#imagining them being soft together is my favourite pastime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

startanewdream · 3 years

Note

I would love a number 3 Jily from the kissing prompt list.

Also sorry I ordered this like I'm at a fast food restaurant 😂

Hiiii! Considering how long it took me to answer it, it was not fast at all!

Thanks for this prompt! I thought a lot how to fill the idea of a Jily enemies-to-lovers kiss because I thought by the time they shared kisses they would be a lot more friends... then I messed a bit with canon and found this way. Hope you enjoyed it!

Set during their Fifth Year.

Read on AO3 or below:

Seven minutes in heaven

Sirius holds his chin languidly as he considers Peter’s question.

‘Three,’ is his answer, unashamed and not pretentious in a way that James can’t help but feel jealous.

Three .

Sirius kissed three people already and James has never kissed anyone.

It shouldn’t be a competition, because he doesn’t compete with Sirius — for most of the things they are equal, their grades always so close that for a while the professors thought they had to be cheating in exams.

But Sirius kissed three people and he doesn’t even notice all the stares he gets. It doesn’t seem fair.

I’m better than him at Quidditch , James tries to tell himself, but somehow this thought doesn’t bring him any satisfaction. While he was scoring goals, Sirius was scoring something else and though it’s not a competition he can’t help but think he is losing .

The bottle spins again and again and James eyes it with uneasiness. He will pick dare if the bottle points at him, because he always chooses dare on principle, but this time he knows he just doesn’t want anyone to ask how many people he has kissed before.

But the bottle stops at Lily Evans, who watches carefully the person at the other end before saying: ‘Dare.’

Mary grins mischievously. ‘I dare you to tell me who is the most gorgeous bloke in our year.’

James almost rolls his eyes at that, because everyone always says it’s Sirius so it’s not even an interesting question; but to his surprise, Evans just shakes her head, looking flustered.

‘No, that’s against the rules. You can’t ask a question in a dare.’

‘You are no fun, Lily,’ Mary answers, and James feels like this is some inside joke between them; he wonders what's the discussion about who Evans thinks it's gorgeous. ‘Fine, I dare you to try seven minutes in heaven.’

‘You can’t involve anyone else in a dare —’

‘I am not choosing anyone now . You’ll wait there until the next dare.’

Evans seems to consider this before she nods, grimacing, obviously not happy. The rest just watches Evans and Mary; they were the ones that came with that muggle game for animating that chilly October Friday night, and they are the ones that decide the rules.

‘If you are picked, I’ll be spending those seven minutes turning your life into hell,’ Evans warns Mary, her voice amiably, and James almost smiles. Sometimes Evans is funny. ‘The first broom closet to the right, okay?’

Mary nods.

‘What’s seven minutes in hell?,’ Remus asks, curious, watching Evans leaving the Common Room. James feels a little impressed; there are only fifteen minutes until curfew, and for good-girl Lily Evans to risk a detention, she must really take the game seriously.

‘In heaven,’ Mary corrects, grinning. ‘It’s a dare where two people spend seven minutes together in a room. Or in this case, the first broom closet to the right leaving the Common Room.��

‘And what do people do then?’

‘You’ll see if you pick dare,’ Mary answers genially. She indicates the bottle to Remus. ‘Spin it?’

Remus does, but now he is blushing. James looks around; Sirius doesn’t look particularly excited, but Peter has the flushed expression on his face, a little dreamy, and James knows he is far away. Or rather his thoughts are in the broom closet next to the Common Room.

Seven minutes in heaven with Evans ? James tries to imagine it, but he can’t, not really. It wouldn’t be heaven ; she would fulfill her promise of making it a hell, because he and Evans don’t really get along. She gets annoyed with every little thing he and his friends do, never cracking a smile and, most of all, always sticking with her annoying Slytherin friend. Snivellus . There is no way that seven minutes with Evans could ever be fun…

‘James?’

He blinks, coming back to reality. Sirius is looking at him with an innocent expression that doesn’t fit him.

‘What?’

‘I asked, truth or dare?’

‘Dare,’ answers James without thinking, because he can’t risk saying truth ( no, I have never kissed anyone, I’m a failure, ok? ), before he realizes what this means.

And then everyone is smirking at him, knowing looks on their faces that makes James want to flush, except James Potter doesn’t get embarrassed. Not in public. Not evidently. He has an image to uphold.

‘Go on, then, James,’ says Sirius, indicating the portrait. ‘I dare you to spend seven minutes with Evans. Heaven or hell, it’s up to you.’

The girls giggle, and James raises quietly, pretending it’s everyday that he gets to be in a broom closet with a girl, that this is very normal for him. He grins as smugly as he can, but the smile vanishes as soon as he turns his back to him.

Seven minutes in a broom closet with a girl . Not any girl. Lily Evans, really?

And then as he is leaving, he hears Mary’s whisper: ‘Maybe Lily will finally kiss someone, you think?’

Hmm, James considers. So Evans has never kissed anyone either?

He thinks about it; it’s not like he has paid attention to Evans so far, but he knows she has been on a date before. He may have heard something about her meeting the Hufflepuff prefect in the last Hogsmeade weekend, but that was not a thought that had bothered him.

But if he’d think about Lily Evans in a way that he had never really thought before, what would he think? Well, James is not immune to girls , not at all, but it’s just he never looked at Evans because he should feel attracted to someone who is nice to him, right? Like Emme Vance; she winked at him after the first game of the season, and he’d felt something warm inside him. If only he had not been distracted by a comment from Sirius, then he’d have gone talk to her and then his never-kiss-anyone problem would have already been fixed…

But since this is a problem he apparently shares with Evans, maybe, just maybe, they can solve it together?

It’s not a bad idea, he thinks, and when he opens the door of the broom closet, for a split second, he considers that it’s a great idea. Now he is positively considering Lily Evans as someone kissable, for the first time he really notices the thing he may already have noticed about her before, but disconsidered only because he and Evans don’t get along.

And the things is that Evans is a girl and James likes girls. And she is pretty, with her long auburn hair that falls on her shoulders, that fair skin that seems so soft, her full pink lips, and her green eyes that seem to shine under the light coming from the open door. Then his eyes fall to her chest, to the curves that weren't there in the 11-year-old Evans he remembers annoying since their First Year, and, yes, Evans is a girl and James likes girls and his body has a sudden urge to remind him of this.

He looks hastily at her eyes, hoping she didn’t notice where he was staring and trying to look nice and very kissable too; but the first words that come out of Evans’ mouth are not encouraging.

‘Oh, it’s you .’

Her contempt is nearly enough to make him regret everything he thought, but his stupid teenage body isn’t always on the same page as his mind.

He closes the door, only the dim light of the lamp above them illuminating the small closet.

‘Let me guess,’ he begins, looking for the way to most annoy her. It’s a favourite pastime of his and much easier than dealing with his sudden… attraction… to her. ‘You wished it was Sirius .’

She raises her eyebrows, not impressed. ‘I was hoping it was Mary,’ she says without any shame. ‘I had planned to transform one of these buckets into a rat, she hates them.’

‘You weren’t kidding with those seven minutes in hell, were you?’

‘It’s her fault for picking the worst dare,’ Evans says, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. ‘Seven minutes in heaven , as if.’

His annoyance flares up. He still thinks Evans is gorgeous, especially with the way she crosses her arms under her chest, highlighting some curves very beautifully, but they don’t get along and they never will.

‘Your friends seem to think you’d take advantage of those seven minutes,’ he says, smirking, watching her eyes narrow in what it’s her favourite expression for him. He adores pissing her off. ‘Never kissed anyone, Evans?’

She blushes, a pinkness colouring her cheeks in the most charming way and James wants to touch her face, feel his cold hands burning with the warmth of her skin.

No, stop it , he shouldn’t want to touch her. He doesn’t stand her. And vice versa.

‘Don’t talk about you don’t know, Potter,’ she tells him angrily, but it’s just the same anger that James would use if the situation was reversed and he knows he hit a nerve.

‘What, been kissing Snivellus?’

‘Don’t call him that,’ she answers immediately. ‘And we are just friends, stop being creepy.’

‘But would you consider kissing his mouth? ‘Cause that’s creepy, Evans.’

‘I said we are only friends. You might try someday.’

‘I have friends,’ James says smugly, and Evans rolls eyes, but doesn’t reply. ‘If you never kissed anyone, what did you and Smith do last Hogsmeade weekend? Held hands like you were twelve?’

She searches her pocket for her wand, but it’s not there, so Evans throws him a look that would curse him if she had this power.

‘It’s none of your business, Potter. And I haven’t seen you having any dates to talk about my life!’

It’s true, but James can’t let her know that. ‘Oh, noticing if I have dates, Evans? What, you were jealous ?’

He takes a step closer to her, enjoying the way she just looks more nervous. That’s something more familiar for him, annoying Evans, and it’s much more comfortable to deal with, especially because if he is not concentrating, he would notice how she smells very nice.

And James is not thinking about that, of course.

‘I would be sorry for anyone who has to endure a date with you,’ she answers evenly. ‘Trust me, these seven minutes are taking way too long — imagine a full day.’

‘One might think you were imagining a full day with me, Evans.’

‘Only if I was in a nightmare.’

‘So I do appear in your dreams.’

‘Nightmares,’ she repeats, her eyes pure steel as she glares at him; James should notice the warning that look gives (he shouldn’t push her too much ), but for once he can only think on how green her eyes are, like the Forbidden Forest at night.

And he enjoys too much walking in the Forbidden Forest.

‘Maybe if you had a date with someone else you’d stop wondering about my dates,’ she declares, hissing. ‘Do you know what I imagine, Potter? You never had any date.’

‘I have,’ he lies easily, his hand running absently through his hair. ‘Just because I don’t go showing off about it —’

‘You? Not showing off? When was the last time you did something and didn’t brag about it?’

‘A gentleman does not show off,’ he says, which is something his father told him once but James didn’t think about it until now.

‘If you were a gentleman,’ she replies, a knowing smirk on her face that tells her she knows she hit a nerve with him too. Evans knows he never kissed anyone, and he can see her smugness about it, and if she tells anyone — Merlin, if she tells Snivellus he will never survive it…

‘Do you know what I imagine , Evans?’, he says, throwing her words back at her desperately. ‘That Smith kissed you and you were horrible at it.’

Her flushes intensifies, but if it’s shame or anger, James can’t know. She uncrosses her arms, coming closer, finger pointing at him menacingly.

‘He didn’t — you don’t know what you are talking about!’

‘I bet you don’t know how to snog.’

‘I can kiss just fine , Potter!’, she replies angrily (it’s anger after all, James realizes) and then she does the last thing James really imagined she would do.

She presses her lips against his.

And for two seconds, that’s all they do, really; he doesn’t know what’s keeping her immobile, and he almost asks if her brain has just turned to jelly too, because that’s what’s happening to him.

And then, in the fogness of his numb mind, other things emerge quietly. Her perfume, so close now that it’s more powerful than any other smell in the closet; the warmth of her skin, very different from that cold night; the green in her open eyes as she stares at him, as in shock as he feels, before the eyes are closed, stopping him from reading her emotions; and the sweetness of her lips, a hint of caramel that he suddenly wishes he can taste properly.

His eyes close and, in the darkness, all he can feel is Lily Evans.

They take a step closer in a synchrony that James knows they never had before, and then Evans’ hands are holding his arm and James holds her face. He moves his lips very tentatively, wanting to share more of that (whatever that is), and Evans raises on her tiptoes, her lips parting just the slightest. He feels her breath — it’s the butterbeer, a part of his mind realizes as if he should already know — and suddenly he wants to taste the drink too in her mouth.

(Is it possible to get drunk on a non-alcoholic drink? Because he feels intoxicated).

His tongue touches her lips, again tentatively (he has no idea what he’s doing, but so far things seem right), and she parts her lips even more, allowing him in. James has another moment of panic ( what is he supposed to do now? ), but then Evans’ tongue meet his and this feels right too.

Not just right. It sends shivers down his spine, it makes the world spins around him as if he is afloat and the only thing connecting to Earth is Evans’ lips and the way they move and Merlin why hasn’t he ever kissed Evans before ? He feels disconnected, as if he is watching them kissing from above, and James nearly laughs at the idea that he is snogging Lily Evans in a broom closet, that’s so unlikely — didn’t they hate each other?…

Then she breaks apart, jumping violently backwards, a look of terror on her face, and when James opens his eyes he sees that along with that kiss Evans was sharing the same thoughts as him.

She was in a broom closet snogging James Potter .

He breathes hard, urging air to fill his lungs; apparently kissing stops his natural reaction of breathing — though not other reactions. His body seems to be working overtime, judging by the way his heart is beating too fast in his chest.

Evans is out of breath too; he sees her chest rising and falling fast — then Evans notices his stares and she crosses her arms protectively, recovering faster than him.

‘I told you I could kiss,’ she says, voice full of dignity and he envies her for that.

James couldn’t form a sentence if his life depended on it.

‘You will not tell this to anyone,’ she adds, eyes narrowed again in what used to be James' favourite expression. Now he isn't sure. ‘I — I will deny it if anyone asks, so you will just look like a liar.’ She watches him. ‘Potter?’

‘Okay,’ he whispers, though he is not sure what he just agreed to. His brain is still not functioning properly.

‘Let’s go,’ she says, walking past him and opening the door, leaving just a hint of her perfume in the air.

He follows her, more on instinct than anything, surprised with the fact that he can walk .

People cheer when they enter the Common Room and James steals a glance at Evans. She looks normal, undisturbed, not at all like she has just shared a kiss with James that he… that he really wants to repeat.

‘You still have two minutes!,’ Mary notices, shaking her head disapprovingly at Evans, who just shrugs.

‘Two more minutes and one of us might not leave there alive,’ she says casually, sitting next to Mary.

‘James?,’ Sirius calls him, watching him closely, and James forces a smile upon his face.

‘Evans is right. One of us might not survive.’

They laugh, and James thinks he handled it well, half-truth as it is; everyone knows they don’t get along, he and Evans, they never had, and yet…

The bottle spins again, and now Remus is struggling to say who was his first crush, but James is not listening, not really paying attention to the game. His lips are still tingling, that lingering taste of butterbeer on his mouth, and he can’t help but steal glances at Evans — next time, he thinks feverish, he will let his hands (that stayed reprovingly still ) touch her face, hold her closer. Next time he will kiss her neck, will hear her sigh into his lips.

He will know what to do next time, he promises, but Evans never once looks in his direction.

The bottle stops pointing at her and it’s James turns to ask.

‘Truth or dare, Evans?,’ he asks, his voice sounding nicer than he ever talked to her before, while his hand runs through his hair nervously. His smile is confident, because Evans has to share that urge too, right?

But Evans eyes him as if she’d rather look at anything else and her voice is nearly dismayed when she calls ‘Dare’.

James doesn’t hesitate. ‘I dare you to go out with me, Evans.’

People whistle, but Evans doesn’t look amused. ‘It’s against the rules involving others in a dare, Potter,’ she tells him, coldly, raising. ‘And I think I’m done with this stupid game.’

She leaves the Common Room, and Mary throws a confused look at James before following her friend. Sirius looks at James with a baffled expression.

‘You stayed with her for five minutes and decided to ask her out? What happened there?’

‘Nothing,’ James says at ease. ‘I just realized Evans isn’t so bad.’

It’s a simple way of putting it, but despite what Evans may think about him, James will keep his word; that kiss (his first kiss) will remain between them only.

#Jily #Jily fanfiction #canon compliant #mostly #first kiss #James and Lily #t: fanfiction #prompt kiss

155 notes · View notes

oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

All Tied Up

Word Count: 2479

Characters: England, France- FrUK

---

‘What the fuck are those?’

France sighed from where he was hanging up his clothes in his hotel wardrobe, ‘Good evening to you too. Why are you in my room, already, Arthur? I only arrived half an hour ago, couldn’t you let me exist without your presence for just a few moments more?’

He hadn’t heard him come in; France didn’t think he’d left the door to his hotel open. Although, England did have a bad habit of quietly entering places rather too well for his liking, ‘It’s bad enough that I will have to endure so much of you this week.’

‘Fuck off. I was hungry, so I came to see if you’d eaten.’

France turned back to his open suitcase for another shirt, ‘And?’

England frowned at him, ‘And?’

‘And,’ France prompted, slipping his favourite dress shirt onto a hanger. It was wrinkled; he hoped there was a decent iron here, ‘what were you going to do then?’

England huffed at him, as if, somehow, he France was being the difficult one, ‘And if you hadn’t, I was going to go with you.’

‘Could you not ask me to dinner like a normal person?’

England ignored him and nodded his head to the top of France’s temporary wardrobe, ‘Why have you got those?’

France followed his eyeline, stepping back when he couldn’t see anything. A few paces back and beside England he could see there, right at the back and on the top shelf of the wardrobe, were a pair of handcuffs.

‘Bit lewd for a week-long conference, init?’

France raised an eyebrow at him, ‘Do you really think I’d be that crass for those to be mine?’ England said nothing but his look became a lot more pointed. A beat of silence later and France shrugged, ‘Fine. But those ones are not.’

‘Of course.’

‘Why on earth would I lie about that.’

England shrugged, ‘Why do you do most of what you do? I never know.’

‘No, because you’re far too dim.’

‘Dim? Coming from the bellend who takes handcuffs to a NATO summit in Toronto.’

‘They’re not mine- what are you doing?’

England had moved around him and crossed the room towards the wardrobe and was now reaching up to the back to grab the handcuffs. France looked at them in his hands and then around his temporary room in distain, ‘I can’t stay here anymore, who knows what else they missed cleaning.’

France imagined that poor Canada was probably stressed enough as it was hosting this thing and likely didn’t need any additional work, but the idea of sleeping in a bed that might not have been changed was not something that appealed to him in the slightest. If the handcuffs were missed by the cleaners who knew what else they had failed to catch.

England tutted, ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

‘I hardly think me caring about my personal hygiene is me being a baby.’

‘You’ve slept in worse.’ England paused, ‘You’ve left worse.’

France opened his mouth to retort but England made an approving sound, opening the cuff wider, ‘These are pretty good quality, you know.’

France rolled his eyes, ‘Oh, and you would know.’ England turned them over and France sniffed, tucking his hair behind his ears, ‘Put those back, they’re probably filthy.’

‘No, I mean they look like they’re law enforcement rather than… well. Not.’

France stepped closer, ‘No look, they’re too flimsy.’ He pointed to the chain that connected the two cuffs, ‘and those are incredibly out of date- surely your police don’t still use these?’

England flushed, ‘Of course not! But I’ve seen a few of these about recently.’

‘Really? And how many decades ago was that? Twenty? Thirty?’

England waved a hand airily, ‘I don’t know, thereabouts maybe.’

‘You’re a fool.’

France made to take them from him but England pulled back sharply, ‘What are you doing?’

France blinked at his suspicious tone, ‘What are you doing? You’re not going to keep them, are you?’

‘No!’ England’s cheeks burned scarlet, ‘No of course not, but you reached for them so suddenly-‘

‘And what?’ France leant back and put a hand on his hip, ‘You thought I was attacking you?’

England scowled, ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?’

‘Oh that is rich coming from you-‘

‘What’s that supposed to mean!’

‘You know full well what that means- look, just give them here.’ France lunged forwards, hoping to tug them out of England’s hands but England jumped away reflexively. Maybe he’d judged the angle wrong, or maybe England had tripped him somehow- either way France fell too sharply onto him and England gave a surprised yelp.

Click.

They froze, France with both hands balled in England’s shirt to keep him upright. One of them now had a shiny, very solid looking, handcuff around it.

They both stared at it in silence.

England gave a choked laugh and tried to cover it as a cough, ‘Francis, I swear I-‘

‘You arsehole!’

France shoved himself off and England held up his hands placatingly, ‘I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.’

‘Oh of course you didn’t!’ France held out his handcuffed arm out on front of him and shook it at England aggressively, ‘Take this off! Take it off right now!’

‘Okay okay, calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ.’

‘Calm? Calm? You tell me to be calm? I just got off a nine-hour flight only to be handcuffed by you of all people half an hour after I get in my fucking hotel? And you’re telling me to be calm?’

England, who had gone back to the wardrobe to feel about the top shelf, let out a soft, ‘ah’.

France laughed and shook his head, ‘No. No no, no don’t tell me there’s no key. Don’t you damn well dare.’

England, now that the initial shock of the situation had worn off, was clearly trying to hide that he was enjoying France’s predicament, ‘there’s no key.’

France threw a clothing hanger at him.

----

Two hours later, and things were no better.

France, (reasonably, he thought), refused to leave the room until the handcuffs were off and refused to let England leave the room until he’d fixed the problem that he’d created. England could agree that yes, maybe he had some part to play in all of this, but really it was France’s fault for lunging at him so suddenly and only agreed to stay if they ordered dinner first.

So, aside from a break to eat, France angrily chewing through a delivered meal he’d demanded England pay for in stony silence, they spent the time pulling apart the room and crawling to places France would never admit to crawling just in case the key had managed to slip down into some long-forgotten corner.

They’d both turned everything inside and out, upturning all of the drawers and taking off all of the bedding, but no luck. The wardrobe itself was fixed to the wall with no holes a key could have slipped through, so eventually France had to admit defeat and concede that there was no key to be found.

England, to his credit, did try to hold it together commendably well and had only let a euphoric grin slip through twice, both times of which he’d covered by burying his face behind something and pretending to cough until he’d smothered his glee enough to reappear with a blank expression. However, any time his eyes were caught by the glinting mental hideously shackled around France’s wrist, the corners of his mouth would twitch in a way that made France want to immediately wound him with the nearest blunt object.

Sadly for France, England was his best chance at getting him out of the current situation and so committing assault upon him was not the best resolution to his current troubles.

‘You’re going to have to do it,’ France said eventually after he’d finished rechecking a drawer England had already searched, (one could never be entirely sure that England was taking this seriously- being an almighty annoyance to France was one of his favourite pastimes, after all, and France didn’t want to assume the glimmer of remorse he had seen was genuine.)

‘Do what?’

‘Oh, don’t play the fool; get me out.’

England made a derisive noise, ‘Oh yes, sorry, let me just pull the key out of my ar-‘

‘No,’ France tutted at him and shifted through his suitcase to find his toiletry bag, ‘You may pretend to Australia that you do not know how to pick locks but we both know that you do¸ and seeing as there is no key and I am stuck here I’m sure you can pretend to forget that lie for just the moment.’

England snorted and took a hairpin that France offered him, ‘You have been watching far too many Hollywood films.’

France put a hand on a hip, ‘Can you do it or not.’

England bristled, ‘Of course I can. But hairpins like this aren’t exactly the bes-‘

France interrupted him with a shake of the wrist, ‘Do you see this still attached to me? I really do not care. Get me out.’

Muttering very gruesome sounding things under his breath, England pushed France down to sit on the bed and crouched before him, positioning France’s wrist upturned on his knees.

France nudged him gently with his foot and raised his eyebrows suggestively, ‘You didn’t have to handcuff me to get me here, you know.’

England swatted him away and looked at him in disgust, ‘Don’t you start.’ He bent apart the hairpin and worked it into the lock, twisting it slightly, ‘I wouldn’t want to anyway, you smell like plane.’

‘Oh! Oh, darling do tell me why that is. Hmm? Is it because I haven’t had the chance to shower yet, because I was attacked before I had even finished unpacking?’ He ran his free hand through England’s hair, ‘Why is this so long? Have you not had it cut since I last did it?’

England squinted at the handcuff and didn’t look up, ‘No, I’ve been busy.’ He twisted the hairpin and it made a very hopeful clicking sound, but nothing happened and England went back to jiggling it ever so slightly into different positions, ‘You can do it whilst we’re here.’

France huffed, ‘And what makes you think I can?’

‘You always take scissors with you.’

‘No, I meant what makes you think that I will.’ He brushed England’s fringe back from his forehead, measuring out its length between his fingers, ‘Just because I-‘

They both jumped, startled, as the door to France’s room burst open unexpectedly to reveal America in the doorway, ‘Yo Francis, we’re all going out to- what the fuck are you doing?!’

England’s head popped up and suddenly France could see all too clearly how this scene looked to America’s eyes: France, a fist buried in England’s hair and England crouched on his knees in front of him, head bent close to his lap.

England locked eyes with him, an expression of shock on his face, before flicking to America framed and frozen in the doorway. He held up a hand placatingly, ‘No it’s okay, they’re just handcuffs!’

‘Oh God!’ America clapped a hand over his eyes, ‘No way man, I do not wanna see that! Jesus, what is wrong with the both of you? Have you heard of locking the door?’

‘No!’ England stood up suddenly. He didn’t let go of the handcuff and the movement jerked up France’s arm roughly, causing him to give a cry of pain. England dropped his arm in horror, ‘It’s really not what it looks like.’

‘Okay, sure dude, whatever,’ still with his hand over his eyes, America backed away out into the corridor, ‘I’ll let everyone know you can’t come because you’re both occupied.’

‘No!’ France and England both shouted in unison but it was no use, America slammed the door and they could hear him running down the corridor in the direction of the stairs.

France sighed through his nose, ‘Well, that went well.’

----

England did eventually spring France loose. After turning off his phone and forcing France to silence his own and not touch it (they kept beeping, America worked fast at spreading the news) he managed to work his way into the lock after chewing it into more of a sharp point and bending it into ridiculous angles.

‘There you go, they can’t have been official handcuffs,’ France rubbed his wrist, relishing the feeling of the metal being gone, and picked up the handcuffs to turn them over, ‘police handcuffs wouldn’t be that easy to pick.’

England snorted and brushed down his trousers, ‘Or, maybe I’m rather good at it.’

France did pretend to politely consider this for a second, ‘Or, your police have never had quality handcuffs, which really does make your government’s further reduction of their budget particularly sad. What will they use next, cable ties?’

England scowled, ‘Is that any way to talk to someone who just freed you from handcuffs?’

‘Yes, if that same person put me in them.’

England gave a bark of laughter, ‘I’m sure you’ve done something recently to deserve it.’

France hmm’d and stood up to join him, ‘I’m glad your alternate reality entertains you.’ He stepped up to England, grabbing his wrist and tugging him closer with one hand before bringing the other to rest on the small of his back.

‘What are you-‘

France swiftly kissed him silent, bringing his hand from England’s wrist to cup the nape of his neck and press his thumb gently into the bones. He felt England relax, the tension from his shoulders loosening as he gave into it and France let him have the moment unspoilt for a while. Then, before England could react, with the other hand France pulled him closer, pressing them closer together, before removing it suddenly.

Click.

With a noise of outrage, England bit him, hard, on the lip and France pulled away with a grin as England furiously brought his hand up to reveal a shiny new bracelet.

France laughed, stepping back quickly lest he hit him, ‘There, now I know you have done something recently to deserve that.’

England recovered the distance, hands clenched at his sides, ‘Yes, but mine was a fucking accident!’

France shrugged lightly, ‘Well, it’s a good thing you’re rather good at breaking out of them, isn’t it?’

England pressed his lips together so tightly they went white and France smirked at him, ‘I’m going to have a shower, you entertain yourself there for a moment with that and then we can go out for a drink.’

England sat down with a huff and picked up the now very abused hairpin, ‘You’re paying.’

‘Maybe.’

‘And we’re avoiding the place everyone else is going to.’

‘Oh certainly.’

----

AN:

I was going to write something soft and sweet, or something more serious with a bit of detail, but this came out instead. I’m not mad about it, but I do wish I were able to stick to some sort of plan.

It made me chuckle writing it, so I hope you all enjoy!

#fruk #hws england #hws france #aph england #aph france #hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia fanfiction #Arthur Kirkland #Francis Bonnefoy #my writing

141 notes · View notes

nicknellie · 3 years

Text

For months I’ve been saying I’d write a fic where Alex starts counselling because this fandom is in desperate need of good therapy representation, and I’ve finally got around to it! This follows Alex deciding he wants to get therapy, having his first assessment, and having his first session. Most of it is pulled from my experiences so far, but bare in mind that not all therapists/organisations will function the way this one does. Also I’m very tired and I didn’t proofread so I’m sorry for any errors, I’ll fix them at another point.

TW: anxiety, therapy, mentions of depression, mentions of homophobia, mentions of OCD

The Right Decision

It was another one of those days where Alex felt exhausted from the moment he woke up. Not exhausted in that he needed to sleep longer (although admittedly that was probably a part of it), just exhausted because here was another day he had to get through, another challenge he had to overcome, another stressful sixteen hours of endless worries and things to do. Sometimes Alex felt like there was no escape, no rest, no pause in his life. He had to keep going no matter how drained he felt.

It was exhausting.

Everything felt like too much nowadays. Between going to school and sitting exams, playing with the band, and keeping up with his friends, Alex felt as if he had no time to breathe. He couldn’t slow down for longer than a moment or two before along came the next thing and the next barrage of anxieties that accompanied it. He couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t keep up, and it was dragging him down.

What he couldn’t understand was how nobody else seemed to feel quite as worried as him. He had always been more anxious than his friends, that was nothing new – but when everyone he knew had mostly the same stresses as him, it struck him as impossible that none of them seemed too overwhelmed. Perhaps every now and then Luke would complain about an exam at school or Reggie would mention that he was having trouble sleeping, but none of Alex’s friends ever mentioned weak legs, trouble breathing, clouded thoughts, needless panic that stemmed from nowhere, the feeling that nothing they did was really worth much at all.

Recently, Alex’s days had been muddled, his mind occupied with each new worry that he thought up. He was finding it hard to focus on much at all. He’d find his leg bouncing whenever he sat down or his fingers scratching at his knees, little repetitive movements that he wouldn’t notice until somebody pointed them out. He struggled sleeping at night, his mind racing at the speed of light, every nonsensical thought keeping him awake like the world’s most pessimistic firework display. When he was around his friends, his mind snagged on what they thought about him – he began acting the way he thought they wanted him to rather than the way he normally would have.

It felt like he was constantly pretending to be coping better than he was. If he carried on the way he was, he knew sooner or later he would break.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said that morning, sat on the opposite side of the sofa to Willie. He had stayed the night at Willie’s place, vastly preferring it to his own – his strained relationship with his parents wasn’t exactly doing him a world of good either.

“About what?” Willie asked, kicking their feet up onto the sofa and resting them in Alex’s lap.

The question was strangely hard to answer. Where was he even supposed to begin answering it?

“About me,” he ventured slowly. It seemed like a good start, he just wasn’t sure how to carry on.

“I think about you a lot too,” Willie said, beaming. “It’s one of my favourite pastimes.”

Normally, Alex might have blushed, but he was so caught up in his own head that the flirtatious nature of Willie’s comment flew right over his head.

Willie sat up, looking concerned. He took Alex’s hand in his own, dragging Alex down from his addled thoughts. “What’s going on, hotdog? What have you been thinking?”

“I’ve not been finding things easy recently,” Alex began. He hadn’t expected tears to fill his eyes so soon, and yet there they were. His voice wavered, his words interspersed with sniffles. Frustrated, he sighed and wiped roughly at his eyes with his sleeve, annoyed that this was all getting to him so easily. “I… I can’t explain it.”

Willie reached up and gently pulled Alex’s tight fists away from his eyes and instead wiped Alex’s tears away softly with his thumb. “Take your time,” they said. “It’s alright. I’m listening.”

“I just… I feel so nervous. All the time. About every little thing. And it feels like it’s getting worse. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

One of the things Alex loved most about Willie was that he was never pushy. He always let Alex talk as and when he needed to, getting everything off his chest the way he wanted, even if it took hours. They did it now, just holding Alex’s hand, their eyes fixed on him attentively. From someone else, the unbroken eye contact might have just unnerved Alex even more, but from Willie it felt reassuring. He knew he was being listened to and heard – he knew he was safe.

“I want to get help,” he breathed. “I don’t want to carry on the way I am. It scares me.”

“If you want to get help, then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” Willie told him, threading their fingers together. “And Alex – it might not feel like it, but you’re so brave for telling me that. It can’t have been easy, but I’m proud of you for telling me instead of just struggling through by yourself.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Alex asked apprehensively. Willie was always supportive of him, but it was such a drastic change from the way his parents treated him that sometimes he couldn’t help but check it was all real.

Willie smiled gently and cupped Alex’s cheek with his hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch, so he couldn’t see Willie when they replied but he could hear the honestly in his voice. “I think it’ll be really helpful for you. And if it’s what you think you need then it’s worth trying no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispered, barely audible, throat clogged with suppressed sobs.

“Anything, Alex.”

The two of them spent hours researching different therapists and counsellors. Willie carried out extensive background checks on every one of them – at first Alex thought that maybe it was a bit much, but Willie was adamant that only the best would do, that he didn’t want anyone with a chequered past or a dodgy record.

Eventually they came across a charity that offered free counselling. The sessions would take place at the same time on the same day each week and they could go on for as long as Alex needed. He would be assigned the counsellor deemed most fit to treat him after completing an assessment, and the organisation appeared to have very good reviews and success rates.

“We don’t have to sign you up today,” Willie explained, “not if you think it’ll be too much too soon. But it’s worth keeping in mind that this place is probably a good one to go for.”

Alex thought for a moment before making his mind up. He knew himself – if he kept putting it off because he was nervous about it then he would never get around to doing it at all.

“Let’s do it now,” he said resolutely, trying to sound confident in the hopes that maybe he’d believe he wasn’t so nervous himself. “Get it out of the way. It’s now or never, right?”

Willie just kissed the top of his head and clicked the application button at the bottom of the webpage.

A week or so later, Alex received an email informing him of when his assessment would take place. It seemed like a very informal thing – someone from the charity would phone him, they’d have a casual chat where they would ask him about himself, and they’d offer him either a space on their waiting list or suggest somewhere else that might be able to help him better.

Despite how friendly and casual it all sounded, Alex couldn’t help but feel nervous. For one thing, he hated talking to strangers. He’d never been good at it and the whole idea made him feel sick with worry. Though, he supposed, that was why he was going through with this whole thing, to make that worry stop.

But the other issue was that it was a phone appointment. Inexplicably, one of the things guaranteed to cause Alex anxiety was phone calls. The thought of picking up the phone when somebody rang was enough to make his head spin and eyes water. Just the notion of it made him want to lock himself away in a lonely dark room and not come out until he felt he could breathe again. It was painfully ironic – he had to do the things that made him most anxious in order to get help with his anxiety.

When the time of the appointment came, Alex was sat on Willie’s bed by himself, staring at his phone, waiting for it to ring. Willie had kindly offered to be in the room with him, but Alex had declined. Even though Willie was the most supportive person in his life, having them in the room while he had his assessment would have made it a thousand times more difficult.

The phone rang and for a moment Alex considered just not picking up. Was it worth making himself even more worried over this? Maybe he could learn to cope with his anxiety alone instead of getting all worked up over receiving help. He’d managed just fine in the past.

But you’re not managing just fine right now, Alex, he reminded himself. Pick up the phone.

“Hello?” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice level.

“Hi,” came a voice on the other end. It was an airy, soft-spoken lady, and though Alex couldn’t see her he could imagine her sat in her office, surrounded by motivational posters and dreamcatchers, wearing far too many scarves. “My name is Elizabeth. I’m calling for your mental health assessment. I just need to confirm who I’m speaking to.”

“Alex Mercer,” he said, glad he could answer that first question right at the very least. And sure, maybe the other questions he would be asked didn’t have specific right or wrong answers, but he still felt as if he had something to prove with them. Here at least he knew what he was doing.

“And your age and date of birth please, Alex,” Elizabeth asked. He could hear the faint scratching of a pen on paper.

“I’m eighteen and my birthday is the first of August.”

A tiny voice in the back of his mind questioned him, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t going to overthink so quickly. He knew what his own birthday was.

“Great, thank you, Alex,” Elizabeth said. “So I’m just going to talk you through how this will work quickly, okay? I’ll try not to take too long with the whole assessment, I know sometimes talking on the phone or talking to strangers can be tricky. All that’s really going to happen is that we’ll have a little chat, I’ll ask you about your life and your mental health. Everything we say will be confidential, the only other person who’ll find out is the person we assign as your counsellor. All I need you to do is be as honest as possible when you answer the questions. Is that all okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. His throat felt tight with worry but he did his best to ignore it. Elizabeth sounded like a lovely lady and the whole point of this was that he would stop being anxious, or at least learn to manage it better. Maybe this bit was hard, but it would only get easier as time went on. “That’s alright.”

“Fantastic,” she said. “Okay, Alex, we’ll start with the most obvious question: why do you want to come to us for counselling?”

He told her what he had told Willie, just with fewer tears. He could feel them stinging the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. His voice stayed level but only because he forced it too.

From then on, it seemed like fairly quickfire questions. Elizabeth didn’t linger on any one aspect of Alex’s life so long that it made Alex uncomfortable, as if she was just sizing him up rather than trying to properly inspect him.

“Who do you live with, Alex?”

“My parents and my little sister, but I don’t spend a lot of time at home.”

“Do you not get on with them?” she asked. Her tone made her sound curious rather than concerned and somehow that was a lot easier for Alex to respond to. She just wanted to know – she wasn’t worried about it.

“My little sister’s fine, but not my parents.”

“Where do you stay instead?”

“My boyfriend’s apartment.”

Pen scratching on paper again.

“How’s your relationship with your boyfriend?” Elizabeth asked.

It was one of the only questions Alex felt confident answering. “My relationship with Willie is the best thing in my life.”

He thought he could hear Elizabeth’s smile as she said, “I’m very glad to hear that, Alex.”

She asked him about his friendships and he told her that they were strong. When she asked who his best friend was he momentarily panicked because he didn’t know which of his friends to choose – they all meant the world to him in different ways – but settled on Carrie. He explained that he was in a band with most of his other friends and that it was one of the only things that made him feel relaxed.

Elizabeth asked about school and Alex told her about his exams, how the stress of them definitely wasn’t doing his mind any good. She asked about his grades and he told her that they were high but he worried about keeping them that way. She asked him if he was part of any clubs or teams and he said he was on the cross-country team but didn’t find much enjoyment in it anymore.

It was odd, he thought absently. As he spoke to Elizabeth, he not only found himself being open and honest with her but also with himself. Half the things he told her were things he hadn’t thought about until she brought them up, and realising that he worried about grades more than he’d thought and that he didn’t want to be on the running team was more of a surprise to him that it should have been. He noticed more and more things about himself as he went on, things he probably never would have realised otherwise, and it sparked a little flame of hope inside him that maybe this counselling was already being beneficial to him.

The assessment was over much more quickly than Alex had thought it would take. Elizabeth told him that she was happy to put him on the waiting list and that she would be in touch when a counsellor became available. After a friendly goodbye, Alex put the phone down and took a few minutes to collect himself before heading out into the living room of Willie’s apartment to tell him how well it had gone.

It was a month or two before Alex heard from the charity again. He got another email, this one telling him the time and location of his first appointment. He showed up on the day, Willie by his side, feeling the worst he’d felt in weeks.

“Hey,” Willie said gently as Alex just stared at the door, his stomach flipping at the thought of even pressing the intercom. “Just remember you’re doing this to help yourself. I believe in you, hotdog. You’ve got this.”

Alex pulled Willie into a brief hug, but disentangled himself quickly and pressed the intercom before his adrenaline disappeared and he had another chance to dwell on it.

“Hello,” came the voice of the receptionist inside. “How can I help?”

“My name is Alex Mercer, I’m here for my counselling session,” he said. He wasn’t sure how much of his sentence actually sounded like words, the entire thing having been rushed out on one breath, but the receptionist seemed to get it. The lock on the door clicked open.

“Come on in, you can sit in the waiting room and your counsellor will come and get you soon.”

Alex took a deep breath and pushed the door open, Willie following close behind him as the two of them walked into the building. The waiting room was on the left as soon as they walked in so they took their seats beside each other. There was hardly anyone else in there – the receptionist was sat behind the desk in the corner, there was a lady flicking through a magazine on the other side of the waiting room, and a young man was sat with a toddler, trying to keep the little boy still when clearly all he wanted to do was run around. The walls were covered in posters, most of them either with motivation quotes on them or symptoms of different mental health issues. Alex had to tear his eyes away from the anxiety one, his hands rubbing together in his lap restlessly.

They weren’t sat there for very long when a kind-looking man poked his head into the waiting room and scanned it. When his eyes landed on Alex and Willie, a small smile grew on his face.

“Alex Mercer?” he asked.

Alex stood up and wiped his sweaty hands down on his trousers. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” the man said. “I’m Graham, I’ll be your counsellor. Is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, this is Willie,” Alex said, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Hi,” they said, “great to meet you.”

“You too,” Graham said. “Alex, Willie can come in with you for a little bit if you think that would make you more comfortable, or he could stay here in the waiting room and it’ll just be you and I in there. Whatever you prefer.”

Alex cast a glance at Willie who just gave him a reassuring smile. Your call, their expression said, I’m here for you no matter what.

“I’d rather go in alone,” Alex decided.

Graham nodded, smiling genially. “That’s alright. If you’d like to follow me then.”

Sending one last look to Willie (who gave Alex a thumbs up and mouthed ‘you got this’), Alex followed Graham out of the waiting room, up a flight of stairs, and into a smaller room on the second floor. There was hardly anything in there but a desk with a laptop on it and two chairs positioned opposite each other, a coffee table between them with a lamp and a box of tissues on it. Graham sat down in one chair and gestured for Alex to sit in the other.

“Alright, Alex,” Graham said, donning his glasses and picking up a pen and paper. “How are you feeling about being here today?”

“I’m a little nervous,” Alex told him. “But you know… it’s something I’ve got to do, right?”

Graham nodded. “Looking at your assessment, I think you made the right decision in coming to us. I just want to briefly explain what will be happening in these sessions – I’m going to be doing CBT. Do you know what that is?”

Alex shook his head.

“CBT stands for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy,” Graham explained. “As people, we have thoughts. Those thoughts influence our mood, which then influences our behaviour, which influences our thoughts. It’s a cycle. When our thoughts or our behaviours turn negative, it can lead to mental health problems like yours. What CBT aims to do is change the thought processes and behaviours that lead to things like your anxiety. With me so far?”

Alex nodded.

“We aren’t going to start that today,” Graham said. Alex breathed a sigh of relief and Graham chuckled at it, but not in a way that made Alex feel like he was being made fun of. “Today we’re just going to get to know each other a bit, we’ll go over the information I’ve got from your assessment in a little more detail, and then I’ve got a questionnaire for you to fill out. Sound good?”

“Good,” Alex said. Well, he supposed, getting one word out was better than none at all.

Graham pulled out a few sheets of paper and the two of them spent the next half hour or so going over the assessment Elizabeth had conducted. It was a lot more detailed, a lot more personal, and Alex needed to think about himself a lot more than he would have liked, but it was made easier by Graham’s easy-going personality and the fact that Alex’s knew it was all necessary. He wasn’t being judged for any of it, he was just helping Graham help him.

It just felt like a chat with a friend. When they talked about Alex’s parents and he explained they weren’t supporting of his sexuality, Graham said, “When I told my folks that I’m bisexual they had a similar reaction. I understand it – you’re not alone, Alex.”

And as he said that, Alex really felt it was true. He was understood here. He wasn’t alone.

They talked about Alex’s trouble sleeping, how he worried about the little things rather than anything really important, how he was a picky eater, and every detail that seemed insignificant but clearly meant something to Graham. It felt a little invasive, but the environment was comfortable, so Alex didn’t really mind sharing. It was ridiculously easy to say everything on his mind and so much more freeing than keeping his emotions bottled up like normal.

“Alright then,” Graham said eventually. “All I’ve got left is this questionnaire. It’ll take you through forty-seven questions and all of the answers give you a choice between always, often, sometimes, or never. Sometimes it’s quite obvious what the question is getting at – there’s one about repetitive routines that’s obviously about OCD – but I want you to answer as honestly as possible, don’t even think about what it might do to your results. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, “that’s fine.”

Graham led Alex through the questionnaire, selecting the answers on his laptop. Alex tried to answer quickly, not giving himself time to overthink it, but a few of the simplest ones stumped him. He’d never thought about how much he thought about death, he’d never paid any mind to his specific behaviours. But still, he answered as best he could and the questions were over relatively quickly.

“Looking at your results,” Graham said, pushing his glasses further up his nose and squinting at the laptop screen, “you answered most highly for general anxiety – you got twenty-nine for that. Then social anxiety, you got twenty. Depression and low mood, you got sixteen. For panic disorder you got fourteen, eleven for OCD, and five for separation anxiety. Does any of that surprise you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Alex told him, laughing at himself a little. It was exactly what he would have expected from himself – he wasn’t quite sure what the numbers really meant, but having general anxiety at the top wasn’t a shock to him.

“So what we’ll do each week from now on is fill out a smaller one of those, but it will be more focused on general anxiety, only eight or nine questions long. And we’ll start your CBT next week so these little questionnaires will be very helpful to track your progress. But that’s it for this week! You’re done, Alex, you made it!”

Alex felt himself smile. He’d done it. It hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he had thought it would be – it felt like there had been a weight lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe easily. His mind briefly wandered back to how anxious he’d been to even press the intercom outside; now he felt the lightest he’d been in as long as he could remember.

He and Graham said their goodbyes and Alex made his way back down to the waiting room to see get Willie. When he saw the bright smile Alex wore, Willie’s face lit up and he beamed.

“How was that?” they asked, immediately slipping his hand into Alex’s.

“Really good,” Alex told them. Willie’s face softened – there was a definite look of pride in their eyes and Alex knew it was for him. “I’m glad I’m doing this.”

Standing up on his tiptoes, Willie pressed a featherlight kiss to Alex’s cheek. “I’m glad. I’m proud of you, hotdog.”

“I’m proud of me too,” Alex said. For the first time in a very long while, he actually meant it.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

55 notes · View notes

cordonia · 4 years

Photo

Ethan + MC: “Stick”

Summary: Ethan Ramsey has been in love, he’s just never been lovesick. Dr. Valentine didn’t show up for work and suddenly he’s feeling dizzy...

Inspired by Stick by BANKS

“Baby, you don't wanna leave You'd be sorry, 'cause honestly I can make you feel better, any day Look at what you've done for me, I called it how I see You belong with me”

Warnings: Brief mention of sexual content.

Word Count: 2000

“Ethan? You never take time off, what is wrong with you?” June Hirata appeared to be almost excited, but anything was good gossip when you were a neurologist. Every decision the team made was a deeper look into their brain, and that’s why Ethan could never tell her that she was a bit scary.

“I’m quite dizzy, I don’t feel right practicing medicine today. It’s best I rest at home to avoid making anything worse.”

“Dr. Valentine must be feeling the same way, today is the first time she called in.” How pointed of her. June didn’t waste time, even when she was playing games. He maybe respected her a bit for it, if it wasn’t involving him.

“I hadn’t realized,” lies, it was infiltrating his thoughts like a virus. “Have you checked in with her?”

June smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, instead she looked like she was doing a complex math problem with different answers.

He would never tell anyone he was intimidated by them, mostly because the feeling did not arise often. But June was good at her job, and trying to crack into his brain was one of her favourite pastimes. Anyone else would have thought that June had a bit of a crush, always digging into his personal life, but she had made it very clear she was too good for him.

She was, but again, never something he would tell her.

“Perhaps you should give her a call on your way home. She might require some medication, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

Ethan sighed, hoping it came off as an annoyed reaction to doing anything out of his way. But Dr. June Hirata just turned on her heels and walked away without another word.

Dr. Valentine was too good for him as well. Despite the circumstances of his career putting him ‘above her’, he knew that she would outgrow the entire team one day. She would definitely outgrow him, and the feelings that she reminded him of often. One day she would look at him and see him for who he really was; jaded and struggling to adapt to change.

It was silly, the things that he did to impress her. A social media account, bordering on favouritism when he took her for trips, and he even felt guilty for how badly he wanted her to win the competition. He wanted her on his team because she was a good doctor, but maybe a bit because her smile made him want to save lives a little bit more than usual. Maybe a lot.

Ethan loved his job but Valentine made him love it a bit more. It couldn’t be bad though, right? To love someone who challenged him to be a better doctor? Another thing he couldn’t tell anybody, not even her. And he wanted to tell her everything.

He got into his car without taking out his phone, put the keys in the ignition and began pulling out of the parking lot. He should have called, he should have checked in on her. It didn’t feel like his place, and how ridiculous it would be to call as if he had a right to know why she was home. Or even a right to care, for that matter. He had sworn off doing this to her, playing with her feelings and being misleading.

It would only hurt her more.

But what if she was hurt? The dizzy feeling began again and the nausea crept up on him. His hands clenched the wheel until he could barely feel them, but his eyes were still glued on the road. He was only a few streets away from her and he swore he could feel something pulling him to her. Ridiculous, as all feelings were. Especially whatever this one was.

He couldn’t just show up, right? But Ethan’s hands were turning the wheel, and suddenly three streets away became one. And then there he was, sitting outside of her apartment, where anybody could see. Her roommates were working, he’d seen them all that morning when he realized she wasn’t there.

He wasn’t going to get out of the car, and he still hadn’t reached for his phone. Ethan was trying to talk himself out of doing anything, going too far just because he was a bit worried. But...

He grabbed his phone and dialled her number, holding his breath as he waited for her to pick up. He wanted to hang up, regretting the impulsive decision immediately, but then she’d know how strange he was acting. The phone kept ringing and then reached her voicemail. He hung up, too embarrassed to leave a message in case his voice was shaky.

Why wasn’t she picking up? Was she oka--

A knock on the passenger window surprised him so much he jumped a little, his phone slipping from his hand and into his lap. Fuck.

“Ethan?” There she was, peering into his window with messy hair aglow from the sunny sky above them. Ethan swallowed and tried to compose himself, he was speechless for a change.

She opened the passenger door and slid into the seat next to him. Under any other circumstance, he would have laughed at the sight of her in fluffy pajama pants, but her tank top was it’s own distraction. She picked very inopportune times to be braless.

“Why are you outside my apartment? I called in super early, I promise I didn’t want to throw off your day.” She sounded concerned, which was slightly ironic, but he was starting to feel bad for bothering her.

“I’m sorry. I was... well I, I guess I was worried that you needed something.”

Her brows were furrowed and her gaze went from his face to his hands that were shaking slightly in his lap. Had he noticed that his hands were shaking? It was too late to stop it now.

“What would I need?”

He didn’t have a convincing answer to that. “Tylenol? Soup?”

She looked in the back seat, empty of course, and then looked even more confused. “You left your job of saving lives to what? Come make me soup in my own kitchen?”

“Of course not, I was on my way home and just thought that I would check in. We need you healthy and back at work, it doesn’t benefit our patients if you’re sick longer than needed.” Definitely the wrong thing to say to her, as formal as he wanted to be. He could see that she was starting to become annoyed already.

“I wouldn’t jeopardize the lives of our patients, Ethan. I can make my own soup, I’m not a chore. I just needed a day off.”

He loved how she said his name, even if it was meant to be patronizing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t word that quite right, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re important, Dr. Valentine.”

That seemed to catch her attention, and finally the annoyance dissipated; he felt relieved to see her shrug it off. “Thank you for checking in. I’ll be back tomorrow, it’s just not a good day. It’s the anniversary of the death of someone who was very close to me, and I thought I would be okay today... but,” she faltered and closed her mouth instead of finishing the sentence.

Suddenly the anxiety, the dizziness and stress on his muscles seemed to fade away. Empathy was not Ethan’s favourite feeling, but he couldn’t help but be flooded by it when she looked away from him to hide the shine in her eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry before, and it wasn’t something he would like watching.

He tried to change the subject. “Are those bunnies riding polar bears?”

Her gaze snapped back to him and she immediately grinned, blinking away the start of her tears. “My grandmother bought me these pajamas. I have no idea why the bunnies are riding polar bears, but they’re quite soft.”

His fingers instinctively twitched and he stopped himself from reaching out to touch the strange choice of lounge wear. She was always attentive of his movement, much like June was of his lies.

He was back to holding his breath again as she reached for his hand, pulling it to her. How was she always so warm and inviting?

“Touch them,” she said, a bit quieter.

He nodded and let his fingers graze the material over her thigh. She was right, it was soft, just like the rest of her... But those thoughts were better kept pushed to the back of his brain. He couldn’t think about the one night they had spent together...

“You’re starting to make me sick.” The words left his tongue quicker than he had anticipated, no time to find any eloquent way to express his thoughts.

“What?” She recoiled away from his touch and his eyes widened as his brain caught up.

“Lovesick,” he said even more quickly. “Rookie, I think you’ve been making me lovesick.”

“You’re telling me,” she whispered, shaking her head with a small smile upon her lips. “Do you ever think that if we hadn’t kissed, it wouldn’t have gotten this hard?”

He knew what the right answer was, the professional answer. And just as she probably had, he had run through every encounter with her in his head, a million times. Ethan had spent so much time wondering when he’d become so hung up on her, but he didn’t have a satisfying answer. She had been stuck inside of his heart for so long now that the love had left roots. How do you choose to uproot your love for somebody once it becomes a part of you like that?

She was waiting for a response that he didn’t have. Against his better judgement, his hand reached up to her face and caressed her cheek. Her eyes closed and her whole body relaxed. Was that all it took, one touch? Ethan didn’t always know his own power.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t take it back,” he said firmly, sure of that answer even if it wasn’t enough.

When she leaned in, he didn’t pull away like he knew he should have. Instead, he let her lips press against his so softly that it could have been his imagination.

His fingers became entangled in her hair as he gripped the back of her neck and pulled her closer to him. Their lips met again and this time he let guard down, overwhelmed, his teeth catching her bottom lip. She moaned, just slightly and as her lips parted, his tongue brushed against hers. Nobody else could ever make the taste of mint toothpaste so inviting. Her nails dug into his arm and the slight sting of pain only led to a deeper kiss.

Ethan could imagine pulling her upstairs, taking off those ridiculous pajamas and kissing her until her knees could no longer keep her upright. He would have bent her off the kitchen counter, maybe the couch if they made it that far. And every time she said his name, he’d fuck her a little bit harder. Until they both couldn’t stand.

That’s what being in her presence was like most of the time. The slightest touch, accidental or stolen, put scenarios in his head like he was watching a film broken into so many parts. He could envision so many illicit encounters, but other things he craved too. Holding her hand in public, making dinner around her friends, and sharing a bed with her some nights.

She was probably considering the same scenarios, he caught the look in her eyes so many times and he knew how badly they both had it.

For a change, she was the one who pulled back first. “You’re supposed to be going home, Dr. Ramsey.”

So this was how she felt when so many times it was him who pulled away. Hungry and longing to push things just a little bit further... Perhaps not a little bit, but his brain was desperate to rationalize any chance to touch her.

Reality was cruel.

“I’m suddenly feeling a bit better, actually, I should go back to work and see what I can get done.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” He nodded in response and she began to climb out of the car.

“Rookie? Call me if you ever need anything, even soup.”

She nodded and gave him a smile that he had noticed was reserved just for him. He hated that he noticed things like that, because June would too. Just like she would know something was off when he miraculously returned to work.

“Don’t have too much fun saving lives without me.” She winked and then headed back to the apartment.

“I won’t,” he said to himself, exasperated. He should have just called, but he was very, very glad he didn’t.

Tagging: @binny1985

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x reader #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey imagine #open heart imagine #open heart edit #my edit #my fanfic

207 notes · View notes

nctsoftskz · 4 years

Text

cooking with Yuta

word count: 1.5k A/N: thank you for requesting bub!! Tbh I imagined this while cooking for my family, I tried to think of how things would be if Yuta was there. I can get very domestic and I could write for hours for him omg. I hope it’s what you had in mind, feel free to request again if you don’t like it!! warnings: [i guess] very domestic and filled with fluff! The gif isn’t mine and requests are still open!!

The sun had already risen for a while, yet the neighbourhood was still calm. Not a single cloud in the sky, the rays of sunlight entered your apartment and warmed the rooms previously plunged into the cold by winter. You sighed and blew on your cup of tea, glancing at the clock above the fireplace.

It was almost 11:30 a.m. and you felt your stomach getting annoyed again. You had an early breakfast with Yuta, he wanted to make the most of his day with you. His features were slightly drawn, but he didn't want to listen when you told him he could sleep in if he wanted to.

The gurgles of your belly pulled you from your thoughts. You looked at the food in the fridge and Yuta walked into the kitchen, a towel around his neck, rubbing his hair vigorously. He sat on the counter next to you, while you wrote the missing items for your recipe on a ripped piece of paper.

"I'm going to go quickly to the convenience store, I'm missing some ingredients for lunch." you hurriedly said as you clicked your pen closed. "Give me the list, I'll go," he said, snatching the list from your hand and reading it as soon as you were done writing. You tried to catch it, but he raised his arm above his head and smiled at you. He circled your waist with his other hand and kissed your forehead. "I'm going to get dressed and I'm going." "Thank you, darling." You whispered in his ear and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He walked out of the room and warned you when he walked out the door.

When he came back, he put the two plastic bags on the counter and smiled at you.

"I think I found everything you needed." He walked around you and grabbed the apron that was hanging next to the coffee machine while you took out the ingredients from the bags. "It's all good, thank you, baby," you looked at him with a smile, watching him tie his apron behind his back as well as his hair in a little ponytail. You washed your hands and he sprayed you with water droplets on your face, a mischievous smile on his face. "Yuta!" You laughed as you wiped your face with the sleeve of your t-shirt. He smirked at you and got to work.

You started to cut the vegetables while he was busy removing the meat from its packaging and cutting it into thin strips. He put the meat in a pan and started to cook it.

You felt good in Yuta's company. Something was relaxing and soothing about him that allowed you to enjoy the present moment. Yuta was scrolling through songs on his phone until he found a playlist that matched your current mood. A sweet melody reached your ears and you felt your muscles and brain relaxing even more. You opened a kitchen window, the birds were chirping, and the rays of the cool morning sun came through the windowpanes, giving the kitchen a cocoon feeling filled with love and positivity. The potted flowers that rested on the edges of your windows were beautiful. You had watered them after breakfast while Yuta cleared the table and started doing the dishes. You could hear your next-door neighbours setting the table. Everything seemed peaceful as if no negative wave from the outside world could reach you, as if the atmosphere and the soft rays of the sun shielded you from everything.

After a moment deep in your thoughts, the presence of Yuta behind you made you focus again on the food that was cooking in front of you. You stirred the boiling vegetables in the water from time to time so that they didn't stick to the bottom of the saucepan. You grabbed a wooden spoon from the drawer and collected some vegetables. You brought the utensil to Yuta's mouth, who opened it without taking his eyes off the meat. He turned it over with a pair of chopsticks while chewing what you gave him. He looked at you and nodded.

"It's cooked?” You asked him as you kept on stirring. "It's delish, my angel." He smiled and you reduced the heat of the stove.

With a firm hand, Yuta kept you by his side and placed sweet kisses in the crook of your shoulder and on your cheek, waiting for the meat to finish cooking. You saw your boyfriend reduce the power of the plates and grabbed your waist. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and you start slow dancing on the lo-fi in the background. Nothing could be more soothing than all of this. You could see that Yuta was doing this to make you feel good, but also for him. You both had busy and exhausting schedules, so having a moment of serenity together was a golden opportunity.

"I could stay like this for hours," he whispered in your ear as if he was afraid of destroying the current mood. "Me too, I feel so good in your arms." You felt him chuckle and he kissed the top of your head. "I love you, Y/N." You never got tired of hearing these three simple words coming out of your lover's mouth. Whenever he whispered sweet words to you, you felt your heart speeding up and a feeling of happiness invading your whole body. "I love you too." You pushed wild strands of hair out of his eyes and kissed his jaw.

Smiling, you detached yourself from his embrace and grabbed a tablecloth and cutlery that were stored in the buffet, and you walked to the balcony. It was your favourite place to eat when it wasn't cold. The balcony wasn't super large, but spacious enough to accommodate a large table and chairs. It was a place full of great memories and giggles, you spent many evenings either with Yuta or with the rest of NCT, opening the patio door so that the people on the balcony could also hear the people were inside, sitting on the couch or on the floor.

You cleaned the wooden table and put the tablecloth on it, smoothing it in some corners, adding the glasses and some decorations on the table here and there. You lowered the awning slightly, to be comfortable enough and not blinded by the sun and started to set the table. From the balcony, you heard the tinkling of pots and pans in the sink, indicating that Yuta had finished cooking and preparing the plates. You were about to go to the kitchen to help your lover, but he was already in front of the sliding window, two plates in his hands and a bottle of homemade lemonade tucked under his arm. A succulent smell travelled to your nostrils and you sat on your chair, eager to taste what you had prepared together.

"There you are, princess," he smiled at you, placing your plate in front of you. You thanked him by wrapping your arms around his neck, making him lower himself and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Yuta, this looks super good," you clapped your hands with a big smile and poked on a piece of meat with your fork.

The food was divine, all the flavours you imagined when looking at the recipe were currently melting in your mouth.

"It's really super good, Y/N," he said, taking your hand, "you really did your job as a chef." "WE did a chef's job, I remind you that you cooked with me" you corrected him with a smile, tightening your fingers around his. "The meat is just as I imagined it." He winked at you with a smile and continued to eat without letting go of your hand.

Indeed, Yuta was more a man of actions than of words. He would rather show you that he loved you than tell you, even if whispering sweet words and how much he loves you was one of his favourite pastimes. He loved seeing redness go up to your cheeks when he circled your waist and told you he loved you. His heart filled with a little more love for you each time you returned compliments or when you responded to his kisses as soon as his lips were placed on yours, no matter what time of day.

He loved holding your hand, just like he was doing it right now. You were talking about everything and nothing, his hand was always linked with yours. He ran his thumb over your knuckles and squeezed your hand a little harder when you laughed together. Once the plates were put aside and your chair was drawn close to his, he pulled you by the hand, inviting you to sit on his lap and you ran a hand through his hair while you get lost in the look of the other. You put your hand on his cheek and he turned his head to come and left a kiss in the palm of your hand. The sun was warming you but being in your lover’s arms never ceased to give you chills all over your body.

Nothing was more pleasant than being in his arms. The world could be ending, and you would always feel safe in his arms as if nothing could happen to you.

95 notes · View notes

tvdstelenaforever · 4 years

Text

Nowhere Like Home

TVD Kai Parker imagine | Who is She? Part 2

Theme: Fluff, smut

Other: Y/N pronoun is she/her and is a human

Plot: Kai coming to the Salvatore Boarding House to talk with the Salvatore Brothers and the Mikaelsons when he comes across Y/N, completely enchanted by her beauty. He is curious about her and wonders why he’s never seen her before. As time goes on and they hang out with each other, they develop feelings for each other.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: This is the second part to the fanfic, I hope you enjoy this just as much, if not more than the first part. I am open to constructive criticism. I want to write a part 3, I just need to figure out the story-line. I have something in mind, so it’ll take a while before I’ll be able to publish part 3. In regards to the smut, I am not fully comfortable writing it yet since I am not experienced (this is my first written smut) so I hope you enjoyed what I was able to come up with.

Part 3: Till UnDead Do Us Part

--------------

Y/N and Kai looked each other in the eyes, the longing being overpowering. Y/N immediately grabbed Kai’s face and smashed her lips to his. Kai grabbed her waist as he sunk into the kiss.

Y/N pulled away to catch her breath. She looked into his eyes again and smiled.

Suddenly Kai pulled Y/N close so that their bodies were touching. Kai could feel Y/N’s heart beating quickly so he knew she was into him. He smiled into the kiss, before moving down her body. He started with the neck as he placed kisses sloppily, trailing down her stomach right until the hem of Y/N’s shorts.

Just as Kai was about to touch her right where she wanted, Y/N was brought back to reality. Rubbing her eyes, Y/N let out an exasperated breath. Then she remembered where she was and felt on the edge of tears. Why was she feeling so emotional?

Then it dawned on her. Damon. A sudden burst of anger was let out as Y/N stood up, needing to shake off this feeling. She looked around and was still in the spare room. What time was it? When Y/N went downstairs, she could see her siblings with the Salvatore brothers.

“Y/N, did you have a good beauty sleep?” Klaus winked. Y/N nodded because she thought her voice was going to betray her. Rebekah sensed that something was off but chose to keep quiet. She decided that she would question Y/N about it later.

“We’ve finished our business here in Mystic Falls. Y/N, is there anything that you’d like to do before we leave?” Klaus asked. Y/N wasn’t ready to leave so soon. “Actually, um, I was thinking about staying in Mystic Falls for a little while longer. I’d like an extended break from New Orleans”. Klaus was surprised and took a few seconds to process Y/N’s request. After what felt like an eternity, he made his verdict.

“Well I don’t see why not, you can stay here with the Salvatore’s if they’re happy to host you” Stefan nodded in agreement. “That’s settled then. Rebekah will come and pick you up in a week”. Before the Mikaelsons were about to leave, Rebekah pulled Y/N to the side. A concerned look was worn on her face. “Y/N, are you okay? You seem a little off” Y/N didn’t want to give anything away especially since she wanted her Kai crush to be kept a secret.

“Yes I’m fine, just a little tired is all” Y/N replied with a soft smile. Rebekah didn’t seem convinced but decided not to push it. She pulled Y/N into a warm hug before walking over to their brothers. “Don’t get yourself into any trouble miss” Klaus warned jokingly. Before Y/N could reply, Damon interjected. “She’ll be in good hands with us, don’t you worry” Y/N let out a sigh a bit too loudly and everyone looked at her.

Damon gave her a look, understanding the reason behind the sigh. He gave Y/N a warning eyebrow raise and she rolled her eyes in response. “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you all in a week. Stay safe on your trip back” Y/N said as she went to give all her siblings a goodbye hug. As soon as they left, Damon decided to set some boundaries.

“Y/N, for your safety we’re giving you a curfew of 10 pm and you have to present yourself at least once a day so we know you’re safe”. Not wanting to get into any arguments with the brothers, Y/N accepted. It wasn’t that bad of a rule. Before Y/N had a chance to leave and visit the town, she was told that she could hang out with Elena, Caroline and Bonnie when she wanted. With a smile, she excused herself.

***

Kai was pacing around his living room, thinking about Y/N. He was eager to see her again. He didn’t know how long she was staying so he went to grab his jacket and headed out the door.

When he arrived at the Mystic Grill, he sat at the bar and ordered a whisky. He hoped that by being there that he’d run into Y/N.

Before long, he looked up from his drink and laid eyes upon her. She was accompanied by Caroline and Bonnie as they went to find seats at a booth.

The three girls were laughing together and Kai couldn’t help but notice Y/N’s beauty radiate from her. They ordered drinks and were chatting happily among themselves. Kai swirled his drink around and downed the last of it, slamming the glass down on the counter.

As he was about to walk towards the girls, he caught sight of Damon and Stefan. He sighed in frustration about having to potentially argue with the boys. Either way, he was going to Y/N. When he finally came into view, Y/N blushed as they locked eyes.

Damon spotted the young heretic and stood between him and Y/N. “Nuh uh, what did I say about you staying away from Y/N” he accused. Kai’s patience was running thin. Without saying a word, he pushed past Damon and placed his hand on Y/N’s upper back. She shifted slightly under his touch.

“Hey sweetheart, do you want to spend some time with me?” he smiled. Y/N’s cheeks reddened but grinned in response. As Y/N stood, Kai took her hand in his and pulled her away from the booth.

Damon threw Y/N a cold stare as a warning. Caroline and Bonnie were clearly confused about what was occurring in front of them. They felt uncomfortable being in Kai’s presence and were confused about Y/N’s attraction to him.

“He’s just going to end up hurting you” Caroline stated with concern.

“I’m not going to hurt her” he growled as he brought Y/N close to him by grabbing her waist. Y/N linked her arms around his torso for a close embrace. The look in Damon’s eyes was close to defeat and he sighed. It looked as if forcing both Y/N and Kai to stay away was going to be a tough thing to enforce.

“I promised Klaus I’d keep Y/N safe” Damon iterated. “And I will” Kai smirked, before leaving with Y/N using his magical powers.

***

Y/N sat on Kai’s sofa trying to get comfortable. He handed her a glass of water and she drank it all in one swift motion. Setting the cup aside, Y/N then snaked her arm around Kai as he sat down next to her.

“So tell me more about yourself, what is your favourite pastime? Are you more of an adventurous type or are you more of a homebody?” Y/N asked, wanting to get to know Kai on a deeper level. He smiled, but wasn’t sure how to respond. “Well, I don’t have any friends or family so all I do pretty much is cause havoc in my wake. I guess it’s because I’m bored and need something to do to pass the time. I’ve been so lonely and I know it’s my fault but...” Kai trailed off.

Y/N gave him an understanding look. She knew about his backstory based on the stories she was told however it was interesting to hear the perspective straight from the horses mouth. “That must be tough, but you’ve got me now”

Kai’s eyes lit up, hearing those words made his heart rate increase. “I’m glad to hear that. I feel safe with you and I’m also really attracted to you”. Y/N swallowed, realising that she wanted to kiss him. As if he read her mind, Kai leaned in and pressed his soft lips to hers. A moan escaped both their mouths.

Before they could continue, Kai pulled away. There was a hunger behind his eyes but forced it away. Y/N traced her index finger across his lips whilst licking her own. “Y/N, I can’t” he said regrettably. “It’s okay, we can continue when you’re ready” Y/N cooed as she sat back against the sofa and holding Kai’s left hand in her right one.

Hours passed as Y/N and Kai sat together chatting idly and having the TV play in the background. It wasn’t until Kai shifted in his seat that Y/N woke up from her nap she didn’t realise that she took. “Maybe I should take you back now?” Kai offered, not really wanting Y/N to leave just yet. Y/N nodded sleepily.

***

Damon was getting increasingly frustrated at the situation. He was brainstorming ideas with Stefan, Caroline and Bonnie. They could keep Y/N locked in the Boarding House, or they could compel her to stay away from Kai. As Damon was observing his brother and friends, an idea formed in his mind. With a devilish grin, Damon formulated the perfect idea. “Bonnie, I know what we need to do”.

It was late afternoon when Y/N arrived at the Salvatore Boarding House with Kai. Before they could get to the front door, it opened. Everyone walked out and were face to face. “You’re back, thank goodness” Caroline said as she hugged Y/N.

Damon and Bonnie exchanged a look and nodded in understanding. Bonnie started chanting when suddenly Kai and Y/N felt an invisible tugging.

It finally dawned on Kai what was happening but before he could do anything to stop it, he was hurled across the ground with a strong force. He now found himself back in his old prison world. He screamed out in anger as he fell to his knees.

Shortly after, a voice came from behind him. “Kai?” As he stood and spun around to face Y/N, he looked at her in confusion. Was this a sick joke to torture him? “Why are they messing with me?” he said as he cried. Y/N was taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“Kai, it’s really me. Where are we?” Y/N was confused. When realization hit, Kai walked over to Y/N and brought her in for a tight hug. “We’re trapped in my old prison world. It’s where I was sent when my father wanted to get rid of me. There’s no way out”.

Y/N looked horrified which soon turned into anger. “What, how?! This is all your fault” Y/N exclaimed as she pulled away from him. Kai was caught off guard and automatically felt vulnerable.

“Don’t you see Y/N? They did this to me to hurt me. I don’t think they meant to send you here too” Tears started to well up in Y/N’s eyes. “I need some space from you, please leave me alone” she cried as she ran off.

He despised the feeling that was brewing inside of him that was caused from the one and only person that he felt safe with. It stung.

Y/N was just annoyed at the situation and not actually at Kai. She hadn’t meant to accuse him but the idea of being stuck in a prison world for who knows how long, forever even, was a scary thought. Y/N decided to wonder around, trying to get acquainted with her new reality.

***

Y/N came across a white house, which was grand in it’s splendor. There was a front porch with a swing and black shutters on every window. There was a massive willow tree in the front yard which was beautiful as the leaves moved with the wind. She went to sit on the swinging chair and inhaled deeply.

Looking out at the scenery before her, Y/N contemplated what her life was about. She thought back to her family and New Orleans. Then her mind wondered to Kai and his situation. He was all alone with nobody to care about him. It automatically dawned on Y/N that she was the only one who cared for him. She immediately felt bad for their squabble earlier.

Y/N chose to go and find Kai. She walked back the way she came but when she arrived back to the clearing, he was nowhere to be seen. Oh, she thought. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Y/N trudged back towards the house. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Kai standing on the porch before the door.

As she approached and climbed the porch stairs, Kai turned around. His eyes were red, visible sign of crying. The sight of him made Y/N ache for him. “I’m really sorry for how I reacted earlier, I was just scared and angry, but not at you”. The words seemed to wash over him as he ignored Y/N and walked into the house.

Y/N followed suit, needing him to know she was sorry. The interior of the house was warm and cozy. It looked lived in. I suppose it made sense, Kai must have used this as his home the last time he was trapped here. Somehow the home reminded Y/N of the Salvatore Boarding House. That was quite an interesting observation.

Kai walked into the kitchen and got himself a glass, pouring in some bourbon whiskey. Y/N followed him, stopping at the island situated slap-bang in the middle. Staring at Kai until he paid attention to her, Y/N pleaded sorry with her eyes. She could sense that he was tense so she went over to him and hugged him. He froze, before breaking down into the hug and let out some sobs.

“Baby, I’m here” Y/N soothed and Kai tightened the hug. Y/N walked Kai to the living room and made them sit on the sofa. Y/N promised Kai that she was here for him through all his highs and lows. He also promised that he was going to be the man she deserved to be with. After a tiresome day, they both fell asleep in each others arms.

***

It was finally reaching the end of the one month mark of their imprisonment in the prison world. Y/N and Kai’s bond got stronger as they got to know each other more and joke together. Y/N found that Kai had a really good sense of humor and Kai saw just how compassionate Y/N was. The hole in Kai’s heart was slowly starting to heal.

They both returned from their free shopping trip, putting the groceries away. Kai decided to make Y/N some blueberry pancakes. “Breakfast is served Princess” Kai laughed. Y/N had a huge grin on her face as she saw the pancakes had a smiley face using the blueberries as the eyes, and whipped cream as the nose and smile. Y/N poured maple syrup onto the pancakes and dug in. It was adorable how Kai was secretly a sweetheart.

Later that day, Y/N was absentmindedly twirling her hair between her fingers as she lay cuddled with Kai on their bed. They were just relaxing when Y/N could feel warm fingers tracing their way up her thighs. She took an intake of breath, keeping very still. She locked eyes with Kai, looking for confirmation. Once she was sure he wasn’t going to pull away, Y/N placed her right hand on the side of his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Kai closed his eyes as Y/N deepened the kiss. His fingers kept stroking her thighs, until he pressed his fingers to her clit through the fabric of her underwear and started rubbing circles. Y/N tilted her head back against Kai’s chest and let out a moan. His pace quickened and Y/N was left feeling breathless. Once Kai was satisfied, he plunged two of his fingers inside her and moved in and out slowly, picking up the pace when Y/N was grinding her hips against his fingers.

“Mm, that feels so good” Y/N moaned. Then Y/N’s hand trailed down Kai’s chest, making her way down to his jeans. She shoved her hand under the fabric, feeling him hardening. He moaned at the touch, wanting to rip Y/N’s clothes off and see her perfect body.

Kai’s eyes were full of lust, and Y/N bit her lip in response. “Please Kai, I want you” and those words was all the confirmation he needed to pull Y/N’s shirt off, followed by her shorts and underwear. “Gosh, you’re beautiful” Kai smiled.

Y/N proceeded to pull Kai by the collar of his shirt and bring him close to her. Then she used her right hand to unbuckle his belt and undo the button holding his jeans together. Kai then took his jeans and boxers off and discarded them.

She bit her lip at the sight of him. She wanted him to fuck her senseless. He lined up with her entrance, using his thumb to pleasure her clit. As he pushed in, Y/N let out a deep moan. He started slow, letting Y/N get used to him. Kai then quickened his pace as he held onto her hips.

Y/N dipped her head back, eyes rolling. “Please go faster, you feel so good inside me” she pleaded. Kai loved the sight in front of him and was happy to oblige. Y/N’s walls were starting to clench around his length which meant she was starting to reach her climax.

He kept moving in and out of her to ride out her orgasm and soon his own orgasm washed over him. Kai moaned against Y/N’s mouth as his eyes closed shut. When they calmed down Kai pulled out and rolled over on the bed, taking Y/N in for a warm embrace.

“I love you” Y/N said breathlessly. Kai’s eyes seemed to water at those words. “I love you too Y/N”.

Y/N felt lightheaded but was still feeling like she was on cloud nine. There was nowhere else she’d rather be right now than in his arms and Kai felt the same way.

***

Two months had now passed. The time spent alone together was bliss, that they forgot that they were locked away from the real world. Later that evening, Y/N and Kai had another re-run of the show Brooklyn 99. It wasn’t until the light shone through the window that they both got up to see the sun rise.

The sun started rising over the horizon as Y/N and Kai were sat outside in the front yard entwined together. Y/N felt comfortable and safe with Kai and loved that they had gotten even closer over this time trapped in the prison world. She didn’t want their time alone together to end.

They weren’t sure if their eyes were playing tricks on them, but they swore they could see Bonnie in the distance making her way towards them. Y/N raised her eyebrows as she came into close proximity. Kai tensed in Y/N’s arms.

“Bonnie?” Y/N yelled out, not close enough to keep her voice down. Bonnie waved towards them with a sheepish smile. When she approached, she avoided her gaze with the heretic as she went in for a hug with Y/N.

“I’m here to get you out” Y/N looked at Kai and gulped. “I’m not leaving without Kai and that’s not negotiable” Y/N was adamant. Bonnie nodded “I expected as much” and took Y/N’s hand in hers. She hesitated before grabbing Kai’s hand too. Before they knew it, all three were suddenly back outside the Salvatore Boarding House.

Among hearing the commotion outside, Damon walked out. He sighed in relief upon seeing Y/N safe and sound. As his eyes landed on Kai, he gave Bonnie a look. “You let him out too?” but there was no hostility behind his words. He was more exasperated than angry.

Y/N had to make things clear so everyone would know where they stood. “I’m in love with Kai and you’ve all got to accept that. I see the good in him, and over the last couple of months I’ve seen a side of him that you all would’ve dreamed of witnessing beforehand. If any of you try to hurt Kai or worse, I’ll never forgive you”. Bonnie gave her a quizzical look whilst Damon looked confused, however they agreed.

“I miss being in the prison world alone with Kai already” Y/N said absentmindedly. “Being trapped in the prison world was the best thing that could have happened for us” Y/N smiled sheepishly, adoringly looking Kai in the eyes before he pulled Y/N in for a loving kiss.

#fic #fanfic #fan fiction #first story #part 2 #fanfic part 2 #tvd #tvdverse #tvd kai parker #kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker x you #smut

23 notes · View notes

fuckyeahjerik · 4 years

Note

Prompt list? 27: "Hey remember when I told you I had everything under control ? Well...I lied" Plez?

Hey anon! Hope you enjoy this little ficlet. <3 Pairing: Jellal/Erik Word count: 1.6k

“You’ll be okay alone?” Erik checks one last time, pinning his boyfriend with a hard stare. Jellal, thin and pale and drowning in his too-large white shirt, nods with a wan smile.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. I have everything under control. I swear.” Bright brown eyes are filled with raw earnestness, making no effort to hide either the pain or the love that brews in their depths. Erik cannot say no to Jellal when he lays himself bare before him in that fashion.

“Okay.” Erik sighs, grabbing his bag and moving towards the door. But as he goes to put on his shoes, he stops abruptly.

I’m missing something!

Without a second thought, he turns around and runs towards Jellal, whose features morph from calm to concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he asks anxiously. Erik grins at him, taking Jellal’s cheeks in his hands and bringing their faces close together.

“Forgot something important,” he says impishly, and kisses Jellal.

There’s a cherry-red blush dusting Jellal’s cheeks when Erik pulls away, still smiling devilishly. It satisfies the little demon in his heart - making Jellal blush is his favorite pastime. He walks backwards to the door, waving a little at his boyfriend as he steps out and closes it behind him.

The smile on Jellal’s face and the wave he receives in return is more than worth the fact that he trips and falls flat the second he’s out of the house.

Picking himself up, Erik dusts his clothes off and climbs onto his bike, Cubellios. It doesn’t take very long for him to get the old girl fired up and on the road, and the wind pulls at his hair in just the way that he likes as he speeds along the empty highways to make it in time for his shift.

It’s a small coffee shop where he works, one of those little businesses owned by locals that somehow end up being the most warm and inviting places ever. It’s funny that this one, Rosen Krone, should be, since its owner Ultear is literally the least warm and inviting person Erik knows. But that’s off-topic; today, as the chef, he gets to decide the Friday special, and he’s already planning on making apple tarts. They’re Jellal’s favourite - just imagining the soft look in brown eyes, and the silly smile he will make as he devours each one whole, makes Erik giggle to himself.

He doesn’t even scold himself for being a sap. At this point, he’s pretty much accepted how whipped he is for his sweet blueberry boyfriend.

Erik pulls into the parking lot of the cafe and locks his bike before practically rushing inside, excitement bubbling out of his entire body as he thinks about how he’ll surprise Jellal. He doesn’t even hear Ultear’s snarky comment on his sudden enthusiasm or Sorano’s giggled, “Whipped,” as he hurriedly takes out the ingredients and starts to put together the perfect tart.

He slices the apples at the speed of light, only the sheer precision built up from years of cooking stopping him from cutting off a chunk of his finger. Tossing them into a bowl, he adds cinnamon, vanilla, brown sugar, lemon juice and a bit of salt to the mixture and shakes the bowl to mix them all up properly. He slides a lid onto the apples, allowing them to marinate, and turns to the pastry.

He’s measuring out the third cup of flour when his phone rings.

At first, Erik clicks his tongue in annoyance, wondering who on Earth would call now. He’s cooking, and all his friends know that hell hath no fury like an Erik who is disturbed from cooking.

Then the ringtone - Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up, unironically his and Jellal’s song - properly registers itself in his ears, and Erik promptly spills the cup of flour all over himself with shock.

Jellal?!

He fumbles for the phone in his pocket, forgetting everything else. The world could be crashing around his ears right now and he wouldn’t care - Jellal’s calling, and that means there’s something wrong.

Worry dampens his entire body like ice as Erik swipes the ‘Accept’ button, pressing the phone to his ear and practically barking, “Jellal! Love, what’s wrong?”

There’s a pause, during which harsh, ragged breaths that sound suspiciously like crying come through the other end. Erik doesn’t waste a second, keeping the phone in place with his shoulder as he removes his apron and hangs it up. He has to go home now; Jellal clearly needs him.

Whispered words from the other side of the line barely make it to his ears, but Erik’s hearing is far better than anyone else’s, and so it is that he clearly picks them up.

“Remember when I said I had it under control? Well, um… I might have… lied…” Jellal’s voice is high, notes of panic filling it. Erik’s breath stumbles over his words; he can’t get them out fast enough as he shouts into the receiver of the phone, “What happened? Are you - are you okay?!”

“I don’t know,” Jellal whispers softly. “I don’t know. All I know is it feels like I’m drowning-”

“‘M coming,” Erik says firmly. He looks over at Ultear, mouthing, ‘He’s not okay’; she nods gravely, motioning for him to leave.

She’s accommodating like that. Erik couldn’t have been more grateful for it as he speeds out of the back door of the cafe, slamming his key into his bike and starting to drive haphazardly even as he keeps murmuring platitudes into the phone.

He hears Jellal hiccupping and crying. Erik’s heart breaks, imagining his boyfriend curled into himself, red-faced and blaming himself for everything that is wrong in this world. All he can do now is whisper softly, “I’m coming, love. Don’t you worry. I love you so much. You’re amazing.”

He’s powerless over the phone, and he hates it.

Clenching his fists around the acceleration button on his bike, Erik wills Cubellios to fly faster than she has ever gone. He pushes her to the limit, not stopping for a second, breaking every traffic rule known to mankind in his single-minded determination to get home in time.

I’m coming, baby. Don’t worry a second.

Hastily pulling up in front of the house, Erik leaps off of Cubellios and rushes to the door. The bike clatters to the ground behind him; but he’ll worry about that later. For now, Jellal comes first.

Erik wrenches the door open and heads straight upstairs to the bedroom where he knows Jellal will be lying, curled in a ball and weeping softly. He’s proven right as he opens the door and shuts it with a soft click to find his boyfriend’s blue head buried in a mountain of pillows, his thin shoulders shaking weakly.

“Jellal,” he calls tenderly, making his way over to the bed with deliberate, loud steps. Jellal doesn’t like to be surprised when he’s feeling down. “Love, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Erik,” Jellal rasps out, his voice raw from crying. “I… why’d you…”

Erik perches himself on the edge of the bed and cards a hand through Jellal’s azure locks.

“‘Cause I’m your boyfriend, and I wanna be here for you when you’re not okay.”

“But I…” Jellal lifts his face, tearful brown eyes meeting gentle purple ones. “I dragged you away from work. I’m horr-”

Erik puts a finger on Jellal’s lips, shaking his head. “You’re wonderful,” he stresses quickly, emphasizing his point. “You’re wonderful and I love you.”

“No.” Jellal sniffles. “No. I’m terrible. I just hurt people and tear them away from things they need to do and-”

“No!” Erik cries out. He needs to stop this before Jellal starts spiralling. He can’t allow his boyfriend to go into that state again. Taking off his socks, he settles himself properly on the bed and pulls Jellal into his flour-covered chest, kissing and petting the other man with the same gentleness one would show a baby.

“No, love,” he breathes. “You’ve given me so much. You’re my world. You’re so kind and so good.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. You can find someone else, someone better to love,” Jellal hiccups.

Erik swats his back lightly. “None of that.” he says bluntly, truthfully. “I could never love anyone else. To me, there’s no one better than you. Your love saved me more times than I can count. I love you. I’ll always choose you.”

Jellal exhales into Erik’s shoulder. There’s silence for a few beats before he speaks again -

“You really have horrible taste.”

It’s barely a whisper, more of an exhausted breath. But it’s a victory, because it means Jellal’s feeling just a bit better: and Erik will make sure to build on that bit, to keep building on it until Jellal is calm once more. And even after that, because to make his boyfriend happy is the best thing in the world, and he’ll always be here.

He doesn’t reply to Jellal’s comment, simply pulling him in closer, ensconcing him in warmth. They lie like that for awhile, just relishing in each other’s presence, Erik rubbing circles into Jellal’s back - his signal to say ‘I love you’ when he doesn’t feel like talking.

Jellal is Erik’s entire world: capable, bright and friendly, kind and intelligent, absolutely beautiful, basically everything anyone could want. But of all the people, it’s silly, stupid Erik who has gotten this amazing person to call his.

So it’s okay if Jellal sometimes forgets just how much he is worth, because Erik will always, always be here to remind him.

#jellal fernandes #erik #jerik #jellal #fairy tail #cobra #jellal x erik #erik x jellal #jellal x cobra #cobra x jellal #fanfiction #fanfic #mod ceru #requests #ask #anonymous #fyjerikrequest

19 notes · View notes

tartagilicious · 5 years

Note

hiya! for the prompts, could i have Eugene and Fem Mc with "hey, how long have you been standing there?"

hiya! thanks for requesting, I’d be more than happy to do that :) I took a few days to write this, and I’m glad I did, because I’m actually pretty proud of how this came out.

(before I start, I’m gonna clear myself up. I fully think that if the mc had gotten along badly with one of the guys, Lawrence would’ve tried his best to have them get along. even if it conflicts with his possessive personality, I think he’d probably do it to build up false hope and trust in him more than anything)

also, I didn’t mean for this to happen, but she flirts with Zion for a bit. yeah, I have no self control, I know. 🤠

—

not on my watch // eugene

word count: 2.4k

Eugene and you, for whatever reason, were a pretty common pair for night patrol. Lawrence always made it clear that the partners he suggested weren’t for any reason, but you were having a hard time believing that, especially after your rocky start with Eugene.

“you should just be a little friendlier,” Lawrence had just shrugged when you asked. “you’re stuck here with him for god knows who long, so it’s better to make friends anyway, right?”

You had just saved yourself the trouble and agreed.

But you weren’t sure you even wanted to befriend the boy in the first place. After all, he was the one who had said he didn’t care if you left the school, and always seemed to have a sarcastic comment directed at you.

So, as imagined, night patrols weren’t very fun at first. Eugene obviously wasn’t very comfortable with you, and that put you on an edge that only seemed to make him more uncomfortable. Like an absolute match made in heaven.

Then, the nights you weren’t paired up with Eugene or didn’t have to do a patrol were heaven. Without them, you barely saw Eugene all day, and based on past experiences, you thought that was for the better anyway.

Then, the nights got a little better. You both still argued like it was your favourite pastime, but it felt better somehow. Eugene was a little more concerned with keeping you safe but always brushed off your attempts to do the same. He was still a mystery to you, either way.

That was where you stood in the present day, in some weird limbo between friends and enemies, a relationship that was fluctuating and unpredictable. And you knew that was probably where it was going to stay, but you didn’t find yourself minding.

You woke up one morning to a soft rapping on your classroom’s door. Expecting it to be Zion there to banter with you, or Ethan to tell you that a meeting was about to start, you were surprised to open the door and come face to face with Eugene.

Maybe not pleasantly, but you were still surprised.

“Eugene?” You blinked, your vision still hazy from having just woken up. “What are you doing?”

“Great, you’re awake. I thought you would be sleeping.” He said this in a way that showed he obviously knew you were asleep, but, being too tired to care, you just dismissed it.

“Yeah, okay Eugene. What do you want?” You yawned.

“I want you to come with me to ask Lawrence if he’ll stop putting us together for patrols.”

This had gotten your attention.

“What?” You blinked, the blatant sentence causing your mind to finally wake up. You didn’t really have anything wrong with the proposal, but it hurt a little to hear it said out loud. “You couldn’t wait to do this? He’s probably not even up yet. Hell, I’m barely even up and I’m standing here talking to you.”

“Lawrence is always up early. Come on, ___. Now’s a perfect time,”

“Honestly, Eugene,” You grumbled, your tiredness getting the better of you. “What’s the big deal about us being paired up for night watch anyway? It’s just a job, you’re not supposed to like it,”

It seemed like words were stuck in his mouth.

“But, I thought-”

“Talk to me later, I’m going back to sleep,” You interrupted, stepping back and closing the door in his face before he could say anything else.

You weren’t going to lie, going on patrol with Eugene wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable thing, but you wouldn’t go as far to ask Lawrence not to put you two together. It sort of hurt your pride a bit to know Eugene didn’t want to be around you that badly.

Still, you tried not to think about it as you fell back asleep, lulled by the quiet footsteps of Eugene walking away from your classroom.

It came as no surprise to you when Eugene didn’t say a word to you when you met him by chance in 1-C around noon. Even if you were the only ones there, even if it was awkward enough to make you want to walk out, neither of you exchanged a word.

Until that is, Lawrence came in.

He came in with a stack of papers in his hands, humming and looking between us with a meticulous eye. It was sort of nerve-racking, knowing that he was probably planning something in his head as he smiled gently over his papers.

Eugene got my attention with a small eyebrow raise from the other side of the room, and I just gave him a little shrug in response. I guess he didn’t know what was going on either.

“So, what’s going on?”

Both of your heads snapped to Lawrence as he spoke, not even looking up from what he was doing. It sort of scared you how passive he was being in that moment.

“Um, we’re just waiting for everyone else to get here,” Eugene tried.

“You know what I mean.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at Eugene’s bewildered expression, not holding back even when he sent you a half-hearted glare.

Eugene crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away. “I don’t.”

Lawrence narrowed his eyes, and at that point, you knew that if something didn’t change, he would probably drag you and Eugene to hell and back about it.

So, before Lawrence could say anything more, you took hurried strides to the other side of the room and impulsively threw your arm around Eugene’s shoulder. Lawrence seemed surprised, and Eugene completely stiffened, so you took upon yourself to save your skins before Eugene could screw up your chances.

“You were right, Lawrence,” You gave him what you hoped was a pleasant smile. “Being friendlier is better in the end, Eugene and I have more in common than I thought.”

Eugene caught on after a second, plastering the same saccharine smile on his face.

“Yep, she’s right, we.. have stuff in common.”

You resisted cringing, but it seemed like your act had been at least good enough for Lawrence to shrug it off.

“That’s good. Then, hopefully, you won’t mind me assigning you for night patrol again?”

“I-”

You nudged Eugene before he could get any further. “Of course not! We’ll do it tonight for sure.”

Lawrence just gave both of you a small smile, nodding with an indescribable look in his eyes. Then, some other people began to wander in, starting a new conversation with Lawrence and sitting around the room. Eugene ducked under your arm and turned to you, his eyes bemused.

“What was that?” He whispered. “Do you know how hard it is to get a lie past him? He’s like a freaking police dog, ___”

“Police dogs mess up sometimes.” You shrug, taking pride in the way Eugene’s lips parted in surprise.

“But you,” You paused and smiled as you pointed at his chest. “You’re a horrible actor. You would’ve given us away in an instant if you’d even opened your mouth a second more.”

“You’re the one that did that without warning me first!”

“I shouldn’t have to warn you!” you laughed. “besides, you’re lucky we didn’t go to Lawrence this morning, otherwise this never would’ve worked and we might’ve just had to deal with the police dog you mentioned.”

His face twisted slightly as he fixed the hair under his cap. “Yeah, I hope we stay lucky. You can’t hide anything from the guy for long.”

“Then, Eugene, let’s be careful and make it a first,”

He grinned. “Sure, let’s make it a first.”

Then, things went from there. It was somewhat convincing but wavering kindness In front of the others, but the usual reoccurring arguments behind everyone’s back. It was tedious, but after some time of getting used to it, you both began to the parts like a game, The only kicker was that the lines eventually began to blur. You bickered with him casually anywhere at that point, not worried about the consequences of your banters, and you also joked around with him whenever you wanted to, freely.

It seemed like your deal had been broken in an unexpected way, but you both were fine with it, now that Lawrence was no longer breathing down your necks. And you may have never admitted it, but you were really glad that you had gotten on better terms with Eugene, too. You didn’t know much about Lawrence, but making an enemy out of Eugene definitely didn’t seem like it would have been the right move.

But, you kept that to yourself, or, you did as best as you could.

About a month later, you’d been cornered by Zion one night in the hallway after dinner. It wasn’t odd to have little talks with him like that sometimes, but something about that time was different. He was grinning, and his expression sort of bugged you; a secretive look that could only mean that he knew something you didn’t.

You wanted to chew him out right then and there, but you knew that everyone else had already gone back to their classrooms, so you couldn’t make a fuss.

“What is it?” You asked, barely trying to hide the displeasure in your voice that only made Zion smile wider.

“What do you think it is?”

You rose an eyebrow, bewildered. “I have no idea? That’s why I asked?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kid. What’s the deal with you and Eugene?”

You hesitated, “…Stop spilling nonsense, Zion. There’s no deal with me and Eugene.”

“Alright,” He paused, nodding in what could only be fake solemnity. “Then explain your graceful transition to me, huh?”

“You’re gonna have to make it clearer than that, champ.”

He clearly didn’t appreciate the nicknames being thrown back at him for once, his eyes narrowing slightly. “One moment you’re about to bite each other’s necks off and the next you’re all buddy-buddy?”

You just shrugged. “I guess it’s just character development.”

“Things like character development doesn’t exist in a wasteland like this.”

You just flashed him a tight smile, beginning to walk past him in the direction of your classroom in hopes of finally avoiding the conversation. “Then I guess we’re living proof of the opposite claim.”

“Hey, not so fast,” Zion grabbed your wrist before you could get completely past him, tugging you back in front of him. The action wasn’t rough in the least, but the action had caught you off guard nonetheless, and you were left almost sputtering for words

“Just tell me the truth, at least.” He said, the playful look in his eyes fading a little as he let go of your wrist. “Being left in the dark isn’t ever a good start to a story.”

“Zion, who said this was a story? I don’t know what kind of juicy secret you’re looking for, but you won’t find it. Eugene and I are friends now because that’s just how it worked out, okay? Eugene’s just really different than I thought he was.“

“He’s not as much of a prick, though he still annoys me to bits and pieces sometimes. He’s a little nicer than I thought too, and it’s sorta cute how embarrassed he gets from the smallest kind acts. He’s pretty funny, too. Which is always nice, I guess- hey, why do you look so far off?”

Zion blinked before he let out a sarcastic comment. “I’m memorising your words so I can write them in my diary that I keep for dirt on everyone.”

“Oh,” You crossed your arms and let out a small laugh as you played along with the joke. “Is that so? I hope there’s not much in there on me.”

“Oh no,” he shook his head and grinned. “There’s tons because you’re the one who’s always getting into trouble, after all.”

You both laughed, but all of the sudden, the look in Zion’s eyes changed again. It went from the serious look he took in meetings to the look he got when Lawrence caught him doing something stupid.

why does he look so surprised?

“Hey, thanks for telling me, ___.” The words were a rush as he put a hand on your shoulder, not stopping even as you looked at the hand and back at him. “But I’m pretty tired, so I’m gonna head off now. G’night!”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to reach out to him and catch him before he sped off. “Hey, Zion, wait-!”

“___?”

Your hand froze in mid-air as the voice of the previous boy in question rang out behind you. It was silent for a few moments as you pondered your options, and finally, when you realised that there was no way of getting out of that one, you chose your stupidest one; the honest one.

You turned around with what you hoped was a casual smile. “How long have you been standing there?”

Eugene’s eyebrows were raised and you resisted shutting your eyes tight and wishing yourself away. It was obvious that he’d heard enough.

“___, I-”

“Hey, it’d probably be better for you to not say anything.”

Even if you weren’t looking right at him, you could hear the smile in his voice. “And do what, save you the catastrophic embarrassment?”

“Yes, that sounds great, let’s do that. I’m so glad we agree.”

“Yeah, well I’m not gonna do that, ___.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet him as he took leisurely steps towards you. “You know what, I think I was wrong, you are a prick.”

He raised a brow, teasing, “Oh? Does that mean you also don’t think I’m funny? Or cute when I’m embarrassed?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He nodded and made a mocking expression. “Glad we feel the same way about each other.”

“Eugene, I swear to-”

He swiftly cut you off by taking another step closer, almost sweeping you off your feet in the process. His arm was around your waist, and he looked quite proud of himself.

“You swear to what?” He asked this nonchalantly as you grinned devilishly.

“I swear to all the gods I know that you’re not getting out of this that easy!” You say pushing him away as lightly as possible by his forehead and using the time he was disoriented to grab his hand and pull him along.

“Not on my watch.”

—

172 notes · View notes

trvelyans-archive · 5 years

Text

morning

a commission for @sexysideoftheforce as a gift to @thecosmicsleep ft. their sidesteps flynn and auburn on christmas day slash flynn’s birthday !!! thank you for commissioning me andy, and i hope both of you enjoy <3

---

Auburn has a key to Flynn’s apartment that he gave them a couple months ago, and somehow he always seems to forget that they have it.

They sneak in early Christmas morning with a bag full of groceries. The sun has barely even risen by the time they finish unloading the food onto one of the shitty counters in Flynn’s kitchen (after flicking on the overhead lights so they can actually see, of course) and turning on the electric kettle to warm up water for the hot chocolate. Besides that (and the whipped cream and the chocolate chips they’re going to top it off with), there’s a small carton of eggnog, a couple of chocolate bars, half of a chocolate cake with a pack of birthday candles and a can of cinnamon rolls that they’re already beginning to dread picking up since they know Flynn isn’t going to do any of the work to make them.

Not if they don’t wake him up, first, he’s not.

They sigh softly, running a hand through their hair while they kick their shoes off near the front door. Los Diablos isn’t cold by anyone else’s standards in the winter, but Burns is sensitive, not to mention small, and anything below 20 degrees is considered the fucking Arctic for them. So they grab one of the blankets from Flynn’s couch and wrap it around their shoulders, perfectly aware that he’s probably going to make it weird or make fun of them for it but deciding not to give a shit.

Right now, at least. They’ll see how it goes first and decide whether or not he’s being annoying enough about it to smother him with the blanket later.

They pad down the hallway and slowly open the door to his bedroom. The curtains are drawn shut – not that there’s any light to keep out right now, anyway – and they can barely see him, even with the light flooding through the apartment from the fluorescents in the kitchen. Auburn shuts the door behind them, softly, deciding to give Flynn a little more rest. Despite that, though, they cross the room and stand at the foot of the bed, folding their arms over their chest and thinking.

He’s always warm, and they’re freezing, shivering from head to toe even with the blanket draped over their shoulders. They deserve cuddles for the full-course meal they’re about to spend hours preparing for him. Well, an hour, maybe. Forty-five minutes if they make it quick and poorly.

Still, it’s the thought that counts, and all of the thinking they did about this morning tired them right the hell out, so they deserve to crawl into bed with him and get warm and snuggly, don’t they? Even if it’s just for a couple minutes. Even if he isn’t exactly awake. He’s stirring, though, or starting to, at least. He’ll be awake soon.

And he wouldn’t mind. He gave them a key to his apartment, after all. He should expect them to do stuff like this. Besides, it’s not the first time one of them has surprised the other in the middle of the night just to lie in bed together. Sometimes just to talk.

Sometimes just to be in close proximity to the only person who really knows who you are and decides to let you stay. That last thing is about as close as Flynn’s going to get to a birthday-slash-Christmas present today, anyway. (Besides the cake. And the cinnamon buns. What a lucky bastard.)

Burns peels the covers back and rests their knee on the mattress while they untangle themselves and their hair from the blanket, tossing it onto the ground beside the bed. The clock on the bedside table is just bright enough that, when they tilt it a couple of inches to the left, it illuminates Flynn’s sleeping face in a soft red glow that tugs at Burns’s makeshift heartstrings. He can be so disgustingly cute sometimes, Flynn, especially when he’s wearing the stupid rainbow print sweater Burns can somehow make out in the darkness that he insists is cute, too, even though it isn’t anyway. They lift their other leg into the bed, kick the clock so it faces the other direction, and start to lay down beside him slowly in the hopes that it doesn’t startle him too much and wake him up. They’ve just barely leaned their head against his shoulder, however, when he grows suddenly rigid and they realize with disappointment and mild fear that it startled him anyway, and he’s about to wake up.

Great.

They can’t see him but they imagine his bright blue eyes flying open as he lets out a shuddering gasp, immediately pushing them away from him – still gently, though, gently enough that he must know it’s not an enemy – and leaping across the bed so fast it creaks a complaint in response to the sudden shift of weight. “Who the fuck –“

“It’s me,” Burns says.

Flynn is silent for a moment before he begins to stammer. “Burns? Wh-what are you doing?”

“Well, I was going to try and cuddle without waking you up before I started breakfast because I’m tired as fuck, but turns out you had to go and ruin that, didn’t you?”

“I –“

“I’m kidding,” they add with a smile, crawling across the bed to where they guess he is and reaching up to try and find his face. “I’m just teasing you. It’s my favourite pastime. Happy birthday, by the way. And Merry Christmas.”

He’s probably still surprised, but he leans down to kiss them back, anyway, wrapping his arms around their waist and beginning to pull them into his lap before they fend him off with a laugh.

He should not be so trusting, in them or in anyone, but they’re glad that he is. It gives them an excuse to make a whole meal this morning they’re going to get to eat when otherwise they’d be lying in bed without sleeping.

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” they say as they pull away, patting his cheek fondly as they unfold themselves from the bed and slide off it. “I have to go get started on breakfast.”

“Mmm… breakfast?” he repeats sleepily, and thankfully he’s beginning to act like his normal self now that he’s waking up. “What’re you making?”

“You’ll have to come to the kitchen and see,” they reply over their shoulder, pulling the door open and stepping into the hall.

“Yeah right,” Flynn scoffs. Burns can hear the soft thwump of the covers as he falls back down on the bed. “You’re just going to force me to make it, then.”

“Fair point,” they reply. “You’re going to have to come out if you want cake, though.”

He laughs. “Cake?” he asks. “At 7 a.m.?”

Just thinking about the cake sitting on the counter in the kitchen makes Burns lick their lips. It looks so good, and also took an insane amount of restraint for them not to tear into on the bus this morning. “What, are you too good for cake at 7 a.m.?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replies, and Burns laughs. “Gimme half an hour, though… I wanna sleep in a little longer.”

“Ooooo-kay,” Burns says. “Don’t blame me if all the cinnamon buns are gone when you get here, though!”

They can hear a muffled ‘hey!’ through the wall as they shut the door, but head off towards the kitchen anyway, a determined smile on their face.

An hour later, after they’ve changed into their hideous holiday sweaters and pulled on their stupid elf hats, Burns and Flynn are draped across his couch watching the news, limbs entangled so closely and so much that neither are sure where one of them ends and the other begins but neither of them are too offended by it to care. Occasionally Flynn stops eating to nudge Burns’s shoulder and feed them a piece of his cinnamon bun dripping with an absurd amount of icing that he pulled off just to make a mess of their shared blanket, and occasionally Burns stops to shove a forkful of chocolate cake into Flynn’s mouth and purposefully miss so it smears around the outside of his lips, but otherwise they eat in silence, both of them too tired to make conversation but enjoying each other’s company like always.

They’re both going to be due for a nap after this.

They can hear people in the apartments around them making more noise the later in the day it becomes. They’re probably unwrapping presents and baking cinnamon buns of their own, or maybe they’re eating pancakes or waffles or eggs or something else that is much more lame than Burns and Flynn’s breakfast, and still Burns stops after a while to look up at Flynn and notices he looks a little sad.

Not that that’s out of the ordinary for him, but still.

“Hey,” they say, taking his plate and their own and placing them on the coffee table so they can climb into his lap, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding, forcing a smile as he reaches up to run his hand through his hair. “I’m just thinking.”

“About how good my breakfast was?” Burns asks, and Flynn chuckles.

“Yeah,” he says as he rests his hands against their hips, “duh.”

They reach up to lay a hand against his cheek, tugging on it gently until he starts to smile for real. “Are you sure you’re okay?” they ask.

“Yes,” he says with a laugh, and they lean forward to kiss the end of his nose.

“Good,” they reply. “It’s your birthday, after all. I don’t want you feeling sad on your birthday or anything.”

“No, of course not,” Flynn responds. “Don’t want that.”

“Definitely not.” Burns twines their arms around Flynn’s neck and leans forward until they can lean their forehead against his, ghosting their lips over his cheek. “Seriously, though, did you like breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” he replies. “You know what would make it better, though?”

They pull away to look at him curiously. “What?”

He gives them a grin. “If we went back to bed.”

“Today would be better for me if you took that sweater off.”

“Hey!” Flynn steals a kiss from Burns’s pursed lips as he starts to chuckle. “You bought it for me.”

“Because you wanted that horrible sweater to look like a candy-cane so you could ask me to lick you which you have done several times already and I’ve said yes every time only for you to say no, that you’re just kidding, or that we should save it until we’re back in your bedroom because you don’t want to get any chocolate cake on...”

They point down to his lap and he laughs, kissing them again, wrapping his arms tight around their waist. “Let’s go to the bedroom, then, maybe?”

They don’t say anything else and abandon the plates on the coffee table as they go back to Flynn’s bedroom, sliding the curtains open to give themselves a little light to see while they settle underneath the blankets. They don’t end up doing anything more than that just yet, though – instead Flynn just snuggles against Burns’s chest and starts to drift off again. They can’t blame him, though. They’re looking forward to sleeping again, too, especially after slaving away in the kitchen all morning. Before either of them can, though, they tug on his bright pink hair to get his attention, and he looks up at them through half-lidded eyes.

“Mmm?”

“Did you have a good birthday?” they ask, brushing their fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies, smiling. “Thank you, sugarplum.”

They laugh and bat his shoulder. “You’re welcome,” they say.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Flynn asks.

“Yeah,” Burns responds. “I did.”

“Good,” he says, burying his face into their chest again. That’s the last from him they hear for a while – besides the snoring a couple minutes later, of course.

#my commissions #my writing #AHHH i love them !!!!!!!! they're so cute !!! we have to stan !!!!

12 notes · View notes

09yards · 5 years

Text

[5:43 am to the rest of our lives]

Part One of the Adventures Of Parenting (and failing miserably) series

Chapter 1/3: Error: Jaehyun’s brain cells not found

Summary:

Jaehyun and Doyoung are celebrating their wedding anniversary, only they aren’t as far as Doyoung is aware, Jaehyun does the school run and as usual, it doesn’t end well. They have the perfect life, they’re married and happy – despite four children. Jaehyun just has a couple issues here and there (mainly with the school run).

**[5:43 am] I get to love you, it’s the best thing I’ll ever do. Oh, I can’t believe it’s true sometimes. **

If you had told Jaehyun, twenty-two years ago, that he’d be married with four children, he would have laughed in your face (read: full-blown cackled and snorted, extremely un-attractively), especially if you’d told him he’d landed his dream job as a doctor (yes, his parents were very proud and his sister, very jealous) and was actually happy with his life. Let alone if you’d told him he’d be celebrating his eighteenth wedding anniversary with lifelong best friend, Doyoung, and rather than sleeping in and adoring his husband, he was reminiscing while trying to feed the three-year-old currently attached to his hip Nutella and toast before aforementioned husband found out (Nutella or anything ‘too sweet’ wasn’t allowed and Jaehyun would no longer have a head if Doyoung found out, again, especially on a weekday) with the remains of pink glitter and yellow paint on his arms. Doyoung and Jaehyun’s love story was a simple one, they grew up together (childhood best friends and all that) and after waking up next to each other, very, very naked, after deciding to drink copious amounts of alcohol at a welcome week party during their first year (or rather first three days) at university, they decided to see where things went and things never ended. Your classic ‘idiots to lovers’ trope.

Just over an hour and a half later, Jaehyun finds himself at the point of his second failure of the morning. He had two wins, the first, managing to get all four children to eat breakfast without causing a fuss and second, finding Soyeon’s tiny (yes, Jaehyun made a point, every time, about how small they were) football boots placed neatly on the shoe rack, for once. But currently the shouts of “Dad! Have you seen my lyrics and my dance shoes? Never mind, got my dance shoes. Daaad have you seen my lyrics?” and the “Dad where are my boots, they were here the other day?” were not so much a win but rather causing his lovely conscience – otherwise known as the mini Doyoung in his head when the real one wasn’t there (or currently still, somehow, sleeping through the commotion) to nag you – to continuously chant ‘you’re going to be late, you’re going to be late’ in his head. Not fun and not ideal. Jaehyun hadn’t managed to master this morning already but one thing he could count on was Soyeon, smiling away at her father while she happily brushed her teeth, already dressed and backpack all ready to go by the front door. One thing Jaehyun had managed to master on the other hand, is the art of creeping up and down the stairs as well as across their hallway and all of the bedrooms without making the floors creek, enabling him to be able to gently wake up (or in most cases, make sure they stay asleep) the members of their busy household.

“Morning Doyoungie, happy anniversary,” Jaehyun knew better than to wake him up on his day off but desperate time called for desperate measures and a cute but quiet voice (Jisung was still clinging to him, fast asleep) and cuteness was the only way he would get out of this alive, “Doyoungie hyung,” Jaehyun was greeted by a soft grunt in response this time from the mound of duvet (Jaehyun wasn’t entirely sure if Doyoung could breathe under all that, he had clearly taken advantage of Jaehyun vacating the bed), “baby, I know, I’m sorry for waking you; Soyeon’s an angel as usual and is ready to go and I’ve got Jisung but Hyuck’s complaining about not being able to find the lyrics he was using yesterday and Jaemin can’t find his boots for hockey tonight? I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you but I suck and never know these things.”

After a yawn and a grumble, the pile of duvet finally spoke, “Hyuck’s lyrics are on the piano, where he left them and Jaemin’s boots are by the backdoor because they stink, tell him to wash them or Renjun can’t come over on Friday, try and sound like you mean it – for once. As much as it pains me to say this, but don’t forget to put a shirt on. You’re making dinner tonight, you’re the better cook anyway. Now shoo, I’m going back to sleep. Don’t drop Jisung off at school late again, please, Jungwoo always says he sees you rushing across the courtyard whenever you do the school run.”

Jaehyun had learnt over the years, before they’d began dating, that arguing with the older, ninety-nine percent of the time, resulted in Jaehyun losing – quite often by a longshot. In fairness, he had always insisted on his mother teaching him all of her staple recipes as he refused to be a father and a husband that didn’t know how to cook or never did menial tasks like the laundry, cleaning and tidying or putting the bins out. He did his fair share – like how his own parents had taught him to do. His mother still nagged him every single time she phoned to make sure he did something nice for Doyoung, rather aggressively telling Jaehyun to ‘make sure you appreciate that husband of yours, not everyone would put up with your disastrous working hours and still agree to have a family with you’. She was right, of course. He had always prided himself on being a ‘good’ husband, spontaneous flowers here and there (never roses, Doyoung hated them, argued they were too cliché and weren’t as endearing as something like almonds – yes, Jaehyun had to google it too), he did the majority of the prep for cooking and Doyoung would do the actual cooking, Jaehyun gave kisses ‘just because’, never let activities be all about him (frankly, he loved making it all about Doyoung, pleasing the elder was one of his favourite pastimes), Jaehyun was a good father too. Doyoung always praised him, mainly his ability to get any of their children to fall asleep shockingly fast against his bare torso when they were young, a sight that Doyoung was more than happy to witness. Maybe, Jaehyun was late once or twice, he wasn’t fit for the school run like Doyoung. He never was able to comprehend how Doyoung, leaving at the same time in the morning (if not later) was always able to get the kids to school on time and then make it into work early. Jaehyun had already called Johnny and Sehun and said he’d be late – after the toast issue this morning, he was no longer up for being optimistic – okay, maybe he had a little hope left. Donghyuck would be late because he couldn’t decide what shoes went best with his outfit today (boy does Jaehyun miss when they had to wear a uniform) and Jaemin spent far too long styling his hair, as it had to be ‘perfect’. Jaehyun couldn’t exactly be mad over the latter as that was a trait most definitely inherited by Jaemin, from himself. They hadn’t been told who was the biological father of any of their children but to the both of them it was obvious, Donghyuck took after Doyoung – with his musical talent but also book smarts and strong wit (read: his desire to always be right and make sure you are fully aware that he is correct and therefore you are wrong) – and Jaemin took after Jaehyun – with his preference for sport over academics (not that he was stupid by any means, frankly he was more intelligent than Donghyuck and had confessed to his father a few weeks ago about his hopes to study medicine but hadn’t known how to do so) and his swoon-worthy smile.

Soyeon is the perfect mix of the both of them, Jaehyun’s dimples but Doyoung’s bunny smile, always organised like Doyoung but still a little firecracker and a ball of energy and fluff – like Jaehyun. But they weren’t sure where her personality came from (not entirely at least), yes Doyoung and Jaehyun were nice, well-mannered citizens but they weren’t gods-gift or anything, Soyeon is an utter angel; they don’t know how they got so lucky with her after the chaos of Donghyuck and Jaemin. Jaehyun didn’t think that maybe it was a girl thing, but it was definitely beginning to feel like a girl thing.

Jisung they hadn’t quite decided on yet, although they were pretty sure he was a genius – at least in their eyes. He started walking and talking much quicker than most, definitely earlier than their three older children, he preferred to complete puzzles (now recommended for ages 9-13), mainly with a little help from Soyeon as she liked to feel as though she was spending time with her younger brother even if they were all very much aware he was capable of doing it by himself, and build complicated structures with Legos without turning the space around him into a Lego minefield (thank the lord for that one, stepping on a Lego is a pain Jaehyun wished upon no-one and had happened to him about three-hundred times too many between their three other children, mainly in the wake of Jaemin’s play time until he discovered technology) rather than wreak havoc around the house with toy cars and dolls. Not that he wasn’t fascinated by watching the cars go around and round again on the Scalextric, Doyoung had told Jaehyun far too many times about how he’d spent three hours just sending the cars round in order to amuse the toddler. Jaehyun thought his personality at least was a nice blend of the two of them, whereas Doyoung placed his bets on Jisung inheriting the swoon-worthy smile, adorable cheeks and complete-utter inability to talk to someone they like (just like Jaehyun and Jaemin). The reality was, Doyoung was hoping all his children would inherit Jaehyun’s beautiful smile, biologically possible or not, it is the smile he grew up with, the one he fell in love with, the one he married, the one he wakes up next to every morning and the one he goes to sleep after seeing. Not that he’d ever tell Jaehyun, but his smile was quite possibly one of Doyoung’s favourite things in the world.

Jisung on the other hand is just cute, there is no other way to describe it. He stared at you with puppy eyes when he wanted something, the king of the pout and slightly furrowed brows combo when he was upset or confused and Jaehyun was a physically strong man, Doyoung could attest to that, as could his hours he tried to spend in the gym, but when it came to his children Jaehyun was, unsurprisingly, a huge softie. Doyoung saw it coming, Jaehyun was too stubborn and had convinced himself (and only himself) before Donghyuck was born that he would be a classic ‘fun dad’ and also a ‘firm but fair’ parent. Donghyuck at seventeen and Jaemin at sixteen, were still able to exploit their father through the use of puppy eyes and a little pout. Doyoung’s new nickname for him is ‘pushover’, much to Jaehyun’s dismay, Doyoung continues to argue that he fits it perfectly – and usually teases the younger about it to no end until Jaehyun demonstrates to Doyoung (and for Doyoung’s eyes only) just how much he isn’t a pushover in certain situations. Doyoung wasn’t the only one who Jaehyun couldn’t understand how the school run ran so smoothly for. Their best friend, Ten, had married an older man a few years after their own wedding and Ten had quickly settled into his role as a self-proclaimed trophy-husband, Kun was wealthy and was more than happy to please Ten through any means necessary, particularly Ten’s favourite - materialistic means; a new bag here, a new car there, jewellery that sparkled far too much to be remotely in anyone other than Kun’s price range for Ten’s birthday (read another birthday present even when his birthday had well and truly passed). This is not to say they weren’t in love by any means, if people thought Doyoung and him were disgustingly in love, they had never seen Kun and Ten. They never seem to be out of the honeymoon phase, despite having adopted their fifthchild. Jaehyun and Doyoung firmly drew the line at four, with the substantial age difference between Jisung and his brothers and a few years after his sister, being settled as Doyoung wanting a baby before he got too old (and coincidentally just after Kun and Ten had just adopted Chenle, a sweet new-born with a charming, chubby cheeked, gummy smile) and Jaehyun was once again, too much of a softie to even think about refusing. Not that he minded, he loved having Jisung, he would happily have had a whole hoard of children, had they spread it across the years they’d been together, unlike Kun and Ten who had four children born within two years of each other, adopting all of them before they’d turned three. Hendery was the eldest when they’d adopted him but Lucas was in fact their eldest. How they handled them, especially five boys, Jaehyun couldn’t begin to fathom it, let alone how Ten managed to get all of them to school on time – a task he was greatly failing at, even if it hadn’t gone completely down the drain just yet, he knew it would be soon. So there Jaehyun stood, the clock in their kitchen reading a quarter to eight, a freshly washed, dressed and sun screened Jisung with his miniature rucksack (triple checked for lunch, a water bottle taken from the freezer earlier this morning to ensure it was extra cold and hat to protect him from the sun, read: if Jisung got in the slightest bit pink, Jaehyun would be a dead man) tugging on his hand, Soyeon waiting patiently, backpack in hand and shoe laces now tied in double knots herself (something she was very proud of and excited to show Jaehyun that she had done it), Jaemin finally having finished his hair and was just grabbing his boots – grimacing when he shoved them into his rucksack at the, frankly, disgusting smell - and Hyuck running down the stairs, tugging on his shoes as he went. If they left now, Jaehyun might actually be able to pride himself, for once, on being on time. Wishful thinking never got Jaehyun far. Apparently, he was yet to actually learn that. It was going so, so well until Jaemin and Donghyuck stared bickering in the car over who’s shoes Hyuck was wearing – Jaehyun managed to usher them out, if he sped slightly, he would still make it! Soyeon was easy, patiently waiting for Jaehyun to open the door to the car and then with a quick kiss to his cheek, a giggle and a ‘good luck!’ she hopped out the car, skipping to join her friends. But trying to get Jisung out of the car caused a lost trainer, resulting in Jaehyun climbing under the car and them being very, very late. Arguably it was not his fault and he definitely felt like an idiot running across the playground with Jisung’s backpack gripped between his teeth. Bordel de merde. And so, the dreaded text came through just as he was getting back into the car.

From Doie [9:14 am]

Care to explain why I just got a snapchat from Taeyong of you running across the playground with Jisung, his rucksack in your mouth and trying to put his shoe on?????

I hope you’re aware that Jisung starts pre-school, promptly at 8:45 and not 9:00

God it’s so embarrassing, at least it’s gone 9 so all the mums have cleared out, I do not need this bringing up at the PTA meeting next month Jaehyun

To Doie [9:15 am]

Funny story!

Have to get to work, have a good day :)

Happy anniversary baby!

Fuck you.

I love you too baby (:

Middle finger emoji

Well fuck, happy anniversary! You’re screwed Jaehyun, so, so screwed.

To Ten [9:26 am]

If I were to say I screwed up this morning, how do I make it better

I’m desperate

Take pity on me hyung

From Ten [9:28]

You’re such an idiot Jae istg

We can take the kids for the night??

We’ve only got the twins and Chenle

Lucas and Hendery are at Johnny’s tonight assuming Hyuck is too?

Are you serious?

And yes, please if you are!

And no, Hyuck is here tonight – somethings going on with him atm

Don’t know what though so don’t press!!

Of course! Doing it for Doie and not for you though!

You will owe me one of course

Renjun and Yangyang are best friends with Hyuck anyway, they’ll be over the moon

Jungwoo says Chenle and Jisung have been getting on well too

(the preschool ta you’ve probably never met, we like him – have possible gossip on him too)

And its Soyeon so, I will avoid that little angel at all costs so I don��t taint her with my evilness

And Kun is already picking out what flavour cookies the two of them are going to make

Okay, harsh. We had shoe issues

We can’t all be you with your ridiculous time management skills

And just because I’ve never met him doesn’t mean it’s because I’m always late

I have a very important job!!

Drop them off this evening, don’t take Doyoung out – he’s too tired

Make that hot pot he likes

Then get busy! Kids free zone for one night only, take advantage

And if I don’t see any suspicious marks on either of you tomorrow morning

I will be disappointed :((

I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that

Nor do I want to

Kun is great, I like Kun, I don’t like you

Thank you and thanks to Kun too :)

I’ll drop them off at 5, gotta blast Johnny is about to kill me

Okay more like 5:30

There are musical rehearsals, hockey practice, football practice and swimming lessons today, kill me now

“Jaehyun, when you said you’d be late I thought that meant fifteen-twenty minutes not an hour!”

“It’s not exactly my fault,” Johnny raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “I took the kids in this morning, Hyuck and Jaemin argued so we were pushed for time and then Jisung lost his shoe getting out the car and then he got all grumpy and then- “

“Shut up. I get it dude; I was just trying to seem like a responsible authority figure. It’s bad enough with just Mark. I think somethings wrong; he’s been extra mopey you know? Before he was always giggling away on his phone at all hours, kept doing the facetime with someone at like midnight! I chickened out of telling him off for it, he seemed happy, you know?”

“Huh, we had the same issue with Hyuck like, last week? I’ll see if Doyoung knows if they’ve got into an argument or something, he usually knows – I on the other hand, never have a clue. Jisung is the only one who talks to me.”

“Jisung is literally three years old, what can he talk to you about?”

“Hey! We had a lengthy discussion on whether or not fruit winders have a different recipe, they don’t taste the same anymore, last week we discussed the new recipe for crème eggs – he’s not convinced on that one, I think he’s too young to remember what they were like before, but I know they’ve changed.”

“Rhetorical question Jaehyun, go do some work and bother Sehun instead, he covered your patients this morning, moved the ones with angry parents who will only work with those dimples. Love ya, thank you. Oh, happy anniversary! Janice will make sure you’re out by five at the latest for whatever plans you’ve got tonight. Oh god, please tell me you have plans – you know what never mind, go do work! And, get the dinosaur off your neck.”

“What- oh.” As per usual, Jaehyun had fallen victim to another of Jisung’s stickers, the toddler was currently obsessed with the packets of rainbow and dinosaur stickers Doyoung’s mother had brought with her a few weeks back, Jaehyun was beginning to think the packet was never-ending.

To say Doyoung wasn’t a fan of his husbands working hours was the understatement of the year. Jaehyun usually left at six-thirty in the morning, kissing Doyoung good bye just as Doyoung was getting up, and would return around eleven, or just as he was drifting off to sleep. Aside from Saturdays (from twelve pm) and Sundays, Doyoung felt like he never saw his partner. Let alone the two of them having time for parent-only activities with four kids constantly keeping their house alive and Doyoung on his toes. Sometimes it began to feel like the two lived alongside one another, no longer together like they used to. Doyoung longed for the days when things weren’t separated between the two of them, in more ways than one. He hadn’t known how to bring the conversation up with the younger but he knew they needed to have a conversation about the time they spent together, they barely made time for one another anymore, let alone the fact Doyoung couldn’t tell you the last time they’d actually managed to have sex (they had tried on multiple occasions, although not for a month or so now, but kept being interrupted by various incidents). Doyoung just wanted to wake up next to his husband, the sun having risen and the both of them colourful with markings of the night before. Maybe it had become some type of sick fantasy but he needed his husband more than ever. Doyoung treasured his days off, he was a vocal coach and with the majority of the trainees being younger than eighteen, he often found himself dealing with their drama – with a seventeen-year old and a sixteen year old at home and having already lived through his fair share of teenage drama, he was more than grateful for the time he spent away from it. He knew he needed to have a conversation with Donghyuck about Mark, the two hadn’t been speaking and Doyoung was well aware of it by now, and not in the slightest bit amused – he liked Mark, he was good for Hyuck and for Hyuck’s grades (yes, Doyoung was a fan of the free maths tutoring Mark gave Donghyuck, Hyuck excelled in most subjects but maths was one that just couldn’t keep up). Doyoung was also waiting for Jaemin to decide to talk to him about his feelings, Jaehyun would call him crazy if he mentioned anything to his husband but Doyoung saw the way Jaemin looked at Renjun, a fact him and Kun very much agreed on (without the knowledge of their husbands) and Doyoung knew the face of a pining-for-your-best-friend Jung very well, having been subjected to it for several years himself. God, Doyoung was not ready for his children to grow up but he knew he had to at some point, he’d had a girlfriend at this age, him and Jaehyun were only eighteen when they got together. Doyoung doesn’t entirely remember the night they first kissed, the night they first slept together, but that was part of the beauty of it – they skipped all the awkwardness and instead woke up the morning after to Jaehyun giggling away to himself, gazing at Doyoung’s still half-lidded eyes, noses a fraction apart, Jaehyun’s breath warm against the cool air of the room, his arm resting over his waist, gently wrapping around his body and his delicate touch caressing the small of his back. As far as Doyoung was aware, they had no plans for their anniversary, honestly Doyoung had thought the younger had forgotten at first – it wouldn’t surprise him anymore. Sure, maybe Doyoung himself could’ve organised something himself but with Jaehyun’s seemingly endless work hours, Doyoung couldn’t cope with the hassle of trying to arrange something around Jaehyun’s late nights and two young children who couldn’t be left home on their own (or in the company of their elder children as Doyoung didn’t entirely trust their babysitting capabilities. The most they’d celebrated their anniversary in the last few years would be Doyoung making something ‘special’ for dinner and Jaehyun bringing him flowers on his way home from work, last year Doyoung was lucky enough to get a blow job out of it too – he wasn’t expecting the same kind of treatment this year, he was expecting much less. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his husband, god he felt like it was beginning to sound like he only had complaints about him, he loves Jaehyun, more than he ever thought possible, but the younger didn’t always play into Doyoung’s complete fantasy and that was something Doyoung felt like he was missing in his life. He knew Jaehyun was perfectly content with where they were at, hence his hesitation to share his thoughts with his partner, maybe it wasn’t necessarily the right way of dealing with things but Doyoung was learning. Jaehyun wasn’t a romantic by any means and never had been for the entire time they’d known each other, sure he was a flirt and a damn good one at that, what with the adorable dimpled smile, drool-worthy abs he still somehow possessed despite being over the age of thirty-five and the smirk, the smirk that was the sole cause for Doyoung to have dropped to his knees on multiple occasions, and Doyoung loved that. But he wanted dinner dates and movie nights where they weren’t accompanied by a three-year old cuddled against Jaehyun’s chest or a seven-year old resting her head against one of Jaehyun’s thighs. For the lack of romanticism, Jaehyun certainly made up for it with how he was with their children. Jaehyun was a loving father, he was a complete softie when it came to their kids and it made Doyoung’s heart skip a beat every time he’d see the younger playing around with any of the kids. Be it lifting and swinging Soyeon around, her heart-warming giggles filling your ears, or eagerly listening to Jisung who was babbling away about his new friends he’d made at school, or playing the piano for and singing with Donghyuck or explaining new medical technology and research to Jaemin – who was actually interested and didn’t yawn unlike Hyuck. Doyoung was completely and whole-heartedly in love with his family, he is in love with his family.

Nevertheless, you can imagine his surprise, and complete confusion, when Jaehyun arrived home with their children at a quarter to five, shouting a quick hello to Doyoung who was currently lazing around on the sofa, watching some random k-drama he found (and was frankly now very invested in), before running up the stairs with Jisung latched to his side, the other children following close behind. His confusion only excelled when they all came back downstairs twenty minutes later, overnight bags in hand.

“Bye-bye appa, have a nice night with daddy. I promise to be good for uncle Ten and uncle Kun! Kun said we-we are going to make cookies!” A grinning Soyeon kissed his cheek, muttering another (adorable) bye-bye.

“I won’t see you until tomorrow evening, I have hockey practice so I’m going straight there with Yangyang,” Jaemin was next in whatever sort of queue of good night’s they had going on, “night appa.”

“I’ll see you in the morning with Jisung and Soyeon, rehearsals are cancelled tomorrow, night appa, have a good night.”

“Jisungie, say night-night to appa for daddy!”

“Nighty-night appa! I can’t wait to see Lele!”

“Jaehyun, care to tell me why our children are saying good night to me at,” Doyoung glanced at his phone resting on the table, “ten past five and look like they’re leaving the house and sound like it too?”

“Oh, right! I forgot to tell you, Kun and Ten have the kids tonight so we have some time to spend our anniversary together, alone.”

“Jesus dad that’s gross, there are children here, how dare you say that in front of Jaemin.”

“Shut up Hyuck, I’m not a baby.”

“Okay! Hyuck, Jaemin, get in the car,” turning his attention back to Doyoung, “I’ll be back soon, I’m making dinner so you stay there and carry on looking pretty.”

“Seriously dad! Gross!”

“Let’s go Hyuck!”

“Ah, good your back. Care to tell me why you’ve whisked my children away without telling me now?” Okay, maybe the bite to Doyoung’s voice was a little unnecessary but he was annoyed, those are his babies (no matter what Hyuck and Jaemin say) and he didn’t appreciate only being told they weren’t staying with them as they were leaving the house.

“I was speaking to Ten this morning and he suggested having the kids tonight, they were down to three so no there isn’t nine children currently wreaking havoc over there, so we could have time together and alone.” There it was, the signature Jung Jaehyun smirk, the one Doyoung was all too familiar with when he wanted a particular something, not that Doyoung hadn’t picked up on what he was alluding to in the first place.

“Oh, kinda sounds too good to be true at this point, god, when was the last time we had the house to ourselves for just an hour?”

“Too long Doie, far, far too long,” Jaehyun was muttering under his breath at this point, now having approached his husband and gave him what intended to be a soft kiss, but hey! Doyoung was needy and he didn’t mean to deepen it so much, nor did he mean to let out a little mewl when Jaehyun ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, more of that later, we have all night, food first baby.”

And so, a meal, plenty of wine, a calm evening and a couple of hours later, Jaehyun now finds himself on top of his husband, laying on their shared bed, lips currently attached to the elders neck (forming some lovely, dark, marks that Doyoung will definitely yell at him for in the morning although he’d decorated the youngers neck, shoulders and chest with the pretty marks) while he moans breathlessly for more. They’re happy, finally a night alone together where they can just be one with each other. Lips on lips, breath mixing, no hushed moans, “add another Jaehyun”, “right there Jaehyun”, “God you feel so good Jaehyun”, it was pure bliss. Jaehyun was all about pleasing his husband tonight, making him feel good, making him feel loved, showing his appreciation. Jaehyun was particularly skilled in the sex department, Doyoung would never attempt to deny that. As cliché as it was, his husband was damn good with his tongue and mouth in general and he knew exactly what to do with his (arguably) great dick. Therefore, you can imagine Jaehyun’s surprise, utter confusion and complete devastation upon the realisation that in the time between Jaehyun having made Doyoung orgasm for the first time that night (and with zero intention of that being the only time) and returning with a condom in hand (less messy), his dearesthusband had fallen asleep. Yes, was giving it big Z’s and all, blissfully unaware of the massive blue balls he’d just left the younger with and the massive pout currently on his face. How, how had the older fallen asleep? The hit to his ego was not good. So, continuing to pout, he cleans them up, tucking his husband under the covers (he was not dealing with the ‘I’m cold and you just left me’ whining in the morning), dealing with himself in a delightful cold shower and begrudgingly going to bed himself. What he definitely hadn’t accounted for would be Doyoung not having and recollection of this come the morning, curling up to the younger, kissing his neck, thanking him for last night, by word saying he was glad they’d finally had sex after so long – he explicitly said sex! Jaehyun couldn’t quite believe it and call him petty (he most definitely is, even if he tries to deny it) but he wasn’t okay with it and far, far, too embarrassed to tell Doyoung that he hadn’t gotten anything out of it. Quickly planting a light kiss to the elder’s forehead before getting out of bed and grumbling about having to go and pick up the kids. “Oh yay! I’m so happy you finally got some, now both of you can stop complaining to me about the lack of sex you’ve had in the past few months.” Clearly Ten was blindsided by the hickeys peaking out from the collar of Jaehyun’s t-shirt and was yet to notice the foul look on his face.

“I wish, you’ll get that from Doyoung at least because he seems to think we slept together last night.”

“What do you mean? How can he think you slept together?”

“It was great, plenty of making out, made him orgasm, went to go get a condom, I come back and he’s fast asleep,” god, Jaehyun was embarrassed, “Ten stop laughing, fucking hell.”

“I-I’m sorry but you’d built this up so much and you’d both been complaining so much and he fell asleep? At least he got an orgasm out of it, can’t say the same for you though, clearly you’re still tense.”

“I hate him. At least I wasn’t inside him but Jesus Christ I’m mortified. He doesn’t know, he thanked me this morning, said how happy he was our draught was finally over. Fuck Ten, what do I do?”

“Honestly, I’m not much help because once we had Lucas and Hendery we laid down ground rules on what we’d do if that ever happened to us and it’s never happened, yet anyway.”

“I can’t tell him what happened, like ‘hey, how are you baby, yes you did leave me with bloody massive blue balls last night – don’t worry though, I really enjoyed my cold shower’.”

“For god’s sake dad, there are children here.”

“Jesus Hyuck, I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I am awake, clearly, and scarred for life. Tell appa he’s disgusting for leaving those marks all over you.”

“He can’t do that Hyuck, ‘fraid your appa and dad aren’t speaking.”

“What?! Why?”

“Adult things Hyuck, Ten please stop.”

“For god’s sake dad, that’s disgusting.”

Oh, how did Jaehyun end up here.

#dojae #markhyuck #tenkun #kunten #jaedo #ten nct #NCT #nct 127 #wayv #nct ot21 #nct otp #nct family #nct fluff #nct parentverse #nct fanfic #nct fic

65 notes · View notes

simplyshelbs16xoxo · 5 years

Text

‘Repeating History’ Chapter 2: In Another Life

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

1894

Arriving at Scotland Yard, Sherlock Holmes was met with Detective Inspector Lestrade. The autopsy reports told him what he already knew, though he knew much more than what this so-called pathologist knew. He had a tendency to miss some things, he begrudgingly admitted, but it was usually a minor a detail. “Lestrade, I’d like to request a change of pathologist.”

“Sherlock, we can’t just fire the bloke,” Lestrade pointed out. “So, his reports are a bit lackluster, t—“ The consulting detective was already walking away.

Before he exited through the doors, Sherlock put in his request. “For all future cases in which I am involved, autopsies will be done by Miss Molly Hooper at St. Bartholomew’s, no exceptions.”

“But—“

“No. Exceptions.” Sherlock refused to budge on this request. “Oh, and by the way, your usual pathologist missed a key feature that I noticed in the photographs. Heed my request, and I will tell you what that feature is.” Making his ever-so-dramatic exit, Sherlock left behind a dumbfounded Lestrade who had no choice but to have Miss Hooper on call.

He roamed the streets of London—a favourite pastime of his—and took in the brisk air that he welcomed wholeheartedly. One could argue that he shouldn’t be out whilst a murderer runs rampant, but Sherlock had a feeling he’d be the last person in danger. As he turned a corner, Sherlock ran right into the person he had anticipated seeing again. “Miss Hooper! I am sorry, I did not see you.”

With a laugh, she replied, “We keep meeting each other like this! I’m afraid that chaos surrounds the two of us, no matter where we go.”

“What are you doing out so late? It isn’t safe for you with a murderer running around.” Sherlock didn’t wait for her to respond before he continued talking. “I would have peace of mind if you’d allow me to walk you home.”

Molly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and smiled kindly. “I only live the next street over; it’s just me and my father, but he’s very ill, you see, and…I’ve no idea why I’m telling you all of this.” Her cheeks were flushed in the loveliest way. She felt like a fool until she saw the soft smile on his lips, and the patience in his eyes. His reputation certainly didn’t coincide with the man she saw in front of her. When she had mentioned his name to the other nurses, particularly her friend, Meena, they all had the worst stories about the man. They called him insufferable, strange, and bad-mannered, among other things. “I would feel better if you were to walk with me, though.”

“A wise choice, Miss Hooper; there is safety in numbers.” God, he couldn’t seem to stop admiring her attributes that shown plainly on her face; soulful brown eyes, an inviting upturned nose that he may or may not have imagined nuzzling his own nose against. He could hear his brother’s voice in his head telling him that sentiment was nothing but a chemical defect, and though he usually lived by that phrase, Sherlock couldn’t remember why whilst he was in Miss Hooper’s presence. Oh, he thought, what have I gotten myself into?

Sitting in his armchair, the crackling fire giving off the most pleasing orange glow, Sherlock pulled his pipe from his mouth, thinking over the case. He had to figure out when and where the murderer may strike next. Granted, when the first nurse was found dead, nobody thought this would turn out to be a string of murders from when Jack the Ripper haunted their streets, but Sherlock had known better. The feature of interest was a prominent, but small carving behind the victim’s ear. Three small H’s were cut into the flesh post-mortem. This was a calling card if ever he saw one.

His eyes shifted to the door that was now opening. Mrs. Hudson peered inside, smiling when she saw him. “The detective inspector is here to see you.” He motioned for her to send him in, and stood to greet him.

“Lestrade!” he exclaimed. “Have you done as I asked?”

“Yes, and she did find something that wasn’t in the report, but—“

“And what did she find?” Sherlock asked.

“Three H’s carved below the ear, but Sherlock—“

“I knew she was observant enough to find the key feature,” he smiled, his head now filled with thoughts of Molly Hooper.

Lestrade was becoming impatient, and was tired of being interrupted. “Sherlock!” he snapped. “There’s been another murder; another nurse has been attacked.”

Arriving at the crime scene, Sherlock realised that they were only a couple of streets over from where Molly resided. The victim’s jet black hair was matted to her face from sweat and blood. She, too, had been cut open, her lungs missing. “Do we know which hospital she works at?”

“St. Bartholomew’s,” replied Lestrade. “Her name’s Meena Bennett. I had met with her a couple of times. I think she’s friends with the pathologist you requested.” This answer is what Sherlock had been afraid of. He definitely did not want Molly to have to autopsy her friend’s body. Crouching on the ground, he checked behind her ear for the calling card. Lo-and-behold, it was there just as it was on the previous two nurses. “You don’t still want Miss Hooper to do this autopsy, do you?”

“No,” Sherlock replied. “I will have a word with Stamford to see if he has another pathologist qualified enough for the job.”

When he arrived at the morgue in St. Bartholomew’s two hours later, however, Sherlock found a grief-stricken Molly in the room, preparing for an autopsy. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her skin blotchy from crying. “What are you doing here? Did they not get somebody else to do the autopsy?” He felt angry that she had been put in this position.

“They were going to,” she told him, her voice thick with emotion. “But I insisted.” Molly took no time in pushing aside her emotions, adopting a calculated tone of voice as she began the autopsy. She was a most resilient woman, determined to do right by her best friend. Unlike the pathologist Lestrade once worked with, she didn’t seem to mind having him there at all.

2016

Dinner would have been going marvelously had his mother not continued to shoot rapid fire questions at him and Molly. She asked them things that Molly surely had answered long before they were together, but it seemed his mum wanted the answers straight from him tonight. It was, he supposed, the least he could do after everything.

“Molly,” Mr. Holmes spoke quietly to her as his wife chatted on about a variety of things to their sons. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

Scooting her chair closer toward Sherlock’s father, she leaned in, and said softly, “It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest. Is it obvious?”

“Very,” he replied, patting her hand with his own. “A bit of advice in dealing with my wife—as much as I love her—don’t be afraid to deflect any questions you don’t feel comfortable answering. Changing the subject sometimes works as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Molly smiled at him. It was beginning to feel a little too warm in the restaurant for her liking, and she began to tune out the conversation, mixing her salad languidly with her fork. Thoughts continued to swirl around, muddling her mind. Seriously, why was it so damn hot in here? Molly’s throat suddenly ran dry, and she had no choice but to gulp down her water.

“Molly, dear, is everything alright?” Mrs. Holmes looked at her in concern as if she were her own daughter. Mr. Holmes gave her a sympathetic look as if he knew how she must be feeling. At first glance, Mycroft looked indifferent, but he cared for Molly like a sister, his concern only showing in his eyes.

“Molly.” Sherlock’s voice cut through the commotion as he held her hand in his. “What do you need?”

“Air,” she managed to croak out, sliding her hand out of his, and heading towards the exit. Sherlock replayed their earlier conversation in the morgue, already knowing what was inevitably going to happen next.

“I may need to take Molly home,” he told his family. “Thank you for dinner, Mycroft.” He then looked over at his parents. “Sorry that Molly and I have to cut this short, but—“

“Don’t worry about it, Sherlock, we understand,” his mother assured him. “The poor girl was having a panic attack; give her my apology if my being over-excited caused it.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t you, mummy, but I’ll pass it on, regardless.” Sherlock gave a small reassuring smile, and grabbed the purse that Molly left behind.

With her head in her hands, Molly sat on the steps outside trying to calm down. She felt awful for having to run out on everyone like that, but her fears and anxiety rose much too quickly. Without looking over, she knew Sherlock had just sat down beside her, as the smell of cloves and wood smoke wafted in the air. With a brave face, she looked up at his worried face, but was unable to hold back the sob that cut through her throat. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

He wrapped her in his arms, hugging her close to him. “It’s okay, Molly. I understand.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry for jumping the gun, and rushing us through the motions of—well, whatever this is.”

Molly kept her voice level, telling him what she needed to say earlier. She had wanted to make him happy tonight; to see that bright smile of his that made him look ten years younger. It had all been worth it even if tonight didn’t end well. “We’ll still work on the case together, but outside of that, I just need some space.”

“I know.” It was a simple reply, but it let her know that he had already seen this coming. “May I at least share a cab with you to make sure you get home safely? After all, there is a serial killer on the loose.”

“I’d rather walk, if you don’t mind,” she told him, watching as he stood. “And yes, you may walk me home.”

Sherlock helped her up off the ground. “You have an uncanny ability to read minds, Miss Hooper.” There was no humor in his tone. Normally, he would’ve laughed or smiled, but Sherlock couldn’t muster anything of the kind.

Their walk was quiet, filled with tension so thick, it could be cut by a knife. Molly didn’t want to have to do this, but if she and Sherlock were to ever make a real go at a relationship, she needed to put herself first for once. She mentally thanked Sherlock for catching on so quickly. It was quite amazing, and a bit disconcerting, at how much he had changed in such a short span of time. Though, the thing is, he never really changed—no, that wasn’t the right word. Sherlock had an emotional breakthrough thanks to his sister, although her methods were the very definition of madness.

Sherlock was the first to cut the silence when they finally reached her door. “Please, take care of yourself, Molly. I am so very sorry for springing all of this on you. Take as much time as you need, but just know that whether you decide you don’t want this or not, I do love you. Very much.”

She gave a soft chuckle. “I’m not out of your life completely, Sherlock, but thank you. It really isn’t anyone’s fault.” Molly wanted to tell him she loved him too, but, for some reason, she couldn’t get herself to utter the words. “Are you going to be alright?”

The tension in his face faded away immediately, and he broke out a wide grin. “Me? I’ll be fine.” With such an expression, Molly would have almost believed it, but his eyes betrayed him, a sadness hidden in the depths of his ocean irises. Regardless, she had to believe it for their sake. “Don’t worry about me, Molly, really, there’s no need.”

“That’s what you said last time before—“

“Before I went on a drug binge, I know, but I promise you I’m through with it,” Sherlock assured her. “It’s not worth losing my life over, nor is it worth hurting those who care for me.” There was a moment of silence.

“Well, I should probably go inside before I catch my death out here,” Molly remarked. “Goodnight, Sherlock.” She turned to go inside, and he watched until he knew she was safely in her flat. He then turned away, allowing the darkness to swallow him up as he walked away, unknowing that a pair of soft brown eyes watched him go.

Cold, inhuman eyes watched the detective leave the pathologist’s flat, noticing how her eyes followed him from the window until he had disappeared. How interesting it was to him that Sherlock Holmes was on the side of the angels, just as James Moriarty once said. He must be punished for going against his true nature. It was time to act, but not yet on Miss Hooper. No, he would save her for last. There was no fun in the game if he didn’t get the fear and anxiety rising in Sherlock Holmes; fear of how his beloved will soon die.

#sherlolly #sherlolly halloween 2019 #sherlolly halloween at 221b #repeating history #my fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 5 years

Text

ABOUT ME TAG!

I was tagged by @flatsuke!!!

the rules are:

1. Tag the person who tagged you

2. Answer the questions.

3. Tag 10 people

•How tall are you?

I’m about 5′5...a hobbit!

•What color and style is your hair?

Wavy brown hair with a fringe/bangs for all you Muricans. It’s basically the exact same style and colour as every otome heroine ever lmao.

•What color are your eyes?

Brown and I’m salty about it, since everyone else in my family has such beautiful eyes-my grandma had hazel eyes, my other grandma has blue eyes, my mum has green eyes and in the end I inherited my dad’s dfgdgfd.

•Do you wear glasses?

Yes, and I might as well be blind without them. I can’t see my laptop/phone screen or my face in the bathroom mirror without them. Sometimes I open my apps when I’m just waking up and to see the screen I have to basically hold my phone an inch or so from my nose.

•Do you wear braces?

I did! I had a top and bottom set when I was a teenager. They hurt so BAD.

•What’s your fashion sense?

Mostly loose, comfy clothes and heavy boots.

•Full name?

Well my first name is Louise. My surname is technically wrong because my paternal grandpa was adopted and so we took on the name of his adopted father. His real, birth one is weird and unfamiliar and my paternal grandpa was a major asshole so we never use it, but it’s Cardwell or Cardingwell or something like that.

•When were you born?

April 18th 1989! I’m told it was snowing around that time.

•Where are you from and where do you live now?

I’m from England and begrudgingly still live there

•What school do you go to?

I don’t anymore, but I used to attend DeMontfort university in Leicester, which is pretty infamous now for being a five minute walk from where they found the body of King Richard III

•What kind of student are you?

Honestly I was fucking weird and a massive procrastinator, so nothing much has changed :P

•Do you like school?

I didn’t at the time but I miss it so much now. I wish I could go back and do my first degree again.

•Favorite subject?

It was Creative writing- so much so that I took it as my major

•Favorite TV show?

I don’t really have a favourite, but I just finished Umbrella Academy and really enjoyed it.

•Favorite Movie?

Pan’s Labyrinth!

I also have a soft spot for the Brendan Fraser version of The Mummy (though only 1&2), the LOTR/Hobbit movies and the very first Avengers movie. It’s kind of a running gag that when me and my best friend aren’t sure what movie to watch we always pick Avengers.

•Favorite books?

Company of Liars or any of Philippa Gregory’s tudor court series, probably.

•Favorite pastime?

Writing, playing vidya games and watching TV.

•Do you have any regrets?

Oh boy yes.

•Dream job?

I’d love to be a food/hotel critic or a travel blogger. Imagine being paid to stay in five star hotels and advertise scuba gear. That sounds awesome, I’ll take twenty.

•Would you ever like to be married?

Not really. I mean, my parents aren’t married and they’re like the only couple in my family who’ve stayed together so they must have done something right.

•Would you like to have kids?

Honestly, I’d rather just get a dog or something

•How many?

None

•Do you like shopping?

Online, yes. In person, no. Well. I guess it depends on the place, since me and my best friend went into every shop in Disneyland and I loved it

•What countries have you visited?

Including layovers:

Australia, Belgium, Brussels, Canada, Dubai, France, Germany, Ireland, Malaysia, New Zealand, Poland, Singapore, Thailand, USA, Wales

•Scariest nightmare you have ever had?

I don’t really have nightmares very often, but I have had a recurring dream for the past ten years about being out somewhere and unable to get home.

•Any enemies?

Hmmm, not really lol. I mean there’s people I really don’t like, but I feel like calling them an enemy is a waste of energy on my part.

•Any significant other?

Nah lol, unless you count otome boys, but for the most part I prefer it that way.

•Do you believe in miracles?

Yes, I do

•How are you?

I’m exhausteD My best friend and I did so much walking and climbing towers and things in Paris and then I got my period the day we went to Disneyland and caught a pretty bad cold like. Two days later. LMAO. So I’m still catching up on rest from all of that.

Tagging....anyone who wants to do it :D

#elly talks #shut up elly

6 notes · View notes

over-the-pink-moon · 6 years

Text

how to deal with kitties and its owners

remember lyra is owned by one and only @matteobalsaon and a bit @sunflowervalente (and they are my friends, they let me) also apparently todays is International cat day so happy birthsday lyraaa

///

There she was again.

Should this view surprise her even? Probably not. It’s the third time this week, she enters her dorm room to find out little somebody was making quiet a use out of her room during her absence. She lets her heavy bag slip off her shoulder. It makes a loud thump, when it hits the floor and the noise attracts little intruiser’s attention for a few seconds. Kitty lifts her head half opening sleepy eyes displeased by rumour, but as soon she spots Luna comes back to shamelessly napping on the pile of clothes thrown next to the sofa. Yes, it might be about third time this week though eleven or fifteen all together, when she catches some gray (really fancy looking, probably purebred one, but she is a loser when it comes to breeds and distinguishing them) kitty coming to her room, probably through a usually opened window.

The first time it happened she was properly shocked. She can recall, how she just wanted to quickly come round, left few books from some previous class, catch some highly sugar containing snack and run back to spend next hours during some killer draining lecture that she loathed deeply. In a hurry she unlocked the door and was clumsily unpacking her books at the same time rummaging through shelf, when these weird noise like someone was trying to tear her sofa caught her attention and made her froze in the middle. She took out one of her headphones to assure it wasn’t some weird drop coming from the song, she was listening to. The noise nonetheless repeated. Slowly she came closer to half laid out sofa/bed. Maybe lack of sleep was messing with her mind or she actually might still be during this nap she made during Statistics class (her friend Jimena told her once that she dreamt about being in some kids tv show and how she was made to make out with a boy with the ugliest hair possible; she claimed that felt beyond real. As a side note she cherished her friends imagination and weird dreams cause they made boring classes at least a bit entertaining. One time to that extent she spat out water at super smart blonde girl sitting in front of her; that can help assess how hilarious some her redhead friend dreams were). However, there it was as real as it can only be grey kitten was just carefully laying out his front paws at the back rest of her sofa. Its gaze landed on her and she felt sort of judged like she was disrupting some serious ritual and was the one to break in her apartment. Still looking dead in her eyes kitty pull out its claws and Luna could only watch in horror, how this tiny burglar moved his claws along the side of her brand new sofa pulling out some threads and leaving tiny holes. For a few seconds it somehow admired his piece of art, then gracefully jumped on the sofa, from which it quickly hopped on window sill and rushed through window she cracked earlier.

Luna blinked a few more times still having hard time believing, what just happened, however her teared sofa provided real evidence of this occurrence.

The sound of whatsapp notification pulled her back to the reality. She grabbed her phone from back pocket and having noticed worried messages, why she still wasn’t on her lecture and warning her that professor is going to check time sheet in a few. That was enough to force her to push this extraordinary incident out of her head for a bit and concentrate on calculating how high her chances were to run through the whole campus and then climb at 4th floor and not miss her name being called out. 4 minutes, answer for me she typed.

///

Next time, cat appeared as a chilling ball of fur on the centre of her sofa. Another time she caught it wandering around her kitchen counter sniffing toast bread she left. Then it was her bathroom, she almost shrieked when cat hissed at her, jwhen she attempted to turn on tap cause apparently her sink its a quiet a bed of itself too. During constant appearances of this furry guest she managed to gather: its in fact she and she comes through an open window from some flats on left from her. Obviously, her friends tried to convince her to finally pay a visit and check whom this cat belongs to, however, it became sort of a nice habit: coming to her dorm room after exhausting day at uni and searching where this time her little friend decided to nap or which furniture to devastate. Usually she quickly stripped off and got into some comfy sweats and would join her to rest before heating herself a dinner, rambling and complaining about her day. After few of their encounters princessa (yes, she had no idea, what her real name was, and that wasn’t the most sophisticated man can come up with, but kitty liked it; she hoped at least) let her scratch under chin and head, then her sides. In the end just spotting luna made her toss aside around her bed excited for cuddles.

///

Luna was laying on her sofa, it was quite decent Thursday afternoon. She was already after all her classes. In addition she did pretty good on Sustainable Development and finally felt that she made a good decision choosing studying this field; definitely it was time to pamper yourself. She took out some chocolates her mom send her, that she managed to keep for special a occasion. With box of sweets in one hand and fuzzy blanket that was laying in the mess she headed on her sofa. Kitty purred slightly seeing she finally is going to get some company. Last thing was playing on her tablet Friends- one of her guilty pleasures and settling as comfy as possible, though some little pieces she felt still sting her back. The leftovers of her previous days creative session, where scattered all over it. Even though she was sure music carrier was not her path, writing songs just for her enjoyment was her favourite pastime. However inspiration came at really unpredictable times, that’s why yesterday she ended up at some late 2 a.m with whole pile of paper and pencils trying to express something that was tingling in the tips of her fingers, toes and tickled her soul. Everything that came out that tonight, however, was still pretty shitty she stated taking a look of some papers. One of it ended up trashed into a paper ball and she threw it dramatically in front of her. With the corner of her eyes Luna noticed, how princess’s ears perked up and she lifted her head. Girl giggled seeing, how her hunting mood went off. Having crushed next piece of paper she tossed it in the air. In no time kitty landed next to it funnily pushing ball with her paws from side to side. Luna giggled quietly and took her raspberry flavored tear from coffee table and her attention came back to the tv that was screening some old episode of Friends. A soft thump distracted her and she spotted with a corner of eye that cat was sitting on window still. Still with a ball of paper in her mouth. Oh no. In matter of seconds her mind went all alert, however, not early enough cause kitten already slipped out through a window. Her cringy song of course was signed up countless times times with her full name, cause what else you do when no right words come to your mind. That was her typical Valente’s luck in whole glory.

Luna threw the blanket away putting carelessly aside her cup and rushed to the window.

Kitty was already on the balcony next to her.

„Kitty, please no no” Begging and desperation in her voice didn’t impress cat at all and she could only watch, how she entered the flat through half opened balcon door. „Princesa, please please come back.”

There was no time to analyse the situation properly, so Luna decided to went with first plan that came to her mind. She already could imagine, how her friends will laugh of her. Her plan involved jumping through dividing balconies barrier, breaking into some stranger’s flat and leaving as soon as she had this damn piece of paper in her hand again. First part of plan went quite smoothly. Or even too smooth. Still her heart was beating so fast, as it tried to tell her though the morse code to abort the mission. Luna peeked through a window. Of course. Of course it would have to be one of the super fancy flats that belong to smartass and asshole rich people.

Fair walls, velvet navy sofa and kitty on the centre of the carpet. Luna slipped through a door as quietly as possible and tiptoed to the cat. Kitty blinked at her letting her come closer, she could almost reach her with tips of her fingers when in the last moment she decided to grab ball and take it to another room. Fuck muttered Luna under breath.

Then she heard sound of closing doors and soft steps. She froze. Just froze in place, her limbs suddenly got unbearably heavy and the one thing she was able to do was slowly move her gaze up to person standing in front of her.

„Excuse me?” Slight stutter in his voice betrayed, how perplexed he was. „Your name is Luna, right?” He cleared his voice trying to get a hold of this situation. The most awkward smile appeared on girl’s face. She straightened her back turning to the oh god of course it have to be some really hot good looking boy. If there was some holy power it was probably now laughing its ass of this joke, cause it surely know she couldn’t deal with opposite sex not to even mention with extra hot representant of it.

„I really appreciate your unexpected visit and it’s quite flattering to meet you already halfway to my bedroom in this cute little shorts, but you could let me know a bit earlier.”

„Your cat devastates my flat.” She fired off to stop his smooth talk. Her cheeks were burning, probably the same color as nails that the day before her friend painted for her. She was in her pyjamas (not the cute sassy ones, but more like shorts with bees and sunflowers and pink top with some dumb quote and hearts, really matching duo inspired by no laundry time like 3rd week in a row) and this boy instead of properly freak out and kick her out maybe throw some insults, he stood in front of her all casually. His shirt was half unbuttoned, probably she caught him midst changing; at least his jeans were fully on, though god she wasn’t sure, if how good he looked in this perfectly tight fitted dark jeans was a blessing or curse.

„If you are done with checking me out,” He grinned at her running fingers through his hair. She eagerly shook her head in response making her hair fall messily in her face. Yeah, probably she was appearing not only as a creep, but also an underaged one. „I am sorry for your apartment? But I can’t connect, how it is linked to you my favourite sociology classmate appearing in my living room?”

His eyes were glued to her face watching cautiously, how blush appeared on both of her cheeks. She broke eye contact as soon as she finally put his face to a person. Oh, so he is the owner of gorgeous brown curls, who used to take a sit in front of her and Jim. Now she has to keep her mouth shut to not blurt out by accident, how many times they both made bets, who will dare to try out how soft his hair actually are. Oh that would be awkward. Almost as awkward as standing in his living room like this.

„I knew you looked somehow familiar. You are the one from the front, who can’t stop chuckling on whatever I say.” She muttered only in response keeping the rest to herself.

„Yeah, cause your theories are cute and so far from the reality, that’s a good choice you aren’t studying it as your mayor. And also you spat once water on Ambar. People, who make funny things to Ambar not to mention her gorgeous hair are my faves.” He ended his talk with a wink. Luna always thought these sassy winks were so overrated and cheesy. Why he made them feel so hot? Boy smoothed out sleeves of his shirt not taking slightest care to finally bottom the rest.

„You’re not nice.” Luna cleared her voice.

„And you prefer nice boys?”

„Omg, just stop.” She finally exclaimed groaning. Tension in the air began to be too much for her. „I just found myself here, cause your cat stole something from me.” She tried to put it out as clearly as possible to unable him to continue with his innuendos.

Boy raised one eyebrow and leaned to the one side to peek into his bedroom, where earlier entered kitty.

„You mean this piece of trash she is chewing on.” His comment made her lose last bits of chill. Not caring how many more jokes he was going to pull out about her being in his bedroom, she entered faking confidence and leaned upon kitty.

„Sorry princessa.” She muttered more to herself and stuffed piece of paper quickly into pocket of her shorts. Dark eyes followed her move with remorse. Feeling guilty she scratched her behind ear quickly, girl tossed on her back forgiving Luna immediately.

„Seems to quite like you.” His voice marked with a bit of surprise and respect. He was lazily leaning against the doorway.

„Probably, she feels she ows me after all the times I feed her and let her use my sweater as a bed.” Luna just shrugged her shoulders, considering, how she can now get out of this room.

Boy took few lazy steps into her direction and both of them found in the centre of his bedroom, right next to his huge twin bed (he had nice duvet, very nice, looking super luxurious, if she was already so embarrassed maybe she should ask if she could take nap there?)

„I am so sorry, for being the rude.” Oh, Luna knew she wasnt any bit sorry. The smirk hadnt left his face and his eyes hadnt hold any signs of apologies, he was just messing with her farther. „I know I am gone from my apartment a lot and I really appreciate you keep Lyra company.” One of his hands suddenly find its way in her hair and he wrapped a stray of her around his finger. So smooth. „Maybe its the time I would do something for you. Just suggest a thing.” Her chin was hold up a bit and he made their eyes connect. Remains of water from the shower were still dripping of his hair, small drops were making their way through his face, neck, tracing his chest. He bit his lip a bit and squint her eyes looking cautiously at her expression.

„I am the goodest I have ever been.” Luna tried to clear her throat before, but still it sounded weak. „No, thank you-„

„Matteo Balsano.”

„Matteo” And he wasnt named after a big galaxy stone, how lucky he had gotten in life. „I think I left my straithener turned on. I need to go.” Luna fired off.

Matteo just looked at her for few more seconds and chuckle. „Obviously, you left it, cause you look like a type of girl, that straightens her hair every day.” Luna narrowed her eyes, cause that was just becoming rude and mean, he just sighed at her expression. „Open the door for you or you’d rather exit the same way, you had entered?”

„Oh, dont mind me, balcony is fine by me.” She huffed. Luna felt his eyes on the back, when she closed his doors with a little more force, than necessary and still when clumsily climbed over barrier. All she needed now, was some peace, a lot of tea and sweets and maybe on sugar high she could forget about the whole embarassment at least for a few hours.

„Luna Valente, holy shit, have just aliens brought you back, cause I swear a minute ago, you werent there.” Redhead stood in the centre of her living room with her jaw dropped. So before mentioned forgetting Luna probably needed to relive it one more time. Great.

///

Small piece of paper hanged on the door and she could already tell without looking closer, that universe was playing with her again. That’s probably first and last time she came for her sociology class in a time, even a bit earlier (!) and she was sent back to her room, due to some fancy ethic conference happening. It’s not like she was looking forward to this class or was eager to learn. She might thought like once or twice oh i’m gonna meet again this matteo boy in 3 days or is i wonder is he going to mention our cringy encounter around all these people, but for sure it wasn’t occupying her mind. Having deliberated on it she was now able to state she doesn’t care at all about this boy. Funny when girl mentioned it to her favourite redhead, she bursted into laughter spilling coffee on her jeans.

Luna went over her current situation countless times and analyse through every way possible: this matteo boy might have nice legs and pretty hair but apart from that he is an ass, whose presence is highly redundant in her life.

Even though everything was settled clear, somehow she was going over her choice of her skirt a bit longer than usual. To be fair already giving up comfy pants was an abstain from routine, that should be enough to alarm her. A little voice in back of her head try to justify, she just wanted to show this rude boy she doesn’t look like 5 year old most of the time. Having settled on a navy straight one, she noticed she still had a half an hour of spare time and instead of laying on her bed and scrolling through her instagram feed, she picked an eyeshadow palette, that her cousin gave her on her last birthday. Most of the shades were still left untouched, cause film evenings with friends didn’t demand looking good. She put a bit of fair one on her lid and then glitter goldie orange. And now this fancy eyeshadow was smeared all over her face, cause what was the use of them, when she was going to spend the rest of the day binge watching Friends with Jim. She groaned giving up and tried to work on the other eyes with fresh makeup wipe. Loud knock on her door made her sigh in relief praying that redhead knows a bit more about unmakeuping then she did.

„Why this glitter doesn’t come of so smoothly like in all these YouTube videos?”

„I don’t know really, but i promise we will try to help.” Instead of Jim in her doorsteps stood Matteo Balsano- her sassy neighbour with Lyra curled on his shoulder. Luna furrowed her eyebrows and crossed arms on her chest. „Lyra missed your cuddles and lately was too cold to open balcony, so i brought her by myself.”

Luna raised one of her eyebrows squinting eyes. This boy couldn’t be trusted especially when suddenly appearing here all nice with the cat in his hands.

„Damn, Balsano, just tell your stargirl it is you, who needs her cuddles.” Boy, who seemed to be just passing by, patted Matteo on his shoulder, then quickly picked up the pace. Not only has he earned angry glare from Balsano, but also a slap with a hard-cover book on his head from blonde girl walking on his side.

„Don’t fuck his situation even more Ramiro. His kitty pick-up line is already cringy enough.” She didn’t even tried to tone down her voice. Luna wasn’t sure, how Matteo was still standing in front of her instead of rushing behind those two.

„You wanna come in?” Finally stuttered out Luna. Matteo nodded slightly, his body all tensed and she could swear his cheeks got slightly redder.

He put Lyra on the floor, she immediately headed to her bathroom, presumably the sink. At least she knew here, what she wanted.

„I was hoping on meeting your cute shorts.” He seemed to gather himself enough to pull again some stupid jokes against her. „Should I rush from the beginning to the bedroom, as it seems like some sort tradition of you.”

„Ha ha ha” He invited himself, didnt gave her any proper explanations and was playing at her cost. „Please, take better you super funny jokes at your place. I dont think my small room will fit so much of your ego, chico fresa” Muttered out Luna grabbing makeup wipe from the kitchen table, where she left it.

„Chico fresa?” He furrowed his eyes and took a seat on her sofa, feeling already too comfortable. He moved a bit and took out rolled chips bag.

Luna just shrugged her shoulders. „Thats people call such little snobs, who think too highly about themselves.”

„Oh” His voice fulled with seeming understanding. His legs suddenly found their way on her coffee table. „And how you would call then girls, who come without invitation to boys bedrooms?” He tilted his head watching, how she hid her blush with the wipe. „Chica delivery, sounds fine?”

„Get out now”

#soy luna #lutteo fanfic #lyra #matteo balsano #luna valente #mine

10 notes · View notes