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harley-sunday · 3 years

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North Star [01]

Summary: “We were never bad, Charles, we just lost each other somewhere along the way.” It’s been two years since you and Charles broke up and you have been trying to find your way ever since. Will seeing him again make you find your true north?

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x reader (best friends) | Charles Leclerc x reader

Chapter warnings: Language. Mentions Anthoine Hubert. Please see the masterlist for general warnings.

Word count: 5.6k

AN: Reader is an unnamed OFC, nicknamed Flo. I went with an OFC because there is a lot of backstory that will be revealed throughout the story (including how she got her nickname), but I still wanted it to read as a reader insert. No mentions of y/n. For the sake of this fic Charles is very much single.

Also. Ever since I found out Pierre and Charles used to go on vacation together with their families I knew I wanted to write something set in the present where they still get together once a year. Somehow New Year’s Eve fitted right into that and so here we are :) This story is a slow-burn, I apologize in advance and at the same time try to make up for it with copious amounts of backstory to include Reader/Flo into the narrative, which I hope you’ll like.

[Flashback in italics]

Masterlist

Rouen, late summer 2000

“Tata!”

Pascale looks up from where she’s hidden away under an umbrella, shielding herself from the burning midday sun while trying to finish the book she started months ago. Worry creeps up on her when she sees the little girl running at her at full speed, arms flailing as she tries to keep her balance on the bumpy field of grass, skidding to a halt that almost has her crashing into the lounge chair Pascale’s sitting on.

“Tata!” The girl is panting now, her eyes wide and pointing somewhere behind her, “He climbed up the tree- And- And I told him not to- And,” a sob escapes her then, “And he fell, Tata. And now he’s crying. And-”

“Oh shit,” Pascale curses quietly, on her feet in an instant, stepping into the flip flops she kicked off just minutes before. She crouches down then, her hands cupping the hot, tear-stained cheeks of her best friend’s four-year old daughter, trying to calm down the little girl somewhat even though the attempt is futile. “It’s going to be ok, ma puce,” Pascale tries as she scoops up the little girl and heads towards her son.

Pierre’s wails get louder the closer she gets and she tries to tell herself that’s a good thing, because at least he’s still conscious. Right? She doesn’t know how bad it is, doesn’t know if he’s broken an arm, or a leg, or- She doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to assume the worst even though it’s hard not to. The little girl directs her to a group of trees on her right and it’s then she sees her son standing there, feeling very sorry for himself no doubt, and a wave of relief washes over her.

Pascale kisses the little girl on the cheek before she sets her down, “You did good, sweetie.” She shakes her head at Pierre then, but there’s no hiding the relieved smile that tugs on her lips because even though he looks an absolute mess she doesn’t see any serious injuries. His hair is sticking up in every direction and she spots at least two twigs and a handful of leaves sticking to his dirty blonde locks, his jeans are ripped from where he must have landed on his knees, and his hands are covered in dirt but that’s about the worst of it. She kneels down and puts her hand under his chin, to make him look up at her, “Are you ok?” Pierre nods and so Pascale tuts, “What did you do, mon chou?”

Her son’s shoulders sag in defeat, his eyes looking down at his feet, and his voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “I fell.”

Pascale doesn’t say anything, trying to see if he’ll tell her what really happened on his own.

He does, “I fell from the tree.”

Pascale lets out a sigh, one she exaggerates just a little to get her point across, “What did I tell you about climbing trees?”

“I’m not allowed,” Pierre hangs his head even lower, not wanting to look at her.

“Exactly.” Pascale holds out her arms to him then and when he steps into her embrace she pulls him close, “No more climbing trees, mister.”

He nods against her shoulder.

“What did you say?”

“No, maman,” he says, the reply whispered into her ear.

“Good,” she lets go of him and holds out her hand, “let’s go get you cleaned up.” Pascale holds out her other hand to the little girl, “Come on, ma puce.”

They’re about halfway to the house when suddenly the little girl cries, “Am not!”

“Am too!” Pierre yells back, throwing her a look that is far too accusing for a four-year old, their whispered argument from just moments before now a screaming match that Pascale has heard many times before.

“Am not,” the little girl says again, sounding a little more defeated now and Pascale can tell she’s on the brink of tears.

She lets go of the two little ones and lines them up next to each other, giving each of them a stern look, “What’s going on?”

Pierre sticks his chin out, not saying anything, but the little girl quietly sobs, “He says I’m a tattletale.”

“Pierre,” Pascale warns him, one eyebrow raised to get her point across.

“She is,” Pierre replies solemnly.

“Because she went and got me?” Pascale tries, even though she already knows the answer.

Pierre nods, “Yes.”

“Oh honey,” Pascale smiles and ruffles Pierre’s hair. “She’s not a tattletale for coming to get me. What if you were seriously injured, hmm?”

“Yeah, but-”

“No, mon chou,” Pascale shakes her head. “She’s your best friend and that’s what best friends do. They look out for each other.”

XXX

Les Côtes, December 28, 2021

It’s a little after five in the afternoon and the sun has just begun to set, the light disappearing even faster now that you are driving through a dense patch of forest. Your navigation tells you to take the next right in that annoying voice of hers and so you shut it off because after twenty plus years of coming here you can make the drive down from Rouen to here pretty much with your eyes closed anyway. You only had it on to help you navigate the detours between Orleans and Bourges, the roadworks there adding an extra hour to what was already going to be a six-hour drive.

When you make the final turn onto Les Côtes something heavy settles in your chest while at the same time there is an onslaught of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and so you’re a little confused by the melting pot of emotions you’re feeling right now even though it has been brewing ever since you got into the car this morning.

The driveway up to the house is narrow and so you keep your eyes peeled in front of you in case any wildlife decides to dart out of the forest and onto the dimly lit road. You’ll never forget the rabbit your Dad hit a little bit further up the road. You must have been seven or eight and you were absolutely inconsolable when you found out the poor thing hadn’t survived. When your Dad joked you should take it back to the house so Mamie could use it for her famous rabbit stew you refused to get back into the car until your Mom promised she’d go back to pick up the rabbit and give him a proper burial in the backyard instead.

The memory disappears from your mind when the big house comes into view and then another emotion is added to the mix, one you prefer to focus on for now because it’s the best feeling in the world. The feeling of coming home.

You pull up not much later and before you can even honk the horn to let them know you’ve arrived the front door opens and Pierre comes rushing at you, a boyish grin plastered on his face and his arms outspread. You hardly have time to unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of your car before he throws himself at you, making you stumble backwards a bit from the sheer force of his hug.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, but his voice is barely above a whisper and too full of emotion for you to take it personally.

Instead you wrap your arms around him and pull him close because it really has been too long, “God, I’ve missed you.”

He lets out a shaky breath, “Missed you too, Flo.”

You smile at the use of your nickname, which is so connected to him and to this place that it makes the tears that have been burning in your eyes all day finally spill over. You try to blink them away but know it’s a futile attempt and so instead you just relish in the hug a little longer. When you finally pull back you see his eyes are a little glossed over as well and so you stick out your tongue at him while you wipe your own tears away, “Don’t go soft on me now, Gas.”

He makes a face at you before he presses a kiss to your cheek, “It’s just good to have you back.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “it is.” When he lets go of you, you reach into the car and grab the package you brought him from where it’s been sitting in the passenger’s seat and hand it to him with a smile, “Here. Merry belated Christmas.”

He turns the oddly shaped package over in his hands and you can see his smile growing wider when the realisation hits, “You didn’t!”

“I did,” you counter with a wink. “How could I not?”

“But how? When did you go to-”

“I didn’t,” you say as you bump your shoulder against his on your way to the trunk to take out your suitcase. “Got it online.”

“Really?” He tears through the wrapping paper rather unceremoniously, pumping one fist in the air when he sees his present, and lets out a rather obscene groan, “Oh my God, I love you!”

“I know,” you say as you gently pat his arm before you hand him a big grocery bag, “There’s another two in here, so-”

“I won’t have to share?” His eyes light up and he lets out a cackle, “If Pyry finds out I ate an entire Galette des Rois by myself he is going to kill me.” He gently flicks your arm, “And you, for giving it to me.”

“Pfft,” you scoff, “I can take Pyry. No problem.”

Pierre laughs even harder then, “No you can’t.”

“I totally can.”

“Flo-” he counters with a grin, shaking his head.

“Yeah, ok, no. I can’t,” you agree quietly, knowing all too well you’ve got nothing on Pierre’s trainer who absolutely towers over you and looks like he could break you in half if he wanted to. He wouldn’t, because if anything he’s just a big softy, but still. No need to take any chances.

Pierre hands you the grocery bag back then, taking your suitcase out of the trunk instead, and nods towards the house, “Come on.”

XXX

Are you surprised to find Pierre’s mom in the kitchen, quietly singing along to some Jacques Brel song? No. Not really anyway, because in every memory you have of this place and these family vacations, Pascale, just like your Mom, is somehow always tied to the kitchen.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Pierre says from somewhere over your shoulder as he gently pushes you forward.

The next moment almost happens in slow motion, Pascale turning around and wiping her hands on the tea towel that's tucked into the side of her apron, a wide smile on her face as she holds out her hands to you, “Ma puce.”

You step into her embrace with an equally wide smile, your chin resting on her shoulder comfortably, “Salut Tata.” It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her but it is as if no time has passed, her hug as warm and comforting as ever, “I’ve missed you,”

She lets go of you then but keeps her hands on your arms, her eyes wandering down from your head to your toes and back up before her eyes find yours, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I am now that I’m back here.”

Pascale eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t push it. She doesn’t really have to either because she knows you’ll tell her eventually anyway. It’s always been like that. As a teenager you’d often go to Pascale with whatever problem you were having because instead of judging you she listened and let you talk your way through whatever it was you were dealing with at that time. You know it frustrated your Mom to no end and looking back it might have been a bit unfair to rather talk to your Mom’s best friend than to her, but isn’t that what all teenagers do? If anything, you remember Pierre did the same thing and always went to your Dad for advice. “We’ll catch up over dinner, ma puce. Now go,” she says with a wave of her hand, effectively dismissing you, “Tonton is over there somewhere-” she nods towards the living room, “-go say hi.”

“You sure you don’t want me to help with dinner?” You already know there is a very detailed roster somewhere that tells each and every one of you exactly when you are expected to do what and where, and you doubt she’s put you on it for today but still you offer.

“Oh no, no. Not tonight.” She points at her son, “Pierre is on kitchen duty with me. And it’s only the five of us anyway, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

“And yet there’s still a three-course meal going out,” Pierre mutters under his breath, shaking his head, and you can’t help but laugh when Pascale throws him a warning look.

When you pass Pierre you throw him a wink and whisper a quiet, “Good luck,” knowing all too well Pascale takes no prisoners when it comes to her cooking or her planning. You make your way to the living room but you only find Katerina there, curled up on one of the big couches, with a book in her lap. You’ve met here once before, at the Qatar Grand Prix earlier this year which Pierre invited you and his parents too as well, and so you’re quick to make your way over to her, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she responds with a smile, getting up to give you a hug.

“How have you been?”

“Good.” She waves her hand around, “You weren’t lying-” she says, referring to the talk you had with her back in the paddock, “-it really is a gorgeous house.”

“It is.” The house has been in the Gasly family for generations and it’s where you have celebrated New Year’s Eve ever since you were born, the annual trips always one of the highlights of the year for you. If anything, the place holds a lot of memories and maybe that’s why you’re still so torn between whether to feel happy or sad to be back here.

“How was your trip down here?”

“Good.” Then with a smile, “I always forget how long the drive down actually is, but it’s good to be back here.”

“Pierre’s Dad is over there,” Katerina says then, with a nod of her head, as if she knows she wasn’t the one you were looking to find per sé.

“Thank you,” you mouth quietly, promising her you’ll have plenty of time to catch up later before you make your way to the dining room where you find Pierre’s Dad squatting in front of the fireplace, trying to nurse what seems to be a dying fire back to life by softly blowing on the glowing embers. You keep quiet for a second, leaning against the doorframe as you watch him for a while.

“Tonton?” Your voice is a little rough and just as you’re about to clear your throat to try again Jean-Jacques looks at you from over his shoulder, a tender smile forming on his lips.

You watch him as he gets up with a groan and you think you hear him curse getting older as he turns around and makes his way to you but still his smile never wavers. He wraps his arms around you so gently that it’s almost as if he’s afraid you’ll break if he isn’t careful, the polar opposite of the way Pierre hugged you not even ten minutes ago. He’s always been like this, has always been extra gentle with you, but even more so after that dark July day all those years ago, when he promised that from there on he would take care of you as if you were his own. “Salut, ma petite.”

“Hi,” you reply, your voice a little muffled by the fabric of his sweater.

“I’m glad you came,” he admits easily as he lets go of you and, like Pascale did earlier, holds you at arm’s length for a little longer. “It’s been, what, three years since you were here last?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“You’ll be fine,” he tells you with a wink. “I’ll make sure he behaves.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing all too well it isn’t Pierre he’s talking about, and press a kiss to his cheek as a thank you before you nod towards the fire, “Need a hand with that?”

Jean Jacques chuckles, “Oh no, sweetheart, that’s ok.” A wink then, “Wouldn’t want to stray away from Pascale’s roster already on the first day, now would we?”

XXX

With a somewhat heavy heart you make your way upstairs, your suitcase in one hand while the other holds on to the handrail to try and keep your balance. Your room, the one that has been solely yours for the past seven years, is right across the landing and so before you know it your hand hovers over the handle and you try to summon the courage needed to enter. It’s just a bedroom, you try to tell yourself, just a place for you to sleep, nothing special. Problem is, last time you slept here was with him and you know the memories that have threatened to surface ever since you got here will more likely than not come rushing at you once you open that door.

Taking a deep breath, trying to find the courage needed, you push the handle down, open the door and step inside. An instant wave of relief washes over you when you notice the picture frames you were dreading to see are no longer there, the shelves and nightstand empty except for the picture of you and your parents, and you can only assume the rest of them are safely stored away in the small cardboard box that’s sitting on your bed. You wonder who’s packed them away for you, figured it must have been Pascale and remind yourself to thank her for it later.

Deciding you’ll unpack later tonight you push your suitcase into a corner somewhere and walk to the ensuite bathroom instead, figuring you should probably freshen up a bit before you head down for dinner. After splashing some cold water on your wrists and face you search around for a towel, finally finding one in the cabinet under the sink. Just as you take it out a small blue glass bottle catches your eye and a quiet, “Oh,” escapes you.

Just seeing it brings on a rush of memories but then it’s like your body has a mind of its own as you find yourself reaching for the bottle of cologne and bringing it up to your nose. The familiar scent hits you almost immediately and it’s too much. Memory after memory of him and your time together run through your head and you can feel tears starting to form in your eyes. Fuck.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you shake your head and wipe away the few tears that have spilled over, determined to pull yourself together so that when you finally do see him again tomorrow, for the first time after you broke up, you can at least try to pretend everything’s fine.

XXX

Dinner is a long affair but still only a taste of what is to come when twelve more adults and a handful of kids arrive over the next two days, but you don’t mind. You’ve always loved these long, drawn out dinners with the Gasly’s. You are glad it’s just the five of you tonight though, because it gives you a chance to catch up with Pierre and his parents in relative peace.

Pierre is doing most of the talking, animatedly telling Katerina about the five years he spent racing karts because even though she didn’t really ask him about it, that’s never stopped him before. He loves to relive his karting days, not in the least because it was such a big deal in both of your lives from an early age. More often than not you’d be by his side during the race weekends, mostly because you had your own races to compete in but also because your Dad worked as a car mechanic and loved to tinker around with both your and Pierre’s karts in his free time, always trying to improve their performance.

“God, remember that time your Dad made some ‘adjustments’-” Pierre air-quotes the word, “-to my kart and I almost went flying off the track in Reims?”

You can’t help but laugh, remembering all too well how spooked Pierre was after that first training session, his eyes wide and unsure whether he should be scared or thrilled at the speed he suddenly had. “It took Dad years to admit he might have overdone it,” you tell Katerina with a smile. Looking back at Pierre you narrow your eyes, “Didn’t you ask him to-”

“-put it back to its original settings?” Pierre nods but then points at Pascale, “But only ‘cause she made me.”

“That thing was a deathtrap,” Pascale says, shaking her head as she starts clearing out the plates so she can serve dessert. She laughs then and looks at you, “Your mother gave him a pretty big scolding after that race if I remember correctly. I think he even slept on the couch for a few nights.”

“Really?” You feel your eyes widen, because this is brand new information. It sounds like something your Mom would do though and so you don’t for a second doubt that it’s true. It’s both wonderful and a little heartbreaking how even after all these years you still learn new things about your parents, you think as you sit back in your chair, not missing the way Pierre sends you a comforting wink to let you know he gets it.

Katerina stays quiet and you’re not sure if she knows but it doesn’t really feel like now is a good time to bring it up either and so you don’t say anything, instead listening to Pierre’s Saint Amand story, where he won only because the two leaders pushed each other off the track in the last lap. You’ve heard the story many times before, could probably recite it word for word if you had to, but still love the way he tells it, all wild gestures and wide eyes. Katerina simply listen and even though both you and Pierre try your best to make her a part of the conversation you know it’s not easy for a newcomer to even begin to understand the sort of shorthand you’ve developed with Pierre over the years, often needing nothing more but a look to know what the other wants to say. Even his parents don’t understand what is going on half of the time.

Maybe you should spend some time alone with her, you think, because even though you spoke a little during the Qatar Grand Prix, you spent most of your time roaming the paddock, both looking for and trying to avoid certain familiar faces. You excuse yourself and leave the table, making your way to the kitchen where you find Pascale plating the desserts, “Tata?”

“Yes, ma puce?”

“Do you have the roster somewhere?”

“It’s on the fridge in the pantry,” she says as she points over her shoulder. “Why?”

“I’d like to take Katerina to Issoire tomorrow,” you start. “I still need a dress for the party and I figured it would be a nice opportunity to get to know her a bit better.”

“I think I put you on breakfast together with Katerina,” she says with a smile. “So after that you are free to go.”

“Ah, perfect,” you say, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You are very kind to do that,” she tells you, her voice soft. Her expression changes then and she cups your cheek with her hand, “Your parents would be so proud of you, sweetheart. I just know it.”

You let yourself lean into her touch but don’t say anything, not really trusting your voice right now.

“I know it is not always easy and I know you were hesitant about coming here again, but I’m glad that you did. It would not be the same without you.” She throws you a warm smile, “It was weird not having you here two years ago.”

“Yeah,” you agree quitely. When Pascale gives your cheek one last squeeze before she drops her hand you easily admit, “I just couldn’t- It would have been-”

“Shh,” she tells you with a shake of her head, “no need to explain, ma puce. Believe it or not I have gotten my heart broken once or twice and I would have done probably the same thing.”

“Thank you.” You remember the box on your bed then, “And thank you for cleaning up my room. I was not looking forward to that.”

She chuckles and you’re a little confused at her reaction but then she tells you, “That wasn’t me, sweetheart. Pierre did that.”

XXX

Monza, September 6, 2020

It’s when he’s on the podium, the French national anthem blasting through the speakers, that it finally starts to sink in. He’s a winner. He won fucking Monza. After all the shit he’s been through last year with Red Bull he finally gets his revenge. He finally gets to show the world that he’s not the chieur they made him out to be and God does it feel good.

When the Italian anthem takes over from the French to celebrate Torro Rosso he allows himself a moment to take it all in, to really enjoy it. His eyes scan the crowd below and he can’t help but smile when he sees his team looking up at him, the Italians among them loudly singing along to their national anthem. He’s so proud of each and every one of them for all the hard work they’ve put not only into the car but into him as well. When the music ends and he gets the trophy he takes a few steps towards the crew, pointing at his engineer and pit crew to let them know this is as much their win as it is his. There’s confetti then, and champagne, and before he knows it his team principal douses him in the sticky sparkly wine to celebrate his win.

After a minute or so he feels the need to sit down for a moment because it’s all too much. Stroll and Sainz come up to congratulate him, and Carlos jokes that he could have taken him in another lap or two and he can’t help but smile knowing the Spaniard is probably right. Not that it matters, because when the race ended he was the first to cross the line. He watches the drivers as they leave the podium not long after, finally having a moment to himself. The tears that have been burning in his eyes ever since he saw the chequered flag finally spill over and he runs a hand over his face, shaking his head because part of him, however tiny that part may be, still doesn’t believe it.

It’s when he looks out across the paddock once more that he sees her, his best friend, standing a little to the side, away from the madness of the pit crews. Even from this distance he can tell she’s crying and it takes everything he has not to start again too. Locking eyes with her then, he shakes his head and mouths a quiet, “Incroyable,” at her. He sees her nod in response, trying to smile through her tears.

To win Monza is one thing, he muses to himself as he takes a sip of champagne, the bottle heavy in his hands, but to win Monza with her here makes it even more special.

Aside from his family, she has been the only constant in his life and they have gone through so much together already, both high and lows, wins and losses. Too many losses for a bunch of twenty four year-olds, he thinks wryly, knowing he thought of Anthoine when he held up his trophy but he thought of her parents when he crossed the finish line.

So when people ask him what the most valuable lesson he's learned over these past few years is, it’s this: Never take anything or anyone for granted.

XXX

“Here you go,” you say as you hand Pierre his hot chocolate which he takes from you with a bright smile. It’s just the two of you now, his parents going to bed just before midnight and Katerina following not much later, and so you have moved away from the dining room to one of the more comfortable couches in the living room, where each of you are snuggled up in your respective corners.

“Santé,” he says, holding up his mug in the air with a grin.

“To year twenty-five of this friendship,” you say, mimicking his move before you take a sip, careful not to burn your tongue as you have done so many times in the past.

Pierre’s smile drops and so you look at him with raised eyebrows, a little worried about his change of demeanour. He shrugs, “Don’t you feel like we missed two years though?”

“Hmm,” you agree quietly because you can see his point. The last time you spent more than just a few days together was at the end of the 2019 season, when he was in Rouen for two weeks. Not long after you decided to skip that year’s New Year’s Eve celebrations because of your breakup, opting to stay at home instead, the pandemic hit. The travel ban put in place shortly after meant you didn’t get to see any of his races that year except for Monza.

Monza. You can’t help but smile when you think back to that day. You weren’t even supposed to be there, had a work event you had to attend that Saturday, but Pierre insisted you’d come see at least one race that year and so he flew you out on Sunday on the company’s jet. The rest, as they say, is history.

This year you at least got to see him race in Spa and in Qatar but it still wasn’t up to par with the amount of time you used to spend together. Even though you kept in touch through messages and video calls it wasn’t the same and you are the first to admit you have missed him terribly over the past two years. Looking at him from over your mug you try to smile, “It would be nice to catch up on some lost time next year.”

“Just tell me when and where, Flo,” he says with a wink, “you know there is always a paddock pass waiting for you.”

“I’d like that,” you admit easily.

His eyebrows knit together then and he looks at you curiously but doesn’t say anything, almost as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully. When he finally does speak you realise he has, “Are you ok?”

Taking a deep breath you try to smile, “Getting there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo quietly. When he keeps quiet you know he’s waiting for a more elaborate answer and so you shrug, “Moving back to Rouen was- It was probably the best decision I’ve made in the past two years. I don’t know why I felt this need to move halfway across the country because in the end it hurt all the same no matter where I was.” You look down at your mug, “Rouen is home, you know, and there’s nowhere- It’s where I need to be.”

Pierre’s next question is not what you expected although by now you shouldn’t be surprised because sometimes it’s like he knows you better than you know yourself, “Are you ok with seeing him again tomorrow?”

You take your time, not wanting to give him a rushed, half-true answer. This is your best friend, he’ll see right through the bullshit in a heartbeat and so you answer as honestly as you can, “I think I am. I mean, it’s been two years-” a sad smile tugs on your lips, “-but at the same time, it’s only been two years, you know?” You don’t wait for a reply and instead continue because now that you’ve started it’s hard to stop, “It’s just weird, I guess. I mean, it’s not like he hurt me, right? There wasn’t a big fight or- Neither of us cheated, or anything like that. We just-” you shake your head trying to gather your thoughts.

Again Pierre surprises you, “I think maybe it was a ‘right person, wrong time’ kind of thing, no?”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth, letting his words sink in before you look back up at him and nod, “Yeah, I think it was.”

“He misses you too, you know.”

You’re about to argue that you don’t miss him but both you and Pierre know that’s a big fat lie and so you wait for him to continue because you’re a little intrigued by this new insight.

“He doesn’t really say it, but I can tell.” Pierre stretches out his legs in front of him so he can nudge your foot with his, “I think he is just as nervous as you are for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” you let out a sigh. This time it’s you who nudges his foot with yours, “Thank you, by the way.”

“For?”

“Taking down the pictures and everything else that was left of Charles in my room.”

=====

Notes: Tata = Auntie Tonton = Uncle Galette des Rois = a French cake, typically eaten on January 6 Chieur = pain in the ass

Most of the nicknames will be in French, because, well, I love the wide variety they have :)

#Charles Leclerc x reader #Pierre Gasly x Reader #Charles Leclerc Fanfic #F1 Fanfic #Harley Sunday x Charles Leclerc

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r0zyp0zy0zy · 3 years

Text

✿H.S.- Beach trip★

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Master list

Warnings: Very suggestive, plot is a little confusing?

Words: 1800+

Pairing: Hanta Sero x FEM!reader

Summary: Sero is the only one available to hold up your towel while you change

This has been in the drafts for a HOT MINUTE. Enjoy~~

===SUGGESTIVE UNDER THE CUT===

Field trips with class 1A were always... eventful in one way or another. From the multiple League of Villans attacks, to someone losing a hair pin. It was like a fun game of Spin the Wheel, except it wasn't fun.

A trip to the beach was innocent enough, and everyone was enjoying their time in the warm sun. You breathed in the salty air and sighed happily. You were one of the only people out of the water, savoring your popsicle before you changed and jumped in the cool waves.

"Want me to take that for you?" Sero grunted, nodding at your stained popsicle stick. His head was outlined by the sun, and his mullet was slicked to his neck from the water.

"If you wouldn't mind," you smiled, handing him the slightly sticky stick.

"Of course," he replied, jogging over to the nearest garbage can.

You looked around the beach before slipping off your shirt, carefully folding it into your bag so sand wouldn't get in the crevices. You pulled off your shorts, placing them in your bag the same way you did with your shirt. The sunscreen was cool against your warm skin as you carefully rubbed it all in.

"Ugh," you groaned, trying to reach your back, but obviously failing. Your back was going to pay later if you didn't protect it...

"Uh, need a little help?" Sero gulped, hand rubbing the side of his arm.

"Please," you giggled, "first the popsicle stick and now this... I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem!" Sero replied, reaching forward and grabbing the sunscreen tube, "w-we don't want your back to burn up."

His hands smoothly rubbed the cream into your back, taking care to get under the straps, (being cautious to not undo the bow that kept your suit together). Sero swallowed thickly at the thought of your top falling off, completely exposed to him. He shook his head slightly, no, don't be like Mineta. Don't be a perv.

"All done," he pat your shoulder and rubbed his greasy hands on his chest.

"Thanks again," you smiled, "I'm just gonna get the rest of my body and then join you all in the water."

Sero gave a friendly nod, and trotted off to the shore. His hands still tingled from rubbing your back, and he smiled as he splashed into the water.

You appeared a few minutes later, with your h/c hair up/down (your swimming hairstyle), and skin shining beautifully from the sunscreen. Sero had to avert his eyes to keep from staring at your, ehm, assets.

"Hey y/n-chan!" Mina waved, "that swimsuit looks so cute on you~"

"Thanks," you replied nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. "I was a bit unsure of it at first."

Sero glanced over to Kaminari, who was wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively, 'make a move' he mouthed. Sero stiffly shook his head, and waded further into the salty water. He didn't have the guts to confess his feelings, and he was pretty shit at flirting.

"Oh C'mon, Sero! Don't you wanna play chicken with us?" Kirishima teased, smirking at Hanta. Mina was already atop his shoulders, gripping his hair as if they were reigns. She waved encouragingly, not wanting to pass up an opportunity to tease Hanta about his crush.

"Uh maybe later, I was just gonna swim around," Sero grinned nervously, pointing his thumb behind him.

"Just don't go too far, Sero-kun!" Iida instructed, fixing his cap and goggles, "incase of an emergency."

Most of Class 1A was at the summer house awaiting dinner— excluding you. See, you were in a predicament of sorts. You had forgotten an extra pair of underwear, to Y'know, change into after you've gotten all wet. And on top of that, you weren't allowed to go inside the summer house if you were wet.. GREAT. There weren't any change rooms on the beach (for some reason??), and you weren't willing to change out in the open. Shit.

The only other people on the beach were Mineta, Kaminari, Bakugo, Ojiro, and Sero. So, no girls to hold up a towel or two for you. You bit your lip as you thought this situation through. Maybe Sero could help you— you trusted him the most out of the five (plus he's your crush, so that's a bonus).

"Uh, Sero-kun?" You called out, grabbing Hanta's attention.

"Yeah?" He jogged up to you, his chest still shimmery and damp from the water.

"Can you please hold up a towel for me?" You asked nervously, holding one out.

"Um sure," he replied, holding it up. "Why?"

"Oh, there just isn't a change room and we're not allowed in if we're all wet," you explained, "um, just make sure the others can't see me."

"O-ok," Sero stuttered, looking away and back at the other guys. The big umbrella was blocking the backside of you, so he only had to worry about the front. He glanced back at you and gulped as you untied your bikini top. He snapped his head away before you could catch him snooping.

"Shit, uh d'you mind untying my top?" You asked, squeezing your eyes shut. "Mina double knotted it."

"S-sure," Hanta muttered as you turned around and took the towel from him. His hands were shaking, but he managed to undo the strings, and held up the piece of fabric again.

He nearly screamed when your top slid off, your bare back exposed to him. You were still turned, slipping off your bottoms, and a lump formed in Hanta's throat. Holy fuck. This was actually happening. He watched you slide your shorts on, and he internally keeled at the sight of your ass squeezing into your clothes. You weren't wearing anything under those shorts, Hanta realized, his eyes glued to your ass. Were you going to dinner like that?

You bent over to pick up a shirt, and Sero felt his dick throb. Fuckfuckfuck, no, he didn't want to get hard right now. His swim trunks had plenty of baggage to accentuate his erection, and he forced himself to peel his eyes away from your body in an attempt to go soft again.

He was just as bad as Mineta, Sero thought guiltily, trying to think of math or something to get his mind off of your beautiful body. The gods, apparently, felt like testing him today. In a fluid motion you slipped on your f/c tank top, and Sero admired your pebbled nipples once you turned around.

You watched Sero for a moment as he stared at your chest, oblivious to the fact that you could see him. His eyes trailed up to your face and they widened, his face flushing up.

"Uh," he choked out, looking to the side, "s-sorry."

"It's alright," you shrugged, wringing out your swimsuit. "Since it's you, it's not that big of a deal."

Hanta was still in a daze of embarrassment, and dropped the towel so it landed at his feet. Seeing you get on your knees in front of him to pick it up and fold it made his mouth dry, and his face got hotter.

"Thanks for holding up the towel for me," you looked up at Sero innocently.

He felt the silky fabric of his swim trunks brush pleasantly against the head of his hard cock, reminding him that you could very much see his erection. His dick twitched in anticipation, waiting for you to do something. Hanta's Adam's apple bobbed as he dryly swallowed his nerves, and his breath hitched when you moved to put the towel in your beach bag.

You stood up, grazing Sero's cock with your hand as you did so. You stood so close to him that he could smell your chapstick. His eyes locked with yours in a trance, the rest of his body still paralyzed. You leaned in impossibly closer and your lips hovered over his. Your hand cupped Hanta's bulge gently, and he couldn't take the suspense anymore. He leaned a millimeter closer with a whimper, and locked lips with you. Your other hand held his cheek, and his own found their way around your waist.

The way his lips feverishly pressed against yours was saccharine, your heart pounding against your ribs with alarming intensity. Sero could feel it no doubt, as his was beating just as hard. He sneakily snaked his tongue across your lower lip in an attempt to kiss you even deeper. You obliged his request, and sucked on his tongue. Hanta let out a surprised moan and he pulled you closer so his undoubting erection was pressed firmly against your palm. His hips rolled forwards again, and he finally pulled away to gasp for breath.

"Holy... fuck," Sero heaved, eyes locked with yours, and still holding you close. His pupils were blown wide and he nuzzled his cheek against your hand.

"Yeah..." you sighed, smiling at him softly. You looked into his eyes and admired the little details, getting lost in the pools of his stare. Your mouth opened to speak again, but you heard running footsteps and whipped your head towards the noise.

"Y-y/n!" Mineta wailed as he propelled his little legs towards you. "Sero! I can't believe you!!"

Hanta, still flushed in the face and also rock hard, awkwardly used you as a sort of shield so he wouldn't be exposed to his classmates. He could see Kaminari running after Mineta, arms reaching out; and for a horrified moment Sero thought he was about to grope your chest. Instead, Kaminari gripped Mineta by his pants, (giving him a wedgie lol), and yanked him up.

"Leave them be! Sero has been eye-fucking her for ages now, don't go ruining his chance to get laid!" Denki scolded the little cretin of a boy. "Sorry, we'll be going now," Kaminari dragged Mineta, who was kicking and screaming, into the summer house.

"Uh- sorry about them..." Sero blushed, embarrassed.

"Eye-fucking me?" You teased, leaning back into his embrace. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck and mumbled incoherently, "sorry, Sero-chan~ you'll have to speak up."

"Well... it's more like I've had a crush on you since our first year. So.. kind of, yeah." Hanta bashfully admitted.

"Hmm, well it's a good thing I have a crush on you too," you grinned, "maybe we should pack up and get back inside for dinner..."

"Er, yeah. But I'll probably miss out a bit on supper," Sero replied as he folded the umbrella closed. You gave him a knowing smirk, and you dug out your sunglasses from your bag.

"Well hopefully we can continue where we left off later tonight," you could feel his grin from behind you, and you couldn't help but copy. This was going to be a very interesting evening.

#hanta sero x reader #hanta sero #Sero Hanta #sero hanta x reader #mha #bnha #bnha fanfiction

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some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

Fuyuhiko x Reader who won’t confess

· Of all people you could have fallen for, why did it have t be the YAKUZA BOSS!? He has a bad temper on top of that! What if you tried asking him out and he was insulted by it so he had you killed!? Nope! No! You couldn’t do it! You were way too scared! It would be best you ignore the feelings…

· …

· But how could you!? Sure, he was a hot head, but he was a good guy, kind and loyal to his friends. It didn’t help either that you saw each other every day because you were in the same class. It also REALLY didn’t help that your best friend there was Peko, her and Fuyuhiko never spent much time together but the few times they did they seems to be good friends, and Peko seemed to know a lot about Fuyuhiko, so the pair of you would end up talking about him and your crush on him often.

· “I understand your apprehension, but you can try talking to him more, nothing has happened to our other classmates who have gotten close to him.” “Peko. Gurl. I am the Super High School Level Crime Boss. I may be bold and cunning, but I’m not going to approach the heir of the biggest and greatest crime syndicate in Japan with something like this. I could go with the excuse we are both great powers and should be on amicable terms so we don’t slaughter one another, but that would be a lie, and we don’t lie in my family.” “… Would it be a lie to say you wanted to get to know him because you like him, and he is your classmate?” “… Hmm… perhaps. Even so, I don’t need others on looking, possibly seeing us getting chummy and taking that as a threat.”

· You didn’t avoid the man per se, but you did try to spend as little time with him as possible, fearful of him asking something in just the right way where you couldn’t dance around it and would have to confess. The few times you did get to spend time together was rather nice.

· The wind rolled past carrying bright green leaves along with it, a much-needed break from the heat that came pouring down from the cloudless sky. You sighed, taking a sip of your cold drink. With the condensation on the glass, it slipped in your hands for a moment, almost spilling into your lap. You and Peko chatted away at the balcony of the café, loving the summer day. You sighed noticing Fuyuhiko from the corner of your eye. You had figured out long ago that Peko was Fuyuhiko’s secret bodyguard, the man always was near by whenever the pair of you spent time together outside of school. He was even generous and kind to his subordinates letting them live life outside of his syndicate. It truly kind man.

· “Hmm, oh, Kuzuruyu, hello.” “Huh?” “What?” Clearly both you and the man were caught off guard, it evident on your faces. “What are you doing here?” “Uh… Well, this place just opened but I’ve heard nothing but good things, so I decided to check it out.” “Same with us. Say why don’t you join us?” You spat out your drink, choking on it mid-sip hearing the suggestion, thankfully for the heir who only would have gotten flustered if you had noticed the bright scarlet that had erupted on his cheeks when he approached you and Peko. “Y/N!?” “I’ll get some more napkins.” Peko immediately dashed off, leaving Fuyuhiko with you. You were still coughing, covering your face with napkins, embarrassed by the whole situation and not wanting your crush to see you like this. Nervously Fuyuhiko pat your back, feeling too awkward to do much else. When you settled down you were completely embarrassed but tried to remain calm and let the staff clean the table. “You okay?” “Physically, yes. Emotionally, no, I am a wreak right now.” “Ah.” …

· …

· Thankfully for the awkwardness neither of you tried to make idle chit-chat allowing you to notice… something. “Since the staff are taking care of things let’s look for Peko.” “Yeah.” Instead, you both immediately left the premises. Your suspicion was confirmed, you were being followed. At the first opportunity you raced to anything you could use for a quick getaway, a motorcycle this time. Mentally you apologized to the couple and made sure make a note to repay them with a new motorbike later as you slammed a helmet on Fuyuhiko’s head, dashing away on the bike.

· “Sorry for getting you caught up in this. I recognize the bastard, some assassin who’s like a cockroach, won’t just die no matter how much lead I pump into em’!” A bang sounded, a gun having been fired, the bullet landing right beside the tire sending a few sparks flying. “A cockroach. I’ve dealt with the likes before. Focus on driving, I’ll take care of them.” “Alright. Let’s see how good of a shot you are!” A chuckle seeped out of you, the thrill of the chase always something you couldn’t help but enjoy no matter the danger. With a rev of the engine you took a sharp turn, turning around, leaving skid marks on the pavement as you did so before charging head on for the car behind you. Fuyuhiko blew out a tire as you raced past. “Only two in the car, usually has at least ten assistants. Don’t let your guard down!” “Wasn’t going too. This isn’t my first assassination plot.” “Except you’re a bystander who got dragged in this time, so at least you aren’t the primary target.”

· Fuyuhiko kept up carefully aimed fire, only having so-many bullets, but you though trying to escape and dodge fire you also specifically made opportunities for Fuyuhiko to get good shots in on any attackers.

· “Fuck! Gun’s jammed!” “OF COURSE!” Fuyuhiko kept muttering swears under his breath desperately trying to get the damn thing to work again. You looked over your shoulder for a moment, finding Fuyuhiko opted the hurl the junk at the car, cracking the windshield right on the driver’s side. “Hah! Nice one.” “Don’t celebrate just yet. We’re out of fire now.” “Hell no! We could die at any moment, so we’ve gotta celebrate when we can!” You laughed, speeding away as the car behind you wavered, almost crashing. Still though it made chase. Now it was completely up to you to keep you both alive. Taking a sharp turn off the street you instead raced down an alleyway in between buildings. You smiled seeing where you were. “Take in that ocean air Kuzuryu! We’re almost home free!” “Home free you say? Alright, show me what you’ve got!”

· “There’s more assassins!” “Got it.” Unfortunately the streets by the sea side were much narrower than deeper in the city so dodging was near impossible, all you could do was weave between cars and hope for the best.

· “Kuzu, Hold on tight!” You dashed through traffic, turning into the opposite lane and cutting across it, slipping between spaces in the railing. Unfortunately, the hill beyond the railing was a bit steeper than you remembered, the pair of you being in the air for a while before crashing down, wavering too much you could only keep balance for a few moments before flipping over.

· “Hey. Hey, Y/N!” You groaned, slowly getting up, your head ringing and the world swirling and spinning. “Y-you alright?” “For now, but we need to go!” Taking your arm he pulled you up and ran along. The motorcycle left deep marks in the ground, signaling where it crashed, pointing out where you were. “Just gotta get to the docks. We’ll be safe there.” “Got it!”

· Quickly the pair of you ran along, hiding behind anything you could, from shrubbery to beach umbrellas, the gun fire raining down around you. However for a short time it did suddenly come to a stop. “Peko!” Indeed it was the swords woman, putting a stop to the attacks as long as she could.

· “Young Master!” Finally you had reunited on the docks. Not stopping for even a moment you raced for a building, kicking the door down upon entering. “Get in the seaplane, now!” The moment your companions were in, you started the engine, immediately going not even giving them the opportunity to strap in.

· You were surrounded by nothing but blue. Blue skys, blue water, not another plane or boat in sight. You let out a shaky breath, shuttering. “Holy hell, I have not had a chase like that in a while! You two okay? If not there’s a first aid kit under my seat. If you have any serious injuries we’ll have to land and do work on the wing of the plane. But if it can wait for an hour or so we can take care of it on the island.” It was a rather small plane, just for personal use so there was little room, only enough for four seats to be squished against to one another. “I’m fine. Peko-” “I am unharmed. However, you have several cuts.” “Y/N, you’ve been shot!” You gritted your teeth, instead focusing on piloting. “Maybe… but it can wait.” “No! You’re landing this thing right now!” “Kuzuryu! The island has much better supplies for this, and though I know there are no other sea planes in the docks they could have them hidden elsewhere and I want minimal risk of them finding us and my private hideaway. So we have to out run them” “… Fine, but we’re using the first aid kit on you.”

· You winced as Peko and Fuyuhiko tried patching the wound as best they could. The bullet didn’t get in too deeply but the longer your flight went on the more that fiery pain seeped into you, it no longer being ignorable as your adrenaline lowered and slowed. You could feel our heart pounding against your rib cage, your breathing getting heavier. “Y/N, you’re pale.” “I-I’m fine.” “Like Hell you are! Don’t pull that bull shit with me!” “I can fly this thing, if I can keep doing that I’m fine. It… it’s not too much farther now.”

· …

· You were in the cabin. “A-aunty, Uncle.” You smiled, knowing you had arrived at the island safely seeing the elderly pair. “Wh-where’s my guests? How are they?” The woman simply gestured to the wide open doors leading to your tropical paradise, the sand and ocean waves so close, Fuyuhiko and Peko standing in the frame. Fuyuhiko had a few bandages but seemed fine. Both of them looked relived. “Boss shall we leave you with your guests?” “Yeah, but before you go, how long till I’m healed?” “You may get up now.” You looked questioningly to the older gentleman. “We sedated you with sleeping drugs this time so you would not have to just lie in bed and constantly sneak out instead of resting for your health.” “H-hey! I’m not that reckless!” “Boss, you had three bullet wounds.” You simply shriveled in your bed. “I-I needed to check on everyone else myself. Too many got injured that time. Those basters needed to pay.” “And you can not risk your health when doing so, Boss.” “… Thank you, Uncle. You and Aunty prepare some food for us.” In unison the elderly folk said ‘Yes, boss’ heeding your command and making their leave. “I shall assist.” And Peko left with them. Slowly you sat up, getting out of bed. “Well… care for a walk? I feel rather sluggish from having slept for several days at least apparently.” “Sure.”

· Even if you would regret it later, you could safely spend time with the man now, knowing none other than Peko where here to protect him and heed his command. Just this once you could get a little closer without fear, and more importantly, learn exactly how bad his injuries were.

· You took the chance to explain to Fuyuhiko just who exactly your assailants were, how they were actually an organization made by rogue government officials who wanted you dead no matter the consequences. How this island was your personal place you only allowed the most trusted of family members in your organization to go to, or those injured should this place be the most convenient, how you ‘Aunty’ and ‘Uncle’ were individuals who had worked in your organization since you first created it and were like family though not actually being blood related to you or even married to one another. And… you just kept talking like how you found this island and made it your home away from home, about school and your classmates. You both just talked about whatever through the day.

· And soon there you were sitting on the sandy shore, looking up to the starlit sky. “Really? I don’t believe it.” “No, I really did crash the car there.” “You call the assassins cockroaches, but that more so describes you.” “What!?” Fuyuhiko couldn’t help but chuckle a little seeing your reaction. “Yeah, surviving car crashes, being shot through the chest, poisoning, now a motorcycle crash. Seems you’re unkillable.” “Excuse me, but all of those were calculated risks!” “Exactly. Even in crazy situations you can keep calm and take the less disastrous outcome…” His smile faded, a more serious expression taking on his features. “Y’know… When I step up as the leader of the Kuzuryu clan, I’ll need someone strong, and capable by my side… maybe… someone like you.” “……… Are you… confessing, or am I horribly misreading this.” Fuyuhiko froze, a blush flaring up on his cheeks. “Well, I think we worked rather well together today so… W-wanna go out?” “Yes! Absolutely yes!” “O-oh… alright then.” Clearing his throat he stood up. “Well… it’s getting late, I’m shoving off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow… maybe you could give me a run of the grounds here?” “Yeah, definitely!” “Good… I’m looking forward to it.”

· “Oh my god, Peko, I finally asked them out! And they said ‘Yes’!” “Good for you, Young Master.” “I didn’t even hesitate! I know you said they it would be safe since nothing had happened to our other classmates, but… they’re still the Boss of the greatest crime syndicate over seas! This could have gone horribly and I just did it! I didn’t even use the excuse we should be on good terms or allies, so we don’t kill each other. I just asked them out!”

· Even if Peko’s plan didn’t go quite as she thought it would it still worked out. Her duty is to protect her young master, so it would not do for him to kill himself due to stressing over asking his crush out. She already knew things were going to turn out great for the pair of you. You were so alike and so drastically different you just complimented one another perfectly.

#fuyuhiko kuzuryu #fuyuhiko x reader #Mod Gundham #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa2 #Super Danganronpa 2 #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa 2 imagine #danganronpa 2 imagines #dr imagine #dr imagines #dr 2 imagine #dr 2 imagines #danganronpa x reader #peko pekoyama

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fanfictionsrookie · 4 years

Note

Talk to us about nerdy college teacher Cinder with glasses & tie *grabs popcorn*

First of, I want to apologize how long this is XD

I wrote this months ago and never finished it, but it's now or never, so bust of the popcorn and enjoy!

...

So its Ruby's first year at University, she studying mechanical engineering, but since it's her first year, she has to take Chem100 whether she wants to or not. Ms Fall's class, Ruby would take one look at her as she walks into class and just say goodbye to all hope of passing the subject. Then again you can't really blame her, Cinder Fall is a sight to be hold. Sleek, black suit and tie, raven hair and eyes that could kill you with one look from behind those glasses.

Is it suddenly hot in that class?

Either way, Ruby knows not too get on Ms Fall's bad side, the woman is all work and no play. One misstep and you're out of that class faster than you're able to say goodbye to your future. But surprisingly, despite what the rest of the class says, Ms Fall is a good teacher. She is smart, brilliant even, Ruby is convinced the woman could teach infants chemistry. And despite Ruby feeling like she completely blends into the background, Cinder soon takes notice of Ruby's hard work.

And it is perhaps, knowing that there is atleast one person listening that allows Cinder to go off track one Friday afternoon and just talk about all the concepts the finds interesting. Cinder's velvety tone already had Ruby's attention, but listening to her going on about concepts she has no idea about with her voice rising and just going a little bit faster… is that passion?

Not gonna lie… it's kinda hot. Damn air conditioning.

Because Cinder took notice of Ruby's hard work, despite her average grades, she does pick on her to answer questions much more. This does make feel Ruby akward and a bit uncomfortable, but knows it's meant well. If Miss Fall doesn't like you, she'll leave you to your own demise. And Ruby does want Miss Fall to like her, but after getting back her term exam with barely a passing grade, she is completely let down. It takes all of her confidence, but Ruby approaches Cinder after class, hoping to talk about why she got a bad grade.

And the moment Ruby realised just how tall Cinder is, makes the woman even more intimidating. Then again, Ruby has a bellow average height. Never mind that. So Ruby awkwardly asks Miss Fall about the test and she is surprisingly understanding. Miss Fall goes into full on nerd mode, explaining each question with so much detail that makes Ruby feel bad for having to tell her that she still doesn't understand.

Cinder must have noticed because she clears her throat, hiding her embarrassed blush before offering to tutor Ruby after class. Hot or not, Ruby knew that she'd be an idiot to say no.

And that's where their routine sessions, tutor sessions two times a week after class.

No not those kind of tutor sessions! Get out mind out of the gutter!

Sometimes their sessions were held outside or in another classroom as timeslots and locations had to be shuffled around, nothing major. But Ruby would be lying if she said that it didn't feel… different when they settled in Cinder's office as a personal location.

Naturally there would be some bits of small talk. Asking random things like how eachother's day was, maybe telling eachother insignificant tidbits of their lives. Eventually these conversations grew longer and Cinder welcomed them. Not just because Ruby earned it through working as hard she she did, but because all the stories Ruby blurts out about the shenanigans she gets up to is mildly entertaining.

At long last Ruby's next big test rolls around and she honestly couldn't believe that she did that good. And whether she had it planned or not, Cinder invites her to a Science Convention held in a few weeks. Not necessarily as a date, but more as a teacher presenting their student… who they are rather proud of… with another learning opportunity. Ruby goes of course, since she does adore the mechanical aspects of science… and she'd feel bad for turning down Ms. Falls… proffesional invite.

When the convention rolls around, Ruby does feel a bit in over her head, no idea where anything is. But she does find Ms Fall mulling over one of the mechanical engineering presentations and holy shit this is her chance to impress her professor.

And she does. Or Ruby thinks she does, she just talking so fast and is almost bursting with excitement.

Cinder is probably wondering if nerd-boners a thing?

I mean if it wasn't clear before both of them are definitely sapio sexual.

So the convention goes on and Cinder and Ruby decide to stick together. Ruby learns a bit more of why and how Cinder got to be a teacher and Cinder asks Ruby about her aspirations. Lunchtime rolls around, always taking the obvious route to solve a problem, at least when it comes to real life problems, Cinder takes Ruby to dinner.

When they finally had to part ways, Ruby thanks Cinder for being such a great teacher, expressing just how much she enjoys being her student. Cinder, flustered under that composed facade tells Ruby how much it means to have a student as dedicated as her.

Laying awake that night, both of them are like, do I… like her like that?

Cinder instantly shoves those thoughts to the back of her mind. She has to remain professional after all and she will not ruin the relationship she already has with Ruby. So Ms. Fall goes on as if nothing ever happened, she still tutors Ruby, still greets her whenever she sees her. And that would have been fine... if Cinder didn't end up overcompensating for trying to appear "normal".

What do you mean regular professors wouldn't walk their students to the bus stop in the rain under an umbrella?

Or compliment on how beautiful that skirt is.

Or revise books and books of theory just so that you are sure you're explaining everything as clear as possible.

Ruby, socially awkward as she is, has it a little more difficult. At first she denied her feelings outright, but then she spent time with Ms Fall, whether it be in her class or office. She still enjoys her classes, still thinking Cinder is talented and brilliant. But Ruby also starts thinking other things.

She takes notice how Cinder would unbutton her shirt after the last lecture of the day. How cute she looks without her classes 'cause she really is that blind and has to squint a bit.

And how much Ruby wanted to sit on Ms Fall's desk and-

Stop. It. You. Are. In. The. Middle. Of. Class.

Suffice to say her grades start slipping and it's not just in Chem 100. Ms Fall brings it up and Ruby stutters out some half assed excuse. None of them really wants to talk about it, but they have to do something. Ruby buckles down with her studying, there is no way she's disappointing Ms Fall. And Cinder blames herself for her favouritism and starts marking Ruby's work a little too strictly.

The third term's final examination rolls around Ruby is utterly disappointed with her grade. She passed, but she should have done it with flying colours.

Ruby confronts Cinder after class and the two get into a heated argument over who is right and how unfair Cinder's marking was, because it totally was. Ruby asks Cinder why she suddenly has it out for her. Tensions and yempers flare.

Caught in a moment, Cinder. Kisses. Ruby.

Fuck.

No, not that kind of fuck!

Both of them had their first kiss before... maybe a second. But they had no idea that it could feel like that.

Whether she wanted to or not, Cinder knew that she had to take the lead (not like that) in the situation. They finally talk about their feelings. Its awkward and brutally honest cause Cinder has no concept of softening words according to the context and Ruby is pretty dense.

In the end they confess that neither of them wanted to ruin what they have. But they also want to see where this could go because, regardless of their past relationships, this kind of relationship was a first for both of them. This meant they both had to keep their distance in a respectful, non suspicious manner, and they had to wait for Ruby to pass Chem100.

Easier said than done.

Their relationship was a little shaky after that, both trying to find some footing in figuring out where they were and how far they could do. But it gave them a chance to realise and re-learn what they admired about eachother and that was enough. Which might have had an influence on Cinder picking up the drafts of an old research paper she never finished. The prospect of moving to another school or institution is distant in her mind, and she doesn't allow herself to think about it too long.

But the one thing both of them had in mind, was how well Ruby did in her final exam. And for a girl who didn't like chemistry in the beginning of the year, she made the subject her bitch. For lack of a better term. So when the end of the year award ceremonies came along, Cinder made sure to congratulate Ruby on her accomplishment. But not the formal, frozen-then-microwaved congratulations of all the other professors. But a genuine, soft smile and puffing her chest out in pride, I'm-so-proud-of-you- congratulations. Honestly that part was more rewarding to Ruby than the fact that she passed her first year.

Two weeks later, summer vacation in full swing, Ruby gets a text. Cinder asking her out on a date.

Shiiiit.

I mean if Ruby wasn't nervous enough while making sure her outing stay out of her family's radar, she sure was upon seeing Cinder after so long. No much in a dress. Cinder is smoking hot in a suit, but seeing her in a dress dhdjejeisiaknsjdkamsbfyush.

While both of them had a reason to worry, the moment they started talking, being their usual nerdy selves, everything just calmed down. It felt right. Which made what Cinder was about to say, more difficult than she wanted to admit. They both liked eachother, both of them were eager to see where this whole thing could go.

Cinder wouldn't be teacher Ruby next year, or anytime after that. And while it won't be illegal in that sense, "heavily-frowned-upon" was a term Cinder wanted to keep out of both of their files. Ruby and Ms Fall were definately going to see more of eachother... but it had to be discreet.

So the break rolled around, the highlights definitely being the shy, nervous text and lunch dates (under the guise that Ruby needed help with…deciding a career path… yeah… that's it).

Second year started a lot like the first, but there were a few key differences. The obvious being that Ruby didn't have Chem100, or those tutor sessions. Then comes the surprising changes, being that Ruby's conversations are a tad more casual and friendly. Ruby gets to finish her own work in Cinder's office and any after hours projects using the campus facilities because of course Cinder has the keys and the clearance. And of course they have their bi weekly lunch dates.

All of this great! And as much as Ruby adores the time she gets to spend with Cinder, she can't help but feel like Cinder is being distant when it comes to physical affection. And saying it just makes Ruby feel bad cause the last thing she wants is to push Cinder into an uncomfortable situation. Especially with one as precarious as theirs.

Truth be told, Cinder has been picking up on Ruby's suggestestion (she's not that buried under work) but it reminds her that it would be another boundary they'd be pushing. But as much as Cinder wanted to play it safe, she also knows how much she wants this to work. So the moment Ruby started pulling away is the moment Cinder knew she needed to address her priorities. More specifically, make time for them.

So everytime Ruby swings by her office, whether it is to study, have lunch together or say hi, Cinder makes a point to kiss her once she leaves. On the cheeks, nose, lips, forehead. Or even all of those places if Cinder is in a specially good mood (or Ruby incredibly stubborn). Goodnight and good morning texts (under the guise of a different name cause Yang can be incredibly nosy and attentive) are also a regular thing and usually leaves Ruby smiling a tad wider than before.

And just because it has become routine, that doesn't make it any less meaningful. Cinder wants to make sure Ruby knows how much she cares for her.

So it shouldn't be surprising when those goodbye kisses would start the moment they see eachother with how long they ended up being. Long. And sometimes a little loud. And a little hot. And a little handsy when sweaters have to go. But that's it. Much less surprising is when Cinder had to pull out some foundation (or whatever makeup people use cause I certainly don't) because someone has to teach Ruby how to hide hickeys (Weiss was the only one who noticed, thank gods, she doesn't ask about it either).

They've only been almost caught once. (A first year who was sent running with how fast Cinder chewed him out that he didn't even notice Ruby in the room.)

But on a prompt lunchdate near campus no less, Cinder was quick, and silently relived, to tell Ruby that she was leaving Beacon and perusing further study with regards to her thesis. I mean, the first thing Ruby would ask is whether Cinder was leaving because they were getting too close and someone saw them. Or if she was sacrificing her career for their relationship. And while relationship played a part in her decision, Cinder knew that it was a step forward on her career path. It was time for a change. And once she assured Ruby of that, Ruby wasted no time in asking what she'll be doing, where she'll be working, and if she can be involved in any experiments present.

One hour nerd monologue from Cinder incoming.

It's only after Cinder completely left the University, that Ruby realised what that meant. They could finally date. Really date, without worrying about either of them getting fired or expelled. Although neither Cinder or Ruby is quite ready to bring up the topic to family. Although Ruby might have just mentioned to Weiss that she is dating someone cause she has been exceptionally cheery lately.

Cinder and Ruby stick to their bi-weekly dates, which is sometimes a picnic. Or at resturant at night, or them cooking together at Cinder's place (which is their favorite and the most nerve wracking.) Other than that, they find times to spend time together, getting acquainted with eachother's hobbies and shifting small talk to eachother's families and past. Whenever their schedules align, Cinder would pick up and drop off Ruby near her home, campus or if they're going to Cinder's place.

Makeouts in the car has also become a thing. Not the most comfortable space. But there is definitely something appealing about sitting in a hot older woman's lap, taking off her glasses, loosening that tie while she slips her fingers under your shir-okay.

Back to reality.

In a lot of ways it is the best stage of their relationship so far. But it's also the one with the most challenges. Luckily, both Ruby and Cinder take comfort in knowing that they have all the time in the world to figure it out…

#rwby #ask #cinder fall #ruby rose #cinderruby #fallenpetals #i did this as a voice note at first #i had no idea my rambling would be this long #im sorry XD

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years

Text

Greedy (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort, College!AU

Summary: You’re an extremely touch-starved college student, so you ask your friend Shinsou to help you out.

Word count: 2,282

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I may or may not be projecting on this one...

This took way longer to write and it ended up way longer and shittier than I expected. Not to mention I fell asleep in the middle of writing last night, so I’m sorry this wasn’t up sooner!

I was debating between Shinsou and Todoroki on this one, but I haven’t written for Shinboi in a while, so why not? (If you guys want a Todoroki ver, I’ll write it too!)

I hit 500 followers 2 days ago! Thank you guys again for liking my posts and my content, I really appreciate it! I’ll work hard to give you better stuff in the future!

I said in my milestone post that I would start a new tradition of spotlighting other writers/artists in the community that I follow to spread some love around, so I’m promoting @lovingshoto once again! If you want some floofy headcanons and one shots, go check her out!

Alright, I’m done talking, enjoy lovelies~

My friend blinks at me. He's practically frozen with fear at my proposal.

"Come on, it's not that bad! Why are you looking at me like I asked you to hide a body for me?" I whine.

"It's not that." He puts down the drink he almost choked on. "It's just...very strange."

I'll admit, it's a very unconventional request I asked of Shinsou, but it's very rational, I swear. "I have scientific evidence to persuade you. Science agrees that it helps lower depressive symptoms and stress. And it releases Oxytocin and makes you happier. Which I really think both of us can benefit from."

My friend sighs. "It still sounds really weird."

"And it improves sleep." I give him a pointed look.

For the first time in our conversation, Shinsou finally seems interested. "Alright, I'm listening."

A grin splits my face in two. "We can start at twice a week! That way, it won't interfere with both of our busy schedules too much."

The violet-haired boy crosses his arms over his chest. "What's so great about cuddling anyway?"

My jaw drops to the floor. "Shinsou, are you telling me you've never cuddled anyone before?" When his face turns red in shame, I know his answer. "You poor, touch-starved boy. How about tonight we give it a try, and then you can give me your answer?"

Shinsou levels a gaze at me. I can't read what exactly he's thinking, but I'm hoping I'm pulling him to my side. Spring is start to hit and I'm feeling both the emotional and physical consequences of so-called cuffing season. Long, hot showers, wrapping myself in blankets, and clothing myself in hoodies and fuzzy socks to survive winter aren't cutting it for me anymore. I want to say I'm becoming influenced by the amount of couples I see walking around campus, but it sounds more intelligent for me to say it's a natural instinct of animals.

But I know it's just an emotional thing, I'm lonely and touch-starved myself.

Shinsou rubs the back of his head. "Where and when is this happening?"

The poor, confused boy stands in front of my bed. "What am I supposed to do again?"

Huffing, I pull his arm into me. "Just get in here and hug me. I'll help you."

I don't blame my awkward friend for being hesitant. He's not usually one for invading personal space and he's definitely not the hugging type. Unfortunately for him, I am a hugger and physical touch whore.

"Just lay back like this, arm out." I position him on his back before laying on my side, using his arm as a pillow and wrapping an arm around his torso, almost like hugging a life-sized teddy bear. Feeling his warmth radiating from him, I hum in satisfaction. "Just like that."

Shinsou eyes me, stiff as a board. It's a cute expression, watching his face tinted in rosy blush. "W-What now?"

I shrug. "We just talk. Or we can just stay here silently." But he's still panicked about the whole thing, so I decide it might be easier for him to be distracted by conversation. "How was your bio test yesterday?"

"It was...okay." His gaze darts back and forth between me and some other object in the room. "I think I messed up on one of the answers."

His arm under me hasn't relaxed from his tense state. "Are you having trouble in class in general?"

"Yeah, but the bio department in general is out to get all of us anyway. Something about narrowing down the huge number of pre-med kids."

I nod slowly, but Shinsou still looks completely nervous. "Hey, is this making you too uncomfortable? I don't want to force you to do something you don't like." Maybe I went about this the wrong way.

He finally looks down at me. "No, it's not- Damnit. It's just... I'm not used to it. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do, and I'm not much of a hugger, and I don't think I'm the best person to do this for you."

My heart melts at his candor, guilt eating at me. I get up from my position. "I'm sorry, it was selfish of me. I didn't even think- I guess it's a little pathetic."

Shinsou sits up and hugs me. "It's not pathetic, don't think that way." His large hand strokes the back of my head.

I'm taken back by the sudden gesture. "Look at you, being all touchy-feely now."

"Shut up, you're obviously trying to make this work, I should put in an effort too." The tempo of his head pats slows. "Also, is it...strange that I kind of missed your warmth when you pulled away?"

Something flutters inside me as I smile to myself. "I think I've made you a believer."

"So, how did your presentation go?" Shinsou strokes my hair from behind.

His soft touches coupled with the warmth radiating from his chest on my back is a magic relaxation spell. My eyes are already closed in bliss. "Went great, especially since my group stayed up late the night before to practice like 500 times. I'm just glad it's over."

"You think you did well?"

"Yeah." I feel myself already drifting off from his hypnotic gesture.

His deep chuckle resounds in my ear. "If you were a cat, you'd be purring right now."

I snuggle closer into his chest. "I can't help it, I'm just so tired and you're putting me to sleep."

Shinsou has really warmed up to our twice a week cuddles. We thought it would be best to have a Friday night cuddle to wind down from the week and a Tuesday night cuddle to energize in the middle of the week. If either of us end up being busy one of those days, we said we can either postpone it a day or just wait until the next cuddle day, but nothing has every come up yet. It's settled very nicely into both of our routines.

He seems to enjoy it more than me sometimes, sending me eager texts or showing up early to our cuddle sessions. It's not uncommon for him to end up sleeping until morning as we embrace. It warms my heart knowing he's realized the benefits of cuddling.

"Can you turn around? My arm's about to fall asleep," Shinsou asks, and I lay on my other side, letting him fold that arm near his head and wrap the other around my torso.

Speaking of warmth, I never imagine I would feel a different kind of warmth when I'm near him. It's not the kind that comes just from the sharing of heat. It's the kind that sends tingles or goosebumps through you from just under the surface of your skin, makes you a different type of cozy, the feeling of sweetness without the taste.

Our relationship grew deeper than I think we both expected. Slowly, we've opened up to each other about deeper things we wouldn't have normally talked about. Late into the night, if we were both still awake, we would open up about out innermost thoughts, secrets, and demons.

Most importantly, I'd say it definitely improved my mood overall. Not only did it give me something to look forward to, but I feel happier. Even on nights where Shinsou ends up leaving for his own room, I'm left with an afterglow buzz, sleeping with a smile on my face for the rest of the night. Thinking about it during the day sends another wave of warmth through me. It's as if all my stress melts away when we're in each other's presence, basking in each other's scent and low breathing.

Though, there is something about cuddling Shinsou that makes me want more of him. I don't know if this is a side effect of the warmth, but I understand his eagerness to spend more time interlocked as we do. All I want to do is snuggle closer to him until there's no more space left. The afterglow of the cuddle sessions would easily be replaced with a cold emptiness, leading me to crave his touch during the day. I'm a starving child who's become a greedy glut for nourishment.

Shinsou's scent is stronger now that I'm facing him. I press my arms into his chest, allowing me to lean in closer to his neck, gradually morphing into a ball against him. I don't know how I survived without this before.

This week has been absolute shit. I'm so close to screaming at something, my lungs feel like they're going to burst. A mix of anger, self-loathing, loneliness, and melancholy bubble underneath the surface. I failed a test in one of my major science classes, I have a paper summary due sometime next week, and two written assignments due in two days. On top of all of that, as part of a pairs assignment in one of my classes, none of the "friends" signed up to be my partner. And these are the same "friends" continuing on to graduate school with me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I'd left my umbrella in my dorm and it poured rain today.

Trudging up the stairs of my dorm building, I open my door and slide my bag off my damp shoulders without moving inside. A familiar tickle in my eyes, heaviness in my chest, and overall loss of warmth in my body almost starts overtaking me.

I don't want to be along right now, I think desperately, closing the door and practically sprinting down the hall, up another flight of stairs, and finding another room. I don't care if it's not Tuesday or Friday, I can't be alone right now.

I slam the door open, thankful that he never bothers to lock it. But I turn the bolt closed.

Shinsou jumps up in surprise. He's sitting at his desk, textbooks and laptop open. I would feel bad for intruding at a time like this, but I'm too far into my feelings to care about things like shame or decency.

"What's wrong?" he looks up at me as I rush over.

I don't respond, grabbing his arm and harshly yanking him out of his seat only to throw him onto his bed. His eyes widen as I climb on top of him, one of my knees between his legs. We haven't used this position, but I just don't care. Once I collapse my head onto his chest, he audibly breathes out a sigh of relief and relaxes, settling one of his hands on top of my slightly dampened head and the other on my back. "What happened?"

His warmth and fresh scent that normally calms me right down makes me silently sob into his chest. I don't hold anything back from him; all my feelings ranging from my past mental health to my childhood quarrels with my parents to the existence of time being a curse for not being enough of it in a day burst from my lips messily. I probably sound a mix of drunk and deranged.

Shinsou doesn't say a word, only alternating between stroking my wet hair and patting my back gently, even as I make a mess of his shirt. "It's been a tough week, you deserve to rest before you even try to tackle it. Those people aren't your friends, you don't owe them anything and you shouldn't expect anything from them either. They don't deserve how great a person you are. You're doing great, trust me. You're hardworking, friendly, trustworthy. Anyone would know you're an absolute gem to be with."

His words evoke a shift in me. This warmth is different from the emotional bursts I've felt before. Hearing compliments from him hits differently.

And that's when it hit me. I'm not just greedy for his cuddles, I want Shinsou as a person. As my boyfriend.

My eyes snap open and I lift my head up. I meet his confused stare. "Do you...mean that?"

One of his eyebrows lift up. "Of course. You're amazing, why would I lie about that?"

I feel a slight rush of heat. "Would you... Do you see me... in some other way?"

He blinks once before a tint of pink coats his cheeks. "Well...maybe I do? I didn't want to say anything about it, but since you're asking, I won't hide it from you." The color saturates more. "I like these cuddles and everything, but...sometimes I think I want more of you. It's...we're already doing this whole thing together, it feels like we're already a couple." His arms constrict around me. "Sometimes, I want to hold you like this and call you...k-k-" He coughs, embarrassed of his next word. "Kitty."

My own face gets infinitely hotter as my stomach tumbles at his term of endearment.

"Y-You already nuzzle into me like one!" he adds defensively. "It's not weird, I swear!" I looks cute to see him all flustered like this.

I kiss his nose instinctively and he turns tomato red. "I think it's really cute," I mumble. "You can call me that if you want. I'll be your kitty."

Shinsou seems like he's in a panic, arms frozen as they constrict around me. "Wow... That sounds better than I thought it would," he mutters incredulously.

I chuckle. "You said that out loud, Hitoshi."

One of his large hands cups my jaw and I nuzzle against it. "My precious kitty." It rolls off his tongue so naturally. He presses a kiss on my forehead. "I'll keep you happy with my cuddles."

I smile against his touch. "Aren't you happy I showed you cuddling? Aren't they great?"

"They're the best, especially with you, Kitty."

#Shinsou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shinsou hitoshi #college!AU #shinsou fluff #comfort #gender neutral reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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ashdoesfandomarchieved · 3 years

Text

Two Bisexuals Are Your Co-Captains

ao3

“I solved racism,” Mariner says, kicking open the ready room door. This should not be physically possible, as doors have progressed past the need to be opened, and are, in fact, automatic.

Boimler, whose face is currently one with the synthetic wooden desk, gives her a thumbs up but doesn’t move beyond that.

“Okay, I lied, I didn’t solve racism,” Mariner admits. “It’s still a problem in our galaxy. But, I did solve our captain problem!” she tries. This does get Boimler to remove his face from it’s fixture on the desk.

“You did?” he blinks up at her, creases in his face from where it had been smooshed against the hard surface.

Mariner dumps an honest-to-god paper file on his desk. “Check it out, twink.”

Boimler swipes the file, frowning as nothing happens when he taps it. Mariner helps him out, flipping the cover over. “So there’s this really nifty rule back from like 2039 that allows for two acting captains to co-pilot the ship simultaneously.”

“Are you serious?” Boimler groans.

“As Legato Infection,” Mariner confirms. “It was apparently instated for missions where the crew is like. Separated or some shit and need more than one captain coordinating. Because Starfleet was also part of the air force for a while, co-captains were basically just co-pilots. Like this was a whole thing. But it got overwritten with the First Officer Act of 2048 that instated First Officers as a fill in instead of a co-captain, able to make decisions and delegate, but it was never technically outlawed. Meaning…”

“We could technically take advantage of the loophole and-”

“Co-Captains!” Mariner punches the air. “You know what this means?”

Boimler blinks at her blankly. Beckett applauds herself over the alliteration, as she throws an arm over his shoulder. “It’s our ship,” she whispers dramatically, already envisioning the communist flags with selfies of her and Boimler printed on them.

“Or it could just be your ship,” Boimler says, fear in his eyes.

Beckett grabs his collar, dragging him up to eye level. “Our ship.”

________

“Beckett no,” Freeman says flatly. Ever since The Incident--the one where the ship was overrun with the Pakleds that took out the entirety of senior command--she’s been in medbay, wrapped up in so many bandages she looks like a mummy from one of those really old movies Boimler is obsessed with.

“Beckett yes ,” Mariner says, taking a slurp of her cherry limeade slurpee. “You named me First Officer!”

“Then why does Boimler-”

“Ransom also named him First Officer!”

“So your brain jumped to Co-Captains ?” Mariner can’t see her mom’s expression, but from her squinty eyes she’s pretty sure it’s disapproving. “That is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“You can’t call your daughter dumb!” Mariner throws her hands up in the air.

“Mariner, you’re dumb.”

“That’s against parent rules! Everything I do is supposed to be a fucking delight!”

Freeman turns her judgy eyes to Boimler, who had been staring off into the middle distance, probably traumatized by all of the shrieking the mother and daughter duo had been doing since they entered medbay. Whatever, it’s not Mariner’s fault that her mom’s kneejerk reaction to her daughter charging into medbay with a bat'leth and no shirt on was to shriek like a goddamn banshee.

“You know what,” Freeman says, eyes locked on Boimler. “I’m already having a bad fucking week. Go ahead, make it worse I dare you .”

“Uhm-”

“We absolutely will do that,” Beckett promises, crossing her heart.

_____

“ ATTENTION ALL PERSONAL ,” Mariner says, over the ship’s speakers. D’Vana, from her position at the First Officer’s station, gives her a Disappointed Look. Mariner gives her a thumbs up back.

“ DUE TO OUR EXCRUCIATING CIRCUMSTANCES AND THE LACK OF COMMUNICATION BETWEEN YOUR FORMER CAPTAIN AND HER FIRST OFFICER, ENSIGN BOIMLER AND I WILL BE YOUR CO-CAPTAINS TONIGHT. OR FOREVER, WE HAVEN’T DECIDED YET.”

“Mariner, what are you doing?” Boimler says, storming onto the Bridge. Mariner, who had hacked the Bridge speakers to play Demi Lovato’s Confident every time Boimler entered, is pleased to note that nobody had figured out how to turn that off yet. Unfortunately for her, however, Boimler didn’t recognize his girlboss powers, and had been yelling at her every time it happened.

“I’m letting the ship know about our change in command, oh Co-Captain of mine,” Mariner says over the booming bass and Demi Lovato’s dulcet tones. In the corner of her eye, the vulcan side character that everyone thought was a Cool Guy, bopped his head to the music.

Boimler sighs, pressing his palms into his eyes. “So we’re actually doing this?”

“Dude, I already made us friendship jackets. That shit had a no refunds policy.” She pulls a leather jacket that had been draped over their helmsman's head--bad for ship navigation, but good for dramatic effect--and throws it at Boimler. Boimler unfolds the pink monstrosity, sighing deeply at the neon-yellow glitter words Gatekeep Girlboss Gaslight emblazoned on the back.

“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s ABSOLUTELY necessary,” Mariner says, standing up. She turns around, showing Boimler her purple jacket which says Malewife Mansplain Manipulate in snot-green glitter.

“HOW DOES THAT MATCH.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DOES THAT MATCH.” Her voice echoes strangely, alerting her to the fact that the shipwide comms are still in use. She reaches over, flicking the switch off and turns back to Boimler, hands on her hips. “Is this an anxiety thing again? Do you need to go back on medication?”

“I don’t need to be on meds!”

“Then why won’t you wear our super secret special jackets!”

“Because mine is hot pink and says girlboss on the back!”

Mariner lets out a gasp. “Are you saying... Boimler are you adhering to GENDER ROLES?”

“No-no stop it -”

“You! You of ALL PEOPLE-”

“Mariner, cut it out!”

“LET IT BE KNOWN THAT BRAD BOIMLER IS A-”

Boimler pulls the jacket on so violently that he somehow elbows himself in the eye. The pink really does go with his hair-which Mariner knows for a fact he dyes himself every three weeks. “There! Happy?”

“So so happy.” Mariner hands him a martini from the tray she had brought in and nailed to the arm of the captain’s chair. The one she hands to Boimler has a rainbow umbrella in it. “So, first order of business. I think we need car seats for short people.”

“Excuse me.”

Mariner picks up her own martini glass and takes a chug, choking on the strawberry chunks she had grinded into it a few minutes before Boimler got here. “You know, car seats? That shit you put babies in because cars are a danger to humanity but we keep buying them? I think the shorties on this ship deserve some protection.”

Boimler drains his glass. “Fine, whatever, I don’t even care anymore.”

______

Mariner is commissioning the previously mentioned communist flags with hers and Boimler’s faces printed on them, when Tendi comes into the ready room. She is wearing the face of complete and utter defeat that everyone else had been wearing since the Co-Captains had been instated. Mariner insists it’s because they’re sad that she and Boimler wouldn’t get to be captains forever. Boimler says it’s because everyone’s writing their suicide notes to their familes.

“Mariner, we need to talk,” Tendi says, using the opening line to every break up Mariner’s been a part of and seen on tv. Which is really weird because she didn’t think she and Tendi were in a relationship.

“I’m all ears,” Mariner says, which is a dumb fucking line because clearly she isn’t , but people say that all the time.

“I don’t want to be your First Officer,” Tendi says, crossing her arms. “It was fun for the first week, but after you made it mandatory to do the Macarena during the first ten minutes of each hour, morale has been down.”

“Hmm,” Mariner pets Boimler’s therapy cat, Dishwasher, thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll make that one optional. Any other requests?”

Tendi sighs. “No,” she admits. “To be honest, the ship is running at 98%, which is the highest any ship in Starfleet has ever run. I think Brad orgasmed when he heard about that.”

“You call him Brad ?” Mariner stares up at her friend, aghast.

“That’s his name?”

“Yeah, and his cat’s name is Dishwasher , but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to call her that!” Dishwasher growls at her name. Mariner shushes her, hands clamped over her ears. “She turns into a murder-rage machine when you call her by her given name! How do we know Boimler isn’t the same?”

“Because I call him Brad all the time!” Tendi hisses back, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Oh my god, he’s probably serial killing as we speak. I hope you’re ready to talk to the victim’s families and let them know that their loved one’s died because you couldn’t help yourself.”

Tendi stares at Mariner for a full minute. “Resignation,” she reiterates, pointing at Mariner. “I want to be a gross ensign scrubbing the deck again. Nepotism sucks .”

“Fine, you’re demoted. Go enjoy mediocrity.”

“I will.” Tendi storms out, kicking the door shut. Which again, is completely, 100% impossible because it’s the 23rd century or whatever-Mariner’s not keeping count-and automatic doors are now a Thing.

Mariner hacks their speaker systems to play the Wii Shop Channel Music-a reliac of the past only alluded to on private groupchats and servers- to play whenever Tendi entered a room. It’s the least she could do.

______

“As your First Officer,” a reluctant Rutherford says reluctantly, “I am here to remind you that that would be a very bad idea .”

“Rutherford, who’s the boss around here?” Mariner asks, hands on her hips.

Rutherford sighs. “You.”

“And as the boss, who makes all the decisions around here?”

Another sigh. “ You .”

“Then why are you being a killjoy over my decision to get down and dirty with my Co-Captain?”

Rutherford makes a shriek-y noise, like those boys who got their testicles cut off in the old days so they could sing opera. “Mariner, I’m serious, don’t do it .”

“Is it against regulation?”

“No,” Rutherford groans. “You’re both the same rank-”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You can’t sleep with Boimler just because you can!”

“That’s not why I’m going to sleep with Boimler,” Mariner waves him off. “I was sitting on his lap the other day-”

“Oh my god -”

“-in the Captain's chair--ooh we should look into getting another one of those, TWO chairs are better than one--”

“Mariner, to the point please.”

“Oh, yeah, so I’m in his lap and I maay have backed up a little too far and bumped up against-”

“Stop literally stop .”

“Yeah, so turns out Boimler is PACKING and I gotta hop on that train, so to speak.”

“Okay, you know what?” Rutherford shoves his padd at Mariner. “I quit, I can’t do this. I want to be a lower decks ensign again.”

“Wow, you’re like, the seventeenth person this week to quit. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how long I’ve been captain.”

“Yeah, weird coincidence,” Rutherford deadpans.

_____

“I may have fucked up, Mom,” Mariner shrieks, waltzing into medbay with all the grace of a duck pulling off a white bread heist. “I think you should take captaincy back.”

Freeman, who had fully recovered two days ago, but refused to engage in the chaos Mariner was purposely causing on her ship, looks up from where she’s reclining with her long island ice tea and swimwear magazines. “Really now?”

“ Yes . All of my friends hate me and I found out Boimler has purple pubs.”

Freeman almost drops her drink. “ What .”

“Tell me about it. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still fucking, but like. Wow, I thought he dyed everything. Turns out that shit is natural.”

Freeman covers her face with one hand. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re keeping the ship.”

“WHAT.”

“I already spoke to your father,” Freeman gives her daughter a shark-like smile. “We agreed that this position of authority has been good for you. And, considering, the ship is running better than any ship in Starfleet since the inception of the Federation, the Admiralty wants you and Boimler to stay on.”

“ WHAT .”

“They think it’s an interesting social experiment that merits more research. Congratulations, you and your fuck-buddy are now ginnypigs.”

___

“I think, as a sign of protest, we should rename the ship,” Mariner says, draped across the desk in the ready room. Boimler, sprawled out all over the desk chair, snorts. The room has been completely revamped in pride flags and the previously mentioned communist flags. Mariner thinks it’s her best interior design work, but Boimler claims it’s an eyesore.

“What would we name it?” he asks, humoring her.

Mariner considers it, taking a swig of vodka. “Okay, hear me out. Q and Picard’s Loveboat.”

Boimler grabs the bottle out of her hand, taking a chug. “You know what? This might as well happen.”

They submit the formal request on Boimler’s padd a few minutes later and are both pleasantly-at least in Mariner’s case-surprised that it goes through. It’s likely that the guy in charge of filtering these requests is either very very bored or very very underpaid and either way Mariner likes his energy.

A few days later, they have Q AND PICARD’S LOVEBOAT stamped across the side of the ship in comic sans-a truly underappreciated font from ye olden days that Mariner dug up one night on the wayback machine.

It takes exactly four weeks for the Admiralty to catch wind of it-by then she and Boimler had been Co-Captains for almost two months-and, well, there isn’t much they can do about it.

She does receive a rather long voicemail from her dad that she promptly deletes. She’s not about that energy.

_____

“Boims, Boims, Boims,” Mariner chants, crawling into his bed. Boimler lets out a shriek as her ice cold toes slide up against his bare thigh.

“So you know how our ship got renamed so easily?” she says, once Boimler had stopped screaming. “Well, I found the dude who approved it. Nice kid, I want his gender. Anyway, looks like my dad is getting a new ship and they're getting someone to christen it.”

“Oh my god,” Boimler says faintly, turning his face into his pillow.

“I may have gotten us on the list of possible people to christen it. As in, the kid hacked the server for me and we're the only people on that list.”

Boimler looks like he's regretting everything ever. He also looks like he's kind of in love with her. Mariner inspires that kind of duality in people. “What are we going to name it?” his voice has a tinge of fear in it that both of them get off on. The kink is strong with this couple.

Mariner grins.

_______

THE DADMIRAL: ACT OF REBELLION OR GENIUS?

Ash H. Beiggs

Many of you may remember the highly criticized decision Starfleet made when instating “Co-Captains” on the starship Q and Picard’s Loveboat ( formally known as the USS CERRITOS). Well, Captains Bradward P. Boimler and Beckett E. Mariner are back with bigger and bolder headlines to make.

The chaotic young duo are renowned Federation-wide not only for running the tightest ship in Starfleet, but for their unorthodox methods. Captain Mariner in particular has been praised for her innovating thinking and usual personality. When asked about her decision to name Admiral Mariner’s ship The Dadmiral she simply claimed that “Mohammad had his mountain, Jesus had his followers and [she] had a molotov cocktail and nothing to lose.” Captain Boimler declined to comment.

The actual christening of The Dadmiral was reported as a “spectacle to behold” by many onlookers. Captain Mariner was seen streaking through the aforementioned ship, with a bottle of vodka in one hand. Her Co-Captain was not far behind her, but was reportably more restrained. The actual christening was completed by Captain Mariner who “yeeted the vodka” into the ships warp core, shouting “ One of us. One of us,” in rapid succession until she was removed by security.

Neither Admiral Mariner or Captain Freeman are available to comment at this time.

#i hate this fic but also it was The Most Fun To Write #stld crack #stld fanfic #my fic #marinler #brad boimler #beckett mariner #carol freeman #d'vana tendi #sam rutherford #star trek lower decks #star trek lower decks fanfic

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dylanhawth · 4 years

Text

[ LORENZO ZURZOLO, CISMAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! DYLAN HAWTHORNE, the TWENTY year old SECOND year ANTHROPOLOGY major from HARTFORD, CT is known as a TOURMALINE around here. HE was invited to join because HE PUBLISHED A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES ANONYMOUSLY THAT GARNERED A BIT OF FOLLOWING AND RECENTLY STEPPED FORWARD AS THE AUTHOR, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE NERVOUSNESS OF A FIRST KISS, LEAVING SECRET MESSAGES IN LIBRARY BOOKS, DRIVING AIMLESSLY WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT WHILE THE RADIO HUMS A PLAYLIST CURATED FOR YOU BY YOUR BEST FRIEND.

[ big ass bio ] | [ connections ] | [ pinterest ] | [ playlist ]

ooc.

omfg hello. i can’t tell you how excited and happy i am to be here. i was too nervous to apply for the last three months but i decided to stop being a Coward and just try. im SO happy to be here, it’s the highlight of my week tbh lmao. anyway i am mar, she/her, 24, est. i live in nyc and all i do is visit the planetarium and cry. i’m so fucking bad at these so im just gonna LIST things and hope you get the vibe. i am a pisces sun, scorpio moon. i prob have a napoleon complex a little bit lmao. my favorite social media site is goodreads and i get rlly sad when my friends rate books i love poorly dfljskdfs. i can touch my tongue to my nose. i eat a lot of persimmons. i have a favorite rock at my local park that i visit a lot. idk dfskjls. i’m v friendly tho so pls hmu. i send a lot of memes, and love making meme edits for the chars so im rlly sorry in advance if you guys hate that.

01. basics.

NAME. dylan h. hawthorne. ALIASES. dyl, hawth. AGE. twenty. HOMETOWN. hartford, ct. GENDER. cismale. PRONOUNS. he/him.

02. appearance.

EYES. green. HAIR. brown. HEIGHT. 6”0 BUILD. lean. BIRTHMARKS / BURNS / SCARS. a birthmark the shape of australia on his left thigh. TATTOOS. n/a. PIERCINGS. n/a.

03. habits.

ALCOHOL ? socially. SMOKING ? socially. HABITS. fidgets in chairs. cracks knuckles and back often. nervous laughter. chewing on pencils. talking to his plants. dogearing books. staring off into space and applying chapstick for a prolonged period of time. getting overly competitive about boardgames. stress cleaning. carries a book in his bag always. night owl. incredibly impatient when the internet is slow. creature of habit when it comes to menus, orders the same shit over and over again. LIKES. feeding the ducks at the local pond. the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. the way music sounds coming from another room. kissing. watering his plants. inside jokes. making wishes in fountains. discussing a recently finished book with someone. making handmade cards for friends on their birthday. fireworks. coming of age films. packages wrapped in twine. jogs. the way friday nights feels when you’re with someone you love. the feeling you get leaving the movie theatre. DISLIKES. being late. having too many coins on him. coffee with no sugar. when people speak loudly in the library. doing laundry. handshakes with too much squeeze. receiving voicemails. untidiness. golf. charles dickens. lectures with no student input. hot weather. confrontation. being caught in a lie. losing his umbrella. people who cheat during games. rainboots. bad table manners. humidity.

04. personality.

MYERS-BRIGGS. infp. ENNEAGRAM. the helper. ZODIAC. pisces. TEMPERAMENT. melancholic. ALIGNMENT. neutral good. ARCHETYPE. the lover. POSITIVE. empathetic. sensitive. intelligent. charismatic. easygoing. gentle. loyal. passionate. romantic. humble. supportive. gregarious. playful. diligent. NEGATIVE. deceitful. gullible. finicky. naive. obsessive. perfectionistic. secretive. timid. possessive. weak-willed. indecisive. cynical. indulgent. summary: basically, dylan is a love starved, people pleasing nervous wreck. big ass nerd who wants to be everyones friend, wants to be liked SO BAD. very charming and charismatic, comes off as fairly confident and comfortable at first. is able to make everyone feel loved and like they’re the most important person in the world, however lacks a backbone. is both romeo and juliet, and just as dumb as both of them too.

05. hc’s.

dylan was a football player in high school, believe it or not. he was rather good at it too, which is sort of jarring considering his pacifistic nature. however, he DID land on someone incorrectly at some point during his senior year, and broke their wrist. he quickly abandoned the sport altogether because of how guilty he felt.

touched on this briefly but dylan really… loves indiana jones lmao. like, it’s quite ironic given his absolutely inability to be a badass, and lack of suaveness. however, he admires indy’s lust for adventure. he also was obsessed with the mummy as a kid. both of these were incredible sources in his very irrational decision to sudden anthropology. however, he does really love and admire anthropology. his favorite ethnography is the spirit catches you and you fall down, which makes him cry like a little bitch every time he even thinks about it.

he’s the second oldest, but he is also baby. he is SUCH a big momma’s boy. he misses his mom so much. he writes to her often, and of course calls her even more. despite being six-foot tall, he still goes home and rests his head on his mother's lap, falls asleep as she runs her fingers through his hair. he often tries to find native english plants and flowers to press, and mail back to his mother in the form of bookmarks. has nEVER STEPPED ON A CRACK IN HIS LIFE, BABY.

just leaves a shit ton of notes in books in the library. some are riddles, some are poetry, some are commentary on the book, some are doodles. just depends on how he’s feeling for that book. he doesn’t tell anyone he does it, but he’s waiting for someone to connect the dots with his handwriting and writing style.

speaking of plants, his room is basically a big greenhouse. he has so many plants, and takes serious care of them all. he has a little humidifier in his space for them, marks down when he waters what plants, and has a label maker to label them all with a name. they are all named after shakespeare characters.

dyl is a doodler, so much so that he contributes to the school paper as a cartoonist. his cartoons are usually just random thoughts he has, but sometimes they get political and he works marxism into them. (this man loves marx.)

[ suicide implied tw, death mention tw ] he dresses like a victorian boy in love with his roommate who has recently died of scarlet fever and in his mourning, plans to disappear in the bog by the school by mysterious circumstances and become a ghost that haunts the college with his lover. like lots of gray and slacks and ties ands ties and sweaters, lol. also he has glasses that he never wears because he can never find them! catch him squinting in your classroom because he can’t see SHIT. too shy to ask you for your notes though, doesn’t wanna inconvenience you! but when he’s Out on the Town®, he fucking wears like, tacky patterned shirts that are expensive but ugly. someone please help him.

all about fun socks! he loves owning socks that have dumb little images on them. if you get him a pair of fun socks, he’d absolutely go nuts. his entire week: made.

he leaves his roommate limericks when he senses they are sad. tapes em to the bathroom mirror or leaves them in the fridge. also loves buying people presents. tiny ones. like haunted looking things from second hand stores, or your favorite chocolate. also is the sort of friend that has EVERYTHING in his bag, in case someone cuts themselves or has a headache. can be a bit of a mom himself. it’s the little things, y’know?

prob still in his emo phase. listens to way too mcr to not be lmao.

eco-friendly king, will not stand for you not recycling.

if you will allow him, he will attempt to have a secret handshake with you. he’s a child. is dying for someone to memorize the parent trap handshake and indulge him.

cannot sit still in a chair. fidgets an excessive amount, the bobbing of his knee and the squirming around. it just never ends.

bi. that’s the hc.

he’s a little bit in love with everyone he meets if you couldn’t tell, and it’s fucking disastrous.

he is based loosely off: patroclus ( the song of achilles ), ponyboy curtis ( the outsiders ), laurie laurence ( little women ), eduardo saverin ( the social network ), remus lupin ( hp ), oliver marks ( if we were villains. )

( @opalsmedia )

#opalsintro #intro #his background and things are in the big ass bio dfsklds but this is the gist of it lol

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atc74 · 4 years

Text

Out of This World

Warnings: Cas dream walking Dean’s dreams...again, pining, mentions of group sex, Destiel, M/M, anal fingering, voyeurism, M/M sex, M/F sex...there is a lot of sex

Summary: Dean experiences something in a dream he never considered, not in real life anyway. Then an angel changed all that.

Pairing: Destiel

Word Count: 1710

A/N: The fifth *and yes, final) installment of A Whole New World, in which there a lot, like an obscene amount of sex, of all kinds. Unbeta’d, all mistakes, and limb placement, are my own.

After another two rounds and more orgasms in a single day than he can remember, Dean fell into the other bed. Sam, Y/N, and Cas were sprawled in the other bed, sleeping soundly. He replayed the conversation with Y/N over in his mind, wondering if Cas really felt that way about him. Dean always knew he was curious about men, but had never taken it further than porn, fantasies, and his own self-exploration. But now, as he tried to fall asleep, his best friend, the angel, was all he could think about.

He let his mind drift where it desired as sleep took over. The last image he saw was bright blue eyes in the darkness.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas appeared suddenly before him, startling Dean. He bolted upright, unsteady, and tumbled to the earth. He looked up, and the first thing Dean noticed was Cas’s eyes, bright and shining in the midday sun, mimicking the sky above them. He looked around, taking in their surroundings. Soft sand between his toes and waves crashing in the distance.

“Where are we?” Dean asked, brushing the sand from his body as he stood and adjusting his sunglasses.

“You tell me, Dean. We’re in your dream,” Cas smiled, his eyes squinting in the brightness.

Looking for anything familiar, Dean turned, but the beach was vast, open, and empty, save Cas, himself, and his trusty green cooler. He bent down, flipped the lid open, and smiled. “Yahtzee!” Dean pulled two beers from inside, twisting the tops off and passing one to the angel.

“I don’t know where we are, Cas. But this ain’t bad. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything but nightmares, I’ll take a deserted beach,” Dean smiled.

Cas sipped the cold beer and admired the form of this human. They had just spent hours naked and taking turns fucking Y/N to the point of delirium, but seeing Dean relaxed and bronzed in the sun, wearing nothing but a pair of swim shorts, was possibly even more enticing.

Two chairs materialized and they settled into them. “Ahhh.” Dean sighed, sinking further into the canvas, his eyes closed as he sipped from the beer. His thoughts rambled in his head, thinking about what he wanted to say to Cas if anything.

“We’re friends, right, Dean?” Cas broke the silence and Dean’s train of thought with his gravelly baritone.

“Best friends, Cas.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know that.” Dean scoffed as if he wasn’t aware. There are things he’d told Cas that he had never even told his brother.

“Okay.” Cas settled back in his chair as well, mirroring Dean.

“Damn, is it hot out here!” Dean no sooner opened his mouth than a wide umbrella appeared above them, shading them from the scorching rays. “Ahhhh, that’s more like it.”

“You know what else is hot?” Cas asked, sitting up and locking his eyes on Dean’s chest, smooth and glistening with a layer of sweat, scarred from years of hunting, but no less attractive to the angel.

“What’s that, buddy?” Dean asked casually, as if this was really just a day at the beach, just a beer between friends.

“The afternoon we spent with Y/N and your brother,” Cas answered openly as he tended to do.

“Yeah, that was pretty spectacular,” Dean smiled fondly, looking over at the angel.

“You were pretty spectacular, Dean. I learned and experienced many things today,” he contemplated.

“I heard you got to experience both Y/N and Sammy, in her body, and your own. So tell me, what was your favorite part?” Dean looked expectantly at Cas.

“I think my favorite part is the one thing I’ve yet to experience today, and that is you,” he admitted.

“Me? What - what, uh, what exactly does that mean Cas?” Dean gulped, wishing and hoping for one thing, but also apprehensive of the same.

“I noticed you bend at Sam’s command today, and I was wondering, well, hoping really, if you would do the same for me,” Cas elaborated.

“Cas, you’re the only angel I’ll ever say yes to,” Dean answered truthfully, his gaze flicking between the angel’s mouth and lips. He leaned forward and closed his eyes as their lips grew nearer.

~*~

Gasping, Dean bolted upright in the spare bed, still naked, fully erect, and no longer alone.

“Good, you’re awake. It wouldn’t have felt right if you weren’t,” the deep voice next to him murmured. Cas’s hand cupped Dean’s jaw as he pressed his full lips to the hunter’s.

Dean’s body was hyper-alert as he returned the kiss, moaning into the angel’s mouth. He didn’t know Cas could kiss like this, but it made his toes curl, and his cock twitch. Dean leaned into Cas, tilting his head and allowing the angel to deepen it, their tongues tangling as he let Cas explore his mouth. Breathing heavily through his nose, he wrapped his arms around the firm body next to him, pulling him in closer, their cocks grazing each other.

“Cas,” Dean panted, breaking the kiss. “I’ve wanted this, you, for so long. I was just too scared to admit it, and what it might mean.”

“Dean, I’ve been yours all along, I just needed you to be ready. You’re mine. It was cemented when I raised you from perdition,” Cas declared, placing his right hand on Dean’s left shoulder, just like he did so many years ago.

“I’m yours, Cas,” Dean whispered.

“I know.” Cas reached for the lube, squirting a large amount in his hand, and placed it between Dean’s cheeks.

The coolness of the lubricant on his heated skin caused a hiss to escape his swollen lips but quickly turned into a moan as Cas spread the slickness over his hole, a finger slipping inside. “Oh fuck, Cas, shit.” Dean had never been with a man like this, but he knew how to pleasure himself. This was not like that. This was so much more than Dean could ever have anticipated.

His body was humming and they had barely started. His cock, leaking precum, bobbed with every movement of Cas’ finger. Dean spread his legs even further, lifting his head, watching the angel open him up. Cas added a second finger and Dean’s vision blurred.

“I’m going to take good care of you, Dean,” Cas whispered sweet nothings, licking the outer shell of his ear as he pumped two fingers into the hunter. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“You learn how to talk like that from Y/N and Sammy?” Dean gasped, Cas grazing his prostate.

“I told you I learned many things today. Do you like it?” Cas asked, adding yet another finger. “Are you going to be good for me Dean?”

“Yes, I love it, Cas. I’ll be good, so good for you,” Dean panted, his eyes slamming shut at the onslaught of pleasure the angel was bringing him. A warmth spread across his nipples, tingling. “Ohhhh, yes!”

“Shh, Dean. We don’t want to wake Y/N and your brother,” the angel reminded him. “Or do you?”

“No, I’ll be quiet. Please, Cas. I need you to fuck me already.”

“So needy for me already.” Cas withdrew his fingers and added more lube to his hand, slicking up his cock before lining up with Dean’s stretched out hole. “Keep your eyes on me, Dean. I want you to see everything.”

Dean nodded, unable to speak as Cas breached his entrance. He fought to keep his eyes open, keeping contact with the cobalt orbs as they stared into his, Cas pushing further into his body until he was fully sheathed inside his heat. He had never experienced anything like this before. It was too much, yet not enough. No toy he owned, no matter how fat or long, could ever make him feel like this. Only his angel could make him feel this way.

“Cas,” the name fell from Dean’s lips over and over, like a prayer.

“Come for me, Dean.”

Unable to hold back, unable to disobey, Dean’s body flooded with pleasure, his white seed coating his chest and stomach, as Cas continued to pound into the hunter. Each thrust causing the hunters cock to expel another load. “Fuck! Cas!”

The primal scream erupted from Dean’s lips woke the occupants of the other bed. Y/N and Sam were now wide-eyed, watching Dean take everything Cas had to give him, alighting their own arousal. After what had already transpired in the room between the four of them earlier, neither hesitated as Sam moved her body where they had the best view, entering her from behind.

Cas took his time and his movements were fluid as he thrust into the hunter, who responded willingly, his legs wrapped around the angel’s narrow hips. “Dean, I’m close. I want you to come with me.”

“Yes, fuck! Cas, yes!”

“Oh shit, baby, I’m gonna come.” Sam gasped, pumping faster into Y/N’s slick pussy.

“Come now!” Cas commanded, a sly smile on his face, and the room erupted in screams of pleasure as each of it’s four occupants reached their climax as ordered.

“Holy fuck, what the hell was that?” Dean groaned, melting bonelessly into the mattress.

“I used my grace,” Cas explained, pulling Dean’s spent body closer to him.

“On all of us?” Sam questioned.

“Yes, you did angel,” Y/N cooed from the other bed.

“Fuck, that was awesome.” Sam concurred.

“We are so doing that again,” Dean yawned.

“I would not be opposed,” Cas replied.

“So, Dean, how was it?” Y/N grinned wickedly, watching her two best friends.

“Out of this world. Like, probably the best sex I’ve ever had, Y/N. No offense,” Dean confessed.

“None taken, baby. Now get some sleep.” Y/N yawned, rolling back into Sam’s side.

“An out of this world experience? The best sex you’ve ever had, huh?” Cas asked smugly.

“Yeah, Cas. It has definitely been a day of firsts,” Dean smiled sleepily, drifting off in the angel’s arms.

“And many more. Rest well, Dean. You’re going to need it.” Cas pressed a kiss to the sleeping hunter’s lips. In his millennia, Cas had never felt so much. It truly was an out of this world feeling.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @kickingitwithkirk @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @manawhaat @crashdevlin @emoryhemsworth @fangirlxwritesx67 @winchesterprincessbride @jensengirl83 @anathewierdo @winchest09 @michellethetvaddict @magssteenkamp @waywardbaby

cover art by me, pic credits to @irensupernatural (via deviantart.com)

#destiel smut #dean x cas #dean x cas smut #destiel #supernatural fanfiction

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

Pollen - Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A new type of mutamycete has been discovered in a remote region of South America. As a scientist working for Blue Umbrella, you are sent along with BSAA Captain Chris Redfield and his team to conduct research on it. Unfortunately, everything goes to hell when the infection goes out of control and start contaminating the unit ...

Author’s Notes: This is a request sent by the Queen of Headcanons (@missmamacitaoliveira). It is basically porn with a plot and I chose to characterise it as "mild dub!con" because the sexual interaction depicted in this one shot is definitely the result of an arousal both characters (Chris and Reader) experience because of the mutamycete that contaminated them. Consent is given but the sexual act in itself is still a mix of fear and lustfulness at least at the beginning of it. Read at your own risk.

Warning: Sex Pollen / Smut / Mildly Dubious Consent / Rough Sex / Masturbation / Language

Golden spore-like particles were beautifully floating and dancing in the air outside the sterile plastic tent, shining like millions of innocent little fireflies but killing like a deadly swarm of wasps. They were covering the surrounding forest in yellow, from the trunks of the trees up to their tops, rotting the bark and the leaves, turning them into a thick yellowish mold capable of liquefying even the most solid of steels. A one-of-a-kind fascinating spectacle you had never thought to witness one day. Incredible – yet scary - what this new type of fungus was capable of doing.

Your earpiece crackled loudly in your ear, making you grimace and you dropped your leather notebook on your desk. “We’ve …sot … bit of sit…tion.” was all you could make out, the words sounding like gibberish because of the permanent interferences caused by the large cloud of mutamycete that had spread and contaminated the ambient air and the flora in the forest area by the riverside. “What kind of situation?” You asked, already removing a white Hazmat suit from a hanger. A never-ending sizzling was buzzing in your ear now, making it impossible to ear whoever was trying to communicate with you. “Hello?” You said as you adjusted the device to restore the communication. But all of a sudden, some static electricity – probably generated by the interferences - fried your earpiece in your ear, making you squeal in pain and fear and troubling your vision for a second. “Shit.” You cursed as your threw the broken earpiece to the ground, a low buzzing echoing in your head. “Why does it always happen to me?” You quickly slipped on the rubber suit, put on some chemical overshoe boots and grabbed Umbrella’s latest air-filter helmet before heading towards the exit. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to wander outside for too long as an officer rushed towards you, pointing at the military green tent that happened to belong to the medical unit that accompanied you on this mission. “Hurry, please.” He said with an alarmed voice that sent shivers down your spine. Something was definitely wrong.

You ungraciously followed him to the tent, your uncomfortable get-up making it hard for you to run properly. After all, it was made to work in a lab, not play commando in a remote tropical region of South America. Once in there, you immediately noticed two soldiers convulsing hard on their medical beds, struggling to breathe in spite of the oxygen the mechanical ventilators were providing them. Their faces were bright red, covered with pustules and blisters; their skin peeling off as if some acid had splashed on them. “What happened?” You dared ask, your widened eyes staring in shock at the poor men whose painful screams where muffled by the masks covering their melting faces. “Unsuitable gear. Thank your corporate overlords for that.” You glanced at the man who had answered, recognizing the angry powerful husky voice in spite of the deformation caused by the gas helmet he was wearing. “Captain Redfield, I’m sure…” He waved you to shut up and you obeyed, knowing that now was not the time to start an argument with him. It would not end up well, Redfield being too impulsive and stubborn to have a calm conversation with you even in more peaceful circumstances. His reluctance to work with Umbrella Co., you supposed. “How can I help?” “You’ve been studying this new mold, haven’t you?” Chris asked as he rushed to immobilise one of his men to allow a medic to sedate him with a syringe of morphine. “Might care to explain what’s happening?” “I’ve only studied the infection on the nearby vegetation. I don’t know what’s happening to them.” You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and ignore your growing concern and panic caused by the gut-churning vision before you. “Just tell what you know!” Chris growled as he pinned his struggling teammate down on the white mattress with an incredible strength you found scarily impressive. “It’s basically the same mutamycete that we collected at the Baker’s except that it was somehow genetically modified to have a reproductive morphology similar to plants and flowers. That’s why it looks so much like pollen.” “Make it understandable for a 5 years old, Y/LN, please.” Chris demanded with an annoyed sigh and you nodded though you didn’t really know how explain days and days of complex scientific research in a few simple sentences. “Alright. The previous mutamycete permitted to turn dead people into Molded, sort of. This new version does the same but it can also reproduce … breed if you prefer. A simple contact with a compatible host can lead to fecundation that can ultimately lead to lots of Molded babies. But I don’t need to develop that part, do I? Everyone in this tent knows how to make babies, I believe.” You scoffed, finding a certain comfort and some safety in sarcasm. But now was not the time for humour and you understood it perfectly when Captain Redfield glared at you. “Sorry. I tend to make bad jokes when I freak out.” And you were definitely freaking out right now. “But to sum up, this new mutamycete basically mimics the primary instinct of a G- virus infectee.” “Meaning?” Chris asked, his voice sounding an octave lower certainly because of the knot in his throat the simple mention of the G-virus had created. “It basically has a vital need to procreate, relentlessly searching for the right host to fecundate.” “So you’re saying that my men are what … pregnant with Molded?” He frowned and you could hear all his worries in his voice. He genuinely cared about his men. Very admirable and honourable. “I don’t know, Captain. I’m just telling you how it works on plants. Might be different for humans… I hope. Do you have an ultrasound scanner?” “ No, but we have one at the lab.” The doctor said. “ Then we need to evacuate quickly. And I …” You took some surgical pliers from a medical trolley and a test tube from your pocket. “…am going to need a sample to study all this.”

You approached one of the soldiers who was now basically dozing because of the morphine and slowly removed one of his gloves to cut one of his nails in order to later study his DNA. But as soon as your fingers touched him, he woke up with a start and jumped you, growling like a beast and grabbing you by the waist with a superhuman strength, almost digging his nails in your flesh through your clothes. You first instinct was to scream. Not the most efficient thing to do, you agreed. But, fortunately for you, you were accompanied by men who had better first instincts and reflexes than you. Chris pushed his man away from you and pounced on him, grabbing him almost brutally by the wrists to slam him down against the bed. You put a hand over your pounding heart and stared, terrified and powerless, at the enraged man squirming to get up. His eyes were dark and hungry and fixed upon you as if he was unable to focus his attention on anything else. “What the fuck, Carter?” Chris roared as he used all his weight to keep his soldier in place. But Carter didn’t care. Carter didn’t even look human anymore. And watching those two men struggling on this bed was like watching two lions fighting on National Geographic. Except that it was terrifying. Fucking terrifying.

Twenty-four hours later, Carter and his teammate were dead and their bodies still burning up like hot ember had been placed in the morgue section of the lab for you and your colleagues to study. But, in spite of the disgusting bloody experiments you led on them, you couldn’t take your mind out of the near-death experience you had been through at the camp. It haunted you, making it almost impossible for you to focus exclusively on your work. Those eyes. That darkness in them. That hunger that looked more and more sexual and lustful the more you thought about it. It was making you shiver in fear and discomfort. You had never seen anything like it before. You shook your head to make the images go away and concentrated again on your researches. You had been studying fours little rats in a glass cage for hours, trying to see how their systems reacted to the new mutamycete. But for now, six hours after injection, only an unusual high body temperature could be noticed.

The automatic sliding door of your lab opened with a hiss, making you slightly jump. You briefly checked the clock on the wall. 10:38pm. You didn’t expect any visit that late especially not a visit from Chris Redfield. “Captain Redfield. What are you doing … here?” You furrowed, staring at him with concern. He didn’t look so well. “Something’s happening to me.” His voice was cavernous and raspy and he sounded almost out of breath as if he was chocking under his black turtle neck. You immediately got up, resisting the instinctive urge to come closer to check up on him and took a few steps back. “Alright. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and I’ll see what …” You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Chris crumbled to the floor beneath him, growling as if he was trying to resist something, his nails dug in the grooves of the white tiles. “Oh my god, Chris.” “I feel like I’m burning up.” He struggled to say. And this time you rushed towards him. You couldn’t leave him like that. You had to do something.

Knelt onto the floor, you grabbed his broad shoulders to help him lean his back against a lab bench. His face was scarlet red and pearls of sweat were dripping along his forehead. You wiped them away with your sleeve. They felt weirdly sticky and had a strange sour smell. But what worried you the most was the heat radiating from Chris’s body. You could feel it brushing your face. It looked like the man had been microwaved. “Don’t move. I’ll call for help.” You tried to get up but Chris’ hand caught your arm in a firm strong grip that made you wince. “You don’t… understand.” He managed to say, panting, his extremely dilated brown eyes staring at your (colour) confused ones.

Without forewarning, he placed your hand over his crotch, a gesture you found disgusting, salacious and incredibly inappropriate and that instinctively made you squeal and try to get away from Chris’ grasp. He was incredibly hard. “What the fuck?” You gasped, horrified as you tried to quickly get up. But you lost your balance and clumsily fell on your rear. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He confessed, suffocating. “I’ve been like this for the past hour or so.” “The past hour?” You repeated, not knowing how to react or what to do. “Please tell me you can do something.” Chris begged, truly shamed and panicked and perfectly aware of the how indecent and degrading his behaviour must feel to you. You stood up to focus on your breathing and regain your calm. “Okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Breathe.” You needed to have your mind clear if you wanted to help Chris. You needed your scientist mind back. “Are you … aroused?” You said, genuinely uncomfortable to ask something so intimate. “Fuck, Y/LN!” Chris growled, glancing down at his pants. “ Isn’t it obvious? I’m freaking hard!” “Clearly.” You cleared your throat. “Don’t move.” You rushed towards your cupboard to rummage in it. “I’m going to give you GnRH antagonists. They can suppress hormones like testosterone. It should ease your pain for a while, or at least long enough to be able to find something that might help you. It’s possibly an effect linked to a long exposure to the mutamycete. Got you.” You took the vial with your trembling hands and turned around to go back to Chris. But what you didn’t realised was that Chris was just right behind you.

You bumped into his large chest and accidentally dropped the vial onto the floor. It broke into a thousand pieces as it landed on the tiles and you cursed, internally blaming yourself for your stupid clumsiness and your panic. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I needed.” You grimaced, scared to tell him the truth as you could tell he was getting angry again. Then again, who wouldn’t? “There might be another way.” You tried to reassure him but you knew it was vain. “Another way?” He harrumphed with a growl of pain as he leaned against your desk to breathe deeply. “What way?” “ Well, have you tried to … you know…” You mimicked a pumping motion with your hand, not daring to say the word. “Masturbate?” “You’re serious?” Chris’ darkened eyes widened, refusing to believe you were actually serious. “This is your medical advice? You want me to jerk off!” “Yes, that’s what I want … I mean advise.” You corrected, probably as uncomfortable than him right now, if not more. “Are you guys at Umbrella all dumb or is it just you? I don’t even know how I still can walk, Y/LN. I’ve never been that sensitive in my entire life. I feel like if I touch myself I will actually explode, like literally. I can’t jerk off right now!”

There was an awkward silence that didn’t last long as Chris turned around to shout his suffering again. Though this time it was mixed with an animalistic rage whose cause was still blurry to you. Was it mad at you? At himself? At his condition? At Umbrella? … All of it? You sighed and approached him. Hands on his back you helped him face you. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” You told yourself.

You put your hand over Chris’ male parts, making him wince and hiss, to blindly look for the zipper, staring away from him on purpose. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, slapping your hand away from him. “You got a better idea, soldier boy?!” You retorted, wishing there was another solution and that this all situation was merely a nightmare. You opened Chris’ trousers and disgustedly slid your hand in his briefs. “Ouch, easy!” He grumbled the second your fingertips touched him. His member was so sensitive and aching right now. “This is the worse day of my life.” You admitted as you delicately took his hot swelling length, which was thicker and heavier than what you expected, in a limp grip. “Pff. I’m sure part of you enjoys it” Chris said in between two guttural moans, a sensation of both suffering and pleasure tensing his abs and clenching his jaw. “You must think it is karma for all the times I’ve been an ass to you.” “What?” You harrumphed as you stopped moving your hand, genuinely offended. “How can you believe I’m enjoying it? You’re sick.” “Then why are you all flushed?” He asked.

All this panic and concern for Chris had made forget about your safety and yourself in general. You touched your cheeks. They were abnormally hot and you could feel their sudden redness tickling your skin. “Embarrassment and panic.” You retorted, trying to convince yourself more than Chris. After all, wasn’t it the most plausible reason? Unless… “Or the mutamycete and in that case it’s all your fault and if I die I’ll come and kill you.” You started panting and Chris stared at you silently. “What? You think that masturbating you arouses me? Pff, you should know better than anyone right now what it means to be aroused.” “Y/N” He called out by your first name. He had never done that before. “What?!” You screamed, pissed at him. “Shut the fuck up and keep going.” He ordered with a severity worthy of his military status. “Seriously?” He didn’t reply, seeing no need for an answer, and you reluctantly resumed your soft motion on his engorged cock, feeling the prominent thick veins throbbing against your palm as Chris suddenly began removing his military vest and his turtleneck “Are you kidding me?” You mumbled in between your teeth, definitely not liking this situation. “I’m burning up. I can’t stand my clothes anymore.” But soon your eyes occasionally started glancing towards Chris’ broad and hairy chest. He had a formidable body. God, what the hell were you thinking? “Please tell me you’re gonna cum soon.” You begged but he didn’t respond. A bad sign. “Gosh, I must be doomed.” “Perhaps if you actually put some effort in it.” Your eyes widened at him. Was it really criticizing the way you were jerking him off? “Seriously, Mister ‘Ouch I’m too sensitive’?” “Don’t mind me. I get it. You’d rather do something else than help me right now. And I know this must feel very degrading. Well guess what? I’d rather do something else than being jerked off by you.” You stepped back. You had had enough of it. “Then go ahead.” You waved at the door. “Leave and get out of your bloody mess on your own. I don’t give a fuck. Actually you should have done that from the very beginning instead of coming to me. Why did you come here anyway?” “I have no fucking idea, Y/N. I was in my quarters and seconds later I was here. I can’t explain it. I was like … guided here. ” You frowned, finding this honest confession extremely weird and yet not so absurd, your scientific brain making a parallel between Chris’s words and the way the mutamycete was permanently searching for a host to breed. The conclusion that Chris might want the same thing froze you to the spot, scared and apprehensive, a bit like a deer caught in headlights. Why hadn’t you thought about that earlier? “And the more I look at you, the more I stay with you… I wanna fuck you so bad. And I hate myself for it.”

You gulped, finding yourself unable to regain control over your paralysed body as an instantaneous wet hotness formed in between your legs. You tried to repress it but Chris came closer, his darkened chocolate brown eyes staring at you the same way Agent Carter’s eyes had stared at you under that tent. It made you shake, expecting with a certain amount of fear what was bound to happen. “Fuck! You have no fucking idea how hard it is to resist the urge to just slam you against that desk and shove my cock into you.” Your heart skipped a bit and the air got stuck in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe anymore. Terrified and yet so atrociously aroused it was making you want to hurl. A strange sensation – certainly a result of the contamination - you had never experienced in your entire life and you didn’t know how to process. “I’m calling security.” You announced as you somehow managed to rush towards your desk. “They’re going to place you under quarantine. That’s what I should have done from the very beginning.” You tried to seize your phone but it was immediately taken away from away from you and thrown across the room before you could even push a single button.

You trembled again when you suddenly felt Chris’s towering body press against your back, his hardened member pushing against your butt as his muscular arms were forming a caging embrace to prevent you from escaping. “Then why haven’t you?” He whispered in you ear, his hot breath tickling your neck and making you shiver, this time more in arousal than in fear. “I don’t know.” You mumbled in a whisper, feeling your heart pounding like crazy in your chest because of the exquisite proximity between Chris’ strong body and yours. This was insane.

You moaned when you felt Chris softly grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck and then gasped with a certain apprehension when his large hand grabbed your throat to squeeze it, knowing he could choke you to death with ease right now without giving you a chance to fight back. “Tell me you want this.” He murmured, rubbing his pelvis against your rear hoping teasing you would convince you to give in to him. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. But please, please, tell me you want me to.” You looked back at him to stare at his eyes. In their hungry darkness, you could notice that Chris was still in there, spotting his integrity slightly gleaming behind the veiled pupils. He was fighting the temptation caused by this stupid fungus. But how long could he resist? Or better question, how long could you resist judging by the wetness growing in your panties. The answer? Not long.

“Do it.” You whispered so low, hoping he would not hear you and let go of you. But he did hear you and he didn’t wait. He pulled your skirt up to your waist and ripped your panties with a swift powerful motion that made you squeal and hold on tight to your desk. “I don’t think it’ll take long.” Chris said with a raspy voice as he dropped his trousers and briefs to his feet, finally freeing his throbbing cock that sprang erected and hard as a stone pillar. He watched it for a second, admiring it twitching and begging to be relieved. Then he stared at you, at your naked butt and your glistening red lips. “Gosh, you look delicious.” He said to himself before spitting on his finger to lube his length. Last thing he wanted was to hurt you. “You’re sure you’re up for this?” He asked again, not knowing how he would react if you said no. “I’m sure. Just fuck me, please.” You whimpered and Chris smiled as he guided himself towards your entrance. He moved briefly in between your half-closed thighs, right against your tight lips, to spread your juices along his shaft before kicking your calves to make you spread your legs for him. Once the access granted, he finally pushed himself deep into you, sliding him member so deep it almost disappeared in you. You winced and moaned, nails dug in the wood of the desk, when you felt him stretching you, definitely not used to welcome such girth inside your pussy. “Holy shit.” You cursed, with a small tear in the corner of your eye. “You’re so big.” “I know. Sorry.” He chuckled, his hand wandering down your back. “You’ll get used to it.” You cried out when Chris suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one single hard move. The force of his thrust made you fall flat on the desk. “You got nothing against rough sex, right baby girl?” Baby girl? The pet name made you furrow. What was next? You calling him daddy? “Cause I’m in that kind of mood right now.” He growled as he repeated the same motion, making you muffle a new loud moan in the leather notebook on which your head was resting. “Let’s get this over with.” You growled, already breathless.

Chris’ pelvis smacked loudly against your ass, making it bounce, as his heavy balls hit your swollen clit. “Fuck!” You shouted, hating the sensation as much as you were liking it. And he did this over and over. With time, you grew accustomed to the brutality and even happened to find a blissful pleasure in his roughness. Hell, you could even hear how wet your pussy was. “You like that? You want it faster?” You nodded and he grabbed your hips to pull you even closer to him and started relentlessly pounding you from behind. You screamed his name, wondering how he could still be that rough and yet that fast. His cock was literally a jackhammer hitting you hard inside, not that you minded. “Yes, just like that.” You said as you brought your fingers to your swollen clit. “Do you want to cum already?” You heard the cheekiness in his voice. He was amused. “Aren’t you the one who said it wouldn’t last long?” You retorted with a mocking smile that he definitely noticed in the tone of your voice since he grasped a handful of your hair to pull you back against his chest. “You’re going to regret this tone, young lady.” He bit your lips, making you almost bleed and kissed you with a hunger and a ferocious passion that would certainly let your lips bruised for days.

And as he did, his fingers crawled towards the buttons of your white shirt to violently tear the clothe apart, reducing it to rags and making the small metallic buttons fly in the lab. “Let me see those boobs.” Chris ordered as his hands squeezed your breasts, feeling the hard nipples pointing through your laced bra that he ultimately removed with the same burning ardour he had shown while removing your shirt. “So perky and pretty.” He confessed in a whisper as he pinched the rosy teats between his fingers. “Do you like them?” You asked, biting your sored lips “More than I like you. That’s for sure.” The rebuke made you sourly laugh. “I don’t like you either.” “Good.” He turned you over to face him and pushed you against your desk to make you sit on it, throwing all your stuff to the ground before laying you down on it. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist but that’s apparently not what Chris wanted as he put both your feet above his left shoulder with a grunt. “And don’t move.” He commanded and his hand slapped your breasts. They reddened almost instantly but the overall sensation was exhilarating, making you clenched your walls around Chris’s cock. “Fuck, don’t squeeze me like that.” He complained and you chuckled. But your laugh was brief since Chris caught you by your legs again and resumed his previous pounding.

You head tilted to the side and a stream of OHs and AHs escaped your mouth. You were completely at Chris’ mercy, lost in an intense bliss that made you completely unaware of the world around you. There was only pleasure. Pleasure and Chris. You toes went to feel Chris’ muscular pectorals, curling up more and more by the second. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You confessed with half-lidded eyes that you could barely keep open now. “Yeah?” You nodded. “You want me to help you?” “Please.” You whined, desperately wanting to let the ticking bomb of pleasure between your legs explode. “Alright then.” His arms circled your waist and he hoisted you up against his chest with an incredible ease. You were certainly very light for a man as strong as Chris. His small dark hair tickled your breasts, making you shiver and you wrapped your legs against him as well as your arms around his neck. You could feel it still inside of you and you were waiting eagerly to se how he would manage fucking you in that position which was far from easy. “Hold on tight.” He announced as he squeezed your ass to make you slide up and down his penis. The first moves were sloppy and clumsy but what followed drove you back in intense delight. The perks of being fucked by a man who had definitely been spoiled by Mother Nature.

Your body perfectly angled against Chris’, hands now holding on tight to his large shoulders, you could feel your clit rub atrociously well against the bush surrounding his member that your pussy had excessively creamed. “Chris. I’m cumming.” You shut your eyes and cradled against his body to keep yourself in place when the exhilarating moment you had been longing for finally happened. You shouted so loud as you clenched your walls against Chris’s cock you wondered how no one rushed in your lab to see what was happening in there. “That’s it baby girl. Cum for me.” Chris hissed, his mind split between your pussy squeezing him tightly and your nails scratching his shoulders to the blood. “Fuck, Chris!” Your climax knocked you out, rendering you dizzy and limp, and you let yourself slump against Chris, head over his shoulder. “Alright time to truly finish this.” He chuckled and knelt to the floor where he laid you hot body on the tiles. The coldness made you tremble but you were too giddy and tired to mind. Nevertheless, you sensed Chris lie on top of you, his massive body sprawled over yours almost crushing it under his weight.

His shaft found his way back in your relaxed pussy and he weaved his hand in your soft hair to pound you for the last time. Only soft almost soundless moans escaped your mouth but you could tell that the effect of your powerful orgasm was slowly fading away as your energy was slowly growing back and regaining your limbs. “I’m gonna cum in you.” This was a terrible idea, risky even, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how – or didn’t want – to fight back, actually desiring to feel Chris’s hot sperm spurt inside of you. So instinctively, you managed to circle his waist with your legs and spur his hard rear to make him go deeper inside of you. “Eager girl. You want to take my cum so bad, don’t you?” He scoffed and kissed your lips hard as he pinned your wrists up your head to finally release his sticky white seed in your vagina with a guttural animalistic grunt that echoed in the lab. “Take it.” He growled as he kept pushing himself hard inside of you to be sure not to waist a single drop of his semen.

Chris pulled out of you and gazed at you glistening red pussy, glad to see that his cum was not oozing out of you. “That felt so good.” He admitted before allowing himself to fall next to you with a sigh of content and enjoy the coldness of the tiles against his sweaty body. “And you know what? I actually feel a lot better.” You didn’t answer, exhausted but more especially lost in your thoughts. Gosh, what have you done? “You’re alright?” Chris asked, his voice finally back to normal. You glanced at him and noticed even his eyes had found their sweet chocolate colour back. “ Y/N” Your name echoed in your head and you suddenly got the impression that your body was abnormally convulsing. “Y/LN! Y/N” Chris repeated as he urged to hold you. “Y/LN. Hello?” You felt your mind slowly dozing off, finding yourself unable to answer. What the hell was happening? That was the last thing that came to your mind before it completely shut off. Then everything went dark and only Chris’ voice calling your name remained. “Y/LN! Open your eyes. Wake up!”

You woke up with a start, lost and wondering where you were, your startled eyes scanning your surroundings in search of something familiar. It took you a couple of seconds to realise you were laying on the ground and that you actually were in your tent, a the camp. “Y/LN” Your eyes met Chris’. He was staring at you with concern, his hands firmly holding your shoulders. “You’re alright?” You stared at him, still very astonished and then, you spontaneously jumped in his arms. “Chris! You’re okay!” The relief in your voice made Chis frowned and he slowly pushed you away. “Yes. You?” You nodded with a smile. “So it was a dream?” You asked, expecting an answer from Chris which was completely absurd. “A dream?” He repeated. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you bump your head or something? Hurt yourself?” “No.” You shook your head, not getting why he looked so worried. “But your ear.” He pointed at it, not daring to touch it and you brought your fingertips to it. A thick liquid was pouring out of it. It was pus and blood. You were bleeding. Why were you bleeding? “What the fuck?” You looked around you only to spot the fried earpiece on the ground next to you. The interferences. The static electricity. It had certainly burst your eardrum and made you faint and … “It was all a dream.”

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #one shot

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ineffable-snowman · 4 years

Text

Fic: For Want of Snow

Hi @smeltster, this is your gift for the GO Events gift exchange @good-snowmens. Happy Good Snowmens to you!

Thank you very much to @artemis for beta-reading!

***

For Want of Snow

“You don’t have snow anymore in London,” Aziraphale had said wistfully one day while they were strolling through St. James’s Park, Crowley with a black umbrella and Aziraphale with a tartan one to protect themselves against the steady drizzle.

Personally, Crowley could do without the snow. The usual London weather in December – grey, cold, rainy – was bad enough. Nevertheless, he had filed that information away for later, and when he came across a snow globe in a shop (as you do), he bought one for Aziraphale.

“Oh, how delightful,” Aziraphale said happily as Crowley presented him with the snow globe and removed a stack of books from the coffee table to place the snow globe there. Crowley, in turn, removed the books from the floor and squeezed them onto the shelves.

“Need to keep things tidy,” he offered as a mumbled explanation at Aziraphale’s questioning glance, all the while trying to forget how, just a few months ago, all the books and sheets of paper on the floor had so quickly caught fire. Then he flopped down on his sofa, half listening to Aziraphale prattle on about some theatre production he wanted to see, but mostly glaring at the blessed fireplace to make it very clear that it was never meant to host a fire again.

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale’s voice jolted him out of his glaring.

“Yeah, sure. Just cold.” Nothing unusual about snakes disliking the cold, right?

Aziraphale immediately got up to fuss, offered him a woollen tartan blanket (which he naturally refused), and a cup of tea (which he allowed).

“I could light a fire,” Aziraphale suggested.

“No! No, not necessary, I’m already much warmer, this-” Crowley sloshed some tea over his trousers and suppressed a hiss “-works wonders. What were you saying about that musical play?”

The distraction worked – for now. It did nothing to make the images of the bookshop on fire in Crowley’s mind disappear, though.

Crowley’s gaze kept drifting to the snow globe where the snowflakes floated dreamily down onto the little house between pine trees. The brightly lit windows looked cosy, and an idea started to form in Crowley’s head.

***

Hell used to hold Crowley up as an example for efficient evil deeds organisation. What he was planning now was not exactly evil but it warranted the same kind of attention to detail (maybe even more).

He started subtly, making the Bentley play White Christmas whenever he drove Aziraphale somewhere. Then he placed adverts at the places Aziraphale frequented: picturesque images of snowy villages and woods, vacation homes, cottages to rent, property for sale.

“You know, it would be nice to have a White Christmas again,” Aziraphale said when they were sitting, once again wet from the London rain, in the Bentley and the song Winter Wonderland began to play.

Crowley hummed his agreement. “Makes it really Christmassy, snow. Very festive.”

“It’s a shame neither of us took weather management courses, back in Heaven.”

“Yeah, would’ve been more helpful than choir practice.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!”

Any other day Crowley gladly would have taken this chance to bitch about Heaven with Aziraphale but now he needed to focus on his mission. The car in front of them stopped without knowing why, right next to a travel agency with a big poster in their shop window that showed a cottage in a winter landscape.

“You know,” Crowley said offhandedly, “there are places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Yes, in Lappland or Siberia. I’m sure it would be wonderful to go there but you know how I love the English Christmas traditions.”

“There are English places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Oh? Where would that be?”

“Tadfield. For example.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Uh.” From very thorough research about which part of the UK had the highest probability of a White Christmas. “Had a chat with the Antichrist’s father. Not Satan, obviously, still not on speaking terms since you know. His human father. Anyway, they’ve had White Christmases for several years now, he said.”

“How lovely. Tadfield is not very far, maybe we could go there on Christmas Day for a walk in the snow.”

Crowley shrugged. “Could rent a cottage for Christmas.”

Aziraphale turned to him, a worried look on his face, and shit, shit, shit, too fast. The song changed midway (I’m dreaming of ice in the sunshine) and the snowy cottage on the poster turned into a tropical island. Crowley wanted to hit himself for being such an idiot. Why couldn’t he leave things be? Things were fine now, why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had?

“I meant only so we could have a place to warm up,” he said quickly and honked at the car in front of him to finally get moving, for Heaven’s sake! “You know, after a walk in the snow, you need a warm place where you can have a hot drink and I don’t think they have cafés in Tadfield, so.”

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale hesitated. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “We could do that.”

***

It took careful planning. First of all he needed to rent a cottage. Not just any cottage, the perfect cottage in the perfect location. A cottage that was also potentially for sale.

Then he kidnapped the holiday decorator at Harrods (but paid him generously, so it wasn’t really kidnapping) to hang up Christmas lights, holly, garlands, and of course to put up and decorate a huge Christmas tree. Crowley visited the cottage himself to make sure the decorations were appropriate, paying special attention to the angel ornaments because they must not resemble certain archangels. While he was there, he also gave the Christmas tree a very strong talking to not to shed a single needle.

Then he brought everything you needed for a perfect Christmas, which was mostly food and drinks. There was some minor blackmail involved when he bullied the waitress at Aziraphale’s favourite café to give away their hot chocolate recipe. He needed three days of practice and several cartons of milk until he got it right without any miracles. (It was the first and hopefully last time his kitchen ever experienced any real cooking.)

On the morning of the 25th, Crowley was thoroughly exhausted but positive that his demonic plan was flawless. What could go wrong? Still he hovered in front of the bookshop’s door, wondering if he should ring the bell, if Aziraphale had forgotten their plan, if all of this was a phenomenally bad idea, if –

Aziraphale opened the door and smiled at him. “Ah, good morning.” He was wrapped in a thick coat and a fluffy woollen scarf. “Merry Christmas!” He handed Crowley a present.

“Ah.” Crowley’s hands moved of their own accord and took it. So that was a thing now. They gave each other Christmas presents now. “Thanks.” Why had no one informed him? He did not have anything for Aziraphale. (Did a cottage count?)

“Open it. You’re going to need it today.”

Crowley carefully opened the golden wrapping paper. He was not prepared for this, the idea that Aziraphale had chosen something for him and then wrapped it and put a bow on it. It was not even midday and things were already getting out of his control.

Inside the box were a thick red scarf and a pair of earmuffs. Crowley would have complained about the fluffiness of the earmuffs but at least they were black and it was his first ever Christmas present from Aziraphale, meaning he would kill anyone who tried to take the earmuffs away from him.

“Ah-hm, guess they could be useful,” he said and Aziraphale’s face erupted into a happy smile.

“Oh, I hoped you would like the colour. You never wear proper winter clothing. It’s no wonder you’re always cold…”

Crowley drove them out of the city while Aziraphale prattled on about bearskins and muffs. Crowley would occasionally comment with a hum but was mostly wondering what it meant that Aziraphale had decided to give him a Christmas present and worried about him staying warm and had gone to the trouble of choosing colours which Crowley liked.

“Oh dear, is the tape deck not working again?”

“Hm?” Crowley startled. The Bentley was playing Crazy Little Thing Called Love. As it had when they had driven off, thirty minutes ago. Crazy Little Thing Called Love was not a thirty-minute-long song, was it?

“I thought Adam had repaired it,” Aziraphale said.

“No, it should-” Crowley thumped against the disc compartment until it played Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture “-definitely be working.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

The music that was dramatic enough for this day had not been composed yet but Crowley let Aziraphale choose another CD and resolved to pay more attention to the music from now on.

Fortunately, the drive was not that long and they soon arrived at the outskirts of Tadfield where the cottage was located. The village was in walking distance but far enough away so they had their privacy.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley suppressed a flinch. Did the cottage look too similar to the house in the snow globe? Was it too obvious? “You don’t like it?”

“No, I mean, yes, I like it, it is absolutely wonderful. What a lovely place you have found!”

Crowley let out the breath he had been holding. Aziraphale liked it. He thought the place Crowley had found absolutely wonderful. His plan was working.

“Right! Let’s have a look inside?” Crowley got out of the car and winced when he stepped into the snow. He had forgotten to miracle his shoes waterproof. He would fix them later. For now he opened the front door for Aziraphale, proud to show him the festively decorated interior.

“Oh, look at that, how gorgeous! But who decorated the place like this?”

Oh no. Too much? “Er, it was just…a Christmas…special…deal. To get the house like this. Didn’t know it would be so bright and festive.” Crowley made sure to make a properly disgusted face.

“It is marvellous. Makes you want to stay inside all day. But we are here for the snow, of course. But we must sit down here and have a drink later and really appreciate the decorations.”

Good, Aziraphale liked the interior and wanted to stay, just like he was supposed to. Crowley ticked it off his mental list.

Now to the unpleasant part: snow.

At least Crowley had his new scarf and earmuffs. That did not keep his fingers warm or stop his nose from running, though. Also, walking in the snow was a nuisance. It was exhausting, his shoes and trousers got wet and he stumbled or slipped every few meters. But Aziraphale had flushed cheeks and commented happily on this and that, and it was really annoying and ridiculous what Crowley was willing to do to make that bastard smile.

Aziraphale, naturally, walked on the snow, almost gliding over it as if it was nothing, just leaving the faintest of footprints whereas Crowley trudged a few feet behind, wheezing and sometimes blessing at the bloody snow. Crowley knew that, technically, he should be able to do the same, what with angels and demons being of the same stock. But he also knew that he really needed to know that fact for it to work, and his brain refused to cooperate. Stupid brain, stupid snow.

“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale had stopped and was waiting for Crowley to catch up. He offered Crowley his arm, and Crowley was not against linking arms or holding hands, not at all, but this was humiliating and he wanted to be the one to extend a hand… but there was no way he was going to decline such an offer. Grumbling, he linked arms with Aziraphale and let the angel pull him up.

“There you go.” Aziraphale patted his arm and smiled at him and Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses because getting such an open smile from up so close was shocking. (Also because the snow was blinding.) “You’ve done it before, so there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work now. You just have to believe in it.”

Crowley snorted. Believe in it, that was really the core of the problem. Demons weren’t supposed to – the fickle snow under his feet already gave in at the barest hint of that thought but Aziraphale tightened his hold just in time. An angelic miracle surged through Crowley’s body, making him shudder. It should work now, being supported by the angel’s powers. It did, he stayed on top of the snow even though his legs were a bit wobbly.

“Now, that’s better,” said Aziraphale. “See, it’s just like – what is the saying – riding a bicycle.”

“Never really liked those either. Not enough wheels.”

They discussed vehicles of transportation while they walked towards the forest. It was exhausting to make conversation and at the same time keep his senses tuned for any humans along their way who needed to be distracted. Not to mention the permanent miracle to keep his body temperature up and not succumb to the temptation of hibernation. Then there were the snow-covered branches that got into his face. Why had any human ever thought it a good idea to go for a walk through a snowy forest for fun?

When they had finally spent the scheduled amount of time in the forest, Crowley directed their steps towards the village and made sure to pass the bookshop in a side street with the FOR SALE sign in its window. (As the owner had not known she owned a bookshop 24 hours ago, she was all the more happy for that sign, not least of all because it would bring her unexpected money.)

“Oh, nice bookshop.” Crowley slowed down his steps in front of it. “Would be a shame if someone bought it who’d turn it into a mobile phone shop. Or an estate agency.”

Aziraphale looked pained at the mere idea. Good.

Next stop: the bakery, which for miraculous reasons was opened on Christmas Day.

“How about a little snack?” Crowley suggested.

“Oh, yes, it smells heavenly.”

Crowley harrumphed because the fact that Aziraphale’s favourite bakery had, at short notice, decided to open a branch in Tadfield had nothing at all to do with heavenly influences. He urged Aziraphale to try the ciabatta with roasted garlic and fennel because Aziraphale always insisted that he had never eaten better ciabatta.

“This is good,” Aziraphale said when he tried it. “Mm, I think it’s almost as good as Francesco’s.”

Almost as good?! Who in this bakery had screwed up? Did Crowley have to kidnap Francesco, too? Aziraphale kept on praising the bakery but Crowley was already drawing up new plans on how to insure there was the perfect ciabatta in Tadfield.

Back in the cottage, Crowley immediately went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. This was the tricky part of the plan. The milk could not be trusted. And the cream could be a real bitch.

Right, he could do this. He had succeeded in his kitchen, so he could do it here as well. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, sugar, cream, chocolate chips, a pinch of vanilla, a pinch of cinnamon, miracle, pray, hope that it would not boil over. Well, he had nine more cartons of milk, just in case, and enough cocoa powder for at least a year, but he did not want to keep Aziraphale waiting for too long.

After a few minutes, he proudly poured the hot chocolate into a mug. Now for the garnish. Whipped cream, marshmallows, chopped chocolate, candy cane, flake, cinnamon stick – the mug was too small.

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley hissed at it but he refrained from using a miracle because Aziraphale was snobbish about miracled food.

His hands were sticky with a mix of hot chocolate, whipped cream and marshmallows (because naturally he had spilled something) when bringing Aziraphale the mug but Aziraphale’s delighted and grateful expression made up for it. Another successful stage of his plan!

“This is very good. Where did you learn how to make it?”

“Not that difficult, really.” Crowley dropped down on the sofa in exhaustion.

“Won’t you have some, too?”

Oh, right. That was a thing, drinking hot chocolate together after a walk in the snow. “Of course, just getting mine…”

So, back to the kitchen. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, miracle, candy cane, done.

Hot chocolate was not Crowley’s favourite drink (especially not with hurried demonic miracle flavour) but it warmed him up. That, and watching Aziraphale with his flushed cheeks and content smile savour his drink.

“So. This place isn’t half bad,” Crowley said.

“It is absolutely lovely. Maybe we could, I don’t know… return here next year for a day or two?”

Returning sounded good, a day or two not good enough. Time to fortify the temptation.

“We could stay for tonight. Go for another walk. Could go at night, snow in the moonlight – looks nice, doesn’t it? Or tomorrow we could go to – to – to the hill. It’ll be a nice view from there, all the snow and…trees!”

“That does sound rather nice. But we couldn’t just stay here, could we?”

“Why not?”

“Well, it must belong to a human.”

“Yeah, it does. But the owner said it’s free for the next few…” centuries, decades, years “…months.”

“I see. In that case...” Aziraphale gave him a questioning glance as if waiting for Crowley to say it.

“Yes?” Crowley leant forward, waiting for Aziraphale to say it.

“I mean, as it is already getting dark…”

“Yes, very dark.”

“I mean, we could stay for one more…day, I suppose. Go for another walk in the snow.”

“Great.” Crowley gulped down the rest of his hot chocolate (and offered Aziraphale the candy cane). Everything was going according to plan, he had reached his goal for today. He would initiate the next stage of the plan tomorrow. For now, he could relax for a bit, and he really needed the break from all the minor or major miracles of the last few days, and the bloody snow. He sagged down further into the cushions of the couch. Warmth started to crawl back into his body, from his hands, which had held the mug with the hot drink, to his core until finally his whole corporation felt pleasantly heavy. Aziraphale seemed perfectly content, nibbling on his candy cane, and so Crowley could be, too. His breathing slowed down and he closed his eyes for a bit. Everything was so warm and nice and safe and… wait, what was that? He did not remember getting under a blanket. But it was a nice blanket. Very soft and very warm. He slowly blinked his eyes open. Everything was brighter. Where were his – ah. His glasses had been placed on the coffee table, next to five empty mugs and a stack of books. Oh no, was he back in the bookshop? But no, the bookshop was more dusty and stuffy. He was still in the cottage. They were still in the cottage. Aziraphale was sitting in the chair opposite Crowley, entirely engrossed in the book in his lap. Sometimes the hint of a smile would tug at the corners of his lips.

This was what Crowley had imagined. Well, not completely, to be honest. For example, he had not envisioned being covered with a woollen tartan blanket but the damage was done, no need to throw it away now. Besides, he was so very comfy in his cocoon of warmth. He stretched sleepily and wrapped the blanket more firmly around himself.

Aziraphale looked up from his book and the hint of a smile turned into a full smile when he caught Crowley’s eye. “Oh, you’re awake.”

That was food for thought, that Crowley got a bigger smile than the books. Crowley was not prepared for this – this – this four-letter word, all of it directed at him so openly.

“How long have I been…?”

“A bit more than two weeks, I think. Ah, maybe three. I haven’t been keeping track of time very thoroughly.”

“Two or three-?” Crowley sat up and got tangled up in the blanket. “But…” All of his careful laid out plans and he had simply overslept!

“It’s fine. I contacted the owner of this cottage. She said she did not have any other bookings and that we could stay for as long as we wanted. In fact, she seemed to be under the impression that we were going to stay for a bit longer anyway.”

And now that woman had messed it up even more! What was Aziraphale thinking? “Ah. Humans. Don’t really have a grasp on time,” Crowley tried to play it down.

Aziraphale placed a bookmark into the book, closed it and put it on the table. “I’ve been thinking.”

Oh no. “We need to talk?” Crowley ventured, dread growing, because those words were just as ominous.

“Yes.” Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Then he looked back up at Crowley. “Do you want to stay here?”

Of course he had worked it all out. Clever bastard. Stupid of Crowley to think otherwise, stupid of him to fall asleep and let Aziraphale overthink it for two or three weeks instead of being distracted and tempted by hot chocolate, ciabatta and little bookshops for sale.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale prodded.

How could he get out of this situation with both of them keeping their dignity intact? “Er, mnk. It’s not that bad here? I guess I could see myself staying here. Just, nhm, sleeping for a bit, you know.”

“And…do you want us to stay here…together?” Aziraphale’s voice had gone almost inaudible on the last word.

Crowley gave a big, hopefully very casual shrug that was meant to communicate just how unaffected he was by all of this. “I wouldn’t mind. Only if you want to, of course. Do you? Want to?”

“No, Crowley, I asked you if you wanted to stay here together.” Aziraphale’s voice had grown louder again, almost resolute now.

There was no way out of this. No shrugs, no half-answers, not even falling asleep for another few weeks could get him out of this situation. Right, be brave now.

He looked at Aziraphale and Aziraphale looked calmly back at him. It suddenly did not seem so frightening anymore. It would be fine, whatever he said. Aziraphale would still shelter him from the rain or help him walk on snow; would never cast him away.

Crowley gave a jerky nod.

“Good.” Aziraphale smiled tentatively. “Then we will stay here.” He nodded, as if to confirm it to himself, then grabbed his book with trembling fingers.

“Your hands are shaking,” Crowley said.

“Indeed, they are.” Aziraphale watched his own fingers as they opened the book on the page he had marked. “It’s just a lot.”

“I get that.” Crowley really did. He knew that Aziraphale by now had probably worked out the details of his plan with the numerous miracles to get them here and it should be humiliating but somehow it was okay because Aziraphale was just as nervous and was willing to do this with Crowley. “We don’t have to right now, we could just come here on vacation once a year or-”

“No, I want to.”

Huh. That had been easier than expected. Several stages of the plan were suddenly redundant. “What about your bookshop?”

“I was under the impression that you had already purchased that little bookshop in town?”

“Not yet but…I could.”

“Right.”

Crowley noticed how tensely Aziraphale’s fingers held the book, almost crumpling its pages. He knew how much Aziraphale loved his bookshop, and although it was flattering to think that Aziraphale would give it up for him, he never wanted Aziraphale to give anything up. “Or you could keep your bookshop. London’s not that far. We could go there once a week so you can open it every Tuesday or so. Won’t make much of a difference for the customers.”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment but then he shook his head. “No. I want to live here, I really do. It is perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Crowley was lost for words. They were here, together, and they were going to stay. What else was there for him to say or do? Perfect, yes.

“I hope you’re well rested?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I’m planning on taking you up on that promise of a moonlight walk in the snow.”

“There’s still snow?!” Hadn’t he slept long enough?

“Indeed there is, and it looks marvellous.”

“Guess I owe you.”

After being asleep for so long in the warmth of the cottage, the cold outside was a bit of a shock. Aziraphale offered his arm again to assist Crowley, who, after a few uncoordinated steps, got the hang of walking on snow much quicker this time.

“Still hate snow,” he grumbled but it wasn’t that bad really. Yes, it was bloody cold but there were some upsides. Like the snow glistening in the moonlight and Aziraphale still holding him close, which wasn’t strictly necessary anymore and therefore even better.

They were on their own, not a sound to be heard but their breathing and the rustling of their coats. In the distance, the village laid asleep, no lights to be seen, just the smoke from the chimneys showed that humans lived there.

They walked towards the forest. The snow covering the ground was untouched but for some tracks that animals had left. The branches of the trees were hanging low with the weight of the snow. Everything felt a little unreal, it couldn’t be further from London’s hectic and loud atmosphere. It made Crowley all the more aware of everything, like how close they were pressed together. Aziraphale with his thick winter coat felt like a big comfy cushion against Crowley’s side.

They kept walking for hours like this, sometimes exchanging a few hushed words but mostly just enjoying the stillness of the world. Just walking and being here, no deeds to be done, no need to tempt or plan or work miracles. They kept walking until the break of dawn. Without discussing it, they directed their steps towards the village where one by one the lights in the houses went on.

“How do-ooaah!” Something hit Crowley right in the face and he staggered, lost his footing and landed on his bottom in the snow. “What was that?”

“I believe a-” Aziraphale ducked to avoid the next missile “-snowball. How rude.”

“Snowball.” The best thing about snow. Crowley was already sculpting his own snowballs and then started the counter attack. He liked sleeping, good food and moonlight walks well enough but he was still a demon, and using that annoying, squishy, cold stuff for snowball fights – brilliant idea. He was chasing the screaming kids around, bombarding them with his snowballs, ignoring Aziraphale’s complaints (“Crowley, you can’t use miracles against children!”).

“He’s the Antichrist, he can defend himself!” And his friends could just as well. Only when Crowley let snowballs the sizes of snowmen rain down on them, did they retreat.

“Was that really necessary?” Aziraphale admonished him while patting down the snow from Crowley’s coat, scarf and hair.

Crowley cackled. “That was fun.” He snapped his fingers for a new pair of sunglasses because the other one had been lost in the fight and was now probably buried somewhere in the snow.

“You look frozen. Let’s head back and warm you up. Maybe with some of that delicious hot chocolate you made. Are there still ingredients left or do we need to buy something?”

“I think we still have some,” Crowley said, thinking of the nine cartons of milk in the Bentley’s boot.

Back in the cottage, Crowley miracled his clothes dry and headed for the kitchen. Aziraphale followed him.

“How did you learn to make such scrumptious hot chocolate? Can you show me? What’s the secret?”

“Uh, possibly the milk.”

“What’s with the milk?”

“You heat it.”

“Yes?”

“It’s bloody difficult! Milk’s always trying to boil over and it makes a mess…”

“Yes, it sometimes does that.” Aziraphale stepped next to Crowley and examined the stove and the saucepan. “I think I can handle the milk.”

Aziraphale turned out to be a natural in heating milk. No boiling over, no stench, no flames, no ruined saucepan, not even spilled milk on the floor.

“You’re good at that,” Crowley said in surprise and added the cocoa powder.

“Oh, well, it’s not the first time I’ve made hot chocolate. Would you pass me the whisk, love?”

Crowley crashed into the countertop and spilled half of the sugar he had meant to add next. He stared at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled bashfully, his cheeks flushed red. He knew what he was doing, that bastard. He meant it.

“The whisk.” Crowley cleared his throat because his voice had come out very undemonic. “Right, yes, sure.” He passed it to Aziraphale and then got more sugar and the other ingredients.

Emboldened by Aziraphale’s bravery, he stepped a little closer so their shoulders brushed against each other. Aziraphale stopped breathing but he did not flinch away. He was still smiling when he whisked the milk and the cocoa powder. Crowley took his time adding the sugar and chocolate chips. And afterwards, he just stayed where he was and even dared to, very lightly, place a hand in the small of Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale wriggled a little closer and suddenly it was very easy to place his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley could not tell how long they stayed like this, Aziraphale whisking the hot chocolate and Crowley staring almost transfixed into the saucepan, inhaling the chocolaty scent and the warmth and Aziraphale’s closeness. What did it matter, they were not in a hurry, and the milk behaved for once.

#good snowmens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #fic #my writing

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lochrannn · 3 years

Link

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 3/?

They end up avoiding each other for days. From what she can tell, Diego spends barely any time in the flat at all. She suspects he’s not even sleeping in his own bed most nights. And so she’s effectively all alone, except for the couple of days she goes to work in a small café, a job she basically does to keep busy, not because she actually needs the money.

On the first day she thinks she might find somewhere else to live, half out of wounded pride and half because she feels a bit guilty for apparently making Diego practically move out. But who is she kidding, money isn’t the obstacle in this city, the fucking housing market is. There’s no way she’d find a place like this, with a roommate who does his part to keep the place clean, has, so far, never brought people over, and in fact spends most of his time at work and out of the house, anyway.

And Lila liked– no, likes Diego.

In hindsight, the worst she can accuse him of is that he put his foot in it when he had ultimately been trying to do the right thing… if very badly. Apart from that he’s generally easy going, if a bit stressed out about work, from what she can tell, and… well… a lot of fun in some respects. He also really seems to care about people. He mentioned a brother one time, who he seems to look out for a lot, though he didn’t say it in so many words.

And the other night when she left her room after their argument, and the flat was completely empty, she found her abandoned sandwiches covered by an upturned bowl, and the considerate gesture made her feel even more foolish about how she’d blown up at him.

So yeah, she won’t be moving, but she does hope that things can just go back to normal between them, that she can at least feel relaxed at home, living with someone who she casually gets along with, who doesn’t hate her, and if that’s what it takes, she’ll even do her best to stop remembering what his lips feel like all over her body.

Lila’s a bit at sea in her life. She’s recently given up halfway through a post grad history programme and she doesn’t quite know what she wants to do now. And the long days doing very little, only broken up by the occasional hours working in the café and getting to deal with the full force of the public make for a very effective insomnia cocktail.

So Lila gets up in the middle of the night to make herself some chamomile tea.

The kettle has just boiled and she’s pouring the hot water over the tea bag in her mug when she hears Diego quietly come in through the front door and only making it to the couch before sitting down with a near silent sigh.

She really hopes, for all the trouble it ended up causing them last time that he’s not going to whip out his dick again.

She takes a cautious look out into the living room and spots Diego sat on the couch, leaning forward with his hands buried in his hair, shoulders hunched over and looking tense.

On a whim, Lila grabs another mug and tea bag, fills it with more of the hot water from the kettle and then picks up the two mugs and carries them out into the sitting room.

She’s not actually being particularly stealthy, but it seems Diego’s wrapped up in his own head, because he doesn’t notice her until she sits down on the edge of the sofa, leaving a respectful bit of distance between them, and he startles out of his hunched position and looks up at her warily.

Lila does him the favour of ignoring the brightness of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth are drawn downwards, and instead holds out one of the mugs towards him and asks, with true sincerity, because this could be her chance at things going back to normal, “Tough day?”

Diego stares at her for a very long moment, not even studying her, just staring straight into her eyes, and in the end Lila sighs and is just about to put the mug on the coffee table in front of them, when Diego’s hand shoots out and he takes it off her.

“Yeah…” he says quietly while holding the steaming hot tea in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t take a sip though, he just stares into the gently swirling tendrils of steam.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lila asks carefully.

Diego gives her a sideways look, almost as if to gage her sincerity and then stares back at his mug.

“D’you think it would help?” he asks back. It seems like he’s both resigned to the idea that it wouldn’t, but almost hopeful she’ll say it will.

“Only one way to find out,” Lila offers with a shrug.

It’s ridiculous, really, how the tiny upwards quirk of the corner of his mouth affects her.

Diego pauses nevertheless and Lila waits him out. It’s not like she has anything better to do.

Then he sighs heavily and says in a low voice, “Had to tell a mom who hired me to find her runaway daughter that her kid got killed in a car crash six months ago…”

Lila watches Diego rub his thumb over the droplets of condensation on the outside rim of the mug and doesn’t really know what to say to that, so she goes with the first thing she can think of.

“That fucking sucks!”

Diego makes a noise that’s halfway between a harsh laugh and a sniff and just says, “yeah.”

They sit like this for a while, neither speaking, just sipping their slowly cooling drinks until Lila breaks the silence.

“What would you have done if you’d found the girl and she hadn’t been dead?” It’s an odd question, she knows, so she does understand why he turns to look at her quizzically, but it makes her almost squirm under his scrutiny nevertheless, so she starts explaining, “I ran away from home once…” but she doesn’t know how to finish the thought.

Lila ran away from home when she was sixteen and she hated everything about her life with her adoptive mother. Absolutely every single one of her material needs had been met and yet she had felt so lonely and so unloved that she had thought then, she’d rather live in squalor with just a scrap of affection from anybody than spend another day in that big empty house of her mother’s.

Diego stops staring at her and instead turns his attention back to his mug again, slowly moving it around in between his hands.

“I’d have asked the kid what she wanted to do next, that was the deal her mom and I had.” He turns to look back at Lila and holds her gaze. “She came to me, telling me her daughter ran away when they were living in a bad situation with the kid’s stepdad, but that she’d managed to get away from him now. I checked up on that info and it seemed legit, so if I’d found her daughter alive, I would have told her that her mom was looking for her and where she could find her… Shit didn’t work out that way though.”

He casts his eyes down to where Lila is fiddling with her own mug. She wonders for a moment how her life would have gone if someone like Diego had come looking for her instead of one of her mother’s semi-legal contacts.

Diego looks back up at her and something changes in his expression and Lila only notices that some of the tears that she could feel brimming in her eyes must have slipped out, because he lifts his hand up to her face and brushes over one cheek and then the other.

Lila makes a tiny noise that’s a bit of a gasp and a bit of a sob and she doesn’t know if it’s because of her own sadness or his gentle touch.

Diego’s hand lingers for a short moment on the side of her face and then he pulls it away abruptly, turns away from her, and facing forwards again he says tensely, “Uh, sorry for ruining your night with my sob-stories.”

The shift in the mood is too rapid for Lila to react and Diego must take her lack of a response as tacit agreement because he goes on, suddenly not able to look at her, “Yeah, uh, it’s pretty late anyway… are you done with that? I can take it to the kitchen with mine,” he asks carefully taking her empty mug out of her hands and then getting up off the couch at the carefully calculated speed that doesn’t quite look like he’s fleeing, but it’s also very clear that he’s trying to get away as quickly as possible, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Lila has no idea what just happened.

Diego’s lying awake in his bed.

The apartment is completely quiet, he’s had a whole mug of fucking herbal tea, and when he walked in through the door he felt like the only thing he could do at that point was sleep, but of course now he’s wide awake.

He doesn’t allow his thoughts to drift to Julie Brown and her mom because that’s just too devastating. He was only the messenger, he barely knows Ms. Brown, it’sjust one of those small tragedies that happen all the time all over world, and yet he feels like if he thinks about the lost opportunities and the terrible fucking timing of it all, he might just shatter.

But where his thoughts do drift isn’t actually that much better.

He did it again. Somehow he upset Lila again, even though all she’d tried to do was be a decent roommate, maybe even a friend to him. And if he could only keep his hands off her for five minutes, respect her fucking boundaries, maybe they still have a chance at some kind of cordial relationship.

Diego moves angrily about, trying to find a comfortable position. He punches his pillow to get it to co-operate but when he settles down he still doesn’t find sleep.

Consequently he is still as tired as last night when he drags himself out of his room and into the kitchen in the morning, and absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he walks in on.

Lila is there.

As is Allison… as is Klaus.

His two siblings are currently arguing over something that Diego is too stunned to tune in to and he quickly glances at Lila to see that she’s watching their back and forth with amused bewilderment.

For a second he has to quell the urge to pinch himself to check he’s not wondering around a very strange dream, but then Klaus spots him in the door and claps his hands once and then says in that never quite sincere tone of his, “Oh Diego, wonderful to see you and how nice of you to join us! Want some coffee? I made some coffee!”

His brother swivels around in the small kitchen as if looking for something, and apparently Lila catches on because she turns to a cabinet above her head, pulls out a coffee mug, and as she moves back around to hand it to Klaus, their eyes meet. Traitor, Diego think and almost as if she can hear his thoughts, she gives him a half smile and a tiny shrug, and suddenly Diego’s stomach swoops and can feel heat creep up his neck. He hopes his siblings don’t embarrass him in front of Lila. Which is ironic, seeing as he’s been doing a damn good job of that himself.

Of course he has no such luck.

“Ok, I’m in a hurry,” Allison says tersely, looking at her wrist watch and then crossing her arms.

“Diego, we’re here because this is unbearable to watch. Clearly you are in debt, when you absolutely do not need to be. So once again, I’m asking you as nicely as possible: Would you please for the love of god, accept your fucking inheritence?” Her volume gets increasingly louder and by the end she’s thrown her hands up in exasperation. “I mean, you’re a thirty year old man with a failing business and you’ve had to resort to taking a roommate!” She adds a bit more calmly, “No offense, Lila!”

“None taken,” Lila says. But Diego notes that there’s a tiny edge to her voice that indicates she may have taken some offense. Diego can’t blame her.

“Jesus, Allison, it’s not the fucking nineties. Loads of people, in their thirties, live in shared accommodation, don’t be such a snob!” Diego is absolutely not in the mood for this ambush and he almost doesn’t care at this point if they end up having their weekly family argument in front of LIla. “Anyway, I renounced my inheritance!”

“Yes, and it was all very dramatic!” Allison adds, sarcasm in her voice. “But then your share reverted to us and we all agreed we’d hold onto it until you come to your senses, so just take the damn money, Diego!”

“I’ve told you before, but I’ll happily tell you again, if I have to, I do not want the old man’s money! Give it to Klaus, if it’s burning a hole in your pocket, I’m sure he can think of more fun ways to spend it than on loan interest payments!” Diego stares down his sister, but out of his entire family, she is probably the one who has never once been cowed by his quick anger.

“Oh I absolutely would,” Klaus says chirpily into the tense stand off.

“Urgh, whatever!” Allison says with an eyeroll and then pulls her arms apart and turns to Lila to say politely, if not particularly warmly, “Lila, it was nice meeting you,” but Allison doesn’t let her answer before she starts making her way out of the kitchen.

She stops right by Diego and the genuinely gentle hand she lays on his arm is quite the contrast to what she says next.

“Do feel free to come crawling to me when you can’t stand the taste of instant noodles anymore.”

She then leans up and kisses his cheek before disappearing around the corner and before he can decide to call a snide comment after her, Klaus is in front of him, handing him the forgotten cup of coffee and then also leans in to give him a delicate kiss on the cheek and he says, “Don’t be a stranger, Diego!”

“What are you talking about, Klaus, you basically never get in touch with me!” Diego responds with some genuine indignance, and a slightly dumb and puzzled expression passes over Klaus’s face and he says contemplatively, “Oh is that the case? Well, I’ll try and do better.” He pats Diego’s cheek, but in true brotherly fashion, it’s just a tiny bit too close to a slap, before following Allison out of the apartment.

When he hears the door shut, Diego suddenly remembers Lila and he turns back into the kitchen and for a second the words die on his tongue just from the way she’s watching him intently and with bright eyes.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “Sorry about that! Siblings,” he shrugs uncertainly, “you know how that can be.

“I really don’t!” says Lila, her tone remarkably even, and Diego only realizes belatedly that there’s a tiny twitch to the corners of her mouth and it strikes him then that she’s trying not to laugh, “but that sure was educational!”

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #ongoing fic

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sandpumpkin · 4 years

Text

Horror house

A little bit of late night spooks!!! The house inspired by the Crimson Peak house and also a little inspired by a reoccuring nightmare I had when I was younger. I love horror but I do need to stop writing it before bed

Under cut. It’s long about 2k. Also spooks. so..beware.

The rain fell unrelenting, the ashen gray skies covering the bright sun that had been visible not even twenty minutes past. The sound of boots against slowly forming mud and the crunch of undergrowth sang in harmony with the raindrops pattering against the abundance of leaves surrounding the group marching their way through the forest.

The Kid pirates were heading towards a nearby town though it seems much further than when they spied it from the crows nest of the Victoria Punk. Unless they had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Kid marched ever forward insisting they were indeed going the right way. Hana clutched her umbrella and tried to keep up with the crew, who had undoubtedly longer legs than her and in the growing mud she was slipping every few steps. Heat had stopped noticing her lagging behind. Taking the umbrella from her and aided her to stop her sliding around.

“Thank you.'' They carried on their way for a few more moments when the rain became so much heavier, spurring the group on into a panicked run until they moved from forest to open garden and a poorly looked after stone path. The house that loomed before them was a grand manor house. Hana was in awe. The house was old, its large windows dusty and hidden by the out of control vines that engulfed the walls of the building but still it radiated its once former glory. Killer ran ahead and opened the door quickly lettin them all follow and seek shelter from the rain.

“Wow!” setting her umbrella by the door and wiping her feet on the old and dusty doormat before venturing further into the grand lobby. “Look how big it is!” The lobby leads into an open living room, a huge stone fireplace in direct view of the doors. To their left was a wide mahogany staircase that hugged the walls as it snaked around and up the walls to the second floor. Old oil lamps were hanging on the walls amidst a horde of dusty paintings. Despite the outside looking old, the inside was surprisingly intact if just a bit dusty and home to a lot of spiders if the cobwebs were any indication.

“I’m going to go explore!” Hana announced excitedly, already halfway up the stairs before Kid could even complain.

“I’m sleeping outside.” Kid stated firmly, turning on his heels setting a hand on the door handle as a crack of thunder echoed outside.

“Kid. It’s one night. Come on, Heat’s already lit the fire.” Killer said with a mocking pat on his old friend’s back. Kid grumbled in response as he turned back to head towards the now warmly lit living room.

“KID!” Hana’s sudden shout made Kid jump in alarm, he looked up at the orange haired women leaning excitedly over the banister “you have to see this bedroom! It’s beautiful!! Can we sleep up here?”

“NO! Everyone is sleeping down here.” he said sternly, earning a whine in protest “come down here.” he ordered.

“Aw come on!” she whined, slowly and dejectedly making her way down the stairs “it’s such a lovely manor house.” Hana said in awe, finally joining the crew in the huge living area “look at this furniture!” she ran her hand along the arm of a huge tall backed chair “it’s like a throne.” she sat in it promptly causing a huge plume of dust to rise from it, the dust filled her nose and eyes quickly, making her sneeze and cough loudly. A strong arm yanked her out of the chair and pulled her down onto the floor. “Kid- I can’t see..” her eyes streamed trying to expel the dust and as she instinctively moved to rub her eyes, Kid’s firm grasp pulled them away.

“Don’t rub them. Stop touching stuff!” he scolded, holding her firmly. Another heavily calloused hand held her face still but she tried to jerk away in alarm “It’s just Killer sit still damn it.” Killer carefully opened her eyes to try and flush the dust out with water. Hana squirmed as the water ran into her eyes. Shaking her face of water after and finally rubbing her eyes. She blinked and tried to focus. “better?”

She looked around testing out her vision, scanning the room she spotted a dark figure standing back in the hallway. Is that one of the crew? But she blinked again and it had vanished. “Yes I think. Sorry. I just..I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” she apologised, Kid huffed and pulled her backwards into his lap, his good arm coiled around her stomach

“Stop touching shit. We leave in the morning, regardless of the weather.” he ordered sharply. Killer handed Hana one of the travel mugs with some coffee in it.

“Kid is easily spooked.” Killer explained with a mocking tone.

“Shove it Killer.” Kid hissed in response.

“Oh! Let's tell spooky ghost stories!” Hana announced excitedly “This is the perfect setting for them.” Kid’s hand cupped her chin tilted her back to look up at him.

“Did you not listen to anything?” he growled but was met with her soft smile

“But ghost stories are fun! There’s no such thing as ghosts anyway.” she laughed loudly.

Kid allowed them to tell some spooky stories though he pretended not to care even though he was taking it all in and not enjoying any of it. She’s pretty good at storytelling though. After a few hours of scary stories the group finally began to retire.

Hana slept comfortably in Kid’s arms curled up in his super fluffy coat. Warm and safe.

A crack of thunder jolted her away. Blinking to try and help her eyes adjust quicker to the encroaching darkness, the fire only dim embers now. Shivering from a sudden draft, in the distance she could hear the front door banging against the wall. Reluctantly crawling from Kid’s embrace, grabbing a candle that had blown out in the wind and re-lighting it with the embers of the fire and stepping over the crew carefully. Peering out into the hall, the front door was indeed wide open letting in a bitter cold draft. They’ll catch a cold if I leave it open. Hurrying out of the lingering warmth of the living room, Hana crossed the eerily dark and cold hallway quickly pulling the door too. As she looked out into the courtyard amidst the driving rain she caught the sight of a figure in an old fashioned nightgown. She opened her mouth to call out to the person but they vanished. Hana poked her head outside the door and looked around. There was definitely nobody there. It’s just the darkness playing tricks on me. Finally closing the door making sure it had clicked properly “maybe Killer broke it earlier?” she hummed turning away from the door as a figure appeared at the frosted glass pane.

A loud thud from up stairs made her jump almost dropping the candle holder in alarm.

“Old house..makes creepy noises..” Hana nodded, convincing herself that there was nothing in the darkness. “Or maybe mice? Yeah mice..scampering around…” her words trailed off as another thud came from upstairs “big mice..” she walked past the staircase and then walked back to the staircase and then away again. “I won’t sleep until I investigate,” she grumbled, beginning her ascent of the stairs, moving carefully to not blow the candle out with any sudden movements.

“I’ll just quickly check the rooms and be done with it.” Hana took a deep breath as she stood at the mouth of the long corridor, the darkness making it seem almost endless. ‘I’m a pirate now..can’t be scared of the dark..or not being able to see in the dark..’ cautiously Hana walked down the corridor making sure each door was shut and all was well until she reached the master bedroom she had spied early and the door was ajar. I closed it. I definitely closed it. Taking a deep breath and reaching for the handle she pushed the door open quickly. Slowly pushing a door open would only spur potential ghosts to give her a scare: she had read enough horror stories to know that was a bad idea and she kept a firm grip on the door handle so the door wouldn’t slam shut behind her. I got this. Holding the candle aloft, she scanned the room. Nothing. Maybe I didn’t close the door. As she lowered the candle, Hana became aware of something peering out from behind the door. Don’t look at it..it’s not there..can’t see it… taking a step backwards, the little flame was blown out and in alarm Hana jumped away from the door letting whatever lurked behind it to slam the door shut.

Staggering backwards, Hana fell over what felt like a footstool and dropped the candle holder with a loud clatter as it rolled away from her on the wooden floor. Kicking the footstool towards the shadowy figure, Hana shuffled backwards in panic. “I can’t see it..it’s not here…” she chanted backing herself into a corner. The sound of quiet footsteps slowly became loud booming footsteps like a deep drum beat. “I can’t hear or see anything...nothing is there..” she mumbled, turning her back on the darkness covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes tightly. Her chest felt so tight, it was getting difficult to breathe and she couldn’t stop shaking. “Don’t look at it..it’s not there..can’t see it…” she choked out, tears streaming down her face revealing her real emotions. She was scared. She tried to focus on what made her feel calm..that fiery red hair, hot temper, cocky grin, natural warmth. “Kid..” she sobbed quietly. “Kid.” again louder. The footsteps grew closer to her ever so slowly. “KID!” she screamed as loudly as she could muster.”KID!!” she screamed, though it was muffled through her continued and controllable sobbing.

Kid was kicked awaked by Killer. “What-” he noticed the fire had been relit and a certain someone was missing from his arms. Everyone else was awake too.

“I think she’s upstairs..there was-” Killer’s words were cut short when a strangled scream for Kid echoed from upstairs. Kid was on his feet in seconds he stumbled into the door frame clumsy as he raced towards the staircase. “I told her to stay put.” he grumbled to himself as he heard another cry for him. Kicking open each door scanning the room quickly. As he kicked open one of the doors the sound of metal rolling across the floor reached his ears scanning the darkness, he spotted Hana huddled in a corner sobbing.

“it’s not there..can’t see it. Not there..” she chanted over and over through her sobs. Kneeling beside her, he set a hand on her head which just made her curl in on herself more. “Not there...Can’t…”

Kid draped his coat over her shoulder and felt her tense in realization though as she turned her eyes were firmly clamped shut, gingerly she reached to touch him but he guided her hand to his metal arm, that was a sure give away who it was. Swallowing deeply, she opened her eyes, her lips still quivering. “Kid..” once she had ascertained he was in fact there, Hana threw her arms around his neck and sobbed loudly. “Kid. I’m sorry. I heard a noise and then there was something in here and and-”

“Don’t be leaving my side.” he scolded, scooping her up with his metal arm “back downstairs.” he ordered everyone. The group headed back downstairs to the warmth of the living room. Hana was still visibly shaken by whatever happened. Kid made sure to pull her as close as possible trying to ease her nerves. “What happened to ghosts not being real?” he teased, trying to coax a smile out of her.

“Kid..I don’t…I don’t..” but it just made her cry again.

“What happened?” he asked seriously planting a kiss into her bright orange hair. She sniffled loudly and regalled what happened. “No more scary shit before bed.” he warned, not wanting to be privy to anymore scares himself. She nodded and shuffled in close, he felt her let out a sigh of relief.

“You make me feel safe.” she admitted, looking up at him from the confines of his coat.

“I plan on keeping you safe..” he replied quietly.

The night went by without any further incidents. Morning came swiftly and Kid could not be more eager to get the hell out of that creepy dusty old house. Thankfully the rain had stopped and the sun shone brightly. Hana sighed deeply as she left the manor, as she crossed the courtyard she felt something behind her. Turning to take one last look at the manor, one side of the front door was open even though Killer had closed it. She could see directly into the living room where the fire was lit and a chair had been moved in front of it. She felt a chill run down her spine as long thin fingers appeared around the door. Unable to move from fear as she saw a head starting to appear from behind the door. Willing herself to move, she turned and bolted to catch up with Kid finding his arm to cling too.

“Oi. What’s wrong?” he asked, her sudden touch had startled him “you okay?” she nodded quickly and curiously peered back to see the front door was firmly closed. Kid put his arm over her shoulder. “Come on let's go.”

Thankful to put the horror house firmly behind her, she sighed with relief. Maybe she needed a break from horror stories for a while..

Though some things aren’t so keen to be left behind and can leave a little bit to follow you forever.

#pumpkin writes #metalpumpkin #self ship #eustass kid x pumpkin #horror #spooks #one piece

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