurriedly kicked hisown bottoms off, then yanked his shirt over his head before sitting up andgoing after hers. MJ raised her arms and the corner of his mouth ticked withhow vulnerable she was, how much she trusted him.

Pajamas shed, they both shuffled back down under the sheet.God, he wanted to reach out for her. His fingers flexed.

“It’s ok to―” he started to check, gaze descending.

“It was ok like three hostels ago,” MJ assured him.

She grabbed his hand and set it on her hip, then scootedtowards him, making his palm run over her skin. Peter thought about their daytogether. All their days together. He kissed her hard and let his hand travel.There was a noise in the back of her throat that stiffened him an improbable(not impossible―he was a scientist, he allowed for possibilities) fractionmore.

He didn’t push MJ onto her back, only fingering her gentlyin a way that made her shaky, but that was how she ended up. Still dumbstruckat the wetness as he traced between her thighs, Peter continued to trail thetip of his middle finger over and around her clit as he climbed onto her. Herhands were busy too; he hadn’t expected the greediness behind MJ’s touch as shecaressed his abs, gripped his biceps, and, most daringly (with a bold raise ofher chin as she met his eye), groped his ass. There was so much to ask herabout later. Clearly, she really had had a few thoughts in all that time she’dspent observing him. That was excellent, in Peter’s opinion.

Her hands stopped roving to grasp his hips, so Peter movedhis coaxing fingers away and ground directly against her in a determined drag.She cried out, legs jumping up to shelter his hips. He clenched his jaw.Parting her thighs slightly wider―more as a hint than because she needed to, hethought―MJ guided him that little bit lower, invited him. He looked into herface for long enough to be fully in love with her by the end of it.

“Per favore,Parker,” she whispered up to him, utterly fucking with him. “Per favore.”

“I know what that one means,” Peter said. He pressed thehead of his erection against her.

“Then why aren’t my manners getting me anything?”

He released a short laugh and started to ease inside her. Rightaway, he heard MJ’s breathing get rough and dropped his forehead to hershoulder, rubbing a hand soothingly across her arm. She shook her head after aminute. Peter thrust a little deeper, questioningly. MJ nodded rapidly. Heinhaled like he meant it and slid further. The heat in the room that they’ddefinitely added to, the midnight sounds of the countryside, the scent of herbody on clean sheets―nothing won out in the battle for his attention over thefeeling of her, so tight around him that pleasure was an agony.

MJ hooked her arms below his, damp palms pressed to thecenter of his back, and let out a contented sigh that felt too private to hear.But then again, Peter guessed they were redefining those boundaries now. Heworked his way out and back in with a focused care. A few more minutes ofgentle rocking had MJ’s hips joining in and Peter sighed too, like she’d takenaway some massive burden. It wasn’t that at all, just that this was the greatestthrill of his life―and he threw himself off skyscrapers on a regular basis!

Once they started, it only gained momentum. For real, itcould’ve been graphed or something to demonstrate the exponential escalation.Peter thought that afterwards, of course. Inside of those immeasurable moments,he was living from second to second with MJ. Her nails were short, but he feltthem in his lower back, urging him on. When her neck arched, he licked it. Allthe time, their hips were going like crazy. The intensity was almostunbearable. That didn’t mean Peter would slow down though, especially not whileMJ kept saying “faster” every few seconds at an increasingly higher pitch.

She climaxed suddenly and he felt like he’d been riding abike that had just hit a curb, sending him flying over the handlebars; thestrength of her squeeze, holding him irresistibly, was a power Peter was notequipped to fight. It brought him to his knees. Metaphorically. Physically, hewas still on top of her, thrusting shallowly through his orgasm while he waitedfor his brain to reassemble and tried to keep forcing those shuddering gaspsout of MJ.

They collapsed together after another minute: her backlanding on the bed and him landing on her. She made sure to exaggerate how muchhe was squashing her, while also wrapping her legs around him and pressing herface intimately into his neck.

“Laugh now,” she encouraged, “but how will you live withyourself after crushing me?”

“I can feel you smiling against my throat.”

Her face twitched as he felt her getting her expressionunder control.

“I was getting ready to bite you. You know, battle my wayfree.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Tell me you’ve never taken down a bad guy like that,” MJchallenged.

“With my teeth?”

“It’s called using all the weapons in your arsenal.”

Peter’s arms closed in around her and he smiled to himselfwhen MJ’s palms went to his biceps as he moved.

“Good thing you came for part of the tour. These are usefultips.”

“You know what they say. Behind every superhero is agirlfriend, assessing their combat technique and checking out their ass.”

He laughed hard, kissed her, and laughed some more. Hersmirk was delightfully smug.

“I knew you were thinking about it,” Peter teased quietly,mouth on her throat. His hips jerked.

She made a round mmmof agreement, her fingers raking into his hair.

“One more piece of advice,” MJ offered.

“I’m listening,” he promised, barely bucking.

“No―” she gasped, “―more hostels. I sleep where you sleep.”

“Or not so much sleep as…”

The white sheet twisted helplessly as MJ pushed a grinning Peteronto his back.

Pick a prompt for a Spideychelle drabble!

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