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viastro · 4 years

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trailing arbutus | lee juyeon

ミ★ synopsis: you couldn’t help but fall for the boy who offered you his umbrella on that rainy day in the fall.

ミ★ genre: hanahaki!au, best friends to lovers!au, angst, some humor, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: mentions of death, vomiting

ミ★ word count: 5,038

ミ★ pairings: juyeon x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s been a while since i released a tbz oneshot so here’s juyeon ! spring break is coming soon and my classes for spring quarter are a lot easier than the classes i was taking during winter quarter, so i should be able to post oneshots more consistently again... i hope </3 AJLEGSBKRJ don’t hold me to that <333 keep your expectations of me very low <333 the flower that juyeon gave yn may seem familiar if you read my minghao oneshot, last a lifetime >:D anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this ! i wish i could’ve spent some more time on it, but alas. make sure to give juyeon lots of love <3

You met Juyeon in the Fall, when the raindrops began to descend down from the sky and you had forgotten to bring your umbrella.

“Fuck me.” You curse under your breath as you see the pellets of rain drop onto the sidewalk before you, wondering why the weather app always seems to fail you in times of need.

You were studying at the library for your biopsychology midterm at the end of the week, as you feel that your apartment has too many distractions. For once in your life, you checked the weather app to see if it would rain, and it said no rain.

It lied.

So now here you are, no umbrella in your hand as you debate on whether to sacrifice your textbook or your bag.

“This textbook was 200 dollars…” You mumble to yourself, now deciding which of the items to ruin. You open up your bag to place the textbook inside, only to pause when you feel a presence beside you. Turning your head, you see an incredibly handsome blonde man standing to your left, holding an opened umbrella above you.

“Don’t ruin your textbook and bag.” He tells you with a small smile, and you raise an eyebrow, looking down at your bag that now holds your giant biopsych book.

“I would’ve only ruined my bag.” You respond, and the pretty man chuckles, pointing at the cloth material of your bag. You purse your lips, coming to terms with the fact that he has made some strong points.

“Take my umbrella.” He says, giving the umbrella he’s holding a slight jiggle. You shake your head, raising your hands up to tell him that it’s fine, only to pause when he places the umbrella handle into the palm of your hand.

“It’s okay, my friend has one anyways. Get home safe!” And with a final smile, he heads back into the library. Leaving you standing at the entrance, in a state of both shock and gratitude as you hold the pretty stranger’s umbrella. You glance back towards the rain, and begin your descent down the stairs, heading back to your apartment.

It’s when you’re close to the trees that you pause, turning to look back towards the library when you realize something.

“I never got his name.” You mutter, before letting out a sigh. You continue on the path towards your apartment building, feeling too lazy to go back and ask for the kind man’s name.

The thought of his smile still lingers in your mind, even when you return to the warmth of your home.

You didn’t see Juyeon for a month afterwards, but you made sure to keep his umbrella with you in case you ran into him on campus again. The day you finally saw the pretty boy again, it was in fact, raining. Except this time, the roles were switched.

You had an umbrella, and he didn’t.

“Rain, I have a love and hate relationship with you.” You state quietly as you walk towards the cafe, umbrella shielding you from getting drenched. The weather app lied to you once again, saying that it was only going to be partly cloudy.

Partly cloudy your ass.

You hold the umbrella that the pretty man gave you a month ago, feeling grateful that you’ve been carrying it on you since that day just in case you ran into him. However, you’ve ended up using it more often than you originally thought you would.

You squint when you see a familiar blonde haired man holding his bag over his head as he walks to his destination. You speed up your pace until you’re close to him, and realize that he’s the pretty stranger from a month ago.

Without a word, you take a few more steps and outstretch the umbrella over his head, and he pauses, turning to look at you. The two of you stop walking, and he tilts his head to the side when he recognizes you, a pretty smile coming over his features.

“Don’t ruin your bag.” You point out with a grin, and he lets out a laugh, nodding his head. He glances up at the umbrella, chuckling when he sees that it’s the same one he gave you that day at the library. Looking back at you he asks, “You kept it?”

You nod your head, an incredulous look coming onto your face. “Of course I did! Why would I get rid of a stranger’s umbrella?”

The man purses his lips, before outstretching his hand in your direction. “Hi, I’m Lee Juyeon.”

You smile, now knowing the name of the kind man as you reach out and grasp his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’m yn yln.”

A year since that fateful encounter, you and Juyeon are walking towards his apartment underneath a shared umbrella. The rain falls softly against the clear plastic, and you watch as the droplets fall off the sides and onto the ground.

“Always so intrigued by the rain, huh?” Juyeon asks you with a grin, making you turn and look at his face. He dyed his hair black a few months after the two of you became friends, having had Changmin color it for him. However, with the boxed bleach you hold in the shopping bag as the two of you walk, you know Juyeon’s hair is about to be fried.

“The rain is nice when I’m not getting wet.” You respond with a nudge, and Juyeon chuckles, nodding his head in agreement. You both turn into the apartment building entrance, with the black haired beauty shaking the umbrella to remove the excess water.

“Are you sure you want to bleach your hair again?” You ask once the two of you enter the elevator, and he nods his head as he wraps up the umbrella. “Yeah, I miss the blonde.”

Pursing your lips at the thought of Juyeon possibly going bald, you decide to press more, “Your hair could end up being absolutely fried.”

Your pretty friend simply shrugs his shoulders, taking a photo of the boxed bleach in the bag that you’re holding. You let out a sigh when the elevator doors open and you both step out, wondering how he manages to just not care about anything.

“Okay, I have another question.” You state as the two of you walk up to Juyeon’s apartment door. He raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the key, letting you step in first. “Mm?”

“Are you sure you want me to bleach your hair for you? Do you remember the last time I tried to dye Changmin’s hair pink?” Juyeon just chuckles at the tragic memory, shrugging off his coat and placing it onto the rack. He stretches his hand out to you, and you hand him your own jacket, watching as he places it beside his own.

“Yeah. I trust you, yn.” Juyeon tells you as he walks off towards the bathroom, stretching his arms over his head as he does so. Your eyes catch the sliver of skin that appears when his shirt rides up, and you immediately turn away, letting out a frustrated breath as warmth floods your face.

“You really shouldn’t have this much trust in me.” You mutter, following after the pretty man. The two of you set up the bathroom, with you preparing the bleach solution and Juyeon placing newspapers onto the floor.

“You ready?” Juyeon glances up from his phone and into the mirror, sending you a grin that makes your heart palpitate within your chest. “Of course.”

You place the brush with the bleach concoction onto a few strands of Juyeon’s hair, wincing at the image of your pretty friend going bald because of how often he colors his hair. Juyeon raises an eyebrow at the furrow to your brows and the pout to your lips, letting out a chuckle as he turns around and rests his hand on your head.

You snap out of the trance of a bald Juyeon, just to find your best friend staring at you with an amused expression on his face. With his thumb, he reaches down and swipes the crease between your eyebrows until it goes away. He gives you a kind smile once his hand lowers back down to his lap, “Why did it look like you stepped in a pile of dog poop as you started to bleach my hair?”

You don’t answer for a moment as you return to placing the bleach onto the ends of Juyeon’s hair, warmth flooding your face at the physical contact that lasted very briefly but sent your heart spiraling. Juyeon watches you in the mirror, awaiting your answer.

These feelings have to stop before it’s too late, You think to yourself once you feel yourself begin to calm down. It wasn’t shocking to you that you felt a bit attracted to Juyeon, as he is incredibly handsome and has a precious personality to match. What was surprising, albeit a bit scary, is that your attraction for Juyeon didn’t dwindle as the two of you became closer over a span of a year. In fact, it’s only grown since then.

But that is one of the few facts that you refuse to acknowledge.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take out a comb and part another section of Juyeon’s hair and finally glance up into his eyes in the mirror with a playful smile.

“Cause I thought of how you’d look bald.”

Juyeon scoffs, eliciting a giggle out of you when you take note of his own expression turning a bit sour from the image appearing in his mind.

“If I go bald, I’m blaming you.”

“You just said you trusted me!”

“Yeah, well. That was before you placed the image of me being bald in my head.” Juyeon says, laughing when he sees you biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your own chuckles. He nudges you slightly, and your laughter pours out, mixing with his own as you continue to bleach his hair.

The previous worries you had slowly melt away, but inch back towards the surface each time you lock eyes with your best friend.

You scroll through your phone, looking through Twitter to try and find memes as you wait for Changmin to come for your guys’ weekly lunch run. Your thumb halts its sweeping movement when you feel a presence standing before you, and you glance up to see Juyeon staring at you with a smile on his face.

Immediately you frown, “What are you doing here?”

Juyeon’s eyebrows furrow in response to your unenthusiastic reaction. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, “Changmin has to stay after at practice because he needs to help fix the choreo. He told me he texted you, but you didn’t respond.”

You purse your lips, going to the messages app to see that you did, in fact, completely miss Changmin’s message that he couldn’t make it and that Juyeon will be his replacement for the week. You grin when your eyes land on the last text.

changmin: this is only a one time thing ! no one can ever replace me on our weekly lunch extravaganzas >:DD

“Mmm.” You mutter, placing your phone into your pocket and looking up at Juyeon, who is squinting at you.

“What?”

“Why are you so unhappy that you’re eating lunch with me and not Changmin?” Juyeon asks, and you smile, beginning to walk towards McDonalds without answering his question. The blonde just stares after you with an amused smile on his face, watching as you turn back towards him and cup your hands around your mouth.

“Changmin is more entertaining!”

Juyeon’s mouth drops open at your words, and you let out a loud laugh at how offended he looks. He points towards you with a competitive grin on his face, and your eyes widen when you realize what that look means.

“Juyeon, no.” He simply starts running after you without a response, making you elicit a squeal as you begin to sprint away. The two of you run through campus, ignoring all the other students around you as you let out bright laughs while listening to Juyeon’s shouts.

“You’ll NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!”

You suddenly feel your wrist get grabbed, and you’re pulled back into Juyeon’s body as he laughs, staring into your eyes with all the stars in the universe. Warmth floods your face from the close proximity between the two of you, wondering if he’s even affected by this as he looks at you.

“I caught you alive.” Juyeon states with a grin, pulling back and raising his arms up as he stretches. It takes you a moment to answer as you wait for your heart to calm down, before rolling your eyes and nudging him.

“Whatever. You got a head start.”

“You literally ran before I even chased after you.” You simply shrug your shoulders, and Juyeon lets out a chuckle as the two of you peacefully walk towards the fast food franchise.

“You still think Changmin is more fun than me?” Juyeon asks as the two of you pass the flower shop, signaling that you’re close to McDonalds and closer to eating very unhealthy french fries. Biting the inside of your cheek, you respond, “I think you’re both equally fun.”

When you don’t hear a reply from Juyeon, you turn your head and realize that the blonde is no longer walking alongside you. You glance back to see him standing by a bucket that holds a few flowers, and you raise an eyebrow when he tentatively lifts a pale pink blossom out.

Juyeon walks back over to you with a friendly smile on his face, and you open your mouth to ask what it is, only to pause when he reaches out and tucks the fragile flower behind your ear. You look into his eyes to search for an answer as to why, but you fail to find it.

Juyeon looks away from you first, pointing towards the direction of the McDonalds. “Let’s go get lunch, yn.”

You nod your head slowly, and the two of you walk side by side to the fast food establishment, all while you try to calm down your racing heart. In your head you’re just repeating to yourself the same sentence like a mantra to try to remind yourself not to overthink the action.

he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like you. stop these feelings before it’s too late.

It’s only later when you’re alone in your bathroom throwing up the familiar pale pink petals that you realize,

it’s too late.

“What ramen do you think yn would like better?” Changmin asks Juyeon as the two walk around the convenient store to buy groceries for you. The blonde glances over at his friend, pointing at the shin ramen, “That one. It’s yn’s favorite, they always make it for me when I visit.”

Changmin purses his lips, grinning to himself as he places the packet into the basket he’s holding. Juyeon takes notice of the knowing smile on the black haired beauty’s face, and he nudges him, causing Changmin to chuckle. “Why are you smiling?”

“Cause your love for yn is showing.” Changmin responds, and Juyeon bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head at him. The blonde turns back towards the arrangement of items, grabbing a few of your favorite snacks and placing them into the basket.

“I don’t even know what love is.” Juyeon mutters as he grabs one more pack of ramen and throws it into the basket. Changmin purses his lips, choosing not to respond as the two walk to the checkout.

You haven’t been going to classes, nor have you been texting Changmin or Juyeon for the last few days. Juyeon remembered the time you got sick and didn’t text either of them a few months ago, so he realized you must be doing the same thing right now. That’s why he dragged Changmin to the convenience store to prepare a care package for you, knowing that you don’t take proper care of yourself when you have a cold.

“You sure you can’t come with me to yn’s? I think you’d make them feel better.” Changmin says, promptly changing the topic as they place everything onto the counter. Juyeon purses his lips a bit, wishing he could come and visit, but he already agreed to practice with the new recruits of the dance team.

“I can’t back out of plans an hour before, so I’ll just pay for all the groceries.” Juyeon responds as taps his card on the reader, watching as the payment goes through and placing the card back into his wallet. They both grin at the cashier as they hand them their bags, before walking out of the convenience store.

“Text me when you get to yn’s, I’ll try to visit after practice.” Juyeon tells Changmin, and the younger nods his head. The blonde waves his hand at his friend, before turning and heading towards the university.

Juyeon glances up towards the grey sky as he walks, finding that his thoughts are only flooded with you as he does so.

He comes to wonder when his heart began to beat faster whenever he saw you.

“Yn! Let me in!” You don’t move to answer the door, continuing to sit by your living room window, staring out at the city below. Coughing slightly, you reach over and grab your cup of tea, taking a long sip once Changmin’s voice comes to a stop.

It’s only when you hear your door knob jiggle that you turn your head with a frown, seeing your front door open fully to reveal your friend who has a frown on his face. You let out a sigh, and Changmin’s frown deepens as he slips off his shoes and closes the front door, walking towards you.

“How’d you get in?” You ask quietly, only to let out an, ah, when Changmin holds up the spare key you gave him a few months back. He places the bag from the convenience store onto the coffee table, before settling down beside you.

The two of you stay silent for a moment, with Changmin staring at you in concern, and you avoiding eye contact by staring out the window. You bite the inside of your cheek once you feel a tickle in your throat, trying your best not to cough.

“Why didn’t you tell me or Juyeon that you were sick? You did this last time and you got scolded. Now I’m gonna scold you again! You live alone, yn. You should be resting, not making your own food or cleaning.” Changmin says sternly, and you don’t reply with the fear that you may cough out those pale pink petals again.

“Yn.” Changmin states once you don’t answer, leaning a bit closer to look at your face.

“Why are you giving me the silent treatment? You should be giving Juyeon the silent treatment since he didn’t come! Well, he actually paid for the groceries I got for you but-” The words die in Changmin’s throat when you release a cough, and a single petal flies out of your mouth and onto the floor. His eyes widen at the sight, before turning towards you and seeing the tears flooding your eyes.

“Yn…” You bite your bottom lip, before leaning over and resting your forehead onto Changmin’s shoulder.

“What are you going to do?” Changmin asks, wrapping his arms around you and patting your back soothingly. He’s filled with worry as he stares down at the pink petal on the floor, knowing that there’s only two options to handle this disease.

“I don’t know.” You mutter quietly, tears trailing down your face. Changmin bites the inside of his cheek, pulling you closer and holding you.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” You begin, squeezing your fists tightly at the thought that comes to mind. “The petals that I keep coughing up.”

You cough again, fortunately no petals escape as you pull back from Changmin’s embrace to look at him. He reaches out and pats your head, and you harshly bite your bottom lip when the thought of those sparkly eyes comes to mind as you say,

“Or the fact that Juyeon doesn’t love me back.”

You walk around campus with your mask over your mouth and nose, feeling grateful that you haven’t coughed up any petals throughout any of your classes. Glancing up at the sky, you see the various shades of pink and blue, your heart feeling heavy at the beautiful sight.

“Yn!” Your eyes widen when you hear that familiar voice, but you refuse to turn around, continuing to walk as if you never heard it.

“Yn! Wait!” You speed up your pace, panicking when the sound of footsteps draws closer. You’re about to break out into a full on sprint when Juyeon runs around you, forcing you to halt your movements as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“Didn’t you hear me calling for you? You haven’t been responding to my texts for the last week.” Juyeon says as his chest goes up and down, trying to catch his breath from having to run to you. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you attempt to pretend that you’re okay. “Sorry, I’ve been avoiding looking at my phone cause it strains my eyes.”

Juyeon nods his head, understanding what you mean as you just got over being sick. “Changmin told me that you had a fever and just slept the whole time when he came to see you a couple days ago, are you feeling better now?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod and flash Juyeon the brightest eye smile you can muster. He squints at you, before reaching his hand up and resting it on your forehead to check your temperature. You freeze, warmth flooding your face from the contact, only to pause when you feel your throat begin to tickle with that dreadful feeling.

“Your forehead isn’t hot, so I suppose you weren’t- Yn?” Juyeon’s eyes fill with concern at the sight of your eyes turning watery. He takes a step closer but you raise your hand up to stop him, feeling the petals begin to climb up your throat as you turn and run away from Juyeon without another word. Juyeon’s eyes widen, “Yn!”

Feeling the tears fall past your eyes at the calls of your name, you sprint away, trying your best to hold back the flowers that threaten to escape, but to no avail. Finding it harder to breathe, you remove your mask as you run, releasing a few of the petals that were stuck in the cloth. Your chest burns, your heart hurts, everything is in pain as you run away from the one you love.

“Yn..” Juyeon mutters, stopping himself from chasing after you when he realizes you have no plans of stopping. He watches as your figure gets smaller, only to squint when he catches sight of something pink flowing with the wind from behind you.

Juyeon’s heart stops in his chest when it floats in his direction, and he stretches his arm towards it, watching as the pale pink petal softly falls onto the palm of his hand. He knows this flower, and as he looks back up in the direction you ran in, he feels his heart break for the first time when he makes the connection of where the fragile petal came from.

Changmin watches from across the studio as Juyeon keeps making mistakes in the choreography, something the dancer rarely ever does. However, over the last few days, it’s been happening consistently. No matter how many times Changmin reteaches the choreo to Juyeon step by step, he still makes a mistake the next day.

“Juyeon, you keep making mistakes.” Changmin says as he pauses the music, turning to look at his best friend. The blonde simply breathes heavily, staring down at the floor while he tries to sort out his thoughts. Changmin frowns, stepping forward towards his friend, “Juyeon.”

“Yn ran away from me the other day.” Juyeon starts, a furrow to his brow as he remembers the look of fear in your eyes. He bites his bottom lip harshly, before looking up at Changmin, seeing the dread on his friend’s face, “A pink petal flew towards me from their direction.”

“Juyeon-”

“It had to have been one of the flowers that grow in the square, right?” Juyeon asks with tears filling his eyes, stepping towards Changmin as he squeezes his fists at his sides. The black haired beauty tries his best to hold back from crying as he simply shakes his head, no.

“They have hanahaki, Juyeon.” Changmin states, tears escaping his own eyes from finally confessing the truth that’s been haunting him for the last week. The two stay silent for a moment, letting the information sink in as Juyeon slowly slides down onto the floor.

“Is it me?” Juyeon asks in a soft voice as he looks up from the wooden floor, Changmin lets out a bittersweet smile at the question, looking away from the blonde as his own heart breaks within his chest.

“It is.” Changmin answers quietly, rubbing his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. Juyeon slowly stands up from the floor, eyes wide as he stares at his friend. Changmin turns to look at the blonde, eyebrows furrowing at the shocked expression on Juyeon’s face.

“What is it-”

“How long has it been since the last time yn coughed up flowers?” Changmin purses his lips, remembering how you mentioned you haven’t coughed anything since the day you ran into Juyeon. “I don’t know, a week?”

Changmin pauses, suddenly realizing what Juyeon’s thinking when his eyes widen as he connects the dots. Hope floods his chest as he stares at his friend, feeling relieved that you’re going to be okay. Juyeon turns and looks out the window of the studio, seeing the rain fall from the sky, and he quickly walks over and grabs his sweatshirt and umbrella.

“Where are you going? We just realized something huge!” Changmin shouts when he watches Juyeon walk towards the door. The blonde simply turns back towards his friend, giving him a small smile,

“It’s raining, yn must’ve forgotten their umbrella.”

“I forgot my umbrella.” You mutter, staring up at the blue sky from the convenience store entrance. The raindrops fall hard onto the pavement, making you let out a sigh. You turn to glance back inside the convenience store, debating on buying one even though you have at least four back at your apartment. You look down at the bag in your hand, seeing the ramen and tea you bought in an attempt to soothe your throat.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you remember that your days are limited as you watch the raindrops fall from the sky. With that in mind, you step out of the protection you had from the convenience store, and let the rain hit you as you walk towards your apartment, convenience store bag in tow as you do so.

As your clothes slowly become soaked, you can’t help but think of how you met Juyeon. The kind guy who gave you his umbrella on that rainy day. You let out a bittersweet smile, knowing that it was inevitable for you to fall for the man.

You halt your movements, suddenly realizing the fact that you haven’t coughed up flowers in almost a week. Your eyes widen, heart beating rapidly against your chest as the bag of groceries you were holding falls to the ground.

You scramble to grab your phone from your pocket, quickly unlocking your phone to dial Juyeon’s number as tears fill your eyes. You listen to it ring, quietly muttering to yourself for him to pick up the call, needing to know if this is real.

“Hello?”

“Juyeon! Where-”

“You didn’t bring an umbrella again?” You squint, wondering how he knows that as you look up from the ground, only for your mouth to fall open when you see him standing a few feet away from you, umbrella in hand. You take note of the rise and fall to his chest, seeing that he must’ve ran here from dance practice as the two of you stare at each other.

You let out a wet laugh, tears falling from your eyes as you stare at Juyeon, nodding your head as you adjust the phone to your ear. “You know me, I always forget. That’s why you’re there to save me from the rain each time.”

Juyeon smiles in response, tears spilling and flowing down his face. He reaches up in an attempt to wipe it away, laughing quietly as he stares at you, a look of remorse in his gaze. Feeling grateful that he was able to realize his feelings for you, but regretful that you had to experience so much pain before he did so.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner, I wasn’t sure what the weather was going to be.” Juyeon mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, understanding what he truly means. You give him a grin, before opening your arms and gesturing to your guys surroundings as the rain begins to fall softer from the sky.

“It’s okay, you came just in time.” You say, wiping away the mix of tears and rain from your face. Juyeon walks towards you, stopping when the umbrella is hovering over the two of you, blocking you from the rain.

“I love you.” Juyeon confesses, and you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding your head as the tears fall from your eyes once again. He reaches out and softly wipes it away with his thumb, letting his warm hand remain on your cheek as he stares into your eyes.

As the rain continues to fall from the sky on this sunny Spring day, a rainbow forms above you and Juyeon as you let out a smile, leaning into his touch when you say,

“I love you too, Juyeon.”

trailing arbutus: if given the pale pink blossom, it means you are the only one they love. a promise that the love they have for you will not only be warm, but will last a lifetime.

#lee juyeon x reader #juyeon x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #lee juyeon scenarios #juyeon scenarios #lee juyeon fluff #lee juyeon angst #lee juyeon #juyeon #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #lee juyeon humor #the boyz

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years

Text

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone.

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind.

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?"

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins.

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-"

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it.

***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm.

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!"

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before.

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place.

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?"

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me."

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?"

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation."

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order.

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once.

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test.

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in?

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer.

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether.

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides.

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics.

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that.

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence."

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!"

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming.

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go.

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits.

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows.

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place).

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm.

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why.

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes.

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head.

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her.

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building.

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant.

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know.

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be.

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place."

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection.

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’."

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is.

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper.

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n."

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own.

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear.

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink.

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his.

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?"

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words.

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss.

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans.

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right."

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?"

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek.

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead.

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties."

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra. Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach.

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips.

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment.

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways.

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good."

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough."

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths.

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness.

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?"

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering.

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly.

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind.

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell.

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused.

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was."

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference.

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

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ohhipstaplease · 3 years

Text

Comfort

Since the culmination of the war, Naruto and Hinata had grown closer. His hand always reached out towards hers for comfort, even when he didn’t notice. Even when he knew he shouldn’t. It was selfish, self-indulgent...

He just couldn’t understand why she was always in his head, even when she wasn’t supposed to be.

For Naruhina week 2021 @nhweek | April 14: Hand / “You’re in my head, even when you’re not supposed to be

Post-War | Canon-Compliant | Rated T+ | 1K+ Words | Ao3

It happened all of a sudden, the stream of tears rushing down his face. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until Hinata reached over and wiped his cheek. He gently grabbed her hand, and in a beat of courage, she interlaced her fingers in his.

Since the culmination of the war, the pair had gotten closer. His hand always reached out towards hers for comfort, even when he didn’t notice. Even when he knew he shouldn’t. It was selfish, self-indulgent...

He just couldn’t understand why she was always in his head, even when she wasn’t supposed to be.

“I-I’m okay” He murmured, hoping he didn’t wake anyone in the Hyuga household.

It was late after all, too late for him to be visiting. But, alas, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. He was unable to do anything but play what had happened in the war on a loop in his head. His throbbing arm a physical reminder that he was just not okay, even as much as he pretended to be.

“Naruto-Kun...”

He shook his head, “Just let me...just let me sit here with you. That’s all I need.”

Naruto wanted to let his mind go blank, to take advantage of the wave of calm that washed over him as he felt her skin against his, but he kept wondering why it was that this was the only way he found repose from his scary thoughts.

He thought back to what he had discussed with Shikamaru a few days back.

As he laid in the grass, the sun warm upon his face, his observant friend had made a quip about how all Naruto did was spend his time with Hyuga heiress, and whether or not he was going to make a move.

Naruto, being Naruto, furrowed his brow and reassured Shikamaru that he and Hinata were just friends. Even so, though, he just didn’t quite understand what he felt for her. All he knew was that he wanted to be near her at all times.

Shikamaru didn’t bother looking at him as he smirked and said, “You’re like a duckling, Naruto. You imprinted on her.”

“A duckling?” Naruto sighed, “Sometimes I really don’t know what to make of the shit you say.”

“Everything that happened...it was...really messed up, to say the least,” Shikamaru took a cigarette from the pouch on his side and lit it, taking a long drag before continuing, “Hinata was there for you...she’s been there by you through it all. It’s only natural that you look to her for safety and comfort, especially now.”

Naruto took a breath, “You’ve been reading Sai’s psychology books haven’t you? He tried to diagnose me the other day too.”

Shikamaru shook his head, “All I’m saying is what you’re feeling is normal. If being by her side is what’s keeping you steady, maybe you shouldn’t question it. I don’t think you’re in a state of mind to be working all of that out.”

“What would “all of that” be?”

“When you’re ready you’ll know.”

Naruto breathed in and tried to compose himself, but it seemed that this time, the tears just didn’t want to stop flowing. Between what he felt for Hinata and the weight of everything that had happened six months ago, his mind and body were about to give out.

He thought he would’ve been okay by now. His arm was healing, his wounds were nearly non-existent. Battle scars were fading upon his skin, just as they were on hers. So he didn’t understand why it was that when nighttime fell and he closed his eyes, all he saw was death.

Wouldn’t his mind heal as well?

“Naruto-Kun?”

He looked up to meet her gaze, inquisitive eyes asking the question she couldn’t quite seem to muster the courage to ask. Still, she managed to finally utter, “D-did you have that dream again?”

“Hinata...I—”

A door opened behind them, startling them both. Still, though, their hands remained linked upon Hinata’s kitchen table, as a teary-eyed Naruto looked up to see Hiashi Hyuga, the head of the Hyuga clan, standing directly behind Hinata.

The elder Hyuga said nothing, simply nodded, and continued on his way back to his room. Naruto swore he saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes as well.

It seemed to be that way for everyone, regardless of the fact the war had been won.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, “Your dad must be tired of seeing me around.”

She smiled sweetly and assured him, “Never. You know everyone enjoys seeing you around here.”

“I wish I could come around more often. This is the only place I can really get away from it all, you know?”

“You’re always welcome here, Naruto-Kun.”

Naruto breathed out in relief. Her words the only thing he needed to bring him back from the brink of despair. He needed to remember that he wasn’t alone anymore, he didn’t have to suffer through whatever it was he was going through by himself. Hinata had nursed him through the worst of it, laughed with him through the best. Fought with him, even when he told her not to risk her life for him.

She was his comfort, his joy, his everything. Even if he didn’t see it, even if he didn’t understand it.

“You know, it’s weird,” He sniffled, “Ever since the war, I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

“W-what?” She blushed and looked away, unable to meet his stare.

“I don’t know, you’re just...in my head...even when you’re not supposed to be. I think I’m depending on you too much, Hinata. Sometimes...I can’t even go to bed until I hear your voice.”

“O-oh.”

“Isn’t that too much to ask for from a friend?”

Slowly Hinata had been getting redder, her face nearly aflame at this point. Still, though, he didn’t understand why. She had always been a stuttering mess in the past anyways, maybe he had just taken her by surprise.

“Naruto...that’s what friends are for,” She managed to say, squeezing his hand tightly, “Whenever you have a bad dream, or a horrible day, or if you just need me to help you run an errand, you can count on me. You...you know that.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

“D-do you ever feel this way?”

Hinata cleared her throat, “I think we all do.”

“Will it ever pass?”

She traced a scar that ran from his wrist to his palm and bit her lip as she said, “I think in time...it’ll hurt a little less. Like these wounds, like your arm. But it’ll heal...at least, I hope.”

“Do you miss him?” He asked, referring to Neji. He still couldn’t bear to say his name.

“Every day.”

Naruto stayed quiet for a second, letting it all kind of sink it. Finally, he managed to tell her, “If you ever feel sad, tell me. Okay? I want to be there for you like you are for me.”

He wanted her to find comfort in him as well. It was the least he could offer. Really, at the moment, it was all he had to give her.

“Okay.”

“But I mean it, Hinata. None of that hiding your feelings crap, okay?” He chuckled as he wiped his still damp cheeks.

She laughed as well, wanting to reassure him, “I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Good...now...any chance there’s some of that sweet bread you had lying around yesterday?”

“Appetite is back?”

“I’m starving.”

“I’ll fix you something,” She said as she got up and squeezed his shoulder. She’d leave it at that, letting him feel what he had to and treating him like he wasn’t broken.

He would never be able to repay her for everything she’d done for him, but he’d try.

“Hinata?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“It’s just bread, Naruto-Kun,” She said, serving him a slice on a white plate.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

He wanted to explain, but didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say, what he felt. He was a jumble of confusion.

“Never mind,” He mumbled, grabbing the bread and biting into it, “Don’t worry about it.”

One day he’d figure it all out. Until then, he’d just keep trying to make it through.

#nhweek2021 #nhweek #naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #naruto uzumaki #hinata hyuga

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reciprocityfic · 4 years

Text

passing afternoons

title: passing afternoons fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march rating: m summary: “did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

he blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying. after her? there is no after her. there never will be.

then, he stops. thinks. she means...oh. oh.

she means after that time in the garden, in paris. when he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him. left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

oh.

(laurie and amy spend a late summer afternoon talking about the past.)

author’s note: i've literally shipped laurie and amy since like fourth grade. so when i saw little women (2019) and found out it did my bbs justice, i basically cried. i've been meaning to write fic ever since, but alas, here we are almost a year later. i hope you enjoy it anyways.

i have another fic in the works that's longer and definitely more angsty, which i hope to post relatively soon. i also hope to write more fluff (also maybe smut???) for them in the coming months bc GOD i just love imagining these two together. in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed this!

xoxo, rebekah

passing afternoons

They enjoy being lazy after sex.

They’re not always afforded the opportunity, of course. At night, they tend to fall asleep rather quickly afterwards, exhausted and sated and tangled together. And the occasional forbidden interlude - when they’re some party or gathering wholly bland or pretentious and the two of them (sometimes tipsy, sometimes bored, always and perpetually desperate for each other) run off to some dark corner or isolated room where he lifts the skirt of her dress and the too-many layers underneath and uses his body to press hers against the wall as he sinks into her from behind and they pray their moans and the sounds of their bodies together won’t be heard - must be short and altogether swift, no time to dwell in the aura of the sensations and feelings between them.

But then, there are days when Grandfather is occupied with the business and the Marches are busy and they dismiss the servants. It’s just the two of them in their grand house with time that seems to stretch on and on. Sometimes they’ll make it a game of sorts, shamelessly flirt and tempt each other to see who will break first, but oftentimes they’ll share a look and a smile and then they’re off in a race to their horizontal surface of choice.

Today is one of those days, when they’ve nowhere to be, nothing to do, and are all alone. It’s an unusually hot day in late September, and when Amy had complained about the warmth, he’d suggested she take her blouse off. She’d raised an eyebrow and told him to go first, and then one thing led to another and now they’re naked and sore and satisfied, laying on their bed as the early afternoon sun shines in through their open windows.

He lays on top of the sheets on his back, head at the foot of the bed and hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find imaginary patterns in swirling paint. She lays parallel to him, but leans against the headboard, her long blonde hair falling around her face as she sketches him. He hadn’t seen her take out the pad and pencil she keeps in the dresser near their bed, but he can hear the sound of graphite moving against paper as she draws. He grins as he imagines her face, lips pursed and brow furrowed, wide green eyes focused and the movement of her hand knowing nothing but purpose even with the most casual of sketches.

They do not touch and do not talk. Still, the intimacy of the situation - of being together and completely safe and comfortable with the person you love most in the world - is overwhelming. Its warmth cocoons him, and he feels his eyes getting heavy as he lies there, a breeze blowing in from the open window and caressing his skin.

“You had your many dalliances after Jo, yes?”

His eyes snap open when he hears her question, his stomach lurching slightly and his mood dampening.

He ran away to Europe and drowned himself in alcohol, drugs, and women after Jo broke his heart, and he admits this. Amy knows it, too. And it’s not that he’s ashamed of that period of time, exactly - while he wishes he had, indeed, bore it better, he finds himself sympathetic to the plight of people scorned by love, however misguided that love might be.

He just doesn’t often talk about it. Doesn’t like to. In his mind and in his heart, it is only Amy. Has always been, and always will be.

Amy doesn’t really like to talk about it, either. He finds her inquiry curious, but answers anyway.

“Yes,” he tells her, although the word comes out sounding more like a question than an answer.

He waits for her to explain her line of thought, but she simply hums to herself. He stares at the ceiling a moment longer, then leans up, resting his weight on his elbows.

She’s staring down at her drawing, her face just as he pictured it, pencil grasped between her lips as she swipes her thumb against the paper. He watches as she takes the pencil out of her mouth and starts at it again, and he watches her for nearly a minute before opening his mouth to speak.

She beats him to it, though.

“Did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

He blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying. After her? There is no after her. There never will be.

Then, he stops. Thinks. She means...oh. Oh.

She means after that time in the garden, in Paris. When he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him. Left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

Oh.

He shifts on the bed, drops his eyes from her face. He can feel his skin begin to flush from embarrassment.

They’ve never talked about this before.

Not that there’s much to talk about, he supposes. He still hesitates to tell her - not because he fears she’ll be angry with him, but because he doesn’t like to talk about it. If it were up to him, he would erase from his mind the memory of every woman he’d ever been with until only his wife remained.

But she’s asked, and he’ll be honest with her.

“One, I suppose,” he murmurs.

“You suppose?” she questions. She’s still staring down at her artwork, but her pencil doesn’t move.

“Sort of, yes,” he confirms.

She finally looks at him, her eyebrows pulled together and a frown on her face.

“How do you sort of have a dalliance?”

She looks genuinely confused, and he laughs lightly at the crease between her brows, sits up fully and reaches out to her. He cups her face and uses his thumb to rub at the wrinkle of skin.

“Shall I explain?” he asks her.

She nods.

“I...tried to be angry after you left. Just think - to be turned down by not just one, but two March girls!” he gasps playfully, and she snickers, pushing against his shoulder playfully before dropping her hand to run over the sparse hair on his chest.

“But?” she prompts.

"But I couldn’t make myself angry. Not at you. But I also knew I couldn’t just stay there in France and watch you and Fred Vaughn…”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“We’re speaking of all your affairs, and you want to tease about Fred?”

“It’s part of my story!” he insists with a wink, and she rolls her eyes again.

“Well, keep telling it.”

He smiles, and continues.

“I couldn’t stay, so I did what you told me to. I went to London, as you know. And when I first got there, there was a woman staying at the same hotel as I was. We got to talking one evening at dinner, and one thing…”

He trails off, feeling himself flush again.

“...led to another,” Amy finishes. “I understand. I don’t need the details.”

She’s frowning now, even though her fingers still run over his chest, and he despises it. He has half a mind to drop the subject, to kiss her lips and make her happy and forget life before, but he can’t.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

“Laurie, I don’t need to hear any more. You had your dalliance, I’m not upset, and we can stop - “

“I couldn’t do it,” he interrupts. “It didn’t work.”

She pulls back from him slightly, her eyes wide and curious. She looks down his body.

“You mean you couldn’t...?”

He follows her gaze, and then snorts.

“Not like that. It - it didn’t even get to that. Amy, my dear.”

He lifts her chin, and she gazes at him. He can tell she’s still confused.

“Every time I closed my eyes,” he explains, “I saw you - the face you made in the garden before you turned away and left. It broke my heart. It still breaks my heart. And when my eyes were open, all I could think about was how her skin wasn’t as soft and her hair wasn’t as fair and her eyes were brown instead of green and she just...wasn’t you.”

“But with Jo...”

“It was different with Jo. I could make Jo into anyone. I could always pick out the tiniest thing that reminded me of her, in any woman, and then pretend that woman was her. I couldn’t...do that with you. Or maybe I didn’t want to. In any case, being with that woman didn’t make me forget. She made me remember all the more. And I only kissed her for about a minute before I realized it was worthless.”

He stops and grabs one of her hands, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss her fingertips, before holding it over his heart.

“And that’s when I knew that this was different. You weren’t Jo, and I wasn’t going to be able to just...drink and fuck you away.”

She’d normally gasp and swat him playfully for his use of the coarse word, but now she stays silent and presses her hand more firmly against his chest.

“I was in love with you. Hopelessly and completely. And I realized that all I could do was stay in London and toil away and... pray that somehow you would change your mind.”

Then, everything had changed. Beth died, and then he knew he had to be with her. It didn’t matter if she despised him, or if Fred was there. He needed to be with her. But before that, he had been rather resigned to his fate - to work for his grandfather and forever pine after Amy March.

God had smiled upon him, though. And now, here he sits with his wife, Amy Laurence. Married, in love, and happy.

“So does that explain how one can have a single, sort-of dalliance?” he asks her.

But she stares at him, eyes shining, almost with tears.

“You were going to wait your whole life for me?” she whispers.

He smirks slightly, turning away from her and shrugging, somehow embarrassed. But she grabs his face, turns it back to her, and locks their gazes.

“What else would you have me do, my lady?”

“Oh, my lord,” she breathes, and kisses him deeply, until his toes curl and he can feel himself begin to harden once again. When she pulls away, they’re both panting. He wants to grab her, to gather her up in his arms again, but her pad and pencil remains between them.

He motions to the picture.

“Still working on that, Raphaella?”

“Maybe later,” she remarks, taking the paper and all but throwing it on the floor beside the bed. She pushes him back so he’s laying once again, and climbs on top of him, straddling his waist. “I have another idea how we can pass time this afternoon.”

She leans down and kisses his smiling mouth.

Yes, God had smiled upon him. Had given him back his love. And he’s married, in love, and happy.

Achingly happy.

#amy x laurie #laurie x amy #little women #little women 2019 #amy march #theodore laurence

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eyitsroseau · 4 years

Text

Across the World Part 1 (Dr. Xeno dad! x Reader) Dr. Stone fanfic | A mini-series

This will be in two or three parts. I don't know yet. But I hope you like it!

Part 2

Part 3

In which you found out you were pregnant pre-petrification to your long time boyfriend NASA scientist, Xeno. However, when you told him the news, he wanted nothing to do with it because his top priority is his research. Hurt, you decided to find refuge and start anew in the country you have always wanted to live in, Japan. Post-petrification and Senku announced they'll be traveling to America. As you have lived there before, they took you and your one-year-old daughter along. Now, thousands of years later, you'll find yourself face to face with the man who had hurt you the most across the world.

"Hey, babe?" Your nervousness seeped out of your body and your trembling hands are the evidence.

"Yeah? Look, my mentee from Japan messaged me. Looks like he's building a rocket again. Hmmm. All he needs is niobium-alloy nozzle..." he replied, giving you his divided attention. Again.

"Uh, babe?" You said a little louder this time. Sensing your urgency, he sighed and faced you fully.

"What is it?"

"This may sound shocking but, I'm... pregnant," you finally announced, clutching at the hem of your shirt while you waited for his reply.

You know this is unexpected but he'll take responsibility, right? Right? But the nagging gut-feel inside you knows what his answer will be.

With a straight unforgiving face he replied,

"I don't want it."

Remember that pain. Remember the hardships you went through. Remember how you wanted to go far away from the man that hurt you the most. Remember how he never contacted you even a year later. Remember how he didn't even ask for your child- the daughter he never got to meet.

Your daughter, oh God, your daughter! Never forget the way her eyes glimmer when she's with you. Never forget the smiles and giggles she reserves for you. Never forget how she nuzzled you on her first birthday. Never forget the time when you are taking her for a walk near a high school and suddenly you saw a blinding light which rendered you motionless.

Remember those memories again and again. Don't you ever dare forget any little details. No matter how much time passes, always remember.

Never forget.

Suddenly, you feel something cracking. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you can see the light. Your eyes widened when you see trees surrounding you. Not only that but the stone that seemed to cover your body begin to crumble. Little by little, you are gaining back your motility, and you have never felt so refreshed.

When you are finally free, you stood with shaking legs while scanning the area. Where are you? Are you still in Japan? How many years have passed?

Then, something hits you. Where is your daughter? Oh my god! Where is she? She couldn't be separated from you right? You have held her tightly when you saw that light. Panic and worry surged through you and you were about to set out and find her when you heard a familiar song.

Snapping your attention to where the noise came from, you realized that it was the lullaby you have always sang to your daughter, Xenka. Your feet had already started moving before you can register anything.

Alas, there in the middle of the forest, your daughter sat in front of a bonfire, grilling what appeared to be mushrooms. Taken a back, you only stared in shock when Xenka finally looked at you and the widest grin you have ever seen has graced her little face.

"Mama! You're back!"

You can't still wrap around the fact that your one-year-old daughter is facing you right now while talking about what she thought happened. Yes, your lovely Xenka who has not even said her first word before is now talking and had even made her own fire. Plus, she said she has been surviving for a week on her own.

"Sweetie, tell mama what happened when you're still a sto-"

"Mama, the perfect term is petrified! I told you I saw it in the dictionary, right?" your daughter pouted while crossing her chubby arms.

You chuckled. This situation is absurd but what can you expect from Xeno's blood daughter?

"Right, right. I apologize. Xenka-chan what happened to you when you are petrified?"

"I remembered I was really scared, mama! But you hugged me and told me to remember. But, I don't know what you meant so I remembered and studied again the words you taught me. I even memorized the books that I used to play with," she started. Well, what you were trying to say was that she has to remember that you love her. And the books she mentioned were from your roommate who is a researcher in the field of astrophysics and chemistry. You can also remember how Xenka used to scan your biology books.

You are surprised to hear that she basically became a genius over time. But to be honest you are not that surprised. She is Xeno's daughter after all.

A slight pang hit your chest when bitter memories started to fill your mind. As sudden as those memories come, they instantly go away when you feel your daughter sitting on your lap and cuddling you.

"I miss you so much, mama! You didn't hug me back when I awoke!" Her cries echoed through the vast forest and you can't help but to tear up also.

Your biggest fear is the thought that you lost her. Fortunately, your daughter is smart enough to survive on her own even just for a week. You cried with her as relief washed over you.

She must have been so afraid of being alone. And so, you let her wail for hours. It's alright, after all she's still a child. You held her close while whispering words of reassurance that from now on, you won't be separated anymore.

Once the two of you calmed down, Xenka reported that she saw what appears to be a tower when she was scouting the area. And with that, the two of you began your journey. But first, you have to make DIY clothes or else you'll walk in naked if there really is people around.

The stone statues that litter the forest is a little creepy. It reminded you of that village in Japan famous for their stone statues. It took you a day to finally arrive at your destination. That must mean that Xenka has wandered far from where you were depetrified.

To your utter shock, a big ship is what greeted you upon entering the village. What the heck? You feel your daughter squirm in your arms wanting to be set down. You obliged and followed her when she suddenly ran to the direction of the ship.

The nearer you got, the more you see that there are a lot of people gathered around. Hope blooms in your chest as you know now that you and your daughter will survive seeing as they have this kind of resources.

A group of people went down the ship and the villagers seemed to buzz with excitement. I was about to grab Xenka so we can introduce ourselves but to my surprise, she's already in front of a young man with white hair that turns green in the tips. That reminded you of a leek which Xenka hates.

"Eh? Whose kid are you?" the man said while picking on his ear.

You sighed and hurried to walk beside your daughter. Upon seeing you, everyone erupted to loud whispers, questioning your identity. Some people from the ship even took a defensive stance and had their weapons at the ready. You suddenly felt scared and the young man sighed.

"Oi, what the heck are you doing?" He scolded his friends.

"We don't know her. She could be an enemy. Protect the chief. Rules are rules," the tall man with glasses replied.

"I am ten billion percent sure that she's not. If I deduce it correctly, you have been depetrified on your own, right?" You nodded and then his eyes trained on the little girl who has already taken a bottle from his bag.

You tried taking it from her but it's too late as she poured it on your left big toe that still remained as stone. The two of you watched in wonder when it cracked and revealed your smooth skin.

You watched as your daughter crossed her index and middle fingers as she mulls over something. This scene is painfully familiar as it is also the same mannerism as her dad's when he's too deep in his work.

Like a light bulb suddenly lit up, the crease on her little brows smoothened.

"I see now. That concoction smells like nitric acid with ethanol. The place where mama and I laid had a cave that gave nitric acid from bats but it is now gone. I thought that it is one of the factors for depetrification. However, you have more bottles with it that means you have a continuous supply of those two."

Her lengthy explanation has not just amazed me but everyone around the area. Some even had their mouths hanging open.

"What the? How did she know that?"

"But she looks like she isn't even a year old!"

"Woah! That's crazy!"

You can't help but be proud as the villagers scream from disbelief. That's your daughter alright! Even if her intelligence didn't come from you. But she did came from you.

"Kukuku! You're not just an ordinary kid, right? Then answer my next question. We have no source of Nitric Acid as the cave has been destroyed. What mineral will make the production of Nitric acid possible?" He tested her with a smirk in his face.

However, your daughter also showed a similar smirk and faced him on, "Huh, easy! It would be platinum!"

He grinned and outreached his hand to her, "My name is Senku."

You see your daughter's eyes widen and you can see why. Someone who has almost the same name as her and a genius at that too?! Who wouldn't be surprised.

"Senku-niisan, I am Xenka! And that is my mother, Y/n," she introduced while pointing at me, "please let us stay here. I can help you with your work and mama can treat people. She's a nurse!"

The young man, Senku, looked at you and grinned, "Well first, you two need some clothes. Yuzuriha, take care of them,"

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

It has been a few months now since you joined the Kingdom of Science. You are still at awe at how Sengku managed to build everything from scratch with the help of these young people.

It is also crazy how your daughter fits in the science team so easily. The gaps in her knowledge is easily supplied by Senku and the two grew even more closer. She really views him as her older brother. At this point, the two are inseparable. They even finish each other's sentences at times.

But the craziest of it all is that, you are now entering San Francisco California in the ship they made. You never thought that you'll go back to where you used to live. However, this is one of Senku's plan to go to the moon and you all need the corn here.

Apparently, they needed you because 1. you are a nurse and 2. you know the geography of the place- well at least from 3700 years ago. Also, your daughter has decided to go so you really had no choice.

It has been a few days since Perseus docked here. A few nights ago, Senku was shot and you have been tending him. Apparently, there's another Kingdom of Science here in America. It surprised the lot of you since they are already advanced in terms of weaponry but you believed that your team can handle it. They already have a plan to take their leader.

And now you are in a quest to find your patient who was out of his bed when you checked a few minutes ago. Little Xenka is even crying because she didn't know where her oniisan went to.

You are also silently fuming because you specifically told him to rest so his sutures won't break. Suddenly, you are being dragged. You were about to fight back (Kohaku taught you basic self-defense) but when you see the dazzling suit of the butler, yoi sighed in relief.

"Where are we going, Francois?" you asked.

"They seized their leader and we are going to escape. Senku still needs you to tend his wounds," upon hearing Senku's name, Xenka immediately stopped crying.

"I hope he's okay," she mutters while you tightened your hold on her.

"Don't worry, sweetie. We'll make sure to scold your oniisan, okay?" You tried cheering her up and it works. You wonder what's gearing up in that little big mind of hers.

The three of you made your way to a smaller boat that looked like a yacht. You guessed that they hijacked it from the enemies. Without wasting a second, you and your daughter roamed from room to room for your leek-y boy.

You and your daughter's annoyance grew the farther you searched and alas, only one cabin remained. You and Xenka looked at each other and nodded. Without further ado, you kicked the door open, startling the two people in the room. However, the two of you are focused on Senku that you didn't even realize a man was standing beside him.

"You brat! What did I say about taking a rest?! If you want to bleed badly you can just say so!" You nagged at him while Xenka pouts and glares at him.

"Xenka is upset oniisan! You said you'll never leave my side!" she said and refrained looking at the boy.

"Y-y/n?"

Suddenly, it felt like a bucket of ice-cold water is poured on you. Even thousands of years have passed, you still remember that voice. It's the one that whispered sweet words in your ear at three in the morning but broke you in the end.

"Mama? What's wrong?" You felt two warm hands touch your cheeks but your gaze snapped and remained at the other man in the room.

"Xeno," you breathed.

Suddenly, a burst of memories that you had together appeared on your mind like a broken record. The first day you met, the day he asked you to be his girlfriend, the first time you kissed and made love, and then the last time you have seen each other. You realized you had so many happy memories together but it took less than ten minutes for it to shatter.

"Y/N, I-"

"I don't want to hear it," you said and was about to go out of the room but Xenka squirmed wanting to be out down. You hesitantly obliged.

She went in front of Xeno. The two stared at each other. White hair to white hair. Black eyes to (e/c). Indeed, looking at them like this just enhanced how they look so much alike.

Xenka crossed her middle and index finger which made Xeno surprised. You know he already knows who this child is. You're even sure that Senku must have known this the moment we entered the room or even way before that.

"I see, so you're my father. Based on mama's reactions and how you're not in my life, Xenka's 10 billion percent sure that you never wanted me," her little voice broke and it made your heart clench in hurt.

"Well, if you don't want us, Mama and Xenka don't want you either!!" She screamed and ran out of the room. Without hesitation, you followed the little girl out after glaring at Xeno.

You know that your daughter is hurt right now and she needs you the most. You find her hiding in one of the lower rooms. The sight shattered your heart and you immediately went to crush her in your embrace. This only made her cry more. Even at this young age, she understands what's happening. And for the first time, you wished she's an ordinary one-year-old.

#dr. stone #dr. stone imagines #dr. stone headcanons #dr. stone south american arc #dr. stone dad x reader #dr. stone reader #dr. xeno #dr. x #dr. xeno x reader #dr. xeno dad! x reader

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 4 years

Text

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 2.4k

↣ warnings: emotional pain, swearing, mentions of sex (not outright anything).

↣ format: mixed

↣ song recommendation: 5 Seconds of Summer - Lover Of Mine & 5 Seconds Of Summer - Ghost Of You

↣ preamble: atsumu miya never understands what he has until its too late. from a young age, he only focused on his own satisfaction and accordingly, his own pleasure. the only reason your relationship was able to stand the test of time was solely because of your accommodating nature. but sometimes, it still hurts… the lack of appreciation. would he truly care if you stopped leaving him little love notes in your shared apartment? would he notice if you stopped keeping pace with him during your morning walks? did he even care that you only woke up at the ungodly hour to spend more time with him? with those questions unanswered, some days you wonder if love should hurt this much.

After winning five consecutive matches, a formal banquet was arranged to celebrate MSBY’s notable achievement. The guest-list was littered with numerous B list celebrities, with the occasional A lister promising to attend. What was originally planned to be a small gathering morphed into an evening gala that attracted media coverage, and a significant crowd. Some were desperate to secure an invite solely to catch a glimpse of one of the star players; while others were significantly more interested in the foreign chief that would be designing the menu for the function. Whatever the motivation, each attendee expelled an aura of excitement, one that was highly contagious. Accompanying the delectable atmosphere was a sugary scent wafting throughout the establishment. It was what Atsumu Miya deemed heaven on earth.

The blonde setter had the stem of a wineglass tucked between two fingers nonchalantly, occasionally swaying the maroon liquid as he surveyed those around him. He adored these gatherings for numerous reasons, one being the unnaturally attractive crowd it allured. Not that he planned on approaching any of them with nefarious intentions – he had a date after-all. The same one for the last four years. You. However, he refused to believe there was any harm in simply admiring from afar what he could have but chose not to. It provided him a rush of exhilaration, knowing that if he chose, he could secure the interest of any woman within the vicinity. Oh yes, if only they were so lucky. But alas, they were not. Simply having their attention and compliments was enough, he was disinterested in the satisfaction of sleeping with them. The truth was, while they were surely attractive, none of them would provide him the consistency that came neatly packaged with you. To be blunt, you were easy. Low maintenance, as he explained two nights ago to his brother. Even now, rather than remain glued to his side, you were somewhere in the crowd, mingling with someone unknown. He preferred it this way, and you knew it.

Half an hour before dinner was to be served, Atsumu was invited to take a shot with the MSBY Ace. Bokuto’s best friend refused to drink, vowing to return home early to complete a manuscript, and so he sought a new drinking buddy. But when he approached the setter, his thoughts of drinking were replaced with a newfound concern. Atsumu notified his team-mate that his hair required a quick touch up. His usual spikes were beginning to droop, resembling a withering flower.

“Akaashi! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Tsum, do you have any gel?” A pout registered upon his lips as he attempted to sharpen the ends of his hair using his index finger and thumb. What if someone caught a photo of him appearing less than satisfactory? The Ace, ordinary or not, should appear extraordinary on a night dedicated to celebrating him (and his team-mates).

“I don’t think it looks that bad, Bokuto-san.” The black-haired writer shook his head, prior to bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips. Okay, maybe he could have something earlier. But to his defence, he had only noticed the imperfection now. With a wave of exhaustion weighing over his eyelids, he was less perceptive than usual.

“You know lying to him ain’t gonna fix the problem, right?” Atsumu shifted his narrowed gaze at Akaashi questioningly, something the other male did not appreciate. “And do you really have to ask? Of course, I do. Come on.” The blonde tapped against his lower jacket pocket, where a thin container of hair-serum was kept.

“I’m going to my seat. I’ll meet you there when you’re done.” The comment was directed solely at Bokuto, in a tone that indicated the writer would rather not spend any ‘quality’ time with the setter unless forced to. The brunette was not his biggest fan to say the least.

“I’ll be back soon.” He was well aware that his best friend and team-mate were not particularly fond of one another, placing distance was perhaps the best available option. Once the writer was no longer present, the pair began walking towards the bathroom. “Say… Tsum, where’s y/n?” Instinctively, the Ace’s golden irises searched the space around them for your familiar face.

“I dunno. Somewhere. I’m sure I��ll see her at the dinner table, since we’re sitting together.” The disinterest laced in his tone startled the other male, who failed to mask his bewilderment. Atsumu ignored the puzzlement that shined in his team-mate’s eyes, dismissing the action with a limp shrug before entering the bathroom first.

Bokuto trailed in a second later, pausing at the mirror with a hand extended forward. “You guys are really weird.”

Retrieving the container from his pouch, the blonde handed his team-mate the gel then began adjusting his own appearance, beginning by ushering aside some fallen strands. The observation that was offered only brought a little laugh to exit his mouth. “Yeah? Why do you say that?”

“You don’t act like a real couple.” Bokuto did not intend to respond immediately, particularly because he desired to avoid the stare he was now receiving through the mirror. The lack of hesitation was not well received by the MSBY setter.

“We don’t need to abide by norms to be a couple, Bokkun.” Despite the sour taste curling around his tongue, Atsumu managed to maintain a smile on his lips, finding humour in his own explanation.

“Alright, so is that why you haven’t proposed yet?” The white-haired Ace mentally scolded himself for his lack of restraint. He should have bit his tongue. Oh, if only he bit his tongue –

However, this was not the first time the question was posed to him. In fact, two days ago, it was exact topic that resulted in a very heated argument with his twin-brother. He truly did not understand why proposing was necessary. You both already lived together – was that not enough?

“It’s not that serious.” Tugging at his sleeves, the setter then adjusted his cufflinks. “I love her, but I’m not sure she’s the one. I don’t know if I can really give everything up forever, for her. For the time-being, I don’t mind. But I’m not giving everything up just yet.” The final sentence uttered by the blonde was more of an affirmation to himself, one that did not register well with his team-mate. It seemed that everyone but Atsumu could see how much you did for him. His unappreciated nature was rather toxic.

“That doesn’t sound like love, dude.”

No. It certainly did not.

They say that the truth will always be revealed sooner or later. Perhaps Atsumu Miya’s true feelings would have been revealed later, if he chose to lower his voice and restrict his sincerity. Had he known that you were outside, he certainly would have taken some precautions. But how could he have known that you were searching for him, when you ran into Akaashi? Who unfortunately knew exactly where he was?

How many warnings were issued by your friends over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? What would they say now? How many red flags did you ignore?

How curious how easily you confused ache for butterflies.

The strain circling inside of your temples morphed into a throb as the liquid distorting your vision began spilling down your cheeks, dragging your mascara along with it. Behind you someone whispered your name, fear gripping their throat and muffling the sound. But you were unable to recognize who the voice belonged to, as you no longer held the luxury of having a stable state of mind.

Lifting your trembling fingers to the area below your eyelids, you stumbled attempting to discard the substance hanging on your lashes. “I need to go. I… Oh, I’m stupid. I just… I need to leave. Please.” Sluggishly, you shifted your body to face the person who addressed you earlier, seeking any aid that was offered. You couldn’t face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I know. Come on.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi accidentally stumbled onto the scene just as Atsumu began responding to the inquiry. He was not staggered to hear the cruel statements fall casually from his team-mate’s lips. Similar statements were uttered in the locker-room on numerous occasions. It was your reaction that tugged at his heart. No one deserved to hear the one they loved speak with such venom, and certainly not you. “Let’s go before they come out, shall we?”

The thrill of partying as a newly single bachelor provided Atsumu Miya temporary satisfaction. Each night a stranger’s mouth was attached to his, as he clung to them, desperate to combat the vanilla scent that circulated in the apartment, even weeks after your departure. How many girls had now laid in the exact spot you once occupied on the bed? Dozens? And yet, every morning when he awoke, he continuously thought it was you in his arms, and not someone whose name he did not bother remembering. His endeavours to erase you were fruitless. Not due to a lack of effort, but because the truth was… He didn’t want to forget you.

It took a month for the realization to settle in. No longer interested in the meaningless sex that was offered by mistresses of the night, he found himself unable to leave the apartment unless there was a match scheduled. It was the only location where he could feel some connection to you. Particularly when intoxicated, he swore he could hear you whisper soothing sentiments into his ears, dispelling his fears that you no longer loved him.

But each morning, reality would register once more, providing him a metaphorical jab to his chest.

Today was no different.

It had been forty days since the gala. Forty days to mull over how just how much you did for him, and just how little he did for you. It wasn’t always like this. Over the years, he became too accustomed to your giving nature. Soon, he developed a toxic mentality that he was entitled to everything you provided. But it wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t. At least that was what he repeated to himself, hoping it was the truth.

After downing a liter of water, the throbbing in his head had dimmed to a tolerable level. And once the lights no longer strained his eyes, he reached for his phone, determination igniting in his heart.

“Hi.” The greeting was exhaled softly into the phone, as anxiety prompted your heart to beat irregularly. The uncertainty of what would be said by your former lover had your thoughts tangled into an incoherent mess.

“Hey. Thanks for talking with me.” Atsumu pressed a fist against his mouth, muffling the small whimper that threatened to sound. Oh fuck. You actually picked up. A single word overwhelmed him with the storm of emotions he usually suppressed with alcohol.

A little hum was given to acknowledge his gratitude, it was honestly the best you could offer. But it was unlike you to be so quiet. The thought that he impacted you this much only expanded the guilt he was suffocating in.

“Was I always this bad?” The setter’s eyes stung with fresh tears forming along his lids. Did he even deserve to speak with you now?

Inhaling a lengthy breath of air, silence greeted him for a minute as you mustered the courage to respond. You knew you should hate him. and yet, hearing the tremor in his voice broke your heart. Was it really your fault that you still loved him?

“You weren’t.” You prayed the words were audible, since you were unsure whether you would be able to repeat yourself.

The blonde found the slightest bit of relief in your response, although it only eased a tenth of the tension he was battling to contain. Swallowing once, he strived to stabilize his breathing.

“Will you give me another chance?”

You caught onto the small crack in his voice, symbolizing his distress and sincerity simultaneously. But you wished you hadn’t.

“Atsumu. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a future with me.” Even now, stating a reminder of what you heard activated the emotional wound you spent the last month attempting to heal. Could you truly ever get passed this?

“I can’t see a future without you in it.” He interjected, not missing a beat. He refused to deny it any longer. He was an idiot, but he loved you. It was more than the fact you were low maintenance. He knew that now.

“I feel like I wasted four years, do you understand that?” His confession promoted a swarm of butterflies to parade inside of your stomach, but the mental reminder of your friends scoldings kept you grounded. Pretty words would not heal the damage. Not this time. “I’m sorry. I can’t waste any more…”

“You won’t have to, y/n. I promise. Let me take care of you this time. It will be different.” At this point he was essentially begging you to place trust in his promises, even if he had no credibility.

Maybe it was unhealthy how much you wished his promise to be true. How desperate you were to lower your armor and envelope him into your embrace instead. You knew your friends would never approve of him, but his pleads were weaved together with a vulnerability you had never heard before. Before you could stop yourself, the one word the setter was waiting for left your mouth.

“Okay.” Dropping your face into your palm, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip.

The second you agreed, the blonde was already on his feet, fetching his keys before rushing to the front door. It had been so long since the setter was flooded with joy, he could barely contain himself. “Where are you? I’m coming to you now.” Clicking the lock to a close, he nestled his phone against his shoulder.

Upon hearing the shuffling in his background followed by his question, you instantly shot up to your feet, feeling a surge of hope enter your system. “Don’t you have practice soon?” You certainly did not expect this. Not at all.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway, he blew out a scoff. “I don’t fucking care. I need you in my arms now. Text me the address and I’ll be there. I fucking love you, y/n I love you so much. I’ll never let you go again. I promise.”

It should be noted that he wholeheartedly intended to keep that promise, and thankfully… he did.

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @shakiraisawesome

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #atsumu miya #atsumu imagines #atsumu haikyuu #atsumu scenarios #atsumu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

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jackies-wearing-khakis · 4 years

Text

Marriage and Murder Pt. 1 (Shelby!Reader)

a/n: I'm a bit disappointed I had to post this in two parts, but alas, the original one-shot was too long for Tumblr.

summary: Things get progressively darker as you try to survive Tommy and Grace's wedding night.

words: 3101

warnings: Themes of drinking and sexual assault.

"(y/n), for fuck's sake, hurry up!" Polly shouted from the betting room. She, Ada, Finn, John, and Esme were dressed in formal clothes, waiting for you to get ready.

"Five minutes, Pol!" you called from your bedroom.

"I swear to God," your aunt said under her breath as she checked her watch. "It's her own brother's wedding and she's decided to take her sweet time."

"What's taking her so long anyway?" Finn asked, bored to death.

"She probably looks ugly as hell and can't stand to face it," John whispered, earning a chuckle from Finn and a smack to the back of the head from Ada.

"I don't care 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 she's doing, if that girl's not down here soon we're leaving without her." Polly huffed.

What Polly and the others didn't understand was that you were by 𝘯𝘰 means taking your sweet time. If anything, you were practically tripping over yourself to try and find a dress to wear to Tommy and Grace's wedding. You'd accidentally ripped the dress you were supposed to wear the night before when you'd gotten your arm stuck in one of the sleeves. Now, you were caught between a rock and a hard place; go downstairs and face humiliation, or stay in your room and face Polly. You could tell today was going to be stressful.

You were legitimately considering cutting off the sleeves of your dress entirely when Polly came bursting into the room without warning.

"Pol, wait!" you shouted, instinctively holding your arms in front of your head for self-defense.

"I don't give a shit if you're ready or not, we're going," Polly growled. She grabbed your arm, unknowingly pulling at the rip in your dress. With one strong yank, your aunt had doubled the size of the tear. The two of you froze in shock at the damaged material.

"𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, (y/n)," Polly muttered.

"I know, it's awful." you sighed.

As you stood there, Finn peeked his head into your room. Immediately, he saw your dress and gasped.

"𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, (y/n)." Finn chuckled. "What the hell did you do?"

"Go away!" you shouted angrily. You grabbed one of your shoes and chucked it at your brother, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled out of the room laughing.

You threw yourself face-first onto your bed in utter despair, sighing dramatically.

"Oh, Pol, this'll be the death of me," you whined, your voice muffled by the covers. Your aunt rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Polly spoke. "We'll figure something out."

It wasn't long before Ada and Esme had made their way upstairs and into your room. The four of you sat in silence, quietly brainstorming. Suddenly, Esme stood up.

"I've got a dress that might work," she said, and immediately rushed to go fetch it. Your face lit up, and you excitedly hopped off your bed to go with your sister-in-law. Ada and Polly exchanged glances.

You followed Esme into her and John's old room, where she was digging through her closet.

"Now, (y/n), you're a bit smaller than I am, so hopefully this won't look too awkward on you," Esme said, tossing clothes in every direction.

"Now, if only I could find the damn thing."

"What's it look like?" you asked.

"See for yourself," Esme responded, pulling out a green shapeless dress with beaded lace embroidery.

You gawked at the beauty of the thing; it was an excellent balance of elegance and youth. Not too modest, not too sexy; it was superbly tasteful.

"Oh my God, Esme, it's perfect." you breathed.

"Hurry up and try it on!" she urged, pushing the dress into your arms. With that, she rushed out of her room.

To your relief, the dress fit perfectly. You barely had any time to show it off to the others before Polly had rushed everyone out of the house and into the cramped car, practically dragging you all by the wrists.

The five of you slipped into the chapel quietly as you could. Tommy gave you all dirty looks as you scooted into the pews one by one.

"Where the fuck've you been?" Arthur whispered to Polly as she sat down next to him.

"There was a complication," Polly answered. "Nothing worth worrying about now."

"Complication my arse. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 one took forever to get changed." John scoffed, pointing his thumb towards you.

"It wasn't my fault, the dress ripped!" you whined.

"It was 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 your fault, (y/n)," Finn added smugly.

"I swear to God if you three don't 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱 I'll drag you all home by the ears." Polly threatened under her breath. Nobody had anything to say about your dress after that.

John grumbled as Grace entered the chapel.

"Here come the fucking cavalry, late as usual." he griped.

"I don't get it, why's everyone hate them?" you asked in a whisper.

"Well, first of all, they weren't supposed to wear their uniforms. Just goes to show they're disrespectful bastards." John whispered back.

"𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? That's all it is?" you questioned.

John sighed as he tried to find the right words for the situation.

"Listen, (y/n), just stay away from them. Half those men are self-righteous pricks who'll take advantage of you if you give 'em the chance," he warned.

"Hush." Esme chimed in, squeezing John's hand. "They're exchanging vows."

Your gaze turned to the men in red uniform as Tommy and Grace stood at the altar. You accidentally locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been older than twenty. Not sure what to do, you smiled politely at him. To your surprise, he smiled back.

Your exchange was cut off by the sound of Jeremiah Jesus's voice filling the room.

"I now pronounce you man and wife." he declared, and everyone in the chapel applauded as Tommy and Grace shared a kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of pride as you watched your brother smile at his new wife. There was something magical about the way he was able to just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 in her presence, especially since you couldn't think of another day Tommy wasn't trying to take over Birmingham.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, you thought wistfully, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

Unfortunately, the warmth of the wedding ceremony quickly faded as everyone gathered outside for the family photo. Nearly ten minutes went by as the Shelby clan struggled to organize themselves into a tight group.

You initially tried to stand behind Polly and Arthur to be near the other women, but that plan quickly failed when you realized you were too short to stand behind either of them. It was a tremendous effort to try to force yourself in between them, and the result left you in a painfully awkward position where you were left standing sideways. The ultimate solution was to have you stand with John's children; you were mortified.

"Christ, I look like a 𝘬𝘪𝘥," you whined, showing the picture to Finn. The two of you sat together at the base of the stairs in Tommy's house, trying your best to avoid the crowds of people wandering the halls..

"It's not that big a deal," he said plainly, taking the picture in his hands. "Nobody really cares."

"It's a big deal to me." you mumbled.

You could see John and Arthur approaching from a distance. By the looks of it, they'd already gotten their hands on some champagne.

"Finn. Tommy wants a meeting in the kitchen." Arthur spoke as he passed by.

"I should probably go with him." Finn sighed as he stood up.

"Wait, take me with you!" you pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. "I've got nobody else to talk to."

Finn quickly leaned over the stairs to check if Arthur and John had gone. Once he saw the coast was clear, he turned back to you.

"Fine. But you shouldn't say anything," he advised.

"Wasn't planning on it."

You and Finn had assumed the meeting would be family only, but as you snuck your way into the kitchen you were surprised to find a swarm of Blinders men crowding the room. You instinctively stuck close to your brother, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. The two of you slowly hovered towards the center of the room, where the immediate family gathered. There Tommy stood in the midst of it all with a cigar in his hands.

"Right. Today is my wedding day." he began, and the room fell silent.

"Yeah, and you said there'd be no uniforms, Tom." John interrupted, and a few people murmured in agreement.

"In spite of there being bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Tommy continued, ignoring John's comment. "For Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong today."

Tommy began circling the room as he spoke, making sure to lock eyes with every man present.

"And if any of you fuckers do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 to embarrass her, kin, cousins, your kids, your horses, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.."

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Tommy noticed you standing there next to Finn. He froze for a moment, then furrowed his brows. You cursed under your breath.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

You realized every man in the room had their eyes on you. You shifted uncomfortably.

"It's a family meeting, isn't it?" you grumbled. "Last I checked I was a Shelby."

Tommy sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? I'm glad you're here because there's something I should say." he began. You crossed your arms defensively.

"You've been wild these past few months, (y/n), don't think I haven't noticed."

"So?" you scoffed.

"𝘚𝘰, I won't have any of it tonight. I swear, if I find out you've been drinking, flirting, or doing 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 that might damage this family's reputation, I assure you that you'll live to regret it. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

You didn't know how to feel about Tommy's words. In a way, he was right; you'd been drinking more than usual as of late, not to mention fooling around with some of the boys you were going to school with. You didn't understand why that was such a big deal though, especially since you were a saint compared to your brothers. Really, the whole thing seemed unfair.

"Yeah, I understand." you finally answered. "I'll just spend the night boring myself to death while you boys do whatever you want."

"That's the spirit." he shot back.

"Tommy, what about snow?" Isiah asked from across the room. You silently thanked him for taking the attention off you.

"There'll be no cocaine," Tommy answered sternly. A few men in the room sighed.

Tommy took the opportunity to get back to his speech.

"No sport. No racing. No sucking the petrol out of their cars. You give them 𝘯𝘰 excuses to look down their noses."

The room was uneasy. Nobody was sure what to think as Tommy stood there, almost desperately trying to talk sense into his men.

"But the main thing is, you fuckers.." he began.

"Why are you mad at 𝘶𝘴, Tom?" Finn mumbled.

"..in spite of provocation from the cavalry.."

Tommy walked along the line of men standing around him, getting close to Arthur, then John, then Finn, then finally you.

"..no fighting. 𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨!"

And with that, everyone was sent out of the kitchen.

The party started slow, and you found yourself wandering around the house aimlessly with nothing to do. Everywhere you went people were already drinking, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to join them. The other, more sensible part remembered Tommy's warning and decided to avoid alcohol for the night. As much as you wanted to piss him off and indulge yourself, you knew getting drunk would only prove that you were irresponsible.

Dinner in the great hall was an absolute disaster. You sat between Finn and Ada, who were both caught up in their own conversations. You were starving, and Tommy and Grace had been taking a suspiciously long amount of time to get ready. Even after they'd finally come downstairs, Arthur had to get through his speech before anyone could eat.

"Now, I'm not one for speeches." Arthur began. The poor man looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

"Sing then!" John shouted. Esme grabbed his arm wearily.

"I've got a speech written down here. but it's not everything I want to say." Arthur droned on. You buried your head in your hands.

"Arthur, just read what we've written down," Tommy said softly.

"I will, Tom. But first, a few words from the heart."

Arthur gently placed the small piece of paper into one of his pockets, then cleared his throat.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." Tommy breathed.

"I'd just like to say that my brother helped me survive hard times. Trouble in my head.."

As Arthur gave his speech, you noticed Polly staring at a man who sat opposite her. He was older than she was and wore a dark suit that matched his serious expression.

"Who's that?" You leaned over and whispered to Ada.

"Kaledin something," she whispered back. "Don't bother talking politics with him, I've already tried."

Unlike Ada, you weren't interested in having political debates with strangers. Still, there was an air of mystery surrounding the man. Something about him made it impossible to look away, even when he met your eyes with his. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

Arthur's trainwreck of a speech was eventually cut short by Tommy. You felt bad for your eldest brother, but you were desperate to eat. Polly gave you a disapproving look as you scarfed down your food, but you didn't care; you were too hungry to act like a lady.

An hour had passed since the food was served, and by then everyone had made their way into the ballroom.

John and Arthur had set up a boxing area outside with Tommy's reluctant permission. After hovering around Polly for nearly half an hour, you finally gave in and went outside to watch the fights.

You were used to seeing your brothers fight, so not much could faze you in the boxing ring. Tonight was different, though. The men had such anger in them as they landed their punches. It was almost disturbing to watch Finn get knocked into the ground by a man in a red uniform.

"Gruesome, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind you. You turned around to face the very same cavalry boy you'd locked eyes within the chapel. Only now, he was standing a mere foot away from you and the two of you were practically alone.

"William. Fraser." the young man said, extending his hand.

You took his hand in yours and shook it. The dim light from the boxing ring illuminated your faces, and you were able to get good looks at each other. To your excitement, not only was he young, he was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.

"(y/n). Lee." you introduced yourself, lying through your teeth. You were done being a Shelby today.

"Mm. I thought you were a gypsy." William spoke. You raised your eyebrows in amusement.

"Really? How could you tell?" you asked.

"It's the dress. Very... 𝘣𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯," he replied.

"It was a gift, it's not mine," you assured, flattening the dress out. You suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness.

"Oh, well it suits you well enough." And with that, William placed his hand on your waist.

"What are you doing?" you asked, chuckling nervously.

"Enjoying myself."

He slowly started to pull you into a kiss when you noticed Finn in the boxing ring. Another one of the cavalry boys had landed a particularly heavy blow onto his gut, and he fell onto the ground in defeat. You pushed William away to watch the scene.

"You know him?" William asked.

"He's my brother," you responded quietly, not taking eyes off Finn.

"He fights well enough for a boy his size, I didn't expect him to last as long as he did." William retorted.

"He's really good, actually. Likes it a lot, too," you said, relaxing as you saw Finn get up and shake his opponent's hand.

William took the opportunity to pick up where you left off and started to wrap his arms around your waist. You hesitated and stepped back.

"Wait, we shouldn't. Not in front of them." you gestured towards the crowds of people who were watching the fights.

"Good point." the young man hummed into your neck.

You lead William to a fairly secluded area of the gardens. There was a small, wooden bench that was nestled in between some of the bushes that lined the back wall of Tommy's mansion. The two of you sat together; there was an uncomfortable sexual tension between you.

William kissed you slowly as his hands wandered around your torso. You kept trying to cut him off, but he was persistent. If you would grab his arm, he would use the other one to pull you closer. If you turned away, he would kiss your neck.

"William I don't think we should do this," you whispered.

"Don't worry, love. nobody's around. You won't get in trouble." he assured.

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, just stop." you pleaded.

"Relax, I promise I'll make it worth your while.

With that, you'd had enough. You started smacking your palm against his shoulder, and he finally separated.

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? I thought you wanted this!" William snapped.

"Why didn't you stop?" you asked him with a hurt look on your face. "I was 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 you to stop!"

"𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, don't act like you didn't want it. You took me out here for a reason." he countered.

"I didn't think it would happen so fast!" you shouted.

William huffed, stood up, then brushed himself off.

"𝘎𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩." he spat, then walked away.

"What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you call me?" you shot back. "Do you even know who the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 I am?"

William froze in place and turned around. He gave you a dark look as he lit a cigarette. The red glow of the tiny embers illuminated his face.

"My name is (y/n) 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 Shelby." you hissed, and William's expression changed.

"You're related to the groom?" he realized.

"I'm his sister," you spat.

The young man sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair.

"𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.. I had no idea. Let me make it up to you." he began, but you were already leaving.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶." you scoffed as you passed him.

You made your way back to the ballroom, leaving William standing there alone.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, you thought, heading straight for a bottle of wine.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelby reader #shelby sister #shelby sis #polly gray #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #michael gray

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clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

Text

Christmas Dinner || Jurdan X-mas in July

AHHHH there is more Christmas!Jurdan!!!!!!!!! 🎄🎄

Rating: T

Summary: The Duarte's are hosting their Christmas dinner and Vivi sets a trap for Jude to bring his boyfriend and introduce him to the family.

I guess this can be considered a little prequel to You got me trippin?

This is also my first time posting somethin in 1st person sooo...let’s see how it goes lmao

Tags: @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @thesirenwashere @jurdanhell @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @nightbringer @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @vanessa172003

[if you wish to be tagged/untagged or if I forgot to tag you pls let me know!]

A massive thank you to Becca @sweetlyvillainous for betaing this for me!! Love u 🧡

Masterlist Read on AO3

This is a terrible, terrible idea I keep repeating myself.

If I’d shown a little more steadiness with my sister I wouldn’t be in this situation. I knew she was nervous about presenting her girlfriend to the family, specially to our father. And because she is extra as hell, she couldn’t choose another date that wasn’t on Christmas Eve. For weeks now she’d been texting me, grumbling about how was she going to be able to pull it off. I told her to relax and just go with it.

What I didn’t expect though, was for Vivi to arrive out of nowhere to the school where I work, talking nonsense about me bringing a fake date to dinner with hopes of taking the attention away from her.

After spending 15 minutes trying to convince her it is not necessary for me to do that, her insistence is such I end up babbling how bad that idea is since I already have a boyfriend, and fake dating someone else would certainly create problems.

Big mistake.

Looking at me with something like betrayal in her eyes, now she starts questioning me about that boyfriend who I’d never talked about before. I bite my lip. When it comes to personal stuff I prefer to keep it private, even with my own family. I have my reasons.

And just because luck is not on my side today, in the middle of her inquiries I hear a faint “Hey, babe!” behind me. I groan. Of course. Of course he had to arrive in that moment.

We both turn to look at him. Cardan approaches us wearing that mischievous grin reserved only for me, so different from the polite smile he uses with his students. His hair is tied up in a bun as he also wears it for work, few curls escaping it in the most adorable way.

With a pang of panic, I notice Vivi noticing how dumbfounded I’m looking at him. Her eyes light up in a way that I know means nothing good. I frown at her.

“I was looking for you on the cafeteria, one of your students told me you were here.” He pauses. “I- didn’t notice you were busy though, sorry.”

“Not at all!” Vivi says with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m Jude’s older sister, Vivi! You must be her lovely boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah I am. Nice to meet you!” If I didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t notice the slight blush on his cheeks or the way he looks at me in contained alarm.

It’s too late by the time I put the pieces together. When I realize what is about to happen, my sister is already handing Cardan a rolled piece of paper.

“I came to make sure Jude invites you to our family Christmas dinner! She’s so absentminded sometimes isn’t she?”

I’m going to kill her. Slowly.

Horrified, I stand there and see Cardan take the invitation, grinning. His polite, charming smile.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” He says. “Thank you so much Vivi.”

My sister turns to me and whatever look it’s on my face makes her hesitate. Although, not enough. She claps her hands once and makes an excited squeal. “Well I must go now! But I’m so excited you’re coming to join us Cardan, see you there. Ciao!”

With that she turns and leaves.

So here we are. My boyfriend driving by my side, as we are about to arrive to my parent’s house.

My knee bounces without control as I twist my scarf between my fingers. At any moment now, I’m sure my heart is going to bolt out of my chest.

“Jude dear, is everything ok?” He asks. I notice I’ve been quiet almost the entire road.

I turn to look at him. He looks dashing, even if it’s not a strictly formal dinner he always finds a way to dress as it was. Black ensemble and green scarf that stands out his pale skin, though his nose and cheeks have a touch of color because of the cold weather.

“Yeah it’s just... My family is a little,” I pause. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

We are not the type of family that introduces romantic partners, ever. My twin sister tried to do it some years ago with a terrible and embarrassing outcome. At some point in the middle of breakfast, she’d asked her daddy to pass the salt. Both our father and Locke moved to grab it at the same time. What came next, well… if that Locke dude had restrained himself to make a sarcastic and really tacky comment about it, maybe he would still be welcome in the house. Alas, he is not.

Ever since that day, every time someone brings a guest to the house my father gets in a mood that is pretty uncomfortable for everyone. Sooner or later he makes everyone run. Not exactly the first impression I want Cardan to have.

We’ve been together for some time now, about eleven months. But the topic of introducing our families has never been on the table so far. I know he comes from a problematic family even if he doesn’t talk much about them. As for me, I have to admit I’ve grown so attached to him that I’m terrified of Madoc, or any other of my relatives, scaring him away.

He takes my hand in his, warming it, and smiles softly. “It’ll be ok. Breathe.”

I sigh, hoping he’s right and grip his hand tighter.

The inside of the house looks as if Santa’s bag had exploded. There are lights and ornaments everywhere. Even the tree is bigger than previous years. A delicious smell of food fills the place. As I stare in awe I hear voices coming from the living room.

“Jude? Is that you?” Hurried steps sound in the wooden floor and a few seconds later my little brother appears wearing an absurd red and white onesie. He crashes against me and I laugh, hugging him back.

“You do realize that’s for little kids don’t you?” I ask. “It looks good on you, though.”

Oak scoffs and pulls back. “Well of course it does. I look good on everything.”

Cardan chuckles next to me and for the first time my brother notices him. His eyes and mouth open widely, blinking at him and then turning back at me. Once. Twice.

“Jude,” He murmurs. It cracks me up how shy he can get around new people. “Who’s this?”

Ah, here we go. I take a deep breath and grab Cardan’s hand again.

“Don’t be rude,” I warn him. “His name is Cardan. Cardan, this is my brother Oak.”

Cardan greets him, extending his hand to him. Oak shakes it, visibly puzzled. “And Cardan is…?”

“My boyfriend.”

A slow, mocking and devilish smile spreads on his face. I swear to god that kid was taken out from the movie Cheaper by the Dozen. All the shyness is suddenly gone.

“You and Vivi are really trying to give dad a heart attack today aren’t you?” He turns to Cardan and adopts a serious expression I almost believe. “Please tell me Jude doesn’t call you daddy.”

“OAK!” I hiss. I look at Cardan and he gazes back with amusement, I notice he’s biting back a laugh.

“WHAT? I need to know earlier if I need to take my phone out, last time I didn’t have time to record when dad…” He motions with his hand. Yeah, I remember.

“She doesn’t.” Cardan affirms. Mimicking my brother’s mischievous smile he asks. “Is there a story there I need to know?”

Oak hesitates, even though I’m sure he’s dying to spill it out.

“Taryn would kill you.” I remind him.

“She’s not coming. For what I’ve heard, either it’s Locke’s turn to visit his family or something about dad running him under the car if he dared appearing. I’m not sure.”

Great.

“What if I beat you at Mario Kart?” Cardan asks, pointing at the console resting next to the tv.

Oak squints at him. “Are you challenging me?”

“It’s not a challenge when I know I’m going to win.”

Turning to me, my brother grins. “I like him.”

I know this is the first time I’ve brought someone home, but still I don’t know if I should be offended at my parent’s surprised faces. Oak had to tell my mother twice that Cardan is my boyfriend before she nods in understanding.

On his side, Cardan is being the full gentleman. To be fair he always is, but I notice the extra effort he’s doing today. It warms my heart. The only sign of nervousness I notice in him are occasional deep breaths he takes when he thinks no one is watching.

We get to meet Heather too, who is adorable and I honestly don’t know how on earth she fell in love with my lunatic sister. In a matter of minutes Cardan is already friends with her which helps with her evident tension. Vivi seems to relax as well.

Christmas music plays on the background as we eat. This is probably my favorite part of the evening. Don’t get me wrong, I love gatherings with my family but food calls me on a spiritual level. Cardan knows it too, chuckling at my excitement while I’m serving us mashed potatoes.

“So, Cardan.” My father starts, serving the wine. My heart leaps in my chest, oh no. “You met my daughter at work?”

He nods. “Yes sir, I arrived there about two years ago. I teach preschool and first grade.” Winking at me he adds. “Jude used to hate me.”

Madoc turns to me, frowning. “What happened?” I roll my eyes, classical worried dad.

I take a long drink from my wine and shrug. “Nothing, he stole the ‘best teacher award’ from me, on his first six months. I’m pretty sure he bribed the students that year.”

To my surprise, my father barks a laugh. We all stare at him wide-eyed.

“Keep repeating that to yourself, love.” Cardan teases. “It was a clean triumph.”

“You’ve always been competitive Jude, that’s no secret.” Vivi adds. “It’s nice to finally meet someone who can pull up with that.”

I turn to glare at her. You and I are going to talk later. She sticks out her tongue at me.

“Do you guys have sex?”

“Oak!” My mother shouts as my father and I both choke on our wine.

When Cardan parks the car outside my apartment it’s already past midnight.

Surprisingly, this turned out to be one of the best Christmas celebrations I’ve ever had. My boyfriend somehow managed to not only avoid any uncomfortable moments around my family but also to wrap them up around his little finger. With jokes and tales about us the night had passed incredibly fast.

Toasts were made, hugs and gifts were given. By the end, we were sprawled on the floor wearing silly sweaters and watching the merciless Mario Kart match between Oak and Cardan. It ended up in a tie. Rematch was already set for New Year’s Eve.

It was everything I never thought it would be.

“Well, did Vivi’s plan work?” Cardan asks.

I turn to find him already looking at me with a knowing smile on his face. Still, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“C’me on, you weren’t really planning on inviting me to your family’s dinner. Something was surely going on the day she gave me the invitation.”

Sighing I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He knows me too well, more than I even know myself sometimes.

“Don’t be, it’s not a topic we usually discuss.” He shrugs, reaching my hand with his. His thumb makes slow circles on my skin “Still, I should’ve asked if it was ok with you. Forgive me if I crossed a line.”

“You didn’t. I just wasn’t planning for you to meet my family yet.” I regret those words the moment they leave my mouth, knowing how they sound. Cardan doesn’t let go of my hand but he stops his ministrations. “Wait, that wasn’t…”

“Jude, it’s ok.” He says, turning to the windshield. I know him well enough too, and notice the touch of sadness behind his words.

“No it’s not. Please listen.” I insist, my heart is beating fast now. That look on his eyes is exactly what I tried to avoid the whole night. “The reason why I wasn’t thinking to introduce you to my family is that they’re ridiculously hard and annoying with every new person that visits. And this is the first time I took someone home and…I don’t know, I-”

“You thought I’d leave?” He turns his gaze back to me, warily.

At the beginning of the day I did. But I don’t find the words to admit it, so I don’t answer.

After a moment of silence he asks “Do you want to know why I agreed to go?”

I swallow and nod. Cardan inhales deeply..

“We’ve been together for some time now. And you know, you must know, I’m not playing around Jude.” I start to say something but he silences me with a soft finger against my lips. “I love you. If I agreed to whatever scheme your sister had in mind it was because I wanted to show you that I’m not going away. No matter what.”

“My family…”

“They love you. It’s only natural for them to ask what my intentions are… and maybe tease us about it too. I’m willing to admit your dad is a little scary. But not enough to make me run away.” He winks, cupping my face.“There is nothing on earth that would make me want to run away, Jude. That’s how much I love you.”

Feeling my eyes sting I blink. “I love you too.”

We’ve said those words before. But I find that they acquire a different meaning, somehow deeper. My chest is suddenly too small to hold everything I feel for this man. He’s not going anywhere. He loves me. I’m grinning like an idiot and I’m proud of it.

I lean to rest my forehead against his. “Since it’s our first Christmas together… and you already met my family.” His smile widens at that. “Would you like to stay the night?”

“There’s nothing I would like more.” Cardan angles his head to give me a kiss that I accept gladly, coiling my arms around his neck. “I usually spend Christmas alone, I guess it’s time for new traditions.”

We remain entwined for some minutes, it fastly turns into something hotter and desperate. I’m already straddling his hips when I pull back a few inches. I bet my lips are as swollen as his. He is looking at me with hunger… and love.

“How about a tradition in which we spend Christmas night undressed and watching some crappy Netflix movies?” I suggest.

My toes curl when he leans to bite my lobe and purrs. “Yes, please.”

#a very jurdan christmas in july #jurdannet christmas in july #jurdannet #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #holly black #tcp #twk #tqon #qon #judecardan #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #jurdan human au #vivi duarte #madoc #tess writes

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julemmaes · 4 years

Note

Hey! Can I please have Thomastair with "I love you! Are you blind?" With Alastair being the oblivious one......I just adore your writing, especially that 'You marry me Alas' one! 💕

Blind - October 6th

Alastair Carstairs x Thomas Lightwood

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt and I’m really glad you like You marry me Alas, it’s my favorite too. I hope this is satisfying enough for you and I’m really sorry if I posted so late, but as I said yesterday, I’m not home and it’s kinda hard to arrange things.

Word count: 1,745

Throughout the evening, Thomas had watched the newcomer flirt with Alastair. He thought he had been fairly good at hiding that feeling of uncertainty and anger towards the adonis, Dalton Roseblade, but from the looks Matthew and James were casting his way, he was not doing so well. He had to be honest, Dalton's pitch black hair and bright green eyes were much more inviting than the normal light brown of his hair and the chestnut of his eyes, but he was still irritated by the constant interactions and touches shared by Alastair and him.

"Alas!" cried the new boy, "Come! It's your turn."

Thomas had to hold back a shudder of disgust when Alastair stood up from the seat next to his and smiled at the other boy, "What's the rush? You know I'm going to kick your ass anyway," he joked, placing a hand on Dalton's arm.

Following Alastair's gesture with his eyes and hearing the other guy's laugh, he also stood up, no longer able to support that situation, and left the arcade, giving Lucie permission to play for him. He sucked at bowling anyway, he might as well let someone else play if he could avoid those constant exchanges of sympathetic glances.

He felt someone grab his arm when he was at the door and turned abruptly, with a frown on his face, ready to tell his boyfriend to go back to make goo-goo eyes at other people. His expression changed from irritated to apologetic when he realized it was Matthew.

His friend looked him in the eye and Thomas could almost see the wheels in his brain twirling, "Do you need me to come out with you?" he asked him quietly, but in a firm tone.

Thomas took one look at the bowling alley filled with his friends and saw Dalton helping Alastair choose "the perfect ball". He thought that any excuse was good to touch the other. He shifted his attention to the new boy's face and grimaced, focusing back on Matthew, "Whatever."

The blond nodded, "Give me a second, I'll get the cigarettes."

Thomas waited for him in front of the entrance and when James lifted his thumb up to him as if to ask him if everything was all right, he nodded just once, snorting. Christopher was also watching him closely, chewing on his lip, thoughtful.

If everyone had noticed it, Alastair must have noticed too and it was pissing him off even more, because if what he thought was true, it meant his boyfriend was doing that on purpose. Maybe to make him jealous.

He doesn't need to make me jealous, I'm already his. Thomas thought while accepting one of Math's cigarettes.

As he breathed in he could feel the other's green stinging eyes burning on the back of his head, "Do you think he's doing this without realizing it?"

Thomas snickered jokingly, "No, Alastair is not stupid. He knows he's bugging me."

"Well, sorry for the next words, but he's a piece of shit," Matthew said as he sat on the parking lot wall. Thomas imitated him, swinging his legs.

He shrugged, "I don't think he's being mean. He knows it bothers me, yes, but he does it to get my attention," he muttered, adding shortly afterwards, "At least I think so."

Matthew didn't answer right away and Thomas was more than happy to finish the conversation there, but the friend picked up just as he was about to get up, stopping him, "That's not nice of him anyway."

He looked over his shoulder. Matthew wrinkled his forehead, "I mean, after all, you've already gone out several times." he continued, saying the obvious, "You've even kissed, haven't you?" he asked for confirmation.

Thomas simply nodded, making a cloud of smoke. The blond knew very well that they had kissed. He had got him drunk off his ass to celebrate that slightest achievement.

Besides, Thomas insisted on calling him his boyfriend when they talked about it in private, but he and Alastair had never really said anything about the matter and the guy wasn't even sure if the other wanted a real relationship with him.

They finished their cigarettes in silence and Matthew didn't let half a second pass before lighting a second one. Thomas allowed himself to admire the beauty of his friend's face lit only by the dim light of the fire. He wondered how it was possible that of all the friends in their group, Matthew was the only single one.

"Maybe he's trying to send me a message and wants to tell me that if I don't hurry he could easily find someone else." he hypothesized by jumping off the wall and rubbing his hands on his pants.

Matthew laughed, "If that's the case, it would be pretty childish." when Thomas raised an eyebrow, he explained, "I mean, you've been going out for more than a month, like, three times a week - how you're not together yet, only you know." he gave him a questioning look, "If he were to go out tonight with this charade just to tell you to hurry up instead of taking a step forward himself, it would be ridiculous."

"I guess you're right," whispered Thomas, kicking a pebble on the ground.

"Well," Matthew said, "you don't have to guess anymore, you can ask him directly."

He jumped off the wall, pointing with his chin to the entrance of the arcade, where a very confused Alastair was looking at them with his hands in his pockets and an uncertain expression.

Matthew patted him on the shoulder, wishing him good luck, and nodded his head once as he passed Alastair, before returning to the building.

Thomas was not sure he wanted to have this conversation now.

Alastair was the first to speak, "Are you okay?" he seemed genuinely concerned by the tone of his voice, but Thomas couldn't look him in the face.

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied dryly, keeping on playing with the rock.

He heard, more than saw, Alastair approaching, "Are you sure?"

"I've never been so sure in my life, why do you ask?"

"Because you've been avoiding me all evening and I cannot for the love of god understand why." to those words, uttered with sincere confusion, Thomas' head snapped up, in Alastair's direction.

He opened his eyes wide, opening his mouth slightly, "Avoiding you?" he wondered if he had heard right. When Alastair nodded, his mouth reduced to a thin line, Thomas laughed, "Are you fucking with me?"

Alastair winced at the words. It was so unusual to hear Thomas swear, that even the boy himself was left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Alastair asked harmlessly.

"Oh my goodness, don't you really get it?" he asked bewildered, trying to figure out if the other was really joking or if he hadn't noticed the way he had behaved with him and Dalton.

Alastair's features got stiffer and he came a few steps closer, pointing a finger at his chest, "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care." he began, lowering his hand, "I came out here to tell you that if you're going to act like this for much longer, I'd rather end it here."

Thomas couldn't believe what he was saying, "You're kidding." it wasn't a question.

"No, damn it, Thomas, I'm not joking. You've been avoiding me since we got here and I thought things were going well between us. After all those fucking dates." Alastair had raised his voice and he sounded delirious. Maybe Thomas wasn't the only one who had had a bad night. "And instead I find myself forced to endure the pity of a stranger. A stranger who has realized how badly my boyfriend is treating me and who is trying to cheer me up".

Thomas was left breathless.

Boyfriend.

"What did you say?"

Alastair frowned, raising his hands to the sky and growling, "Are you serious now?"

Thomas looked him straight in the eye, "You called me your boyfriend."

The boy in front of him seemed more confused than ever, "Yes, Thomas. I called you my boyfriend."

"But you," Thomas stumbled over the words, "have been flirting with Dalton all night."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, exasperated by this quarrel that was going in two very different directions. He reached out his hands to Thomas, but immediately put them down again, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, "I tried to start a conversation with you nine times tonight. Nine." Alastair clarified, grimacing, "Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to try to explain to Dalton that the sulking and silent boy who was blatantly ignoring me and treating me like a stranger was my boyfriend?"

Thomas shook his head. He had been so stupid.

He felt so guilty he couldn't even speak.

He had treated Alastair harshly all night, convinced that he was flirting with the newcomer, when in reality he had only sought some comfort because of his behavior towards him.

He didn't realize that Alastair had kept talking until he heard him say, "and I know you hate me-".

Something in Thomas' head must have broken down, because his following words were, "Hate you? I love you!" he almost shouted.

Alastair stopped, closing his eyes for one second too long and opening his mouth slightly.

"What?"

"I love you! Are you blind?" said Thomas laughing, getting so close that he felt the warmth radiating from the other's body, "God, I love you so much that my heart burst when I look at you. And I love you so much that when I got here and saw you talking to Dalton the part of my brain that deals with logical thinking stopped working," they both laughed. Both their cheeks reddened from the cold and embarrassment.

He grabbed Alastair's face and the other one basked in that touch, "You love me."

"I love you, Alas." the boy's eyes softened and a slight smile formed on both their lips.

And then finally, Thomas leaned forward and sealed his lips on Alastair's. His tongue stroked the other's repeatedly and when he began to see us black from the lack of oxygen, Thomas broke away, sighing and laughing with their foreheads pressed together.

"I am an idiot, forgive me," whispered Thomas against his lips, closing his eyes.

Alastair smiled, kissing him again, "Forgiven," he said amusedly, "idiot."

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se-ono-waise-ilia · 4 years

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I hate it when you leave me unattended (version 2)

I hate it when you leave me unattended - version 2 (less mature content to meet Yamanaka week guidelines)

Summary: Ino contemplates her unsatisfying intimate life at a bar packed full of couples experiencing the opposite perspective, much to her frustration. Yamanaka week 2021 submission!

Pairings: Ino x Sai, Temari x Shikamaru, Sasuke x Naruto, Sakura x Kakashi, Tenten x Yamato, Hinata x surprise! (hint, features some cloud nin)

Heads up: This is a story of our beloved shinobi enjoying adulthood, and ignores the existence of the Boruto universe.

Warning: Rated M for implied suggestive/ smutty themes, alcohol, and a few curse words (but toned down from original version, still rated it M to be safe)

Title from the song "Pretty Please"

Read original NSFW version here on ff.net

Ino couldn't stop listening. Did the content of Temari and Shikamaru's sex life intrigue her? Repulsively so. But did it also make her want to weep in champagne problems despair? Absolutely.

The former Suna nin took another long dredge of her tall glass of sake that wasn't meant to be served in a portion that big (Ino concluded that Temari had simply filled a water glass with sake - which was a fantastic idea), and continued to boast to Ino about the delights of her devastatingly erotic sex life. The telepathic kunoichi was simultaneously transfixed and infuriated.

Recently, the sexual aspect of Ino and Sai's marriage had been... unsatisfying. She was 27 and had been married one year. It was a great marriage. No, it was a wonderful marriage, dammit! The two leaf nin were supportive and loving partners to one another. They were best friends, made each other laugh, had incredible teamwork as roommates and shopkeepers and ninjas. Most importantly: they were in love.

But ... Ino slouched further into the booth of the cozy and dimly lit basement bar... their sexual chemistry as of late had been ... on different pages, to say the least.

As Temari continued to shamelessly drone on about Shikamaru’s bedroom performance (Ino simmered in her jealously. How did Temari get so lucky?!), Ino tried to distract herself from envious feelings as she gazed around the bar of familiar friends.

It had been ten years since the ninja war ended, and the whole world was celebrating with numerous festivities for the month. Yes, a whole month. It was incredible to celebrate at this capacity.

On this particular night of celebration, many Konoha jonins, the Hokage and foreign friends had all ended up in the basement of a sake brewery in the trendy night life part of Konoha. Leaf nin had spent the day hosting part one of a showy games tournament featuring prominent war shinobi, and now they were here.

Much to the dismay of the internal turmoil Ino was experiencing, almost everyone in the goddamn bar was oozing sexual chemistry with their partner.

The most blatant example was the infamous war heroes and star crossed lovers, who were playing what should have been a very simple game of trivia with the Hokage and forehead. Evidently, the teams were Kakashi & Naruto vs Sakura & Sasuke. When Sakura asked Sasuke a question, Naruto attempted to sabotage his dark haired lover with publicly inappropriate neck kisses and ear bites. Sasuke appeared to know the answer to the question, but couldn't seem to voice it through clenched teeth.

Ino stared slack jawed at the unfolding steamy scene. Temari had seemed to stop her rambling to also watch, "How's Hokage-sama going to sabotage Sakura with his mask on?" she bit her glass afterwards because that's a thing drunk people do.

The answer presented itself when Sasuke shoved Naruto off of him, spoke (more like yelled) the correct answer, and asked Sakura some sort of question regarding the history of the senbon. All too casually, their esteemed Hokage wrapped Sakura's pink tresses around his fingers and gave a slight tug. Sakura seemed to melt in response, yet was able to answer correctly whilst melting (to the irritation of Sasuke and delight of Kakashi).

Ino looked to her own long blonde tresses, a generous length that could be easily pulled with sensual intent. She wanted Sai to pull her hair. She would have to tell him to do so.

And that was the root of their recent sexual incompatibility: Sai needed to be told what to do.

At the beginning of their relationship about three years ago, Ino didn't mind this quirk one bit. She relished in being assertive and directive in the bedroom. It made her feel in control and empowered. Sai gladly bent to her every whim and want. She knew exactly how she wanted to be satisfied, and how she wanted to satisfy her man, and it was amazing. All she had to do was tell him what she wanted.

But recently, Ino wasn't as satisfied. She wasn't interested in directing every aspect of their sex lives. She wanted Sai to take initiative. To know her wants without her telling him. To openly lust after her. To kiss her neck and bite her ears with cruel and pleasurable intentions. To tug her hair with the confidence and sensuality.

Alas, he didn't operate like that, and their sex life had suffered for it. It was ironic that Ino wanted him to read her mind, knowing he couldn't (he could barely read body language cues when naked for kami's sake). These past few weeks, that should have been full of post-party drunken banging, Ino had stopped initiating sex altogether.

Evidently Sai interpreted his wife's lack of initiative as Ino not wanting sex.

Which she desperately did!

Watching her best friend melt at the touch of her older lover's clever and commanding fingers in only her hair was the essence of Ino's recent fantasies.

Huffing in frustration, the telepathic nin chose to get herself a drink and find her man and wack him in his stupid expressionless face with her ponytail.

At the bar, Tenten was waiting for her drink with Darui from Kumogakure. Ino perked up at the idea of spending time with the head strong weapons master who was in a new relationship with Yamato. Knowing Tenten's strong will and the captain's bashful sweetness, Ino figured Tenten's presence would be cathartic. Surely they also had a similar dynamic in the bedroom?

As she got closer, she realized Darui must be unaware of Tenten's relationship update. While engaged in an animated discussion regarding the senbon trivia question, he was leaning towards her with an obvious vibe that he was interested in more than just senbons, yet respectably keeping his hands to himself.

Ino ordered her drink close to Tenten and was about to do the classic your-boyfriend-is-looking-for-you tactic, but Tenten's actual boyfriend did it for her. With much less tact.

Yamato had his scary shadowed face on as he appeared quite close to his new girlfriend, "Darui-san."

The cloud nin immediately noticed the proximity as he realized their status and leaned away, "I apologize Tenten-san if I made your uncomfortable. Good to see you Yamato-san, can I buy you both a drink?" Casual and cool as always, even when in an awkward faux pas. He didn't seem affected by the implication of Yamato's interruption.

The shadows left Yamato's face as he nodded in polite thanks and wrapped an arm around Tenten's waist. She didn't seem to mind the masculine possessiveness, as she kissed her new boyfriend on the cheek. Yamato reacted by taking her bar stool and placing her on his lap while gushing with the prior-war general about how they were a new couple. Darui lifted his cup to them.

Sai never placed Ino on his lap, she always sat there on her own accord. Ino sighed as she took a long sip of her fresh drink. She now bet that Yamato didn't need to be told what to do in bed.

Ino shook her head and took her drink and continued to look for her not-possessive husband who was quite unlikely to brush off flirtatious encounters with territorial drive.

She passed by the trivia game again, which now included Shikamaru and Temari. It was the disgruntled nin's turn to answer Kakashi's question regarding the most ideal way to negotiate a deal with Iwakagure to encourage artisans to move to Konoha. It was obvious to everyone except a very drunk Temari, who was leaning over her husband's shoulders and licking his cheek, that Kakashi was milking the strategist's presence for work purposes.

"Troublesome trivia question Kakashi," the shadow nin eyed the Hokage knowingly, yet he quickly generated a response...while sensually stroking his wife's calf. Ino couldn't help but storm off to the opposite side of the bar.

She finally found Sai ... with Hinata and Omoi? Ino felt a sense of dread as she approached the trio and comprehended the word's coming from her out-of-touch husband's mouth, "Omoi-san, notice how Hinata-san flushed when you told rambled about how fireworks could somehow lead to a misunderstanding that could cause the break of the alliance between the cloud and the leaf? You two are cute together," he made that neutral smile towards the two anxious nin, who clearly only amplified each other's insecure quirks.

Ino rushed over to shove her clueless husband and save this catastrophic set-up, "Omoi-san, I believe Darui-taichou wanted to meet Hinata-chan? Seeing as he's being groomed to be the next Raikage, it's important to have a continued positive relationship with the Hyuga clan."

Hinata looked to the bar, blushed (the way she used to at Naruto, indicating she found the cloud nin attractive), and pulled at her long hair nervously, "I-I-I don't think now's the time for me to meet Darui-sama. We should h-h-have a more formal meet-"

Omoi seemed contemplative at the idea, "If Hinata-san and Darui-taichou meet at a bar, what if he buys her a drink? Then, what if they flirt and have good chemistry? Then Hinata-san will bring Darui to the Hyuga clan, who will undoubtedly speculate his intentions for her. But Darui-tachou is an honorable man, and will prove his love for the Hyuga princess with..."

Ino was surprised to find herself enfolded with Omoi's romantic tangent. Darui's calm nature would be good for Hinata, his status of decorated war general and upcoming Raikage was worthy of the heiress's stature, and (if they made it work) the match could be a beautiful symbol of forgiveness and peace between the two village's violent history. Although Ino's spontaneous idea of an introduction was quick thinking of how to salvage the awkward chemistry between anxious nin, this was a fantastic opportunity.

While Omoi continued to ramble about how Hinata would adjust to life as the Raikage's wife, with his ever present lollipop somehow staying in his mouth, Hinata's breathing intensified and she started to fan herself. Ino took her now sweaty hair out of the nervous nin's fidgety hands to style it in a thick side braid, modeled how to breathe slowly, all the while nodding in approval of Omoi's outrageous fantasy that was very romantic and actually a really good idea.

Ino curtly told Omoi to shut it, folded his arm to formally hold Hinata's in the crook of his elbow for a proper escort, and shoved them in the direction of the bar. Ino also told Hinata she could only fidget with the bottom portion of the braid.

Sai was about to say something, when Ino covered his mouth with her hand in shushing manner. Although she had been looking for her oblivious idiot of a husband all night, she was now invested this potential pairing, and for the first time tonight her sexual frustration wasn't at the forefront of her mind. She grabbed Sai's hand to pull him closer to the trivia game so she could watch from a better view.

Darui was quick to notice Hinata's approach, as he quickly stood with uncharacteristic alertness. He bowed quite formally, Hinata bowed back and also greeted Tenten and Yamato (who took a hint, excused themselves, and took Omoi with them). Damui offered the shy beauty his bar stool, asked her a question to which she bashfully answered without making eye contact, and he ordered her a drink. Ino couldn't hear them, but she was quick to deduce that the war general was quite taken with the angelic Hyuga princess. A few Hyuga also present at the bar noticed the exchange with the prominent cloud nin, and were quick to put themselves on duty standing by Hinata's side in a chaperone/ bodyguard manner. Damui was unfazed as he greeted them respectfully and ordered them drinks as well. Hinata seemed to appreciate this courtesy as she gazed at the captain with admiration while fiddling with the bottom of her braid.

Ino was so involved in the romantic spark struck at the bar she almost didn't notice Sai's hand was gently caressing the back of her arm with his knuckles. It took several moments for Ino to register the touch and look up into her husband's eyes in confusion. He had never pulled that move on her before, let alone any moves of this nature.

His almost expressionless face conveyed something sincere that Ino couldn't put her finger on. Yet she relished in this gentle moment of intimacy, leaning into him and nuzzling his tall and lean form as he put his arm around her and rested his chin on her head. The future romance of Hinata and Damui didn't seem too important anymore. Sai was holding her, and nothing else mattered.

It was then she noticed that right in front of them, Kakashi was brushing the back of Sakura's arm with his knuckle, and Sakura was looking into the Hokage's eyes as if all her dreams had come true. Kakashi then leaned in to whisper something into her best friend's ear.

Sai lifted Ino's chin so he could do the same, "I miss touching you, Ino," he whispered into her ear. She looked up to meet his hooded eyes and observe his gorgeous oval face.

Heat pooled at Ino's core as her husband made her feel aroused for the first time in far too long. How tempted she wanted to say something sly like "Kiss me like you miss me," and jump into his waiting arms. She almost did, so they could once again be that shameless couple who blatantly made out in public. Such fond memories.

It was so tempting, but it struck Ino that in all their relationship, Sai had been learning how to be intimate solely from her cues. She looked to the various styles of physical flirtation happening at this steamy trivia table. Perhaps Sai should start learning from others...

She eagerly leaned up to whisper into her artist's ear, "Then touch me like they touch their lovers," she then blew into his ear to get him in the mood, and dragged him to the trivia table.

It was Naruto's turn to answer a question about the political process of appointing a feudal lord. Instead of answering, he was glaring at Sasuke who was sitting smug with his one arm resting on the back of his chair, "Teme, you're supposed to...you know...sabotage!"

"The game implies you only sabotage if you know the answer, which you don't, userantonkachi," the arrogant nin responded with a knowing smirk. Naruto banged his head onto the table in disappointment.

Temari cackled at the fox-carrier's misfortune, and then prompted the new players, "Sai-kun! Your question is..." Ino excitedly prepared to sabotage her man as she sat closer to him on the bench. Should she use her fingers, lips, breath, hair...so many choices! It had been weeks since she felt hopeful at the thought of touching her lover, "Name the second Mizukage's summoning."

Ino started dancing her fingers on Sai's thigh when he answered all too quickly, "Giant clam."

The would-be temptress wanted to smack him. Sai didn't get the point of how to really have fun with this game! She was about to remove her hand, when he grabbed it. She glared at him, willing him to know what was wrong without her having to spell it out for him, but then she noticed his vacant expression. That meant he was trying to understand.

"So when it's Ino's turn, I'm expected to sabotage her if she knows the answer?" He looked to his friends, "How?"

"Like this, Sai," Naruto was all too enthusiastic to explain as he attempted to again assault Sasuke's ear, but the raven-haired nin quickly shoved his hand into Naruto's cheek to block him.

Sai continued to stare with his vacant expression, "Molest your partner against their will?"

The table reacted with vigorous "no no no" and head shakes.

Temari whispered something into Shikamaru's ears. He sighed, "Such a drag. Sai, pick a card and ask Temari a question. Notice what I do."

Sai obeyed and picked a card, "Temari-san, which hand symbol is most commonly used by sensory type nin." Ino had to bite her lip from blurting out the answer. Sai gave her a knowing look, and she couldn't help but peck her cute husband on the cheek.

The wind user's eyes brightened, "Oh, I think I remember this one," but those same eyes quickly grew hooded as the shadow user pulled down the shoulder of her dress and placed featherlight kisses upon the newly bared skin. Sai nodded his head in understanding.

"Time's up," Kakashi chuckled after about 10 seconds. Temari didn't seem to care as she leaned into her husband with a drunken smile.

Shikamaru smirked at his beloved then looked back to Sai, "By sabotage, it means distract your partner with attention of a sensual nature to prevent them from answering."

Sai nodded, "So who's winning?"

He received a variety of shrugs. Sakura giggled, "Naruto and Kakashi have a consistent losing streak."

Naruto growled as Sai looked quizzically at the Hokage. Said leader of the village shrugged with a closed eye smile, "Sakura's public displays of affection interest me more than answering a trivial question correctly."

Sakura stopped giggling, "I knew I shouldn't have bothered when you claimed to not know any demonic illusion genjutsu hand symbols!"

"The things your hand symbolized on my leg were a much more tantalizing way to capture my imagination and enjoy the game," his eyes fixed on Sakura's.

She stared right back at him and bit her lip, "Well I expect you to be creative with your hand symbols tonight."

"When am I ever not?" said the nin with confidence as he pulled the medic nin onto his lap and nuzzled her neck. Sakura blushed while laughing at the tickling sensations. From what Sakura shared with Ino during girl's night, all of those years of Kakashi reading porn resulted in quite an adventurous sex life. Ino had never been more jealous of forehead in her life.

Ino looked to Sai with hopeful eyes. Perhaps she and him should start reading erotic literature? He nodded in partial understanding, with that expression he always makes when he's learning something new, and pulled Ino onto his lap. The blonde excitedly moved her long hair to her opposite shoulder and prepared herself for the delights of nuzzling, but instead she felt Sai simply press his face into the crook of her neck.

It wasn't a playful act, Ino noticed as his arms tightened around her. It was an act of ... longing. She was beginning to realize that Sai missed being intimate with her as much as she did with him. She crossed her arms to also wrap them around his, tightening the embrace as she leaned into him.

"Sasuke, are you OK?" Naruto asked his boyfriend, who looked repulsed by the scene in front of him.

The raven haired man pointedly looked away from his ex-teacher and teammate to pick a card from the pile, "Ino, this question is for you," she and Sai perked their heads up. She wanted to get excited to see what Sai would do, but she also didn't want to get her hopes up. Should she just put Sai's hands where she wanted them to control her pleasure, as she used to? But she really wanted him to take initiative...

Ino let out a breath. She already told Sai she wanted him to observe and replicate, and the rest was up to him. He was in learning mode, he could figure this out. She believed in her husband.

"What is the clan symbol for the Tsuchigumo clan?"

Ino had no idea.

Sai lifted her wrist and started to draw a design above her pulse. It felt lovely, but it wasn't affection at the same level as the other couples. Then she realized he was making the symbol.

Her beloved had yet to grasp the fun of the game, as he was actually helping her win as he drew a spider on her pulse. She sighed in acceptance. Was her husband as sex-driven as the other males at the table? No. But does he support and care for Ino? Always. When Ino reflected on it, that mattered more in their marriage.

As she was about to announce the answer, she was interrupted by an accusatory forehead, "That's cheating!"

While at the same time, Kakashi suggested, "Sai, use your tongue."

The moment Sai heeded the Hokage's recommendation to draw a spider on her pulse with his tongue, Ino lost the ability to speak as she tried to hold back her whimpering. She never realized how sensitive a wrist could be before.

"Time's up," Shikamaru announced with a smirk.

Ino paid them little attention as they moved onto the next question, for Sai touched his mouth to her ear, "Can we please make love tonight?" he whispered. If she wasn't mistaken, there was a rare hint of yearning in it. Ino hadn't been this turned on in months.

She stood to reverse her position and straddle him, "That depends, my love. What have you learned tonight?"

Sai was taken aback, but he concentrated, "Use knuckles to caress skin, kiss your shoulders, put you on my lap, place my face into the crook of your neck," which he did, "and lick you in unexpected places," which he also did, and experienced her collarbone being licked for the first time in her life.

Ino felt her body shiver with anticipation.

"And pull her hair!" Temari joyfully recommended, almost falling out of her husband's lap.

"Grazing skin with your teeth will get a reaction too," Naruto proudly chimed in, much to the embarrassment of Sasuke.

"Pick her up and be creative with your environment," Kakashi winked.

"Don't just wait for her to tell you what to do. Take initiative," Sakura directed, the best friend in the world that she is.

Sai dutifully nodded to all these recommendations. As fun as it would be to stay, it had been too long and they were both about to burst with desire, "Take me home, Sai."

Following Kakashi's suggestion, Sai stood straight up, lifting Ino with him. As she tightened her legs around him so he could make the proper symbols for his transportation jutsu, she looked to Sakura and Temari and mouthed 'thank you' to them both.

"Have fuuuuuun," Sakura winked as the Hokage gave them a thumbs up.

"Show her a good time Sai!" Temari squealed as Shikamaru asked Naruto to get them water.

And then they were home. And then they were kissing. And then ... oh ... Sai was a dutiful student.

---

A/N: I told ya it was still M rated. I cut a few hundred words I guess. If you want the slightly longer & steamier version, click here to view story on fanfiction.net.

I actually played this steamy sabotage style of trivia at a house party when my partner and I were a new couple. It was super fun. But the game only works if every couple wants to play it that way. We realized that when some of our friends in less affectionate relationships were super uncomfortable lol...

Anyone else into the idea of Hinata x Damui?

@yamanaka-week

#yamanakaweek2021 #ino sai #temari shikamaru #naruto sasuke #sns #ino #sai #kakasaku #kakashi sakura #tenten yamato #hinata damui #naruto fanfiction #naruto shippuden fanfic #damui #omoi

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chachkayes · 4 years

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Bad Idea - Mer x Hayes

Gee! Would you look at that - another Merhayes fic. Title obviously inspired by the cheating anthem, Bad Idea from Waitress. I cannot stop writing for these two. I wrote this one very late last night after @/emrobs on twitter posted about how she wanted merluca to break up later than they did so that Merhayes could cheat on DeLuca. Since I am not a fan of Andrew DeLuca, the idea of writing this fic became very intriguing. Alas, here we are, with a sexy Merhayes fic where Meredith cheats on DeLuca with Cormac Hayes because this story isn’t real and I can take it wherever I want ;)

“God, it’s always Derek this, Derek that nowadays! Just forget about Derek, Mer! You’re with me now!” Andrew DeLuca yelled at Meredith in the hospital hallways, something that had become the norm for the estranged couple. Jaws dropped from surrounding hospital staff, including Cormac Hayes who was just in earshot of the argument. Meredith flinched at his words, recoiled and went completely silent. She stared at him, tears in her eyes, expecting him to immediately apologize, but he stood by his statement.

Meredith held her composure as best as possible, and sharply turned away from DeLuca, storming off. In a blind rage, she stormed into a nearby on-call room and slammed the door shut. She sat down on the bed, and the fits of tears came flooding in. Her tears blocked out all the noise around her – to the point that she didn’t hear the door to the on-call room open and close. For a whole minute, Meredith Grey didn’t even realize that Cormac Hayes had entered in the room, staring at her sobbing in the way that only a widow could.

Carefully, he sat down beside her on the bed and placed his hand on her knee, catching her off guard, long enough for her to realize who was beside her. Her first instinct was to wipe the tears away and act like she was fine, but when she realized that Hayes was the one beside her, she melted back down into a puddle of tears, falling quickly into his embrace. He covered her as she cried and rubbed her back in an attempt to calm her breathing and stop her from hyperventilating. A few minutes later, Meredith’s breathing stabilized and her cries died down. Cormac’s heart broke every time Meredith would stop crying for a moment, only for it to start up again a few seconds later. His scrub shirt was now stained with tears, but in that moment, nothing and no one else mattered except for Meredith.

Meredith looked up at Cormac, who’s eyes were filled with concern. “Is there anything I can do?” Meredith thought of every kind thing he could do for her as a friend, but the only thing Meredith wanted to do in that moment was get back at Andrew DeLuca for hurting her the way he did, and forget about him in the same way he’d told her to forget about Derek, even if it was just for a little while. “Kiss me.” She said, staring at him. He looked at her, confused. He couldn’t say that he didn’t want to kiss her, but he would’ve preferred her to not be in a relationship when doing so. “Grey, I can’t. You’re-“ He was cut off by the feeling of Meredith’s hand around his bicep. “I don’t care. I need to stop thinking about him, just for a little while. Please.” She leaned in closer to him. Cormac couldn’t help but feel like he was taking advantage of Meredith’s vulnerability, but she was asking, he really wanted to, and they’d already had their fair share of close-calls previously, especially after pulling off incredibly adrenaline-boosting surgeries together. Still, he hesitated. Meredith was at the point of begging. She needed the relief of kissing someone who genuinely cared for her.

“Please. I don’t trust anyone else, except you right now, Hayes.” She asked again, pleading. The small waver in her voice as she said his name was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Cormac Hayes wrapped his hand around the back of Meredith’s neck, kissing her in a way that was so passionate and fiery, it could have only been the result of many months of unresolved sexual tension. Immediately, Meredith felt a sense of safety with Hayes, something she didn’t realize she hadn’t felt since Derek, until she’d felt it again. As things began to heat up and escalate, Meredith remembered that everything they were doing was a first for Hayes. As she began to feel the urge to take things further, she stopped kissing Hayes and stared him straight in the eyes. “I want to do more than just kiss you, right now.” Hayes smirked at Meredith. “But these are all firsts for you. And if we take this any further, like I want to, I want you to have a safe word. If it becomes too much for either of us, the safe word is Switzerland. Okay?” Even with the slight pause in activities, the fire between Meredith Grey and Cormac Hayes only grew exponentially. There was no extinguishing that fire anytime soon. “Got it. You realize this is probably a really bad idea, right?” Meredith laughed, and leaned close to his ear, getting very close to full on straddling him. “Who doesn’t need a bad idea every once and a while?” She whispered. Immediately afterwards she pulled herself fully onto Hayes’ lap, and went straight back into kissing him, as if they’d never stopped.

It did not take long for them to find themselves entangling their bodies together on the bed. Luckily, the fight had happened at the end of both Meredith and Cormac’s shifts, meaning there was quite literally nothing stopping them from letting the inferno between them keep building. Meredith knew well enough to not let things go too far, but shirts definitely came off and found their way to the floor.

After things between Cormac and Meredith finally died down, they laid together on the bed, feeding off each other’s safety and warmth. Meredith’s head laid comfortably on his chest, one arm around his torso. His one arm wrapped loosely around her waist, and he ran his fingers through her hair with the other. “Are you okay now?” He asked her. Her smile following the question was all the confirmation that he’d needed. “I should be asking you that.” She said, looking up at him. “Why?” He asked, confused. “It’s just… I know how hard those firsts can be.” Cormac used his free hand to grab Meredith’s, lacing their fingers together. “I’m okay.” He finally told her. “Good.” Meredith felt nothing but a complete and utter sense of safety, peace, and happiness as she laid beside him. “What?” She said as she looked up, happily confused as she felt Cormac begin to laugh a little to himself. “I’m sorry, it just hit me. You cheated on DeLuca. We’re cheaters now.” Meredith laughed along with him. “I guess we are. And the thing is, I don’t even care.” Meredith said as she snuggled in closer to Hayes. “So, is this a good time to mention that I may or may not have given DeLuca a piece of my mind after you left?” He asked, completely serious. Meredith laughed. “No, probably not. But thank you, for standing up for me.” Hayes kissed her palm. “I couldn’t listen to him talk to you the way he did and not say anything, so it was no problem. I’d do it again if you ever needed me to.” Meredith sighed, closing her eyes for a decently long time. She found herself ready to doze off for a little while as she laid there, completely safe, still, and quiet. “Do you mind if I take a quick nap? I forgot how tiring crying is.” She said quietly after a few minutes of silence. “Do whatever you want, I’m perfectly content to stay here however long you need.” With that, Meredith closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep on top of Hayes’ chest, with the complete knowledge that she’d just become a cheater, yet with absolutely no guilt whatsoever.

#merhayes #cormac hayes #merwidow #grayes #meredith x hayes #hayes x grey #meredith x cormac #cormac x meredith #hayes x meredith #mcwidows #merhayes fic #grayes fic

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the-mandalorian-clone-lover · 4 years

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Aces in Spaces Chapter 8

I know its not Monday, But, I literally have written so many cute things and it’ll take forever to get to them so I’m moving to posting twice a week (please don’t feel like y’all have to keep up with that I’m just an over-excited nerd :P

Slightly longer chapter! Erica is finally getting to meet the support group (and Hannah) for herself!

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @maybege @princessxkenobi @obaby-wan @agent-450

Masterlist

Erica going to the support group 4 months dating

“You agreed to meet him here. You agreed to meet him here and there’s no reason why you can’t do this. He said there would be cake, I promise, everything will be ok. It’s possible you might not even have to say anything other than your name.”

Erica takes a deep breath after her pep talk, leaning her head against the head rest and counting to even her breathing. Where was Roman?

It’s still 20 minutes before the start she reasons, he probably isn’t as eager to be early as she is. She thought maybe if she showed up early enough she’d have adequate time to prepare herself before going in (as if she hadn’t spent the whole morning and previous evening doing the same thing, her mind traitorously reminds her). She bites the bullet and reaches to call Roman.

“Hello darling” She can tell he’s smiling and she’s about to scold him “Butch is driving the monstrosity, you needn’t worry for my safety.” He tacks on helpfully.

“Roman I don’t know if I can do this.” Maybe she hadn’t intended on being so honest but he already knows her most guarded secret, he probably understands.

“How can I help?”

She drops her head against the seat again, somehow he always knows what to ask and it’s making her feel like crying again at how caring he is. “I, are you on your way?”

“We’ll be there in… three minutes tops dear one.”

She takes a deep breath. She can handle that. “I’m not going in without you.”

“Of course not ace, I can’t have someone steal you away”

The thought makes her heart leap to her throat anew. She hadn’t even considered the prospect of having to deal with that while she was here, wasn’t this supposed to be a support group? Isn’t that like a safe space? Good God is nothing sacred anymore?

A car pulling in next to her breaks her free from her thoughts and she sighs in relief at realizing it is what they have dubbed ‘the monstrosity’ (much to Butcher’s dismay). Roman is out of his door and over to open hers in a flash, holding his arms out in question and she dives in without a second thought.

“We don’t have to if you aren’t ready today.”

She shakes her head against his shoulder, picking her head up slightly to say against his ear. “These are your friends now, they’d miss you.”

“I can send Butch to tell them I’ll be back next week.”

Erica pulls away slightly to look at Butch and Roman turns with her.

“Boss, I wouldn’t want to—”

“Then again” he turns to look at the sky absent mindedly, “if he simply pops in and says we’ve both been called away to the advantage of a certain librarian who needs assistance shelving books, I suppose that can’t be helped now can it?” He finishes looking at Erica again, definitely teasing, and she swallows slightly before nodding.

“I’ll go in then, I want to meet her.” Her eyes go to Butch, “Unless you really would want the afternoon off? I don’t mind doing a movie, or—”

She trails off, eyes searching the ground and Roman tightens his arms around her reassuringly.

“I don’t mind either way Ms. Erica, if you feel up to it today, we’ll give it a go together. My Hannah would understand either way.”

She looks to Butch again. “Do you promise she won’t be mean to me?”

Roman tilts his head, where had that come from? Erica sounds like a young girl going to school for the first time, not anything like the strong and fearless woman he knows her to be.

Butcher on the other hand looks horrified. “No, no, no” He reaches out to her shoulders and she meets his hand half-way with her own, pulling him to embrace both her and Roman. “Hannah would never, y’all two would get along like a house on fire” He’s lowered his voice now, speaking softly and his tone bleeds comfort around their huddled trio, even Roman’s starting to feel safe. “If she was that’d be it Ms. Erica, I can’t let anything happen to you two.” He’s rubbing her back slowly now, “And you know how the boss gets if you’re sad Ms. Erica, gets all weepy” Roman starts to struggle from his side of the huddle, “can’t get anything done” Roman is now avidly struggling, “can’t even get out of bed in the morning—”

“Really? Must you?”

Erica’s laughing, “Alright girls you’re both pretty, now if I can be a member of a crime syndicate, I can handle a support group, I need to meet this lovely woman of yours.” She finishes with a smile and Roman beams, She wasn’t wrong about him viewing the others in the group as his friends and since he made them in the process of helping her, it’s something he feels the need to share.

They head in together, the door doesn’t leave enough room for them to walk arm in arm but Erica walks between them when possible and soon they find themselves coming up to the desk. Where Hannah is currently absent. Erica tilts her head but Butch speaks before she can, whisper shouting in (fond) annoyance.

“Love I told you not to climb that ladder when there’s nobody there to catch ya!!!”

Erica looks to her right at Butchers exclamation and finds that ‘love’ is a small slight woman with darker skin, who is balanced (rather precariously she will admit), at the top step of a ladder. She also turns to look at Butch, smiling affectionately before raising her eyes and making eye contact with Erica. Erica smiles back in an effort to make herself seem less intimidating (being 6 feet tall doesn't always help). Hannah, however, enthusiastically extends her arm above her head to wave, much to butcher’s chagrin, (who is attempting to coax her down from the ladder) and Erica waves back shyly. She certainly seemed nice enough.

Hannah begins to descend the ladder, Butch’s hands finding her waist to guide her as soon as she’s within reach (which only takes about a step on her part) and three steps from the bottom he scoops her up to twirl her around before setting her down again, face nuzzling into her neck from his place behind her.

Erica turns toward Roman to give them privacy and he brushes his fingers against her in question. She takes them, nodding, gazing into his eyes for a last assurance before hearing Butch’s quiet ‘love I want you to meet someone’ and turning to face them both.

Hannah seems to bounce almost, still whispering but exuding joy all the same, “Hello!” She extends her hand gently, “I’m Hannah, I work here and help the group when they need it” she elbows Butch softly with her other arm, “I’m also dating this hunk so there’s that too.” She breaks eye contact to wink at him before turning to Erica again and smiling kindly. “I think it’s brave what you’re doing, I know it isn’t easy to talk about things that are so personal.”

Erica breaths a sigh of relief, taking Hannah’s hand in both of her own. “Thank you.” She blinks before releasing the other woman and looks down at her feet to gather herself before she speaks again. “I’m Erica” She elbows Roman in much the same fashion “I’m dating the other hunk.” She gives Hannah a lopsided smile (the one she makes when emulating something she isn’t quite sure about but hopes she’s doing right, Roman’s seen it before and if he were braver in the library he’d pick her up and spin her like Butch did Hannah because she’s doing so well). They’d had late conversations about how today would go, Erica desperate for every detail he could give, wanting to plan her every move, and even then she’d finally confessed to feeling unsure she would be able to go through with it. To discuss struggles that she’d worked so hard for years to hide would be digging up a lot of old memories and she wasn’t sure she could. Not alone, and certainly not with others around. He’d settled on just telling her that she could tap him twice on the thigh at any point and he’d give Butch ‘the look’ and they’d leave, she didn’t have to do it all in one day. So far, she’s swallowed all her fears and been amazing, part of him wants to tap her thigh now so he can bring her to that ice cream place and shower her with affection for being so strong.

But alas, Hannah is chatting up a storm with her about all sorts of things now, makeup, clothes, where she got the adorable sweater she’s wearing and wondering if Erica ever has trouble with her sleeves being too short. And Erica is smiling fully (her real one, not the lopsided one, and that alone is a huge step) so he doesn’t think she’ll let him pull her away. It might be an even better prospect honestly.

He makes eye contact with Butch and raises his eyebrows, “It seems we’re both in want of a partner, do you suppose things will ever be the same?” He puts on a mournful face as if a breakup had actually occurred. Butch plays along, though he’s fighting a smile.

“No boss, think we ought to just stick with ourselves, it seems we’ve been abandoned.”

A ‘SHHHHHHH’ is whisper shouted from somewhere and both the girls seem to jolt back to their surroundings. “Oh goodness” comes Hannah’s quick whisper, “I don’t mean to keep you! You all run along now” She answers Butch’s protest before it’s even out, “yes I promise to stay off the ladder” She tugs him down by the collar to plant a quick pec on his lips (him bending at the waist and her on the tips of her toes and straining up) before turning back to Roman and Erica.

“Roman, that is a wonderful woman you have found, and I swear if you hurt her I’ll fight you.”

Erica pauses before leaning forward, putting her arms out to offer Hannah a hug. She gets one. “You’re the best.”

Hannah smiles when they pull away, “Girls have to stick together, I got you.” She pats Erica’s elbow and winks at her before shooing them again, walking with them a few steps before moving behind her desk. The slap to Butcher’s butt seems to echo through the library and Erica nearly snorts, turning around to give Hannah a thumbs up around Butcher before walking again (she misses the way the man is completely unphased by it but Roman doesn’t and oh boy is that going to get him teased in the near future).

They walk down the hall together like Butch and Roman have done so many times before, Erica taking Roman’s hand at the last second, whether to comfort herself or to subtly show he’s hers she isn’t sure but it helps both things. She glances through the room as they enter, sticking close to Roman, and smiles when she hears an excited “Butch!!” from the far side.

The blond boy Roman mentioned, Tom, comes bounding over, nearly throwing himself into Butch’s waiting arms and Butch turns into the momentum, swinging the boy’s legs a little. “Hey squirt? How ya doin?”

“Oh I’m swell! I learned that word this week, swell, it means, um, nice. Do you like it?”

Butch smiles, “It’s great. Can I introduce you to somebody I think is swell?”

“Butcher” Tom says confidently, “I already know Roman. And Hannah.”

Butch laughs, “Well you can find more than two people swell!” He turns to gesture at Erica with a sweep of his arm and Tom’s eyes widen. Jenny appears behind him and Roman shares a smile with her, he knows Erica won’t mind the young boy at all, he’d told her how sweet he was and if anyone would understand it was Erica.

“You’re the pretty lady. The ace Roman always talks about!” Ok so maybe he hadn’t expected that exactly. Tom walks forward and presents his hand to shake (much the same way he did to Roman that first day). “I’m Tom, and Jenny is my sister, she’s around here somewhere” This time the boy’s eyes don’t leave Erica as he mentions the other name, staying steadfast on her face. “You have pretty eyes.”

Erica is smiling (and blushing a little Roman notes), looking down at the boy with fondness before glancing up to (who she assumes is) Jenny. She gives her a smile as well before reaching out to shake Tom’s hand. “I’m Erica, and” She looks to Roman, “I am the ace Roman talks about.”

“Can I keep calling you the pretty lady though?”

Jenny chooses this moment to step in, “I’m Jenny, Tom sometimes says what’s on his mind without—”

“No I meant to say that, look at her Jenny she’s beautiful!”

Erica laughs a little awkwardly now and Roman decides to help, “Did Marie bring the cake this time T? I’ve been waiting to have some of hers but I keep forgetting!”

The boy’s eyes widen in wonder again, hurriedly grabbing Roman’s hand and dragging him towards the other end of the room. Jenny takes a step closer to Erica as they both watch the boys walk away fondly.

“He really does talk about you here, and he’s been so eager to learn, he listens like it’s going out of style.”

“That’s my Roman.” It’s quiet but Erica realizes belatedly she did say it out loud, and she blinks quickly to reorganize herself and turns to Jenny, “He just, likes to educate himself, loves to learn.” She looks back to the table, hoping she hasn’t already made a fool of herself in the first five minutes.

“Well, that isn’t the only thing he loves.”

She looks back to Jenny in surprise, mouth going dry before she can say anything. “We haven’t—”

“I didn’t mean to pry its just” Jenny, bites her lips in thought, “he talks about you so fondly, and, it’s a big step to come to a group for something he doesn’t experience, not a lot of people are willing to do that for someone else. I don’t have a lot of men around Tom but, he takes cues from both of them and he’s grown up so much since they started coming, I wanted to thank you.”

Erica looks to Jenny slightly shocked, she hadn’t even thought of that butterfly affect. She reaches to rest a hand on Jenny’s forearm before answering seriously. “Roman is a wonderful person and an even better man, if Tom wants to grow up to be like him, I’m glad to share him anytime.”

Jenny meets her eyes with the understanding of everything that’s going unsaid and covers Erica’s hand with her own. “Do you do hugs?”

Erica smiles, “I don’t mind at all.”

The support group meeting goes much the same way, (a thousand times better than Erica hoped) and Roman drives her back to the penthouse for their dinner date (Butch stuck around the library for “reasons” and Roman is all too thrilled at the prospect of giving Erica all the details.

“Thank you.”

Erica thinks it’s as good a place to start as any, today felt, cathartic almost. To be around people who felt the same way she did, who saw things the same way and were just as uncomfortable in some situations as she was. Roman doesn’t say anything so she continues.

“I, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it but, I liked it. They were all nice and Tom really was a sweetheart like you said and Jenny is a wonderful woman. Hearing them talk about, feeling awkward in ‘meet cute’ scenarios and in the beginning of relationships, or even friendships? That was..” She trails off, shaking her head in amazement, “healing. Like I knew I wasn’t alone, but it’s so much more meaningful hearing someone else describe the exact same feelings, knowing they are actually understanding you because they’re right there saying it. It’s, it’s wonderful Roman. I can’t thank you enough.”

He nods, smiling at the road and reaches a hand across the console to offer it to her, she brings his open palm to her lips to place a kiss on it before wrapping it in both her hands.

“Remember dinner is on me”

“Not a chance Ace.”

“Ok well, tacos? Please?”

Roman laughs before Erica speaks again, “There’s two on the way to your house, one on main and one on 3rd street.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I was just saying its not out of our way!”

Roman keeps chuckling, “I never said I minded”

They pick the closer one to the house in the hopes the food won’t be cold when they get home, Roman pulls into the drive through (something he’s been using a lot more since they started dating) before turning to ask what she wants.

“To be allowed to pay, that’s what I want.”

He sighs, “Fiiiiinnnneeee”

“And two burritos.” She says finally. “Please.” Comes the afterthought.

***************************

#asexuel #ewan mcgregor #aces in spaces #ace character #original characters #original fic #original story #new chapter #i'm actually in love with them

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imherongraystairstrash · 4 years

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The Broken Heart pt. 4!

Hi guys! I’m sorry I haven’t posted in such a long time :( I’m working on a lot of new fics, so I’m hoping I can post a lot of them in the upcoming month! I hope you guys enjoy part 4!

As the Enclave needed to sort things out, some of the guests ended up staying at the institute for longer than they would have desired. This did mean, however, that Ella and her friends were able to catch up with Ben, who had been a childhood friend they had missed. After only an hour, all of the awkward small talk had ceased to exist. It felt as if time had never passed; as if those three years had been consigned to oblivion.

Since Alex was eighteen years old, he was technically old enough to attend the meeting, but he decided to stay with everybody else, as he said it would not be interesting if he were all alone. The group had taken to playing cards as a means of passing the time, and it was quite violent and interesting indeed.

“HAHA! Take that Lightwood!” Carstairs said, throwing his card down.

“Take what? This queen of swords?” Alex pulled out said card and placed it in front of him.

Ella groaned as she was forced to pass, due to lack of kings and aces. “What’s the point of having a parabatai, if all he does is ruin your chances at winning?”

“I told you not to bet all of you beans,” Alex said. Yes, instead of coins, they were betting beans. It really shows how dire these times were.

“How was I supposed to know Matty was going to start with such a high card?”

“That is what you get for underestimating me.” Matilda said.

“I didn’t underestimate you! I just did not count on you sabotaging me.”

Matty smirked and looked at her cards. It may seem mystifying that they should play something as ordinary as cards when there is a potentially serious threat about to arise, however, they were shadowhunters. They were used to their parents going out into the night, and risking their lives. They grew up hearing stories about their siblings, and all of the times they had almost been killed. This was normal for them.

“Does it really matter, though?” Ben said, referring to Ella despair over losing her ‘wealth’. “What would you have done with your beans anyway? Made a stew?”

“Careful, don’t ask her too many questions or Ella will begin to malfunction. She’s not very bright.” Alex said.

Ella threw a twelve of steles card at him. “I need my beans,” she explained, “because if not I’ll lose the game, and will therefore be in debt, meaning I’ll have to pay it off.”

“What must you do to pay it off?”

“One of us can tell you to do anything, at any time or place, and you will be obligated to do said thing.” Jocelyn said, matter-a-factly.

“Once, I had to climb to the roof of the institute and scream ‘This is for my lord and savior angel Raziel’ while jumping for roof to roof, until I reached my house, then jump though the window and tell my parents I am going to run away and pursue a career in acting.” Matty said, ducking her head in shame. “The worst part is that papa believed me.”

“Oh. In that case, I take back what I said about it not mattering,” said Ben.

Everybody nodded gravely, and one would assume they were speaking about a topic far more serious than a game of cards.

“Do you think we will have to patrol every night?” Ella said, after another round.

“I bet we will not have to do anything, because there will be little to no precautions taken.”

“I find your optimism inspiring, Alex. I really do.”

“He’s right, though. Enclave has a tendency to ignore issues until one group of Nephilim come along and take matters into their own hands.” Matty said while she recorded the scores.

It took a moment for her to realize that a silence went over the room. She looked up, perplexed, and found everybody staring at her.

Ben had stopped mid shuffle, his expression stunned.

“What?” Matty asked.

“How out of character. You’ve become rebellious, Tildy.” Jesper said.

“Oh. Sorry?”

“Matilda, how many times have I told you not to apologize for no reason?” Jocelyn said. “Honestly! Taking blame for things that are not your fault only lowers your self confidence.”

“I would apologize for apologizing, Joss, but I take it you would not be too pleased.” Matty smiled.

“Good call.” Jocelyn said, picking up the cards Ben had just dealt. “Bloody hell, Benjamin, give me some good cards for once in your life, will you?”

“Psst, Ben! Don’t apologize,” Alex whispered.

“Actually, an apology from Penhallow would be much obliged.” Joss said, examining her nails.

“I am truly, sincerely sorry, Ms. Fairchild.”

“Your half hearted apology is not accepted, but I will give you points for effort.”

Ben bowed his head.

…

They were finishing up the round when Matilda noticed her father, Henry Fairchild, by the doorway smiling at them. Matty got to her feet and walked over to him.

“Is everything all right, papa?” She asked, matching his smile with one of her own.

Everyone had always told Matilda she looks much like her father; her face, chest and shoulders (basically her entire body) were splattered with freckles and Charlotte always tells her they share the same open and kindly face. The only notable difference between them (excluding the fact that they are of different gender and age, of course) was that Matty’s hair was blond and that she had not been blessed with her father’s wonderful eye colour. She had always hoped they would magically change one day from another but alas, they remained dark brown.

She never had reason to dislike her hair colour, however, for it reminded her of her brother, Matthew. And there was nobody Matty looked up to more than Matthew.

“Yes, but it is getting late, and we were going to head back home.”

Matty nodded. “That sounds wonderful; though I do enjoy the company of my cousins, extensive human interaction can be quite…tiresome.”

Henry gave her a tired smile, for it had been a long night. “I agree. I would rather work on my experiments.”

Matty chuckled. “Is there any news from the meeting?”

“Not yet, darling. It is far too late and most of the shadowhunters are too tired to make rational decisions.”

Matty nodded, “Yes, that makes sense. Well, I’ll get Joss so we can leave.”

“Call Ben as well, his sister was asking for him.”

“All right, papa.”

…

Alex and Jesper only stayed a while after the Fairchild sisters and Ben left. Though Charlotte is not the consul anymore, she was still a very influential figure and most Nephilim still looked for her opinion in a certain manner. So, after the Fairchilds departed home, it was only a matter of time before the shadowhunters began trickling out of the institute and back to their respective homes; the Conclave will meet once again tomorrow to discuss the manner at hand.

For now, much to Ella and the boys’ dismay, no measures have been put in to ensure the safety of London.

“What a waste of time.” Ella said. “To think, we stayed up all night to hear for nothing.”

“At least you got to pass the time by playing cards,” Cecily said, a very exhausted Gabriel trailing behind her. “We had to listen to the meeting go in circles for hours.”

“I guess I have an exciting adult life to look forward to.”

Cecily smiled. Nobody knew how she managed it, but Cecily always looked at least 20 years younger than her actual age. Once, when Ella and Alex were little, a young man approached her thinking she was around his age.

“You are aware I am old enough to be your mother, right?” Cecily had said.

The poor man had turned the color of a ripe strawberry, the color deepening while he apologized.

Now, Cecily tugged on her evening coat and motioned to her son.

“Stop playing cards and let’s go, Anna.”

“Anna?!”

Cecily froze and turned slowly to face Alex, horrified.

“Mam, did you just call me Anna?”

“What? No! I was talking to your sister.”

“Anna is not even here!”

Cecily kissed her lips and looked around the room.

“Christopher, I can somewhat understand, but Anna?” Alex shook his head.

“Both of your names start with an ‘A’,” she argued.

“You named me,” Alex rebutted. “Besides, I’ve never heard papa call you Christopher.”

“He better not, I am his wife.”

“You called my brother Gabriel once.” Gabriel said, snapping out of his semi-asleep state to join in the conversation.

“I said I was sorry about that.” Cecily said, exasperated.

“Somebody is getting old.” Will said.

Cecily turned her head and turned her piercing stare at Will.

“Somebody is looking old.” She replied before turning back towards her son.

“I’m sorry bach, it has been a long night. Now stop playing cards and get over here, Alexander.”

Alex unfolded his long limbs and got to his feet. “Farewell, comrades.”

“Farewell.” Ella and Jesper waved, not really averting their attention from their game.

“How old are you? Just say ‘goodbye’, you psychopaths,” Will said.

“We are connecting with our English roots.” Ella said.

Gabriel shrugged at Will. “Children these days.”

…

Long after Jesper and Alex had gone home, Ella lay in her bed that night and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She kept tossing and turning, not able to get the image of that demon-thing out of her mind.

The time has come.

What did that even mean? It wasn’t that the words frightened her— on the contrary; they made her want to laugh for how silly and unthreatening they were. The time has come. Whoever was targeting might as well have been a joke. Expect they weren’t. They had taken Owen. It did not matter if they ended up finding him. The act of taking a child, Ella’s nephew, hit differently. She knew her parents felt the same, as did James and Cordelia. They had been in enough conflicts to know that coincidences such as these seldom exist. The Herondales have been a target for longer than anybody could imagine. Ella sighed and kicked her sheets away from her. She hadn’t realized how hot it had become until now. She sat up straight and knotted her hair at the apex of her head, feeling a wave of relief hit her as the air of neck. She fell back into her pillow and wrapped her legs and arms around the discarded sheets, hugging them for comfort. For now, she’ll just lay here and try to sleep.

…

Here’s a snippet for part 5:

“ELLIE!”

Ella felt her entire body jolt awake.

“Lucie?!”

Tagging: @celias @tsccreatorsnet

#Ella herondale #tsc #tsc au #tlh au #the last hours au #tlh fanfic #will herondale #alexander lightwood #matilda fairchild #the broken hearts #imherongraystairstrash fics #jocelyn fairchild #jesper carstairs #herondale #lightwood #the last hours fanfic #tsc fanfiction

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itsbigdangofamily · 5 years

Text

i’ve been waiting all my life for this morning

A/N: OjiTooru fluff, because OjiTooru deserves more love. You can also read it on AO3.

The first thing Mashirao sees when he wakes up is sunlight streaming through the wide glass windows, whirling dust motes caught in the golden glare. He can feel an arm draped over his chest, and, under the sheets, a leg tangled between both of his, resting against his tail.

Mashirao smiles as he turns over, removing Tooru’s hand from his chest and gently kissing the center of her palm. She murmurs softly, the sunlight striking the pillow where an indentation marks the position of her head.

Levering himself up on his elbow, Mashirao leans over Tooru and presses a kiss to the general location of her face, his mouth touching her cheek. His next kiss is aimed better, grazing the corners of her lips.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Mashirao says softly, fondly stroking her hair as she groans drowsily. After a second, the indentation on the pillow changes shape as she rolls her head in his direction and pulls Mashirao down for a proper kiss. Their mouths move languidly against each other, sweet and slow and loving.

“Good morning,” Tooru says when they pull away from each other, a smile in her voice. As Mashirao reaches down to cup the face of his wife—the thought sends a giddy rush through him, conjuring up a thousand images of the previous day—he can’t help but return her smile.

Mashirao is six years old, laughing as he sprints through a wide sunny field.

In front of him, his friend Haruto holds a model airplane over his head, making flying noises with his mouth as he races through the grass.

They end up at the base of a giant oak tree. The two small boys collapse gratefully under the cool shade of its leafy branches, chests heaving and lungs gasping. But small boys are an inexhaustible source of energy, and soon Haruto is back on his feet again.

“Planes are the coolest!” Haruto yells, holding his model plane aloft as he runs around in the shade. “When I grow up, I’m going to become a pilot!”

“That’s . . . That’s great,” Mashirao heaves out, still trying to catch his breath.

“What about you? What are you going to be when you grow up?” Haruto asks, feet in a perpetual state of motion as he races circles around Mashirao.

“I—” Mashirao starts. What does he want to be when he grows up? The question leaves his mind completely blank. Mashirao likes things, sure, but he’s not like Haruto, with his obsession with planes and jets and pilots. Mashirao doesn’t have anything like that, nothing he’s so single-mindedly devoted to.

“I don’t know,” Mashirao admits finally. Haruto makes a disappointed noise, unsatisfied with Mashirao’s response. He moves on quickly enough though, as small boys are wont to do.

Mashirao tries to do the same, tries to let go of this strange curdled feeling in his stomach at the thought of the future and growing up and being an adult and having a job.

He tries.

“We should really get up,” Mashirao says as Tooru peppers his face with kisses, one arm wrapped around his neck while the other gently strokes his tail.

“Why?” Tooru asks. “Staying in bed all day sounds far more appealing.”

“Work,” Mashirao replies with a smile. He presses a final kiss to Tooru’s lips before sitting up and sliding out of bed, his bare feet hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

“You’re no fun,” Tooru complains as Mashirao rummages on the floor of their closet for clothes. Behind him, he hears Tooru reluctantly get up, grumbling and yawning as she makes her way to the bathroom. A second later, the shower starts up, the sound a soothing background noise as Mashirao finally manages to locate a pair of relatively clean boxers.

He soon joins Tooru in the bathroom, hovering over the sink as he spreads shaving cream on his face. To his right, Tooru hums quietly as she stands beneath the spray, water droplets seeming to hang oddly in midair as they cling to her skin.

“Want to join me? I’ll let you scrub my back,” Tooru says sultrily, but it’s the tone she uses when she’s only half-serious about what she’s saying.

Mashirao doesn’t look away from the mirror, carefully dragging the razor along the line of his jaw. “If I did that, we wouldn’t leave for another three hours,” Mashirao comments as he tilts his head to inspect his cheek.

“I fail to see the problem with that.”

“Work.”

“You know, no one really expects us to come to work the day after our wedding,” Tooru says half-accusingly, but a second later, she’s stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around herself.

Truthfully, Mashirao doesn’t really want to go to work today either. He’d much rather laze the day away in bed, cuddling his wife—happiness fills him at the thought; he still can’t quite believe they’re married—in his arms. Or better yet, take a week-long vacation to Kyoto, or Venice, or Paris. He’s always wanted to go to Paris.

Alas, being a pro hero requires certain sacrifices, among them giving up honeymoons.

He and Tooru took the entire day off yesterday for their wedding, and they’re already late getting up today—at the insistence of their sidekicks, who had all but ordered them not to show up before at least noon—but their agency is still less than a year old, and they truly can’t afford to take any more time off.

Not that he minds too much.

Mashirao is fifteen years old, in his last year of middle school, nervously fidgeting in his chair as his teacher asks him what his plans for the future are.

“I’m planning on applying to UA,” Mashirao admits, a ball of nerves tightening in his chest.

His teacher blinks once, surprised, then tries to cover it up with a smile. “You want to be a hero, Ojiro-kun? How wonderful. I’m sure you’ll be great at it. You’re such a kind boy.”

Honestly, Mashirao isn’t sure this is the right decision at all. He’s talked to other people who dream of becoming pro heroes, people who want it more than anything. Their rooms are filled with hero merch, and they watch news segments religiously, and their eyes shine like stars whenever they talk about their favorite heroes.

And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be a hero—he thinks pro heroes are really cool, and having a job that lets him help people doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend the rest of his life. It’s just that sometimes he looks at all the other hero hopefuls, and he thinks, I don’t care enough, I’m not devoted enough, I’m not certain enough that this is what I want to be. I’m not like you, I’m not like you, I’m not like you.

Sometimes, he can’t help but remember Haruto, his friend from years ago. He remembers that day running in the grass, remembers collapsing in the shade, remembers Haruto’s innocent question.

He’s still haunted by that question, by the realization that he doesn’t love anything as much as Haruto loved planes, doesn’t want anything as much as Haruto wanted to be a pilot.

It’s such a stupid thing to hold on to, after all this time.

It’s such a stupid thing, but he still hasn’t learned how to let go.

Mashirao’s phone dings as he leans against the wall beside the front door, waiting for Tooru to finish getting dressed. He opens his messages to find two texts from his older sister. He’s typing out a reply when Tooru comes into the room. She’s wearing her hero costume, which makes her fully invisible, but Mashirao has long since become familiar with the sound of her footsteps.

“Ready?” she asks as she pulls on her custom-made shoes, just as invisible as she is.

“Yeah. Just got to finish this text to Tsuyoi-nee really quick,” Mashirao responds, hurriedly finishing his reply before putting his phone away.

“Oh? What she’d say?” Tooru pulls the door of their apartment open and steps into the hallway, Mashirao following as she presses the call button for the elevator.

“She said they’re just about to board the plane. She also berated me for not taking more time off.”

“See! Tsuyoi-nee agrees with me,” Tooru declares triumphantly as the elevator doors slide open. Mashirao laughs, barely looking behind him as he jabs the button for the lobby with his tail.

“That doesn’t really prove anything. You and Tsuyoi-nee agree on everything.” It had been a little disconcerting, at first, to find out just how similar Tooru was to his older sister. The two women, by contrast, had gleefully jumped at the opportunity to double-team him into doing whatever they wanted.

“I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be married to me, not your job.” Playfully, she tugs on the hem of his costume.

As the elevator descends, Mashirao wraps his tail around Tooru’s waist, bringing her in closer. “Why can’t I be married to both?” he asks, lightly kissing the top of her head. It’s at times like these that he can’t help but appreciate the difference in their heights.

He feels sure Tooru is rolling her eyes, but she leans up for another kiss anyway.

Mashirao is eighteen years old, just months away from graduating high school, and the thought of the future still sets his insides churning furiously.

It doesn’t help that all his classmates seem to be so sure of their post-graduation plans.

Everywhere he turns, he hears people talking about job offers and agencies and renting new apartments and finding roommates. Sometimes, it all just makes him feel like he’s drowning, like he’s the only person in a roiling sea who hasn’t found anything to hold on to keep him afloat.

He and Tooru still haven’t talked about what they’re going to do after graduation. He’s thought about bringing it up to her so many times, but every time he does, his nerves sew his mouth firmly shut.

They’ve been dating since their first year, and the thought of breaking up with her sends a physical ache through him. But at the same time, the idea of spending the rest of his life with her fills him with an unspeakable uncertainty.

It’s the same uncertainty he felt when he first decided to apply to UA—misgivings over having made the wrong choice, doubt that this is something he can actually do.

During his three years at UA, he’s discovered an enthusiasm for hero work, a joy in being able to save people, delight in everything that a pro hero does. He loves it, loves every damn second he spent here, loves all the people he’s met, loves all the skills he’s honed, loves all the friends he’s made.

And he loves dating Tooru too. He cares for her so, so deeply, more intensely than he thought he could ever care for anyone.

Yet the thought of forever, of being a hero forever, of being with Tooru forever—it scares him.

Forever is a long time, and he’s scared that somewhere down the line, he’ll run out of passion for his job and his girlfriend, and then he’ll be stuck. Stuck because he didn’t have enough love for the path he tread.

Twelve years past, and he still can’t forget Haruto.

“I cannot believe you guys actually came to work the day after your wedding,” FX says as Mashirao and Tooru walk through the doors of their agency.

“We’re pro heroes. No rest for the wicked, and no rest for us either,” Tooru responds. Mashirao kindly refrains from mentioning that Tooru had been complaining about having to come to work less than five minutes ago.

The sidekick shakes her head in disbelief, her green-tipped ponytail swinging back and forth. “Well, if you want to work so bad, be my guest,” she says, making a grandiose sweeping gesture toward the elevator to Mashirao and Tooru’s office. “I’ll get Kaze to bring over some reports in a bit.”

“Oh, joy. Paperwork,” Tooru mutters under her breath as they step into the elevator.

Just as the doors are about to close, FX calls loudly through the gap, “You two better not be fucking when I send him up!”

Mashirao sputters, feeling his cheeks turn a dark shade of red, while Tooru laughs. “That mouth of hers is going to get her in trouble someday.”

“Isn’t that why you hired her?” Mashirao asks archly.

“You bet!” If Mashirao could see her face, he’s sure Tooru would be grinning broadly right now.

The elevator doors open, and they make their way down the short hallway to their office. Tooru pushes the door open and steps inside, humming. However much she might have protested getting out of bed, Tooru loves hero work. She’s just as happy to be at the agency as he is, he can tell.

Without warning, his mind flashes back to his third year at UA, right before graduation. He remembers the anxiety he felt then, the uncertainty about his path in life. God, he’d been so young—eighteen years old, and feeling like the whole world was riding on his shoulders.

He’ll forever be grateful to Tooru. Tooru, who encouraged him and reassured him and pushed him to be a hero despite all his misgivings, despite all his doubts. Tooru, who’s been at his side all these years, through good and bad, through thick and thin.

He won’t lie. It hasn’t been easy. Being a pro hero isn’t easy, after all. There’s been injuries and hospitals and far too much blood. There’s been sweat and exhaustion and fatigue clawing at his soul. There’s been tears and funerals and enough grief for a lifetime.

But somewhere along the way, sometime during the years of daily patrols and emergency calls and disaster relief—Mashirao stopped worrying. He stopped being uncertain about life and started living it.

And now, standing in his very own agency in Shizuoka, in the office he shares with his wonderful, amazing wife, he can’t imagine any other life he’d rather have.

Stepping toward Tooru, he wraps her in a hug. She reciprocates, folding her arms around his neck. “I love you,” he says softly, leaning down to kiss her. He can feel her smile as she kisses back, her tongue teasingly tracing a path along Mashirao’s lips. He opens his mouth, and her tongue slips inside.

Things are just about to get heated when a knock interrupts them, and Tooru pulls back with a disappointed sigh. She opens the door on a short boy, fresh out of high school, with unkempt silver hair and half-lidded golden eyes.

“Reports from FX-senpai,” Kaze says emotionlessly, holding out a stack of files. Tooru takes them from his hands with only minimal grumbling as Kaze slowly scans the entire room, gaze seeming to brighten as he takes in Mashirao.

“Thank you, Kaze-kun,” Tooru replies as she sets the stack on the desk with a heavy thud. “You can go now,” she adds when he remains standing just inside the doorway.

“FX-senpai said to tell her if you two were doing anything naughty,” Kaze continues in his monotone voice, ignoring Tooru’s command. Mashirao feels his face start to heat up again.

“Well, you can tell her that we weren’t,” Tooru replies, calm as ever.

Kaze blinks once slowly. “You’re lying,” he says baldly. The statement is directed at Tooru, but his eyes are fixed on Mashirao—specifically, his lips. Mashirao’s cheeks rapidly increase in temperature as Tooru lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You really should be going now,” Tooru says, giving the boy no choice as she quickly ushers him out of the office and closes the door.

“FX is really such a bad influence,” Tooru remarks, but her voice is fond. Mashirao lets out an embarrassed groan, his head falling into his hands. Tooru laughs, walking over to him and lifting his head up, her palms cupping his cheeks. “Oh, relax. It’s not like she hasn’t caught us kissing in here before.”

“Remind me again why we hired her?”

“Because I like her.” There’s a grin in Tooru’s voice, and Mashirao can’t help but grin back, even though the blood has yet to recede from his cheeks.

This is his life, complete with irreverent sidekicks and monotone newbies and all.

And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#my hero academia #bnha #ojitoru #ojitooru #ojiro x hagakure #boku no hero academia #ojiro mashirao #hagakure tooru #my writing #my posts #mha

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