#we have some catching up to do now that retri's out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marshalortega · 1 year

Text

tried and true-blue (part 1 of 2.)

julia ortega + sidestep, secret crush path, post-retri. minor retri spoilers. 3.5k so, the truth is this simply got way too long to reasonably and responsibly put into one thing. second part out tomorrow, probably, after I've edited it. till then, have some secret crush ramblings. hair pulling and crying and insulting are all love languages, btw. if you even care. AO3 LINK.

Here stands Charge: tired, worn, dressed for running—or fighting. She’s in your base, picking over your shit. Dark under her eyes like she hasn’t been sleeping. Like she’s been waiting. She walks quietly across the bare plain of the concrete floor, quicker than you’d like, slips past you right as you sidestep her, not looking away. Can’t let her take the advantage even for a second.

Rolling your shoulders, readying for something, not that it means much—you—pale bruised banged and sliced, her own teammate’s handiwork finally turning you a mottled blue.

Julia lets out a whistle. "You look like shit."

"Speak for yourself."

She scoffs. You try not to smile.

Instead she gives you her back—a lure—and picks over the open medical kit, the snapped off thread for stitches, the bloody tissues on the ground. "Angie did a number on you, huh?"

"Keeping tabs on me again?"

"Don’t need to," she turns, finally, looks you up and down again, and you feel it tap-tap-tap down your spine, "it was all over the news. Nice going, by the way. She’s on the warpath."

"So she doesn’t know?"

"Pretty sure if she did, she’d be here herself. And no, I haven’t told her. Or anyone." Yet, implied. You watch her face, her terrible face so impassive, that subtle disappointed smile cutting into the corner of her mouth, the way she’s still looking you up and down, fixating on the bold lines of the bar code, then up again.

"Need any help?" She says. So casual. Catching flies with honey again.

What’s her angle? Ask. Ask and watch.

"Why?" You cross your arms, trying for… nonchalant? Something dispassionate, unconcerned. You don’t succeed, the cold turning you to gooseflesh. "You turning to the dark side?"

"Ohhhh… not quite, but that’s an idea," There’s that cheeky wink you know so well. "Actually, I was thinking more about that slice on your leg. Looked nasty."

Shit. You make a point of putting weight on it, despite the throb and the ache and the blood dripping sluggishly down your leg.

"It’s taken care of."

Julia snorts. "Which is why you’re bleeding all over the floor, right?"

"Ever learn to mind your business, Charge?"

"Tsktsk–doing that again?" She hums, too fluid, switching gears, turning into something— sharper faster too close, Charge, and you spy the blue skinsuit under the hoodie, she came ready for— "Okay, Sidestep." You shiver again; that name so free, so fine, so sharp on her mouth. "Got me. You haven’t been returning my calls, so… I got worried."

"Yeah, right, you made it clear we weren’t allies."

"But we’re still friends."

Liar. She takes a step forward, you two steps back. Your lips are tugging–up, up into a sneer, a smile?

She’s playing you, baiting, you can see it in the loose slide of her body, hands in her pockets but shoulders straight, walking around the room like she owns the place.

"Do you even know what you’re doing?" You were always the one doing the stitching, before. Your steady hands patching her wounds so much better than your own.

She splays her arms out, always the performer. "I’m full of surprises. Now are you going to let me look at your leg or what?"

"How about, or what?"

"Or I kick your ass twice and then patch it up, pendeja."

You don’t want her to see you like this. It waits, pulses, holds, her eyes, her eyes on you, and you— skinsuit peeled off. boyshorts and chest still bound. Sweat smears your back, her looking you over—looking for the soft, vulnerable? the bare meat of your orange gut, bandaged and raw, places to strike first, incapacitating. And you don’t want her hands on you, touching you unburdened by barrier or armor.

But she’s next to you, kicking you in your undamaged shin toward the nearby, almost dilapidated couch, and that hard tap gets you moving, reminds you of old times; love taps and braid-pulling.

"I’m going, I’m going…"

The truth is, you hurt down to the bone, and collapsing into the couch feels fucking good, pressure finally abating. Julia grabs the medkit, packing up your mess of needles and thread and bandages first. While she shuffles around with that, you kick out your legs, reaching down to pinch at the laceration across your thigh. Not deep enough to be fatal. Shitty enough to impede. Argent hasn’t struck to kill yet, but maybe your back and forth has gone on too long.

But you can’t linger on that too long. Ortega sinks to her knees in front of you, moving your injured thigh to make room.

You try not to squirm. Her hands are hot, a little tingly with static, all charged up no doubt. She pulls a little at the wound, hissing out an ouch as she lays the kit out.

"Could’ve been a lot worse," you say, fingers twitching at your side. They’re awkward, useless, and you don’t know what to do with them. This is… new. Finally you put them on your other thigh, clinging at the flesh there. Stay still.

Has she–has anyone ever done this for you?

You don’t think so. Not like this. Unclinical. She’s not touching you like a tool to be fixed up; none of the cold unfeeling of a doctor’s grasp. None of the wrenching and yanking of–

No, better not to go down that train of thought.

Ortega runs her thumb over a bit of unwounded flesh, a sympathetic drag of contact right before she sets your skin on by dousing it in rubbing alcohol.

"Fuck–" you bite out, digging your nails in, body stiffening to not jerk or kick out. This part’s the worst.

Ortega looks up, apologetic, awkwardly smiling. "Sorry… you good?"

You nod, forcing your breath to stay natural, slow. "Yeah, I’m good."

"Okay, ready?"

"Just get it over with."

"Just get it over with…?"

"Just get it over with, asshole."

"I was looking for please, but," Julia waves the tissue forceps far too cheekily for your liking. "I guess that’ll have to do."

And she gets to work. Far better than you were expecting. You thought you’d have to correct her, or direct, or stop her from making some heinous medical error with your fucked up meatsuit, but her grip is steady and her stitches straight, and her concentrated frown burrows neat grooves above her nose, and have you never noticed it before? Maybe. It almost makes you forget the moment.

Bodyhopping spoiled you, using Angel to put back together Noa’s comatose body. The pull of thread through skin is a sensation you never quite get used to, but you know how to keep your body perfectly still through the worst of it. Sometimes you reach forward and brush a piece of hair out of her eyes, and she flashes you a thankful little look. Ortega, serious; concentrated; eyes on you.

"You know, you never asked."

"What?"

"To be allies. You never asked."

She doesn’t glance up at you, rhythmically tying your skin together. Doesn’t waiver. Doesn’t see you flinch.

Like you could’ve asked her.

You tap your fingers on your thigh. Try not to bounce your other leg. Ortega’s side presses up against it, half supporting herself on the block of thigh, and your muscles clench.

"Would there have even been a point?"

"I haven’t turned you in yet."

"Operative word: yet."

"Didn’t even try to turn me to the dark side, so to speak," she goes for absurdity. "Could’ve at least tried to butter me up a bit. Promise me endless riches on your throne of evil bones."

Changing gears, her voice takes on a serrated lightness, too close to how she is when she fights—talking as a distraction, talking as show, get you swept up in the snap-crackle of her laugh and her lightning until you’re close enough to get knocked ass over tits. And you're already sitting down.

Julia nods her head at you, beckoning your understanding, like she isn’t spewing straight bullshit–more than usual. Lord. She counts down her stitches, mouthing the numbers in spanish.

"First of all…" oh god, evil bones, you snort against your will. Fuck. "I don’t believe in thrones. Or the government. So fuck you. Second of all," you jut your finger at her, emphasis. Portray control. "Are you just mad I didn’t beg you to please, please be my little sidekick?"

"Hey," she grabs the thread between her teeth–oh god–and splits it off. Ties it neatly up. "I’m always down for some light roleplay if you want me to be the sidekick."

Jesus fucking Christ.

"So is that why you’re here? To get in on it? Seems like a trap, which is so you."

"If this was a trap…" Ortega puts on her worst smirk, reaching for the bandages; her body heat bleeds into you, through the skinsuit, and she sets her hand on your good knee to push and pull herself back. "You’re kind of screwed, no offense."

You don’t need her to tell you that.

She wraps you up neatly, slowly, careful not to pull too hard as she binds you with gauze.

"I’m not going to be on Los Diablos Weekly here, Charge. I think this gig’s a little out of your wheelhouse."

"Oh please," she slaps your knee–fuck!--asshole!--"the revolution won’t be televised? You’re not that cliche, and I’m not that shallow."

"And I don’t think you could keep up anyways." You say, just to be mean for the fucking leg.

Ortega scoffs, hard. She rolls to her feet with a small grunt of effort, knees popping a bit. Old woman. But, fuck, now you’re on the low ground, forced to crane your head back as she looms over you, glaring down hotly. "Because you’re doing so well on your own here."

"Good enough to kick your ass, Marshal, or did you forget?"

And before you can stop yourself or think or consider her, too close, how she moves, the way she’s— she’s in front of you, leaning down. Into you. Your space. But you don’t cede ground, leaning up halfway, punching a fist into the arm rest to push yourself up.

"Coward."

"The fuck did you just say to me?" you’re slapped, slack jaw. Wish she’d slapped you in true. Better than that.

You’re not a coward. You’re fucked up and bruised down to the bone, and you will never leave the room they kept you in, not till one of you blows sky high. But you’re not a fucking coward.

"You heard me."

Fight and release, you can feel it in your teeth, and her fists are sparking, currents of blue; your fists clenching at your side hard enough to hurt. Maybe it is all trap, and they’re outside now, dampeners on, fuzzing you out, getting ready to take you in, that sure won’t be fucking televised.

"What, you’re stalking me because I didn’t ask you out? Got a little crush on the new Sidestep?" You jab your hand in her chest, moving you more than it moves her, but it still feels good.

Stay here long enough to get a good angle for the exit, or a good angle for how to take her down (not like that) with a fucked leg (again) and your broken bruised battered orange flesh. Stay this way, maybe you can topple her over your shitty couch and— (fuck, move) get your hands on her sides. On her wrists. Get her down on the—

You jab at her again, a petty fucking thing, and she grabs your hand and pulls you close enough to sweep, to stab, to throttle, pinning your grab to the full set of her chest and pulls back, pulls— twists your wrist— FUCK.

Fuck. Fuck. Hold still. She pushes down harder on your wrist, bending you low, putting her other hand on your elbow. Your back is to her and your eyes on her fucking shoes, and a throb of pain shoots up your shoulder. If you move too fast she can turn it into a snap break, fuck, fuck. You breathe slow, purposeful, don’t lose control.

"Still think I can’t keep up?" She spins you around a little, just to make her point. "Who do you think you were fooling anyway, Sidestep? With your it’s my name crap."

"You."

Snarl, hold still, just need her to let— go— what a fucking Chen move (impressive, infuriating). She presses down on your elbow, harder, not letting up. The tension ripples down your shoulder, shrieking, a break waiting to happen. You’re going to punch her pretty white teeth in for this.

"Dumbass." She snaps, pushing you away. "One day you’re going to get yourself killed, and I won’t let that happen."

You topple on your feet and twist at the last second, breathless. You’re fucked up and exhausted, but fine, you can do this. You raise your hands, slip into a shitty stance in this shitty fucking moment, and if nothing else you’re going to make her mourn her pretty nose forever when you bust it through.

You think of–

Ten–god–ten years ago.

How many times did you fight like this? Useless things. Petty things. Boyfriends, plans, idiocy, masks. Ending in bar fights or sparring matches. Easier to work through the flesh than the mind with her; the deafening static, the endless battle of will.

Just like this. Fighting with her again, and isn’t it almost a relief, getting it all out like this? Finally, flesh on flesh, fist to fist, the wet smack of it. Those sunbloody days she was all white-hot anger and prying like a crowbar, yanking you back, back into personhood. Ripping your mask off herself when she said look at me, and how you both ended up laughing when she’d clattered your teeth in a spar and you’d smacked her in the side and it was all out, out, all that rage, all that whatever sitting between you both like an infected wound. Thinking of how she’d slide a sloppy kiss down your temple, arm dragging you close by the neck till you screeched and she said are we good?

And you were good.

You were so good. You were the best, and she was the best, and she was your best friend in the whole world, and you only touched her this close when you were fighting.

You slide back, tuck your guard in tight, what a rush.

"If you wanted your ass kicked twice, all you had to do was ask."

"Not taking the initiative again. This is getting old." She splays her arms out, taunting, grinning.

Hot anger curls up your spine. Trying to drive you to do something stupid. And you know that, you know she is, you know and you’re smart enough not to.

Technically, anyways.

You move, fast on your feet, just not as fast as her, sliding back at the last second to dodge her first kick, and slamming into her, shoulder and elbow to gut, vicious, bulldozing, leg screaming, stitches stretching, blood cracked and sticking down-down-down the back of your knee, but first this, first her, first grabbing her by her hair and smothering her, pULLING–

The grab turns into a grapple turns into Julia’s fist in your kidney again. Again. Fuck. Pulses— pain— not enough to get you to let go though, not even close, and her palm catches on your jaw to shove your head, kindergarten shit. You slap at what you can reach, turns out to be the meat of her shoulder, and you fucking asshole, one of you says, but you aren’t sure who. Blurring. Wet. Flesh on flesh.

She tears loose. And slides back.

Too much distance. Get your hands. Get your hands on her shoulders, push her into the wall, brace your arm on her throat and the other on the fist that reaches to grab-pull-punch you, her skull lifted up to keep against the concrete, a laugh wrenched out of her like a nail from a hammer.

"Fuck you, Julia." You rasp, shaking, barely registering the flicker of lightning stinging your skin, and she smirks, fucker, fuck, shit, letting you do this, you can’t win, not really, just claw and snarl and want—

She leans in, against your grasp, straining, and you, you idiot, you lean in too, feel the faintest brush of her nose and the sharp-hot flush of her skin almost almost almost on yours.

"You don’t have the nerve."

Your skin throbs, vision blurs, heart pounds brutal enough to feel, to feel her pressed against you, her breath rattling under your palm, and HER (lovely) heart pounds brutal enough to feel, skin, almost skin on skin, your skin bared, your teeth bared, and the vicious glare she gives, the challenge screaming in your ears, the eyes, the eyes on your? her? lips, and she is so close, close enough to—

You don’t know who moves first this time.

You slam her back again, let go of her hand to wrap yours in her hair, and it still hurts, she digs her fingers into your waist to the quick and under your skin it rips loose, and—

her mouth.

Her mouth is on yours.

Warm. Soft. Not biting. Not dragging. Not ripping. The mind is screaming but the kiss is gentle, and whatever throttle you thought you had in you slides into a hold, into your hand on the side of her neck, into your thumb on her jaw and her palm snaking across your back, bare skin, raw enough to make you want to gasp-crack-cradle. Your skin and all the lights on and her.

An arm around her neck, fingers in her hair, pulling pulling wanting, and you can’t win, but you can slide your mouth open, let her tilt your head back, deepen the kiss while your lungs scream, too tender for the both of you, desperate enough to hurt still.

And–it’s too–much.

You shove yourself off, away, gasping hard and turning your back to her. The kiss has ended you quicker than any fight, and what the fuck, what the fuck was that?

"Fuck…" you let out, stun-silent.

There is nothing more coherent you could say.

"I’ll say…"

And she starts laughing.

You look over your shoulder with some amount of horror. What is so fucking funny about this? Was it– bad? Was it weird? Of course it was fucking weird. This is weird as shit.

"Sorry– oh boy–" she leans back into the wall, putting her hand to her forehead. "I’m not laughing at you, I’m–"

Something cracks open, drains like an infection, like ten years. It feels good. It feels better than anything you’ve felt in a long time. Next thing you know you’re laughing too, a low, dry, unused thing that comes out quick and barky.

"Who… won? That?"

"I don’t know," Ortega gives you a look so devastatingly soft, it could strike you dead if she wanted it to. "If you wanna do that again I’ll say you won."

"What, fight?" You say, because you’re very stupid.

"Yeah, Noa," Julia sighs, because she also thinks you’re very stupid, "fight."

"I don’t…" your brain is melting. It’s melting right out of your ears. Your legs feel weak, maybe a bit from the blood loss, and chances are Julia tore up her own handiwork, but, god, she’s looking at you like you’re not…

Not you? Too supple, too at ease, a popped cork.

You stumble back, too much, it’s all crashing down, in, all that time, did she want you? Want you like you wanted her? And her face, so open, always too open and yet so horribly unreadable, calls you back like a rolling tide. Julia, slanted angles, shattering light; what’s blackened in you roils and crawls, bending toward what little she can give you.

"You don’t have too. We can just… stay. Right here."

"Can we just…" you feel sick, your stomach rolling as your arms open up all the same. She steps forward so eagerly into you, and somewhere in this, your arms slide tight around her shoulder and her neck, faces pressed at the side.

Her exhales roll hotly down the top of your spine, static jumping as she squeezes you hard, vice-like.

Tension and release.

A pain crawls up the back of your throat, wounded animal noise you can’t swallow back as she slides kisses messily at your temple, your jaw, on your ear and in your hair.

Again you mourn not hearing, not knowing what’s running through that heady skull of hers.

Bury. Close. You cling just as hard.

"So…" she says against your neck, "are we going to talk about this?"

"Absolutely not." You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to look at this, or figure out what it means. Maybe it’s a kind of hurt making you so sick; was all that time wasted? All that minor agony useless? You’d been half-delirious with it. Driven to the madness of a kind glance and a familiar swallow.

Heartbeats pass between you, uncounted. Maybe minutes, or hours, or seconds, but when her breathing hitches and slides at an angle, and she sniffles almost wetly in your ear, you pretend not to notice, clenching your fingers into her hoodie.

"Huh…" she breathes hard, each inhale pressing tightly against your own, "truce, then?"

You crush her closer.

"Yeah."

And she says, because she’s an idiot: "I missed you."

#julia ortega #ortega #fhr #sidestep #fhr fanfic #mine**#staring at the second half of this that's still about 3k is like. what am I doing. why can't I be normal.#is it not enough to write Ortega getting boned? can't it be a normal little 1.5k event?#No. It must be egregiously long and plowed through like Noa's plowing Ortega #(in a second anyway)

16 notes · View notes

hydrus · 2 years

Text

Version 503

youtube

windows

Qt5 zip

Qt6 zip

Qt6 exe

macOS

Qt5 app

Qt6 app

linux

Qt5 tar.gz

Qt6 tar.gz

I had a good week improving how the program works behind the scenes. The build is more reliable, and it is now easy to run the program from source in Windows.

reliability

tl;dr: The program breaks less now and in the future.

Just as I was hotfixing a fresh boot problem last week, in the intervening time yet another boot problem arrived! We've been hit by several of these in the past couple of months, and I hate causing people this stress, so I decided to put some time into the way the official release is put together. I really hope this will not happen as much in future.

This is mostly technical, but the requirements.txts that prep the program environment are simpler, laid out for easier reading and maintenance, and have frozen version numbers for important libraries. I also put time into the build script itself, doing some cleanup and anti-deprecation work. The issues with PySide6 and dateutil are fixed.

I want the program to be more stable going forward when I click 'publish'. It has been duct-tape-and-a-prayer for too long. Thank you to those who report problems, and please keep them coming if and when this new system fails. I want to keep improving things here, especially too as more users run from source.

running from source

Absent any more issues, I expect this to be the last week I put out a Qt5 build. The Qt6 build is stable with no giant outstanding problems. Users on Windows 7 (and some similarly old Linux and macOS versions) cannot run Qt6, so they will need an alternate solution.

It is now easy to run the program from source in Windows. I have written several batch files to make it simple, no technical knowledge required beyond the ability to open a zip file, and the help has a brand new full walkthrough. If you want to run Qt5, the way to do so is equally simple and clearly labelled. Updating, too, is very similar to how you already update with the Windows extract zip.

https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/running_from_source.html

The process is also simpler and clearer for advanced users who want to use 'git', 'venv', and 'pip' manually. If you have been running hydrus from your system python, you might want to check out the help to learn how to set up a venv--it is really easy these days, and you can save yourself a real headache.

I'm obviously interested in reports if any of this fails for you; or if there is anything you find confusing. There is more work to do here, and once we have a workflow people are happy with, I would appreciate if some advanced Linux and macOS users can translate my new .bat files roughly to .command and .sh (I just don't have the familiarity/expertise in these platforms to do this well), so we have easy 'running from source' support for all platforms.

full list

misc:

fixed show/hiding the main gui splitters after a regression in v502. also, keyboard focus after these events should now be less jank

thanks to a user, the Deviant Art parser we rolled back to recently now gets video support. I also added artist tag parsing like the api parser used to do

if you use the internal client database backup system, it now says in the menu when it was last run. this menu doesn't update often, so I put a bit of buffer in where it says 'did one recently'. let me know if the numbers here are ever confusing

fixed a bug where the database menu was not immediately updating the first time you set a backup location

if an apng has sub-millisecond frame durations (seems to be jitter-apngs that were created oddly), these are now each rounded up to 1ms. any apngs that previously appeared to have 0 duration now have borked-tiny but valid duration and will now import ok

the client now catches 529 error responses from servers (service is overloaded) and treats them like a 429/509 bandwidth problem, waiting for a bit before retrying. more work may be needed here

the new popup toaster should restore from minimised better

fixed a subtle bug where trashing and untrashing a file when searching the special 'all my files' domain would temporarily sort that file at the front/end of sorting by 'import time'

added 'dateutil present' to _help->about_ and reordered all the entries for readability

brushed up the network job response-bytes-size counting logic a little more

cleaned up the EVT_ICONIZE event processing wx/Qt patch

running from source is now easy on Windows:

as I expect to drop Qt5 support in the builds next week, we need an easy way for Windows 7 and other older-OS users to run from source. I am by no means an expert at this, but I have written some easy-setup scripts that can get you running the client in Windows from nothing in a few minutes with no python experience

the help is updated to reflect this, with more pointers to 'running from source', and that page now has a new guide that takes you through it all in simple steps

there's a client-user.bat you can edit to add your own launch parameters, and a setup_help.bat to build the help too

all the requirements.txts across the program have had a full pass. all are now similarly formatted for easy future editing. it is now simple to select whether you want Qt5 or Qt6, and seeing the various differences between the documents is now obvious

the .gitignore has been updated to not stomp over your venv, mpv/ffmpeg/sqlite, or client-user.bat

feedback on how this works and how to make it better would be appreciated, and once we are happy with the workflow, I will invite Linux and macOS users to generate equivalent .sh and .command scripts so we are multiplatform-easy

build stuff:

_this is all wizard nonsense, so you can ignore it. I am mostly just noting it here for my records. tl;dr: I fixed more boot problems, now and in the future_

just when I was getting on top of the latest boot problems, we had another one last week, caused by yet another external library that updated unusually, this time just a day after the normal release. it struck some users who run from source (such as AUR), and the macOS hotfix I put out on saturday. it turns out PySide6 6.4.0 is not yet supported by qtpy. since these big libraries' bleeding edge versions are common problems, I have updated all the requirements.txts across the program to set specific versions for qtpy, PySide2/PySide6, opencv-python-headless, requests, python-mpv, and setuptools (issue #1254)

updated all the requirements.txts with 'python-dateutil', which has spotty default support and whose absence broke some/all of the macOS and Docker deployments last week

added failsafe code in case python-dateutil is not available

pylzma is no longer in the main requirements.txt. it doesn't have a wheel (and hence needs compiler tech to pip install), and it is only useful for some weird flash files. UPDATE: with the blessed assistance of stackexchange, I rewrote the 'decompress lzma-compressed flash file' routine to re-munge the flash header into a proper lzma header and use the python default 'lzma' library, so 'pylzma' is no longer needed and removed from all requirements.txts

updated most of the actions in the build script to use updated node16 versions. node12 just started getting deprecation warnings. there is more work to do

replaced the node12 pip installer action with a manual command on the reworked requirements.txts

replaced most of the build script's uses of 'set-output', which just started getting deprecation warnings. there is more work to do

next week

I did not have time to do the sidecar import/export improvement, so I'll try again next week. I'd love to have 'neighbouring .txt file' support for URLs and .json/.xml, but let's see what I can manage.

Thanks everyone!

#release

0 notes

eevee-eclair · 3 years

Note

for your requests… fwhimmy (fwhip/jimmy) with them dancing together in the codlands? i like to think fwhip doesn’t know how to dance very well but up to you!

Fwhimmy is by far one of my favorite rare pairs!! I think it’s absolutely in character for Fwhip to not know how to dance, so that’s exactly what you’ll get anon!

Tws: none! Just fluff!

Two Left Feet (and a fish tail)

Fwhip could honestly say he’s had a good day. He and Jimmy spent the afternoon cooking and then eating said food outside by the ocean. They watched the sun set over Lizzie’s empire then gazed at the stars as the moon shone above them.

So, yeah. It was a great day.

But, of course, it couldn’t last forever. Jimmy sat up from where they had both been laying down on some grass and looked at him, smiling.

“Do you want to dance with me?” he asked.

Fwhip tensed. Sweet salmon, he really wanted to. He wanted to twirl Jimmy around under the light of the moon and enjoy the way his face would shine in the low lighting. He wanted to throw Jimmy into the air and catch him gently. He wanted to dip him low enough to kiss him.

But he couldn’t. Because Fwhip couldn’t dance.

Yet, his mouth ran before his brain could stop it. “I’d love to,” he replied, also sitting up with a wide grin.

Jimmy rushed away to his house without another word, running to his house and coming back out with a jukebox and a disc. The color of it wasn’t yellow, and it looked fairly new, so Fwhip had hope for this song.

“What song is it?” he asked as Jimmy set up.

The cod smiled. “It’s Mellohi,” he said. “Some creeper was terrorizing me and I saw a skeleton, so I took a chance. I got this out of it!” He flaunted the disc before putting it in.

The sweet music filtered through the clearing. Fwhip stood up, brushing dust off himself as Jimmy outstretched his hand to him. He smiled and took it. Jimmy pulled him closer and he paused. The cod was beginning to sway to the song, but Fwhip just stood there, holding onto his hand.

Jimmy took notice. “What’s wrong?” He stopped and Fwhip felt bad.

“I… I can’t dance,” he mumbled, face turning the color of his scarf.

He giggled and Fwhip’s heart fluttered at the sound. “We’re you never taught?”

“No!” Fwhip exclaimed, a little heated. “I just… skipped the classes. I left Gem to do all the ‘fancy’ stuff.”

Jimmy hummed and grabbed his other hand. “Then I’ll just have to teach you,” he said, looking down at their hands. “Follow my movements.”

Jimmy took a step back, and Fwhip mirrored it was a step forwards. The cod put Fwhip’s hand on his hip and put his on his shoulder. “Now match my steps,” he said.

Fwhip did. He stumbled around, occasionally stepping on Jimmy’s foot. After many retries, and many bruised toes, they had settled into a good rhythm. The disc had long since turned off, but they had their own tune to dance to.

The Count smiled softly, watching their feet step around each other. “This is nice,” he commented. “Today was nice. I never thought I’d be dancing in the moonlight, but I like it.”

Jimmy matched his smile, but wider. “It’s nice! Just us, the moon, and the sounds of the water.”

Eventually, they slowed to a stop. They didn’t let each other’s hands go, but they stood together under the soft glow of the moon staring into each other’s eyes. Jimmy snorted.

“We should probably go home, yeah?” he asked quietly.

Fwhip reluctantly nodded. He swallowed and licked his lips. “Yeah… Yeah we probably should.”

Jimmy let his hands fall out of his. Fwhip only mourned their loss for a moment before Jimmy pressed a quick, small, kiss to his lips. Fwhip chased him as he pulled back and felt his face go up in flames.

“See ya around, Fwhip,” he whispered before walking away.

Fwhip dumbly waved goodbye as Jimmy jumped into the ocean. Fwhip will never forgot how beautiful that moment was; Jimmy covered in water as he swam away, waving goodbye as well, lit up by the white light of the moon and clothes stuck to his chest tight. It made his breath hitch.

“Goodbye,” he whispered to the wind, once Jimmy was deep enough to dive below. It took him a moment to regain control of his body, but once he did he flew off towards the Crystal Cliffs, desperate to rant about this to Gem.

Yeah. Today was a good day.

#eevee writes #thanks for the prompt!#empires smp #solidaritygaming #c!jimmy #jimmy solidarity #fwhip #c!fwhip #fwhimmy #Jimmy x Fwhip #Fwhip x Jimmy #lemme know if I missed a tag

113 notes · View notes

bl--ankhaeji · 3 years

Text

Bed of Roses

Pairing~ Emperor!Taeyong x CivilianPharmacist!Reader

Genre~ fluff,, angst,, empireau

Warnings~ smut..like three different scenes,,fem!recieving oral,,handjob,,switch?Tae/Reader,,Talks of war,,mentions/slight descriptions of death,,mentions/descriptions of extreme illness,,Taeyong has PTSD and nightmares,,mentions of blood,,Taeyong has insecurites,,mentions of rotting flesh

A.N~ This is my fic for the taeyong gallery collab hosted by @alreadyblondenow I am releasing two days later than planned I am sorry for that. This fic is based off of the painting The Kiss by Gustave Klimt. Also big thanks to my mutual/beta reader, Xiami, @kjmsupremacist and the mutual who made this beautiful banner for me, Mylin, @suh-insane This is my longest fic so far I hope you all enjoy 😊 Oh and before I forget there is a whole like sort of surgery scene in here PSA I am no doctor, I know nothing substantial about medicine or medicinal practices. I got the inspiration for that scene from a drama so...(props if you can guess which one it is)

W. Count~ 12.5k

The screams of thousands ringing in the air is deafening. Buildings are burning to the ground from a ravenous blaze. A vibrant haze of orange and red covers every single object in sight. No matter where he looks there is someone crying; hell, even the sky seems to be crying tonight. Taeyong’s legs give out from under him, bringing the once-strong prince to his knees as his head drops, hanging lowly in shame. How had he let it get this far? What happened to his beautiful peaceful empire full of its joyous people?

War. That’s what happened. His father had gotten power hungry and bloodthirsty, a terrifying duo. He remembers sitting in the royal meetings listening to the decisions his father would make, hating every single one but not having the authority let alone the guts to stand up to him. Hurried footsteps bring the prince out of his memories as a peasant girl, barefoot and in a tattered dress, appears in front of him.

“Prince Taeyong!” she cries, tears rushing down her face as if trying to see who will beat the other to the ground first. The prince's head snaps up at her cries, looking intently at her face. Her once-beautiful features are now horribly damaged and scarred from what looks like a massive burn. The girl opens her mouth, words making their way out until they stop suddenly and are replaced with a blood-curdling scream.

It’s then that Taeyong notices the spear cutting through her flesh, beginning to protrude through her midriff before it retrieds back through her body. The girl’s now-limp body falls in a heap in front of the prince, her blood flowing rapidly out of the deep gash. In her place stands an enemy soldier. The soldier raises his sword and the two men quickly commence into a brief battle. Taeyong quickly overtakes the soldier, tearing him down almost effortlessly.

The tired male stands tall, chest heaving, almost completely covered in blood before he rushes back to the girl, cradling her in his arms, even though his subconscious already knows it’s too late. “M-miss, oh my god miss, p-please please wake up,” he stutters frantically, lightly tapping her face. “MEDIC!! HELP SOMEONE!” he screeches so loudly it feels as if it’s ripping his throat.

Countless people have died in front of him this whole time. Countless bodies lay around him–men, women, and children alike. Yet he’s hellbent on trying to yell for a medic that he knows isn’t there to help this one girl. Suddenly, he sees the girl's eyes flutter open. “My prince,” her voice barely whispers, her shaking hands reaching up slowly to softly cradle the prince’s tear streaked face. Suddenly the strength returns to her body, her hands, once gentle, now harshly gripping the side’s of Taeyong's face, nails causing what feels like permanent moon shaped indentures on his face. “YOU!” she spits.

Her eyes, once gentle and kind, tainted with fear, now hold an anger and bloodlust so intense it is almost suffocating. “You’re the reason I’m like this! You and the royal family caused this-this WAR. And for what reason, huh? Thousands of lives lost; all of my friends and family are now dead because of you. I’M EVEN DEAD NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!!” Her hands now tightly grip his neck. “If I have to die by your hands then you have to die by mine. You made this bed of thorns, now lay in it. DIE!”

“AHHHHHH!” An ear piercing cry leaves the man's lips as he now sits up in his bed scrambling to the headboard as if trying to get away. His clothes and bedding are drenched in sweat. His personal guard, Doyoung, rushes into the room, thinking there was a possible intruder from the emperor's cries. Even though this was far from the first time the emperor was plagued by night terrors, he could never be too certain.

“Your Highness, Your Highness please. Taeyong! Snap out of it; you’ll wake the entire empire, sir please.” Doyoung pleaded with the now sobbing man. “Your Highness, it’s okay it was just a dream, none of it is real.” The guard's large hand lands on the emperor’s back as he rubs soothing circles in hopes of calming the almost hysterical man.

The dream may not have been real but his pain was, the war was real. His sobs are deafening.

His people, his country. He failed them; he’s still failing them.

The once-cowering man now stands tall with an aura of elegance and power radiating off of him. After Doyoung’s fruitless attempts at trying to talk Taeyong into getting some help for his recurring nightmares, the emperor was due down in Neo City, sometimes referred to as N-City, the capital of the Neo Empire. At least once a month Taeyong comes down from the castle placed in the heart of Neo City and walks around greeting and getting to know the citizens of the city. Taeyong has always been very passionate about knowing the people under him and knowing how they live. He never wants to be an emperor that lets his people suffer while he lives extravagantly in the castle.

He figures that’s the least he can do after failing them once already.

He shrugs on his royal cloak even though he and everyone else knows that it’ll come off in no time once he joins the people. Taking a seat in the carriage across from Doyoung, Taeyong is handed his crown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck fuck fuck. That’s all that you can think of as you race to make it on time. You’re so fucking late; how could you have let it slip your mind? The emperor always comes down around this time and you’re usually always in your spot on time, but you woke up late this morning after pulling an all-nighter preparing medicinal herbs for the elderly people down your street.

Your rucksack flops lifelessly beside your hip as you finally come to a stop, managing to make it to the spot in the nick of time. You had to deliver the herbs this morning and it almost cost you to miss seeing the emperor. Ever since Taeyong had taken over as emperor and started making his monthly visits, you always made sure you were there to be able to see him. You had a special spot you always occupied. It was the perfect spot where you could see him but not be front and center so that he could see you.

Indiscernible chatter and yelps of delight grow louder and more constant. The second you turn your head, an unmistakable crown floats atop the heads of an ample number of people. At that same moment you hear the emperor's joyous laugh, the beautiful sound bringing an uncontrollable smile to your lips. The crowd of people slowly thins out, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the handsome man, and you can’t help but to be taken aback by his beauty even though this is far from your first time seeing him. The first thing you look at are his eyes. Despite his entire demeanor radiating a bubbly happiness, you can see the truth in his eyes.

Taking in the appearance of the royalty, you notice the dirty cuffs on his white button up that sit rolled up on his forearms. Ahhh he must’ve been helping Mr. Young plant vegetables again. Your mind conjures an image of the older male who has the gall to make even the emperor plant vegetables for him and a small chuckle falls from your lips. Making your gaze up to his head, you take in the royal crown. You always wonder how the crown manages to stay rooted on his head despite sitting on it lopsided 90% of the time. A crooked smile that shines brighter than the sun graces the emperor's features and you suddenly feel your cheeks warm like a furnace.

Too caught up in your trance, you don’t feel the person bump into you until you’re already on the ground. The silence that greets you rings heavy in the air and isn’t broken until you hear a gasp, while at the same time feeling warm, nimble fingers wrap around your arm, gently lifting you from the ground. “Are you okay?” an male voice rumbles, a voice you’re no stranger to, a voice you were just delighted to hear mere seconds ago.

“I uh I-I ah-h y-y-yes-,” you stutter, struggling to form coherent words once you realize that the emperor has helped you up from the ground.

The emperor helped you up.

The emperor has his hand wrapped around your arm.

The emperor saw your fall... Dear God THE EMPEROR SAW YOUR FALL!

“I-I uhh YES-yes, I am fine,” you rush out, keeping your head down, refusing to meet the eyes of Emperor Taeyong, terrified of the judgement that might lie in them at your embarrassing fall. You quickly release yourself of his hold, scurrying away before he or anyone else can get a glimpse of your face. With your heart pounding in your ears and tears pricking your eyes you run back to your house as fast as you can manage, cutting your time to see the emperor extremely short. Hey, at least you have more time to prepare; you’re going to make things a little bit different today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness.” Doyoung’s curt voice takes Taeyong’s attention away from the retreating back of the girl he just helped off of the ground mere seconds ago.

“Wha-–ah yes! Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

The sound of the horses' feet clacking against the stone ground echoes throughout the carriage. “Doyoung,” the emperor starts, looking almost wistfully out of the window. “Do you think that girl from earlier is okay?”

“I would assume so, seeing as how she had no trouble when running away as if she had just robbed a bakery,” he replied with a slight tilt in his voice.

“She did run away quite enthusiastically, didn’t she?” Taeyong can’t help the small grin that overtook his face at the memory of the girl. It was rather funny seeing her scramble away as if she had just committed a crime.

“Your Highness, we have arrived.” The coachman speaks from the outside of the carriage as it slows to a stop.

Despite the limited space, Taeyong stands, shouldering the heavy royal robe. The door to the carriage is opened by one of the royal guards, who proceeds to escort Taeyong to the steps of the palace. A sound of disdain falls from the guards lips and catches Taeyong’s attention. “What seems to be the problem, might I ask?” Halting his steps, Taeyong turns towards the guard and gives him his full attention.

Realizing the emperor heard him, the guard stiffens, stuttering over his words hurriedly, attempting to make sure the emperor didn’t misunderstand. “Ah—no, Your Highness. There is no problem; not with you, at least, it’s just there’s this girl that always comes to the palace every week, and it’s just really annoying to send her away all the time.”

Spotting a girl making her way up the palace steps, the guard and Taeyong watch as the girl encounters her first guard, thrusting the huge bouquet into his face then bowing, appearing to say something completely inaudible from this distance. Standing straight, she looks as if she begs the guard for something, a hopeful look etched onto her face only for it to fall after the guard says something in return. Seemingly giving up, the girl turns to leave the palace, only this time she hangs her head down in sorrow.

Gathering what could be classified as a humongous bouquet, you make your way to the palace, even though you know you’ll probably be sent away again. Having succeeded in finally getting them to at least take the bouquet, you can only hope it reaches the emperor. Usually you just give him a nice bouquet full of roses that grow right in your garden at home with a nice little card attached reminding him to eat and get enough fluids, things like that, but this time after seeing the emperor you know he needs more than just roses. You gathered up and put together a bouquet full of beautiful red roses, gladiolus colored a light pale peach, white poppies, and a bunch of basil sprinkled throughout the bouquet.

Each flower carries a significant meaning with it that you want to give to the emperor and even if none of your other bouquets got to him, you really wish this one will. Sitting down, you prepare to write the note that you would leave this time.

It’s me again, Your Highness. I saw you today when you went down to town, and you looked really tired despite the smile you put on your face for us. I do hope you are getting enough sleep while also keeping yourself fed and hydrated, otherwise if you get sick, who will lead us as well as you do?

As you can see, I gave you a little something different than the usual roses. Considering that you’re a busy person, I’ll assume that you don’t know these flowers or their meanings so allow me to tell you.

The red flowers are obviously the roses I have been giving you for the last year or so. The pink looking flowers are called Gladiolus and they symbolize strength and get their name from gladiators who fight with strength and honor. The white flowers are called White poppies; they symbolize peace and the remembrance of war. They got that meaning because they are usually the flowers that grow atop fallen soldiers' bodies after war. Finally the little green leaves sprinkled throughout the bouquet are called Basil; although usually used in food, they are also thought to bring peace while warding off negative spirits, symbolizing good wishes, wealth, and a happy home.

Now that you know their meaning, I hope you can understand why I gifted these to you. Till next time Your Highness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing the folded piece of paper, Taeyong lets out a breath before looking at the beautiful bouquet in his hands. He was surprised that someone took so much notice and cared so greatly about him and his well-being to do something like this. With a light heart and a small flustered grin, he places the card back in the bouquet, setting the flowers in a vase atop the vanity in his room, somewhere where he is sure he will get to see the flowers everyday.

Back to normal again this week, Your Highness. I do hope that you were able to receive last week's bouquet, but I know there’s a good chance you did not, just like you will not this week. Do not ask why I continue to deliver these bouquets even though I know that you have not gotten a single one. It is too much to explain over a single note. I hope you have eaten well and stayed hydrated throughout this week. I also hope you have been sleeping well. If not, one way I find that helps is lavender oil. You could take it orally or drink some lavender tea before bed. You could even keep lavender in your room to infuse the area with its scent.

That’s it for this week, Your Highness. Till next time

Closing the note from this week, Taeyong places it back inside of the bouquet, setting it down on his vanity. “Doyoung!” When you delivered today’s bouquet, Taeyong had made specific orders to ensure that it got to him this time. “Could you fetch me some lavender?”

So after the first time, every week Taeyong couldn’t help but find himself lying in wait anxiously just to get your bouquet and read the sweet little notes you left in them. He had made sure to keep every single letter. His room was so full of roses that he had to start placing them all over the palace, but not without making sure to get the little note always cuddled inside. Not only that, he even started to smell like roses and he couldn’t be happier. He soon found himself relying on the little notes left in the bouquets’ to get himself through the week. Even if it was the simplest message just telling him to make sure to eat, drink, and sleep properly it still means the world to him.

He would get so excited for the bouquets that he had even started to make his way down to the palace entrance when he knew you were coming. Doyoung would compare it to a dog waiting on their owner to get home. He swore one of these days he was going to stop being a scaredy cat and go out and accept the bouquet himself, but until that day came he would remain behind the palace doors.

The resounding gong of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the room, alerting Taeyong of the new hour. It’s not like he didn’t already know, though. “It’s 4 o’clock, I have thirty minutes till my roses come.” Signing the last of the documents, stacking them on top of his desk, Taeyong stands, stretching his lithe body in order to get rid of the stiffness in his joints. Walking around his desk, Taeyong makes his way through the door.

A monotone voice laced with sarcasm breaks the silence, scaring Taeyong. “I guess it’s time for your one-sided weekly date. Or is it one-sided since one brings gifts while the other just watches like a creepy stalker?” Doyoung questions, leaning against the wall next to the entrance whilst raising his eyebrow.

“N-no! I mean, yes, it is close to time for the delivery, but it’s not a date.” A light blush covers Taeyong’s cheeks as the word ‘date’ falls from his lips. “I was just leaving to go around the palace and see how everything is going, checking and making sure things are happening the way they should–y’know, kingly duties.”

Turning to face the obviously flustered king, Doyoung gives him a deadpan expression that screams mmhm sure. “All I got from that was that you admit to being a creepy stalker.” Taeyong’s mouth flies open, unable to give a coherent response. “Oops, look at the time! You should probably start making your rounds,” he says, walking out of the room, the sound of Taeyong’s incoherent ramblings drowning out as he walks away.

Sobering up from his conversation with Doyoung, he makes his rounds around the castle, steadily making his way to the entrance, keeping his eyes on the time. By the time he makes it to the entrance, he can see the girl making her way up the palace stairs, still a little dot in the distance. He can’t help but notice the way his hands begin to feel clammy and his heart rate slowly picking up as your face comes into view.

He remembers the first time he came down and was finally able to see your face clearly. He swears it was as if the world stopped. You looked more beautiful than any bouquet he has received from you. He was so flustered that he couldn’t help but to blush every time he thought of you. He knows because Doyoung wouldn’t shut up about the magenta red that spread along his cheeks at random times that day.

He was so focused on looking at you that he didn’t realize the rushed way in which you gave the guard the bouquet. All he knew was that one second he was staring at your face and the next your back as you lightly jogged away. Slight disappointment settles in his stomach as he realizes you didn’t even attempt to convince the guard to give the bouquet to him this time.

The guard walks over, handing the bouquet to the waiting king, not wanting to be gone from her post too long; she quickly turns around, moving to head back before the voice of the emperor stops her. “Wait!” Taeyong notices the tension in her body at the sound of his voice, “Yes, your highness?” she asks, voice shaking slightly.

“Where is the note?”

Turning back around, she faces the emperor. “What note, sir?”

“The note. The one that’s always in her bouquets.” Taeyong notices his voice came out sharper than he intended when he sees the guard flinch slightly. “I apologize; I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. I just—there’s always a note that comes with her bouquets and-and there’s not one in here.”

“Ah, I don’t believe there was one in there, Your Highness. At least, I didn’t see one when she handed it to me.” Upon seeing the crestfallen look that sits on the emperor's face, the guard instantly offers to check and see if it had fallen off somewhere.

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Taeyong replies, “No you’re fine–it’s fine if you didn’t see it when she handed it to you then it must not have been there in the first place.” Taeyong can hear how disheartened his voice was. Deciding it’s time to go inside, he sends the guard off to go do what they were doing beforehand.

“Hey Tae, how was the–What’s wrong?” Doyoung instantly notices the somber expression placed upon the emperor’s face. “You usually are about ready to jump off of the walls and now you look like the baker just ran out of those sweet potato cubes you get when we go into town.”

“It’s nothing.”

Grabbing Taeyong’s shoulder, Doyoung turns him around so they’re face to face, “That girl didn’t say anything mean in that note she leaves in the bouquets did she? Cause if she did, so help me god- no so help her I will-.”

“Calm down, she didn’t say anything mean. She didn’t say anything at all. There was no note in the bouquet this time.”

“Oh. Uhh well, at least she still delivered the roses. Maybe something happened and she didn’t have time to write the letter,” Doyoung tries to reason, hoping he would be able to say something that would lift his friend’s spirit. Taeyong could tell Doyoung was trying his best to be supportive but there is nothing he could say right now that could make him feel any better.

“Y-yeah, maybe.” Not wanting to think about it anymore, Taeyong leaves for his room with a wave. At least he finished all of his paperwork for the day and he can just lay in bed.

Taeyong finds himself walking through a field filled with flowers without an end in sight. It’s not until he sees the outline of a person sitting in the field that he starts to speed up, hoping he could ask the stranger where he was at.

As he gets closer, the person begins to seem more and more familiar. It has him thinking, trying to figure out who it could be. As if the person hears him they turn around and he’s surprised to see you sitting in the field.

“Hello Taeyong.”

“Ahh hi.” Taeyong can feel his heart rate pick up almost as if it’s trying to jump out of his chest.

“Would you like to sit with me? The bloom is absolutely beautiful today.” Replying with a stiff nod, the usually confident emperor shyly takes a seat in the field of white flowers. Giving the seemingly flustered male a soft smile you pluck one of the flowers out of the field, lifting it up to your nose smelling the fragrant plant.

“Smells heavenly. Would you like to take a sniff?” you ask, taking the flower away from under your nose, handing it to the male opposite you.

Taeyong takes the small white flower out of your hand, lifting it to take a whiff. He immediately recoils as the putrid smell of rotting flesh infiltrates his senses, “Wha-” You snatch the flower away from his hand taking another whiff.

“Smells great, doesn’t it? I love the smell of white poppies.” It’s then that Taeyong’s mind remembers the white flowers that were in the first bouquet that he received from you as well as the meaning of the flowers. Finally taking in his surroundings, Taeyong realises that it’s not just a field of flowers but a field of dead bodies.

“Y’know Taeyong, I used to be sad thinking that I was going to have to go forever without ever getting to see these gorgeous flowers. But because of you and the war your family started, all of these dead bodies were able to sit here and grow some of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.” By now you have picked up a whole bouquet worth of the poppies, little pieces of rotted flesh hanging off of the bottoms, “Too bad I had to die before I got to see them.”

After hearing her last sentence Taeyong takes a good look at the girl, noticing that the white poppies she had collected were all from her body. “Y’know maybe you should die too so you can fully witness the beauty of these flowers,” you say with a slight tilt to not only your voice but your head.

Before he can question it you’re already driving a spear through Taeyong’s heart.

“Taeyong you look like absolute shit. Do you really think you should be going into town like that?” The bags under Taeyong’s eyes look bigger and heavier than the robe on his shoulders. It has been a week since you dropped off the bouquet without a note.

“Yes, Doyoung. It’s been a month, we don’t want people to worry.”

“Funny. You say you don’t want them to worry but you look like the living dead. They’ll worry either way.” The guard rebutts, crossing his arms sassily.

“Doie, I don’t have the time nor the energy to argue with you, just please can we go?”

“That’s just it. You always have time and energy to argue with me! Taeyong, it’s been a week; it was just one note out of hundreds. Who knows; maybe she just forgot to put it in the bouquet, but regardless of what happened you can't keep moping around and carrying yourself like this. You’re an emperor, for pete’s sake! What will you do when she stops bringing the bouquets?”

Taeyong freezes. What will he do? He can't expect you to deliver bouquets forever, can he? At some point you’ll get tired of it, tired of him, and what will he do then? Standing straight, Taeyong makes his way out of the palace, head held impossibly high.

“I- dammit Taeyong I didn’t mean it like-”

“No. You’re right, I can’t expect her to always bring the bouquets, that's selfish of me.” I can't always expect her to be here. It's selfish to expect her to be here. “Come on, we have people to see,” he says, climbing inside of the carriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally done unpacking your clothes from the last minute trip you had to take last week, you plop onto your bed, completely beat. One of the families you delivered medicine to ran out suddenly and you had to rush to their house so that their child did not die. You spent the rest of the week nursing the child back to health after they had to go without medicine.

The thing is, you got the message in the middle of making the emperor’s bouquet for that week and you didn’t have the time to make a note to put in the bouquet. Even though you know that the emperor doesn’t receive the bouquets at all, you still felt the guilt sitting in the pit of your stomach that entire week.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you’re woken by a series of rushed knocks on your pharmacy door. Getting out of bed reluctantly, you grab your apron, tying it around your waist and walking to the door in order to go see who it is.

“Chamomile Pharmacy, how may I–” you start opening the door until you get sight of the person on the other side and quickly slam the door back in place. Why was Emperor Taeyong at your door?!? And why did you just slam the door in his face? Reopening the door, you start bowing and apologizing to the seemingly starstruck emperor at once. “I-I am so sorry Your Highness, I didn’t mean to do that, it’s just you caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it to be you behind the door,” you hurriedly attempt to explain until Taeyong is knocked out of the way by his royal guard Doyoung.

“We don’t have time for this right now. You can have your little–whatever this is later. We need you to make more of this medicine for Mr. Young immediately. We showed up at his house right as he passed out and this was on his counter!”

Grabbing the bottle, you realize this is the heart elixir you made him some time ago, “Shit! Okay I’ll be right back. I need to go grab something out of the garden first,” You quickly tell the men, writing at the speed of light on a piece of paper. “Here, while I’m getting that I need you two to look and find these in that cabinet over there. I need everything ready for when I get back so I can quickly get this to him.”

Rushing out into the garden, you quickly sort through various plants until you find the two you’re looking for. You barge back into the pharmacy to see that Doyoung and the emperor got a little over half of the ingredients down. “Okay, even though everything isn’t down yet I’m going to go ahead and get started. One of you, continue to look for everything while the other comes over here and gives me a hand. We have to hurry.” You are so focused on getting the medicine done that you don’t even notice Taeyong handing you the supplies.

Finishing up the elixir and gathering all of the utensils, you stuff them into your rucksack and run out of the door. “We rode horses over here, it’s faster than on foot. Hop on Taeyong’s; we have to go,” Doyoung all but commands as he mounts his horse, already taking off. The adrenaline pumping through your system helps to keep you calm about the fact that you now have your arms wrapped around Taeyong’s waist and are currently on a horse with him.

In no time you’re riding up to Mr. Young's homely brick house, the one that he and his late wife built back when they were younger. Pushing your way into the house, you see the old man lying on a cot on the floor. Taking everything out, you lie it on a towel next to you on the floor and pull on a pair of gloves.

Quickly checking the old man's pulse, you let out a breath in relief that it’s still there but very faint. You take a pair of medical scissors and cut his shirt open. Grabbing the bottle containing the green elixir and a needle syringe you urgently but carefully extract some of the liquid from the bottle. At this point the silence in the room is deafening, but you’re only able to hear the white noise buzzing in your ears, blocking out any and all distractions.

You check and make sure that it’s the right amount before giving the syringe a slight squeeze, pushing a few drops of the liquid out of the needle. Taking a deep breath, you harshly stab the needle into the man’s chest, forcing the liquid through the needle, unknowingly garnering stiff gasps from those who are watching. You immediately retract the syringe only to place your hand on the same spot, firmly yet softly massaging it.

After massaging for a couple of minutes you sit back, bated breaths falling from your lips. “You can take him to his room now, he needs to rest. I’ll go make some tea for everyone.” Gathering your supplies, you take them to the kitchen to disinfect and sterilize them. Behind the doors of the kitchen you finally feel yourself calm down and it’s then that you notice the intense way in which your hands are shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was going fine, and he was almost done making his rounds with everyone. One of the last people he had to meet with was Mr. Young, the sweet old man who always made him help pick things out of his garden, and that’s when the day took a turn. Was it for the worse? Taeyong didn’t know yet. Walking in on the man passed out on the floor shook Taeyong to his core. When he and Doyoung finally noticed the empty bottle on the countertop, they read the label which stated the pharmacy where the medicine was from.

From there, they took two of the guard’s horses and were off to find the pharmacy. It’s there that Taeyong found you, though the circumstances were less than great. He still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him, but the moment was over after Doyoung realized what was happening. Now that everything had calmed down and Mr. Young was okay, the fact that you were just a few steps away in the kitchen was eating at the emperor.

“I don’t get why you just don’t go in there and talk to her.” Doyoung spoke suddenly, sounding bored with his life after noticing the way in which the king fidgeted in his chair, eyes constantly flitting to look back and forth from the kitchen door to his feet.

“I mean, it’s not like she can do anything; you’re an emperor for god’s sake. Unless you want to continue being a creepy stalker, I suggest you go in there and tell her that you’ve been receiving her bouquets and you like them or some shit like that.”

“I-I can’t just barge in there and–”

“He only had jasmine tea in his cabinets, so I hope there’s nothing wrong with that,” you say, walking into the living room with a tray of tea-filled cups in your hands.

“Jasmine is fine,” Doyoung replied, simultaneously leaning down to pick up his cup. Taeyong suddenly couldn’t speak as you looked at him expectantly, wanting to make sure he was okay with jasmine tea. All he could do was look up at your glowing face with eyes that might as well be in the shape of hearts. “Ah jasmine is good for him as well. Forgive my liege, he's still a little shaken up from the situation.”

With a soft nod you turn around, moving to make your way back into the kitchen. It was then that Taeyong’s mouth and mind decided to move as one. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I was going back to the kitchen. I figured you two would want to be alone,” you say, almost cradling the board to your body, gesturing awkwardly towards the door.

“You don’t have to. Why don’t you sit in here, with us?”

“I mean, if you’re fine with that.”

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine.” The words were out of Taeyong’s mouth before he could even process them fully. You move to sit on the other side of the loveseat beside Taeyong.

The sound of purposeful slurping provided by Doyoung barely sufficed at cutting the tension in the room. “I just remembered, we never seemed to have gotten your name?” Doyoung asked, ending the silence that layered the house.

Quickly swallowing the tea in your mouth, you reply “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me, my name is Y/n. I’m the owner of Chamomile Pharmacy.” You add a bright smile at the end.

“Owner, huh? You must really like medicine.”

“Hmm, I guess you could say that, but not really. I mainly just like flowers, and growing up I realized all the medicinal benefits they hold, so I figured why not make money and spend my life surrounded by what I love?” You sit back in the seat, seemingly comfortable now that you’re talking about a passion. “I get to help people while surrounded by plants all day; it’s a win-win.”

“Mmhm, that sounds lovely. Oh, Taeyong.” The king’s head practically snaps up at the mention of his name. Spotting the mischievous look in his best friend's eyes, his stomach practically dropped to the floor. “You love flowers as well, specifically roses. Don’t you, Your Highness?”

“I–”

“Yeah, I distinctly remember your love for roses starting after receiving a bouquet full of them every week.” Doyoung had no idea that this was the flower girl at first, but Taeyong could tell by the way he had been acting ever since you came around that he had come to piece it together–especially after you blatantly declared your love for flowers just a few mere seconds ago.

At his words, your mouth fell open in pure unadulterated shock. The emperor had been receiving your bouquets?! And he liked them? You had no idea how to feel with all of the mixed emotions flowing through you.

Wide eyed, you ask, “You’ve been receiving my bouquets, Your Highness?”

Taeyong is flustered when he replies, “Y-Yes I have, they are very… nice. Thank you for them.”

“He really likes the little love notes you put in them,” Doyoung adds, deliberately putting the word love in front of notes. At his words, Taeyong throws the harshest glare he could at the other man, wishing he could strangle him with his eyes alone.

While Taeyong was glaring daggers at the knight, you couldn’t help but feel sheepish. You thought you were giving those flowers away for nothing, only to realize that the emperor had been getting them and he liked them. Then you remembered that you had forgotten the note in your last one.

“Ah, I just remembered that I forgot to put a note in the last one.” You speak bashfully, lowering your head. “Well, I didn’t forget, per say, I just didn’t have the time–an emergency came up while I was making it and I had to hurry. I didn’t think it would matter that much since you weren’t getting them, but now I know you were, so I feel bad.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand. There’s no need for you to feel bad, things happen.” Taeyong finally speaks, not liking the obvious way in which you blame yourself. Standing up, he motions to a door, stating that he has to use the restroom.

The room sits silent at Taeyong’s absence. You still feel guilty, but before you can think too hard about it, Doyoung shocks you out of your thoughts with a question, “Y/n, why do you always give roses?”

“Hm? Oh, why roses? Well that's easy, because he’s The Rose Emperor .” Doyoung lifts an eyebrow in question. “Ah, I forgot that I’m the only one who calls him that,” you explain quickly. “Well, one of the reasons is because he has this beautiful rose-shaped scar right under his right eye. And I mean, he’s like a rose. Pretty and elegant and practically harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but he has thorns, which he uses to keep people away, thorns he uses to hide things from everyone, even those closest…”You trail off for a moment, thinking. “Hmm, if you think about it that way, wouldn’t that mean we're all like roses?” You speak nonchalantly, looking somewhat deeply into your cup of tea. “So that would make this world a bed of roses, wouldn’t it?”

Standing but a few feet away, hiding behind a wall, the man in question couldn’t help but overhear. The way you talked and the words you used to describe him made his heart pound. You sounded so sweet and genuine, and he couldn’t help but believe every word you said. His hand uncontrollably caresses the scar you mentioned. He never noticed that it looked like a rose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Doyoung, I need to borrow some of your clothes.” Busting into the guard’s room, the emperor pants quickly, garnering the man’s attention.

“Wha–for what?”

“No questions, I just need them,” the young ruler says, walking into the man's wardrobe. “Oh and if you have a hat and mask, I’m going to take those, too.”

Taeyong’s presence in the shop is known as soon as he walks through the door, a bell ringing upon contact. Hurriedly pretending to scan the shelves as if searching extremely hard for something, Taeyong hears you enter the room through the back door moments later.

“Sorry for not greeting you as soon as you came in. I was doing a little gardening in the back. Is there anything I can help you with today?” you ask, simultaneously washing the slight dirt off of your hands at the sink.

Knowing it would be rude to not acknowledge you, Taeyong turns to face you, self-consciously tugging on the mask resting on his face, not knowing if he wants you to know it’s him or not. You walk over after drying your hands, ready to help the customer, finally getting a good look at the man’s mask-covered face. You freeze in your spot, not knowing if you are just delusional or if Emperor Taeyong is actually standing in the middle of your pharmacy.

“Uhh Your Highness..?” you question slowly, giving the stranger room to deny if needed.

“I–uhmm yes,” Taeyong stutters, taking the mask off of his face, revealing his apparently not-so-secret identity. Despite breathing just fine a few seconds ago, Taeyong seems to not be able to when you give him a dazzling smile. You ask him why he’s here and if he needs anything. “Yes, I’m here because I, uhh, need something to help with… headaches! Yes, I get headaches, y’know, from reading papers all day.”

“I have just the thing to help with that! I get headaches myself, and I find that the plant Feverfew helps a good bit. The plant itself can be a little strong and could cause irritation to the mouth if chewed, so I just grind it up and make a nice little diluted concoction with it, and it does wonders,” you say, grabbing the bottle containing the liquid, placing it on the counter, and making your way to the other side so you could bag the medicine.

“I must warn you, though–it can have very light side effects that can cause nausea, digestive problems, and bloating.” Finishing up you place the now bagged medicine on the counter sliding it over to Taeyong.

“Ah, how much do I owe?”

“Nonsense, you’re good, consider it the Monarch's discount.” Thanking you, the emperor grabs the bag, making his way out the door, “Bye, come again.”

After the first time, Taeyong continued to visit the store, each time for a different reason. He stayed a little longer each time he visited, finding himself wanting to indulge in your presence more and more. Even when you would go to the palace to deliver your weekly bouquets he would come out now just to start a conversation with you. You both would end up just sitting on the palace steps talking for hours on end.

Now was one of the times when you would sit outside the palace talking with the king.

“Your Highness, word was just sent in from the WayV kingdom, and there are forms to be signed urgently.” Doyoung addressed the young emperor, throwing an apologetic look at you for ruining your time together.

A breath falls past your lips as you push yourself up. “Oh well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. See you later, Your High-”

“Wait. Why don’t you come inside with me? This shouldn’t take too long.”

You and Doyoung gape at the emperor, both in shock. Wanting to hurry and get things settled, Taeyong passes both of your almost statuesque bodies. Doyoung offers to show you around while Taeyong does his work but the emperor quickly refuses. “I’ll do it when I finish.”

Grabbing your wrist, Taeyong all but drags you to his office. There are so many twists and turns that you have no idea how Taeyong didn’t get lost. “You can sit over there on the couch in the foyer. I have some books on the shelf over there you can read if you want. I'll be right here behind this desk.”

Taking in the extravagant office, you can’t help but notice how roses cover almost every single open surface possible. He really did keep every rose he got from you. Just that thought alone makes your heart pound so hard that you can hear it beating in your ears. Deciding you should do something before you look weird, you walk over to the shelf, surveying the books available to you.

You pick a book that looks good enough and sit down on the couch.You try to focus on the words in front of you, but the room is warm, and the couch is comfortable, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you felt Taeyong gently shaking you awake. The sun had started to set, casting a beautiful warm golden glow around the room.

Taeyong sat beside you on the couch, still grasping your shoulder as you both stared intensely at each other. You felt yourself slowly leaning towards the beautiful man, almost as if you were in a trance. Taeyong couldn’t help but take in every gorgeous feature on your face as it was surrounded by a golden halo.

Moving his hands from your shoulder to the nape of your neck he pulls you in, no longer able to hide the attraction he has for you. Your lips mingled in a dance only privy to them. Leaving the one on your neck the other moves to the side of your face, Taeyong positions you just how he wants and you couldn’t help but to give in to him.

It was as if his entire being consumed you and you had no choice but to follow his lead. Removing his mouth from yours he steadily transitions his lips lower splaying damp kisses all around your jugular. “Y-your highness, m-maybe we should stop.”

“Call me Taeyong darling and I don’t want to stop if you don’t.” he says, eyes flitting up to look at yours. “Do you want to stop?”

Feeling a fire burning in your stomach setting your lower regions ablaze, you know you can’t give him anything but the truth, “No, I don’t want to stop Taeyong.” Taeyong’s satisfied hum rumbles against your collarbone, “That’s my girl.”

His lips find their way back to yours, an involuntary moan falling from yours as Taeyong pushes his tongue inside your mouth. He takes his time exploring your mouth as if he wanted to get acquainted with every nook and cranny. When he took his lips away this time it was as if he took your soul right with him. A small discontent whine leaves your mouth causing the male to coo, “Aww look at my precious rose, so needy already.”

He plants a small peck on your lips pushing you to lay back on the couch, “May I remove your pants darling?” Giving him a small head nod he starts to lower himself down to your now wet core. Your underwear comes off right along with your pants and the slightly cool air hitting your hot core feels almost heavenly.

Lifting your legs on top of his shoulders Taeyong plants soft kisses along your pelvic region finally deciding to stop teasing he licks a long slow stripe up your wet pussy making sure to give a little more pressure right onto your clit.

Taeyong’s hands move to sit in the crevice of your pelvis, tightening his grip simultaneously bringing you closer to his mouth as he proceeds to contort his tongue between your soft lips as a pianist moves their fingers across the keys aiming to hit the right notes to make you sing.

Your voice cracks almost violently as endless moans drip from your lips like sap out a tree. Eyes sealed shut you can’t help but to see stars as Taeyong makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. His soft hair rests between your fingers latching onto the strands for dear life as you attempt to somehow ground yourself.

If he wasn’t holding you down you know for a fact that you would be humping his face akin to a dog in heat. “Fuck.” he moans between your legs sending vibrations all the way down your body. Suckling your lips between his as he looks up at your face scrunched in pleasure, “Open your eyes baby, look at me.”

You should not have had as much trouble as you did opening your eyes but after a few seconds you finally were able to do so. “I want you to focus on me baby, watch me eat this succulent pussy of yours until you cum.” One of his hands moves, transitioning to start rubbing your clit applying ample pressure.

His tongue starts to prod at the opening to the place in which you seemed to want him the most right now. The combination of his mouth and hands was too much and you felt your legs start shaking as you alerted Taeyong of your oncoming orgasm. “That’s it baby, cum for me. I want to see it.”

You didn’t even know your voice could go as high as it did in that moment. Your labored breaths were halted as Taeyong pressed his wet lips to yours causing you to taste yourself on his lips. “You still up for that tour?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness, there have been reports of an outbreak of some sorts. For right now it’s small but we have no idea what it is or where it came from.” Doyoung says, ending his report on current events.

“Okay, since this is something we have no prior dealings with we need to tread carefully. Get everyone who might be infected and make sure they’re getting proper care. Talk to them, see what their symptoms are and ask what they were doing before they got sick. Maybe we can try and piece together how you contract it.”

“Should we alert the public, Your Highness?”

“No, not for now at least. This is still manageable. We don't want to scare everyone for no reason.” Finishing up his duties, Taeyong starts to head to your house.

You had yet to talk to Taeyong about what happened that day despite having seen each other multiple times since then. Not like you regretted it or anything you just felt bad about Taeyong servicing you and you not being able to return the favor. You were interrupted in the middle of your naughty thoughts when you heard soft knocks ring against the door not to the pharmacy but to your house placed on the side of the pharmacy.

Answering the door you only expected to see one person on the other side of the door. “Hi Taeyong.” you breathe softly gazing at the male opposite you.

“Hello my rose.” placing a kiss on his lips you let him enter the room. Taeyong pulls two books out from his bag and you hurriedly rush over to where Taeyong sits on your bed grabbing your book as Taeyong pulls you onto his lap. Reading for a while your mind can’t help but to go back to what happened.

Taeyong can feel the air in the room change as you squirm on his lap. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh nothing Yongie.”

Grabbing a hold of your waist Taeyong lowers his head to your ear, “It doesn’t feel like nothing darling.” His warm breath hits your ears as he slowly lets his tongue dart out and lick a stripe up the shell of your ear.

“I- just want to pleasure you as well. Last time you only focused on me and I want to return the favor.” you speak turning around in the male’s lap legs wrapping around his waist. You bring the male into a feverous/feverish? Kiss. You hear his breath hitch as you slowly grind down onto his semi hard dick, and you feel the grip he has on your waist tighten.

Moving yourself to Taeyong’s thigh instead of his entire lap. You maneuver his pants off leaving his boxers on. You slip your hand between your bodies reaching for Taeyong’s boxer clad cock. Lightly squeezing while massaging his length you lean forward gingerly planting kisses along his neck swirling your tongue on each spot you kiss.

“Shit Y/n.”

“You want me to take it out, Yongie? Do you want me to wrap my hands around your hard dick and rub you till you cum all over my hands.” you tease applying more pressure to his hard appendage, “Hmm maybe I’ll even let you watch me lick your cum off of my hands.”

“Oh Fuck yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me baby.”

“Hmm please baby, please take it out and make me cum.”

You grin, squeezing his now fully hard cock harder, “Well since you asked so nicely.” Your hand moves to the band of his boxers removing the clothing. His erect penis pops up, slapping the male’s clothed abdomen after finally being released.

You let a few drops of spit fall onto the palm of your hand before giving Taeyong what he wants, gripping him. You slowly start to work your hand up and down his stiff cock fluctuating the strength you use to grip it.

“How does that feel Tae? Are you enjoying yourself sweetheart?” you whisper in his ear speeding up your ministrations. A broken moan falls from the semi pouted lips of the emperor. The feel of your hand gripping his cock felt like heaven he could barely think.

The slick sound of your hand going up and down his dick was all that could be heard throughout the room. Taking your other hand you begin to not only stroke his length but also fondle his balls. “Ah, Y/n I’m not going to last much longer please make me cum.” Wanting to give him what he wanted you run the pad of your thumb along the underside of him and slowly massage the bundle of nerves just under the head.

As soon as you do, a whimper leaves Taeyong’s lips as his head falls forward resting on your shoulder. His mouth starts sucking on any pieces of exposed skin he can find and you feel him mumble against your shoulder, “I’m cumming.” His warm release falls onto your hands covering them as you try to squeeze out every last drop. Raising your hand to your mouth you lick some of the cum off of your hand tasting him.

“Fuck sweetie you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Taeyong. It’s gotten worse. The illness has started spreading; our attempt at keeping it contained was a failure. While it did slow the spread, it did nothing to stop it.”

Slamming his hand on the desk Taeyong couldn’t help but to curse, “Fuck! Did you at least figure out how it’s contracted and its symptoms?”

“Yes, after questioning the patients it became pretty clear that it wasn’t contracted in any specific way. Almost all have reports of having been in public settings surrounded by a lot of people and said a few days later they caught a pretty nasty cold. Instead of it going away like a normal cold does, it started to get worse, pretty soon they couldn't move at all, not even lift a finger. After developing hot flashes, they start to lose the ability to speak, and you know they are about to die when they start to have rashes appear upon their skin.”

“Have you asked the doctors if they can find a cure?”

“Yes, we have already put them onto it, but for now there is nothing.”

Thinking about what he should do, Taeyong's hand comes up to scratch his jawline. He knows that he has to alert the public of the outbreak now. “Okay, since there is no discernible way in which they get it, we can assume for now that it is passed from excessive human contact. Doyoung, I need you to release a statement stating that there should be no excessive contact between everyone. If able to avoid big crowds then stay away.”

Writing the commands down in a notebook, Doyoung asks, “Anything else?”

“Yes, since it has gotten a lot bigger now, the public must be alerted, even though by now I am sure they have each heard their own variations of what’s happening. It’s better to tell them the truth than lie. We need everyone to be fully informed with correct information so that they don’t make things worse.” A tired sigh falls from his lips, “Release a doctor’s statement. I want the royal doctor to make a statement that will tell the public all they need to know about this new illness so they can protect themselves.”

“On it, Your Highness.” Doyoung says, turning around and quickly heading out the door. You were supposed to come visit Taeyong today. He's glad he gets to see you. You always make things better for him. You walk into Taeyong’s office to him writing something in a notebook. He was so involved in what he was writing that he didn’t hear you come in.

“Hey Yongie.” Walking over to the male, you see him raise his head from the paper, looking at you with a dazzling smile.

“Hello, beautiful.” Taeyong pulls you into his lap, “How was your day, my rose?” You start rambling on about what was going on at the pharmacy, and Taeyong finds himself zoning out looking at you talking animatedly about a customer you had today. It’s times like these where Taeyong realizes he could never live his life without you.

Taeyong has been really busy lately, dealing with the disease outbreak. You guys have hardly seen each other. New word had been put out about the disease after one of the people who are believed to have gotten it first were found. Sadly they were on their last string, but their family said something about them eating a strange fruit some odd days before they had gotten sick.

Business for you has practically skyrocketed, people hurrying to get all types of medicines just out of plain fear that they might contract the disease. Even though there is no cure yet, they still think that arthritis medicine will somehow help them.

You had secretly been working on your own attempt at creating a cure, wanting to help Taeyong and get some of the pressure off of his shoulders and wanting to help the people affected by this disease. Of course it has gotten nowhere, but at least you try.

You had asked Taeyong what the fruit that their family said they ate looked like in hopes of being able to find it and base an antidote off of that. He gave you the same description they gave him, but it didn’t lead anywhere. Noticing how empty the pharmacy had become, you felt it was the perfect time to go pick up some bread.

Flipping the sign and locking the door you head towards the bakery. Ever since the decree had been made for people to not group together, the streets had been the emptiest you had ever seen. Walking in, you couldn’t help but notice the other people that stood around talking waiting on their baked goods. Putting in your order, you stand off to the side.

“You know, they say that Emperor Taeyong has caught the disease.”

“What?! You can’t be serious.”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” the first lady says, looking well over offended. “I have a friend who has a cousin who has a brother who has a boyfriend that works in the palace.”

“Woah, so you basically know the emperor.”

“Exactly. I swear on it, the emperor has the disease.” You proceed to tune out the gossiping women on the other side of the room. You know that there’s a good chance the lady is lying, but what if Taeyong has the disease? He hasn’t come to visit in a few days. You feel your chest constrict at the mere thought.

You’re so distraught that you don’t hear the baker telling you your order is ready until after she walks up to you and hands you your bread. “Oh, uhh thank you.” Giving the lady a small nod, you walk out of the bakery.

When you get back to the house, you check for mail and find some in the mailbox next to your door. Picking it up, you notice the royal insignia on the envelope. Figuring it’s from Taeyong, you instantly start to tear it open.

Hello my rose, I don’t know how to say this to you, but I’m sick, really sick. I got the disease. I’m so sorry darling. Worst of all is I can’t even see you. I absolutely forbid you from coming here. Do you hear me? From now until we meet again, we can communicate by letter. I love you so much, my rose.

Love, Your Yongie

As your mind slowly starts to register the note, your knees instantly give out, bringing you to the floor of your living room. You can barely register the sting from the impact. You couldn’t help but let out a broken gut-wrenching cry. Your tears feel like fire as they run down your face. You clutch your heart; it’s as if you can feel it breaking.

Everyday Taeyong sends you a letter and everyday you put it in the pile with the others. It broke your heart every time you would put the letters unopened together with the others and never wrote a response back, but recently you had thrown your entire being into finding a cure for the disease. You couldn’t risk another breakdown like when you first found out, because every single second matters.

Every second you spend trying to find a cure brings you closer to a forever with Taeyong, and you couldn’t risk that. You still open and run the pharmacy like normal, but even then you spend all of your time asking customers everything they know about the disease and whatever anyone they knew who had it was going through.

Lately, the way you’ve been going at it was to find the fruit that supposedly started it all and find out why the human body reacts so badly to it. You just managed to find it yesterday while you were out in the forest for the third time hunting for it. You were planning to do some tests and see what you possibly can do.

A series of harsh knocks rain upon the pharmacy door and the irritation at the possible customer shows on your face. “I’m sorry but we’re clo–” Your sentence stops abruptly as Doyoung harshly shoves past you, the anger and tension in his body evident.

“You know, you have some fucking nerve. Taeyong is literally dying right now, he is fucking dying yet he still manages to write you everyday. And on days when he can’t muster the strength he gets someone to write what he says.” Whipping his body around he faces you, face scrunched in a horrendous snarl, “And you can’t even take the time to write a fucking letter back. All you do is sit in this pharmacy and play in your stupid garden all day.”

It’s then that he notices the pile of letters sitting neatly on your desk, a scoff pushes its way past his lips, “Oh my fucking god, you didn’t have the decency to even open them. Have you ever even loved him? Tell me. Honestly.” He stares directly into your eyes, the fire in them seemingly endless. “Or was he just some toy? A part in some plan you had to get rich and become an empress or some shit. Did you just use my best friend for your own selfish reasons?”

Your mouth opens, preparing to say something only for it to close again. Repeating that process multiple times you find out that there were no words you could say that would satisfy him. “And it’s funny because if that was your plan, then it worked. I know you don’t know but Taeyong planned to propose, he wanted–no, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but oh well.” At his statement, your mouth falls open again, leaving you utterly speechless.

A moment of silence passes and a heavy sigh from the male fills the air. He stares tiredly at your desk, exasperated. “He’s dying, simple as that. Doctor says he doesn’t have much longer before the rashes start popping up. His estimate was at most two weeks.” With his face angled away from you, the tears that streamed down his face weren’t visible. “Do what you will with that information. I don’t have the time for this.”

Turning his body, Doyoung walks out the door, leaving a chill in the air. You don’t even have it in you to cry. Your sorrow runs farther than any river in the world, yet the thought that kept you from breaking down was Taeyong’s smile. Then you realized you would never be able to see it again if there was no cure. Swiping away the tears that managed to fall, you get back to work. Taeyong wasn’t going to die on your watch.

Your chest felt so tight, like it was squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. You could barely feel the shock of your heavy footfalls on the pavement as you ran like your life depended on it. The steps to the palace have never seemed longer as you ran, hoping you made it in time. Passing guards all were blurs as you swore you were running at the speed of light.

Making your way to Taeyong’s room, you see a distraught Doyoung crouched outside of the door. His silent cries cued your heart to fall to your aching feet. Barely able to get the words out you ask, “Am I too late, is-is he g-gone?” Your voice broke as you spoke those words. Doyoung doesn’t say anything as he silently raises his head to look at you. “I can’t be late. I-I found it, I found the cure. I have the cure to save Taeyong.”

Not able to withstand Doyoung’s gaze, you burst through the king’s bedroom doors, instantly spotting the palace doctor at his bed. Taeyong lays lifelessly on the bed, chest barely managing to move up and down. This was not the Taeyong you knew, not the man you fell in love with. This man was just but a shell of him. You had never seen his skin so pale, his face sunken in to the point where you can easily see his cheekbones you loved to rain kisses on.

“Doctor.” Your gaze shifts from the sleeping male to the doctor beside him, “He’s not… dead, is he?”

“No, not yet, but I do recommend you give your last goodbyes.”

Walking up the man, you forcefully push the vial containing the cure into his hands, “Here, this is the cure.” Broken stutters leave the man's mouth as he questions the integrity of your statement. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time; just trust that it will work. I have tested it on five different people, all of varying ages, and four out of five of those people survived. The only reason the fifth didn’t was because they were too far gone.”

You update the doctor on what the antidote is and what it does. “The antidote is not a cure per say, it doesn’t get rid of the disease. I studied the fruit that the disease stems from and something in the DNA of it, let's just say it doesn't agree with something in our DNA, which causes basically an allergic reaction times 100. This antidote soothes the part of our DNA that reacts so badly, and that in turn stops the allergic reaction so that it doesn’t kill us. Now that I’ve wasted time explaining that to you, can we please get the antidote in his system?”

All of your talking caused the sickly emperor to awaken to your voice in the room with him. “Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to not come here. I-”

“Taeyong, calm down, baby, please. I am here to save you.” You nod to the doctor giving him the go for the injection. “The doctor is about to inject the cure for the disease into you, then you’re going to get better for me, okay?”

After administering the shot, Taeyong had fallen asleep again from lack of energy. It had been 10 hours and you sat every single one on his bedside, wanting to be the first to see him. In those 10 hours, you told the doctor how to make more of the cure so that he could get it to everyone, and Doyoung finally came into the room after hearing what you had done, and gave you a proper apology for snapping at you.

You feel a hand grip yours, and you snap your head up to see Taeyong looking back at you with a smile as big as he could conjure right now placed on his face. Quickly handing him some water, you start to question how he feels. Telling you he feels the best he has in weeks was good enough to satiate you for now.

When Taeyong had finally convinced you to lay in bed with him, you chose this moment to give him his answer.

“Yes.” A look of confusion covers Taeyong’s face as he wonders what you are saying yes to. “Yes, I will marry you.”

You and Taeyong decided not to have a huge wedding, instead choosing to hold a ceremony with just a few of your closest friends, but you did have to present yourself to the empire now as the new empress.

“Are you ready, my rose?” Taeyong asks, walking up behind you in front of the mirror, enclosing his arms around your waist. You turn around to look at him directly, taking in his attire.

“Why do you have such a heavy robe?” you question, noticing the heavy piece of clothing. You’d always wondered that whenever you would see him out of the palace.

Shrugging his shoulders, Taeyong plants a kiss upon your cheek, “I-I don’t know it’s just customary, I never thought to change it.”

“Well, for my first decree as empress, I declare that you get a new robe, a lighter one.” you say, dusting the imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “You don’t need to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can tell it weighs you down. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“Will do, my empress. Come, we have to go now.”

It was getting to the last leg of the parade the citizens held in your honor. You felt so welcome by everyone. You were expecting people to hate you because you weren’t already a royal before you married Taeyong. “How are you holding up, darling? I know these things can take a lot out of people.”

“I am fine, my love, just slightly tired.” You can’t help but wave at every person you see, feeding off of their enthusiasm. Overcome with emotion, Taeyong can’t help it when he cradles your face in his hands, lowering his head whilst tilting yours to give him room, and plants a loving kiss upon your cheek. Your cheeks were on fire at his public display of affection in front of everyone, yet you found yourself fully indulging in the kiss, closing your eyes in hopes of savoring the moment. The kiss caused an uproar within the crowd, the citizens ecstatic at the relationship between you both.

“Taeyong, what was that earlier today? Why’d you kiss me?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it when I saw you and how happy you looked waving at everyone,” he explains pulling you into another kiss, but this time on the lips. Slowly the kiss becomes heated and you start pawing at each other's clothes, almost ripping them off. Taeyong plants kisses along your neck as you begin to fondle his soft manhood.

You feel Taeyong’s hand slide to your cunt rubbing your clit, “Looks like someones already ready for me. I wonder who made you this wet sweetie.” he taunts, slowly pressing one finger inside of you then a second curving them up and spreading them out in order to stretch your tight hole. Your low breathy moans fill the room bouncing off of each and every wall.

Pretty soon you both are ready, blindly walking yourself to the bed you land on the soft cushion with an oomph. Taeyong slowly grinds his now hard cock up and down your slit puposely prodding at your clit. You wriggle your hips silently begging the male to hurry up and put it in.

Giving into you because he was just as excited Taeyong finally slides himself in, his stiffness getting completely engulfed by your wet hot cavern. “Mmm, I’ll never get used to how well your needy pussy takes me in baby.” His slow thrusts simultaneously scratching that itch but just enough to make it come back for more.

“Harder Tae, I need to feel you wreck me.” Granting your wish taeyong stops the gentle loving strokes, swapping them out for a harsher more unforgiving thrusts. His hips smack yours as Taeyong puts what feels like all the power he has in his thrusts. You close your eyes and see stars as Taeyong fucks your soul out of you. His hands have an unforgiving grip on your waist, one going up to massage your breast, teasing your nipple.

Taeyong starts laying kisses along your body leaving purple spots in his wake. “ I want everyone to see that you are mine and I am yours forever and always.” Whispering in your ear, “Go ahead and cum for me baby, let everyone know what we’re doing so they can see who you belong to.”

You all but scream Taeyong’s name out in pure ecstasy as you cum the hardest you ever have to date. It felt as if you had been transported to another world. Taeyong cums right behind you filling you to the brim with his seed. “It’s a little too late to say this now but I think it’s about time we start thinking about children.” He says pulling himself out of your now swollen lower region.

“Oh my god shut up, I hate you,” you cry, out rolling your eyes

“I love you too, my rose.”

#nct taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong smut #nct 127 Taeyong #nct x reader #nct taeyong smut #nct taeyong fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct u fluff #nct u smut #nct 2020 #nct 127 #bed of roses #MY STORIES

99 notes · View notes

ashnagog · 3 years

Note

Hi! For a prompt, " you're still asking if i feel the same? what do you think that kiss meant?" with Barrissoka? But only if you feel like it friend <3

Thank you for the prompt! It definitely didn't take me a week to get it done for some indecipherable reason.

Barriss looks at her companion as they’re walking through the temple gardens. “You have a week now, right? Before they send you out again?” She asks.

“If all goes well” Ahsoka replies. “But, you know how it is. Could be called back to the front any minute” She wrinkles her nose in disgust, which Barriss finds it somewhat endearing.

Then again, she finds just about everything about Ahsoka endearing.

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have” Barriss answers, looking at a couple of younglings chasing each other on one of the other paths “So, let’s table any discussions of the war for today, I’d like to pretend it doesn’t exist for just a little bit.” Her face darkens considerably. Barriss detests the war, and detests her part in it.

But she resolves not to think about it, instead focusing her attention on her surroundings and the easy companionship Ahsoka brings.

Well, she focusses mostly on Ahsoka.

“Sounds good to me” Ahsoka replies. “So, how’ve your classes been?”

Barriss thinks about her answer. “Alright, for the most part” she says, then, “although it’s some pretty tough coursework. Learning the anatomy of over twenty different species and their variations gets exhausting.”

Ahsoka gasps in mock surprise. “even for you? You practically devour books on any topic you can find! You read philosophy books in Stew-jonean for ‘light reading’! And you’re saying it’s exhausting? Must be terrible then!”

Barriss snorts. “It’s not that bad, honestly” she says, chuckling. “And didn’t you read about Rusaan for fun?”

“Well Rusaan is historically relevant” Ahsoka says lightly. “its the birth-place of the Republic as it is now! Certainly more interesting then philosophy.” She scoffs a bit at the last word.

“That’s only because you don’t understand the fundamentals behind it” Barriss replies. “It gets interesting if you understand the meaning.”

Ahsoka chuckles. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it, really. But you do you.”

Quietly, they continue their walk. Ahsoka has a slight smile on her face, a remnant of their conversation. Barriss desperately tries to ignore the things that smile does to her heart, but it’s not working very well.

“How are you, anyway?” Barriss asks. “You know, apart from the thing we decided not to talk about.”

Ahsoka smiles gently. “Its been good to wind down a bit” she says. “Catching up on classes about as well as I can with the energy I still have. I don’t know about you, but they basically knocked my requirements down to ‘do as much as you can and we’ll catch up when... The whole mess is over.”

Barriss chuckles lightly. “I have no such luck, unfortunately” she says. “then again, I get to stay at the temple more than you do. Healers are important enough, apparently.”

She frowns a bit. Despite them both trying to avoid the topic of the war, it’s worming it’s way into everything, becoming practically impossible to avoid.

“Would you like to go out with me?” Ahsoka asks. “wait, no, that came out wrong.” Her lekku flush. “Let me retry.”

Barriss chuckles again at Ahsoka’s expression, desperately trying not to show how much the idea of going out with Ahsoka appeals to her. “It’s alright” she says. “What’s your idea?”

“There’s a market” Ahsoka says, “on level 1412. There’s supposed to be lots of food, and general entertainment. And I don’t know about you, but after months of rations and three days of temple-food, I could use something nice.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Barriss asks.

“Of course it is” Ahsoka says. Things only get dangerous below about 1350 or so. Above that, not that much.”

“Alright then” Barriss says. “I just need to get a few things.”

“Alright” Ahsoka replies. “South exit?”

“South exit” Barriss agrees, and then they separate.

And Barriss is already looking forward to it.

-0-0-0-0-

“This place sure is more lively than the temple these days” Ahsoka says, taking a bite off of the meat-skewer she’d purchased. “Kind of like it, to be honest.”

Barriss smiled. “A change of atmosphere every once in a while can be a good thing” she replies agreeably. “Although somewhere to sit down wouldn’t be amiss.”

“Oh, I know a place!” Ahsoka says eagerly. “Follow me!” and with that, she grasps Barriss’s hand, and runs off.

Barriss barely keeps pace with her. “Could you slow down?” she asks. “I’m carrying three bags of food that you insisted on buying!” She tries and fails to hold down a chuckle.

Ahsoka slows down, but only slightly. “We just have to jump on to that ledge, and then over to that-“ she points out the route she has in mind with one slender hand, Barriss’s hand still held in the other, “-rooftop. See you up there!”

With those words, she releases Barriss’s hand, slips into an alley, crouches down before jumping three metres into the air. Fluidly, she lands, and Barriss tracks her as she immediately jumps a good five metres on to the rooftop, sailing in a graceful arc before making a roll as she lands . “Come on up!” she shouts, and Barriss cannot suppress a fond smile.

“Alright then” she says to herself, and ducks into the alley. She jumps to the ledge, then stabilises herself for a moment, estimating her next jump.

Ahsoka is already on one knee on the next roof, holding out her hand. Barriss takes a few quick steps, gathers the force into her calves, and then jumps.

For a moment, she sails through the air, and then-

“Gotcha” Ahsoka says, pulling Barriss up at her elbow. Barriss lifts herself up with her other arm, and she’s on the roof in just a moment, panting slightly. “I suppose I do need some more practice with my Force-jumps” she says. “that could’ve ended badly.” Suddenly, she becomes keenly aware of the fact that she’s laid out with half her body over Ahsoka’s. Quickly, she sits up, her face flushing.

“Well, we’re here all the same” Ahsoka says lightly, “and we still have the food. Speaking of which-“ she grabs the bags from Barriss’s hand, and starts to divide up the boxes between herself and Barriss.

Barriss sits up properly, swinging her legs over the edge of the roof. Ahsoka puts one of the boxes into her lap, then piles some of the other dishes on top of it. “There you go” she says, putting the rest of the food on her other side, and scooting herself next to Barriss until there’s barely any space.

She wastes no time digging in. Barriss takes it a little bit slower, taking the synthetic spoon and bringing a portion of the curry to her mouth. Her eyes lazily scan the view. From here, she can see the entirety of the market. Lights from street lamps and stalls both illuminate the square, bathing it in gentle twilight warmth. The bustle of selling and buying combined with the coming and going of sentients creates a background noise that, at this distance, is a comfortable break in silence instead of a deafening noise when they were in the middle of it.

All in all, it’s an intimate atmosphere perfect for keeping any thought of darker things away.

Barriss had found it more and more difficult to keep those thoughts at bay, lately.

“Nice place, don’t you think?” Ahsoka asks, slowing her eating somewhat.

“You’re right” Barriss replies. “Thank you for showing me.”

Ahsoka grins. “no problem.”

They sit and eat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Barriss observes Ahsoka tearing chucks off of the meat skewer with a ferocity that surprised her when she first saw it, but is familiar to her now. She has to supress the urge to run her hand along the markings on Ahsoka’s cheek and forehead, instead focusing back on her food.

A while later, Barriss puts her spoon down, stretching in an attempt to combat the tiredness that comes over her. Ahsoka scoots a little closer to her, until their sides and shoulders touch. “You alright?” she asks gently.

“yeah” Barriss nods. “Just... You know, digestive organs waking up, you know how it is.”

Ahsoka chuckles. “You’re such a nerd sometimes, Barriss.” She says, smiling fondly.

Barriss chuckles in return, resting her head on Ahsoka’s shoulder. “I did tell you I had to learn the anatomy of twenty different species” she says, “so if that didn’t give it away, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

That gets a laugh out of Ahsoka, and Barriss thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’re quiet for a long while, looking over the market down below.

Barriss feels Ahsoka’s hand on her thigh, and in the gentle atmosphere, she feels ready, feels like she should say it, because there’s nothing else that can be said.

“I love you.” She says, lifting her head to gauge Ahsoka’s reaction.

Ahsoka turns her head to look at her, and for a moment Barriss panics and feels oh crap I shouldn’t have done this I’m so-

And then she feels the softness of Ahsoka’s lips on hers.

A beat. Then two.

Ahsoka looks at Barriss’s dumbfounded expression, and laughs, bright and happy. “You finally said it, huh?”

Barriss feels confused, like there’s something she isn’t getting. At her continued expression of confusion, Ahsoka relents.

“I love you too, Barriss” she says, “what do you think that kiss was supposed to mean?”

Barriss laughs too, then, like she barely ever laughs, and she distantly thinks that she should laugh like that more often. “I love you so much, you have no idea” she says, her voice filled with happiness. Then, she leans in, taking another taste from Ahsoka’s lips.

Barriss does not know what the future will bring. But, right now, with Ahsoka with her, worries for the future are far away.

And with Ahsoka by her side, she feels that much safer.

#barrissoka #barriss offee #ahsoka tano #star wars the clone wars #ash's fics

25 notes · View notes

i-mybrunettelady · 3 years

Note

For the hurt/comfort one, I'd love an 8 for Branne and a 21 for Trammander (I'm a naughty naughty one, sorry ^^)

Okay a lovely combo except for 21 + Trammander but I hope you like pain because that is all angst all pain dawg

Icebrood saga spoilers & HoT spoilers, all vague!

bruised all over + Branne

There was a moot. Sanne knows that much, there was a moot. Ordinarily, she loves a good moot. Who doesn't? Drinking, fun, friends, cousins, roasts, and ale-fueled fights due to said roasts. It makes sense, she knows that much, that some people are a word away from getting their face smashed in by someone three times their size. She's a small norn, she's been face smashed before in her more wild years.

She's just forgotten how sore it makes her feel afterwards.

"What in Wolf's name happened there, Sanne?" Braham asks, looking up from Garm's sleeping form against the fire. "Who did you-"

"Just so you know, I won the fight," she bites out against a swollen lip. Her head throbs; her magic healed the worst of the damage, but one night isn't enough for the whole thing. "Did you bring me back home?"

"Yeah. Took your advice, decided to stay in, and who'd have thought, a kid comes running and tells me you're in a fight with someone." His voice holds an amused correction. "You don't have a right to tell me to not do it now. For... 2 months."

"Two weeks. Spirits know every norn alive will hold moots every night now that Jormag's dead." She curls on the blankets, tries turning on her side but it protests and she huffs. "Two weeks, Eirsson."

"Two months, Bjornsdottir. I'm not backing down from that one. D'you want me to get Nyra involved?"

"Leave her out of this. I don't want her to know about it." Sanne sighs and closes her eyes. Hair tickles her face and back. Braham lets out a little chuckle and comes close, removing it from her eyes.

"Do we have that serum your mother made?" he asks. "The one for general aches?"

"Maybe?" It takes her shamefully long to get up. She doesn't want to admit she'd have just had to retry if it wasn't for him helping her up and she does her best to not make a sound. Her pride aches, but she knows there's no serum for broken pride.

She isn't even sure if she won that fight, if she was honest with herself. She just really, really wants it to be the case.

The stuff tastes awful on her tongue. Memories of her mother forcing it into her mouth after her first transformation to ease the growing pains of a spirit connection come to life and Sanne loudly swallows. It's plant-like and tastes of snow.

"Bear's claws, the aftertaste is horrible!"

"Let's gang up on your mother to make it tastier next time," Braham agrees. "It tastes like Shiverpeaks grass." She sees his hands itch to get off the bed and help her, but is thankful he stays there.

"The cow drink," she says. "I always called it cow drink when I was a kid." With a deep breath, she heads back, even if her body protests. Garm snores away, oblivious to her pain. Once she's near enough, she just lets herself lean forward and hopes he'll catch her.

He does. He lightly smells of sweat and meat and she curls up against him. Her hair makes a golden veil across her back and wind howls and plays with the papers of her newest song and letters he receives on the desk.

"Takes about 15 minutes to kick in," she says.

"That's fine," Braham replies. "I don't mind."

She hides a stupid little smile against his neck.

fear for the worst + Trammander

His daughter's room has become a bit of conundrum. It is wide, with big ornaments and columns and a giant bed. Its furniture is expensive, well-made, sturdy; the curtains proudly show handmade weaving of iris, commonly associated with Gwen Thackeray. Books smell heavy and old on subjects of anything you could think of, from history to philosophy, from literature to medicine.

Yet it all pales in comparison to her, seated on the chair with hunched shoulders. Her hair drapes over the table, unkempt, and her shirt reveals a wide bandage over her right shoulder; she is stiff, yet even as he approaches he can almost hear the heavy intake and release of breath. She seems to be made of them, like she's trying to release something that finds its way back into her bloodstream again.

William Ainsaph flinches when he hears the remnants of Caladbolg hit the ground and Nyra's desperate shout.

"I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to," she chants as she drops to her knees loudly and reaches out to find it. "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to-"

"Hey, hey," he runs over, and kneels beside her, gently helping her up, "Hey, calm down."

Her eyes are big and purple and bloodshot as she looks up at him. She's pale and dark circles strip her face to the the sea of loathing that floats in her eyes. Her voice is rough as she rasps, "I can reach it," before giving him a slight push and dropping down to get the sword again.

"The doctors said you should rest," William says. He's never had the force behind his words like Nyra does, but he tries anyway. "Let me do it."

"I can do it," she hisses angrily. "I'm not incompetent, if I'm able to murder I can get a fucking sword from the floor where I pushed it to, even if costs me."

"Nobody's saying you're incompetent," William tries again and his guts twist under the blow of her words. "You just need time to recover and you'll be up and running in no time, but till then you should-"

"I will get it," she yells, "I don't need you to-"

"Alysannyra, please-"

"I WILL GET IT," she repeats and extends her hand as far as it could go, and as her fingers touch the hilt, it seems all rage evaporates from her body and she just stays there, forehead to the ground. "I did it," she whimpers. "I did it."

William feels the tears gather in his eyes. "You did it," he whispers and helps her up. She's putty in his hands and a tear slips down her cheek.

They're alike, with same brown hair and same little nose and the same little pointed chin. Some blonde strands stand against the light from the window, Antonia's legacy, but her shoulders are big and wide. Nyra shakes there on the floor, pulling her lower lip against her teeth.

William just hugs her close, trying his damnest not to cry and hopes to the gods it's enough, even if temporarily.

18 notes · View notes

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 3 years

Text

Title: Just Gotta Stay Calm

Word Count: 3966

Fandom: Gravedale High

Ship/Pairing: Vinnie Stoker/Reggie Moonshroud

Tags: First Dates, Vampire Family, Tradition, Awkward Crush, Vampire Boyfriend, Werewolf Boyfriend, First Kiss, Dorks in Love, Awkward Dates, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love

Warnings: First Works of the fandom, swearing(small), awkward, fluff

Vinnie let in a breath as he examines himself in the special vampire mirror on his bedroom wall. He quietly checks every inch of his face closely before opening his mouth to check his fangs.

Good, He thought with a charming grin to himself. No pimples, no stuff in my teeth, no flaws in sight. Vinnie went to his dresser and takes out some cologne he bought specifically for today, a scent of calming forest rain, and sprayed some on his neck and a little bit in his shirt. Not a lot just the basic stuff to seem simple and posh.

Vinnie and Reggie are finally getting themselves a date. A real, really real, true date. Just the two of them. And Vinnie could be more happier then this moment!

Vinnie has been meaning to ask his best friend out for quite some time, since the first moment he noticed his feelings were a bit more then platonic bashful moths in his chest and stomach actually. It took him a total of two full months to completely wrap his head around the fact that he - Vincent "Vinnie" Stoker - was wings over heels in love with the world's one and only Reggie Moonshroud. However, it took him nearly a YEAR to get up all the courage to ask the boy out. Honestly, if it weren't for his friends this day might've never happened.

The young vampire left his bedroom and hurries down his stairs, only to be stopped by the voice of his old man, "Vincent, can you come here please?" Vinnie let out a silent shutter as he mentally cursed himself.

He slowly turned his body fully towards the older vampire sitting in his velvet chair with a pipe in between his lips, small puffs of the smoke emerging out the ends. The teen slowly walked over. "Y-Yea pops?" His voice rarely stammers when speaking, hasn't since he was in the 6th grade, at least not when he nervous beyond his wits like when he tried to get the chance to ask Reggie out and plan out what to do on said date.

"Are you going to go on your date soon?" Asked Mr. Stoker. Vinnie nods some in reply, his hands fumbling into his jacket's pockets. This was not what he wanted to do. The older vampire stood up from his chair, pipe still puffing out smoke, his eyes focus out the window of the chilly autumn gray skies. He takes a puff before continuing, "I want to give you some simple advice for your first date Vincent. Vampire to vampire." Vinnie practically shrunk his head down into his coat's collar.

Defiantly not what he wanted to do. . .

"That's okay pops, I got it covered-" He began as he slowly creeped his way to the front door. "The year was 1880. . ." Vinnie bite back a groan, knowing very well that once his dad starts it's hard to stop him. "I was simply a beginning apprentice to the one and only Dracula. Mostly paper work and long mornings. I thought I had everything cut out for me, a great job and nice home, until I realized I was missing something important when I first saw your mother wandering through the local cemetery." Mr. Stoker smiles fondly as he light strokes his black beard. "She is my first and only love as I'm sure you know. And it took me decades to ask her on a single date, I feared she might not want a simple vampire apprentice who barely knows how to turn into a bat, but alas she surprise me with a yes." Vinnie nods, "Yeah yeah I know. And you two spent many years together, got married, had two kids, and lived happily ever after. Dad, I know the story pretty well you know."

He didn't mean to interrupt his father's tale, he just already has his nerves up through the roof and he just want to hurry for the plans. His father turned and looked at his son right in the eyes as he spoke, "I know you do. I'm just trying to tell you that last night I was certain to give you some advice for your date, a vampire tradition my father gave me as his father gave him and his father so forth. I know you're nervous and it's perfectly natural. Just remember, be courteous. Be engaging. And above all, have a plan." Vinnie nodded. "Don't worry pops, I got it covered. Now can I go and do the date itself?" He asked the older vampire, who nodded to his please. He didn't wait any few seconds to open the front door and flying off with a snap.

This will go well, He thought to himself as he feels the wind go through his black hair. Reggie will enjoy the date I have planned for us. This is a piece of blood orange pie. Vinnie smiled as he spaces out on today's plans. Slowly, though, his brain began to swim to a memory of when he got the nerves to finally make that choice he's been walking back and forth on. . .

~ ~ ~

Vinnie taps the heels of his shoe onto the cold hard floor of the school's classroom as he watches the clock tic away, his eyes going to the clock and to the werewolf just a desk away from him. Today was the day, Vinnie told himself throughout the hours. Today I'm going to do it. As if proving his luck, the bell rings out around the school, signalling everyone to grab their stuff and hurry the Hell out of there for the weekend. Vinnie stood onto his feet, catching Gil and Sid giving him a thumbs up as they run out the classroom, and looks over at Reggie who is still putting his stuff away.

The vampire took a breath in and walked his way over to the red head's desk, his feet feeling kind of heavy as he gets closer. Be cool Vinnie, just do it. "Hey Reg." His voice called out suddenly, the rest of his body slowly just going with the flow. Reggie turned his head and smiled up at his friend. "Hey there Vinnie. You usually are gone by now, is Mr. Schneider Sir seeing you after class again?" He asked as he puts his books away in his bag. Vinnie smiles warmly, he enjoys Reggie's voice. The way his small lisp happens between the small gap of the front of his teeth. The way his voice cracks sometimes in the right moments. Just generally how comforting it is...

The vampire quickly shook his head when he finally notices Reggie is standing up and looking at him with cocoa brown eyes that warm up Vinnie's dead chest, "No no. I just wanted to know...if...um...i-if you don't mind me asking...I uh..." "Yes Vinnie?" Reggie pressed on. Honestly, it's like he knows what he's doing to me. Vinnie took a gulp from his dry mouth before he spoke a retry, "I just wanted to know...if...if...well...if you're free this weekend? Maybe...we could...go out?" He didn't know if he sounded needy or not but he didn't care, he finally said it!

Reggie blinked a few times before replying, "Of course we can hang out Vin. We often times do already." "No, Reggie, I meant...go out...like a...date...?" Vinnie was so scared to look at Reggie in the face yet he has to in order to watch his reaction. And boy was it a reaction... His cute wolf ears were perked down in a way his shyness shows, hard to tell but behind that fur his cheeks were very rosey and red, just looking at him gave Vinnie so much heat on his face he for sure thought he was going to die.

~ ~ ~

Vinnie chuckled softly when Reggie's face on that day came to mind.

Well, yeah, the reply was a day late but nevertheless he said yes. And the day has finally came.

Vinnie soon landed at Reggie's place, a pretty big home of four stories with a even bigger yard surrounded it of 6 aches each side. He knew Reggie's family owned a big home for such a big family but he honestly wasn't expecting something so... human dream life. A white picket fence wrapping around the areas of land, green grass in perfect height, the house painted in a nice paint of soft blue with the windows having a white coat to the edges, a cute porch sticking out from the big dark brown oak made front door, and to fit so perfectly a nice little porch swing with a small coffee table. In all honesty neither Vinnie nor Reggie been to each others' houses despite being friends for years. Always staying at the dorms the school gave them for half the week.

The vampire slowly made his way to the porch and gently pulled the rope that rings the door bell loudly it echos around him and to the forest not far from the house itself. He tripled checked in his head the plans of the date as he waits a few seconds before the door opened and Reggie's head popped into view. "Hey Vinnie." Reggie said with a smile and opened the door already for him to step out. "Hey there Reg-" Vinnie nearly chocked on his words upon seeing Reggie. He wasn't wearing anything out of his comfort zone but something Vinnie was expecting obviously... Let alone something his heart was ready for. There standing in front of him with the shine of the afternoon sun glimmering a special effect through the tree leafs Reggie wearing a typical white button-down shirt and well ironed dress pants but wears also a well knitted beige and blood red pattern pullover sweater vest and a black Letterman jacket with a big red R stitched to his chest's right side, his hair combed in a messy side bangs style to the left side of his face. Honestly, Vinnie doesn't know if this was more cute or sexy and he was pretty scared of both. "I-I could change if you want..." Reggie stated, snapping Vinnie out of his daze to realize he's been staring holes into the poor werewolf. "No no you're okay Reg. Just uh...caught me off guard is all. It's cool." Vinnie spoke up with his hands up in defense.

Reggie giggles some, causes Vinnie's undead heart to for sure jumble in beats like a drum.

The first stop of this little date for the two monsters was a nice little fly over the town to the date's main destination. Reggie clings to Vinnie from behind, his face so close to his their cheeks are barely touching softly, his eyes watching the town below them. "Gee Vinnie, this is beautiful." He whispered but Vinnie heard it very well, his warm breath gently dancing across Vinnie's ear, his cheeks warming up in a soft shade of pink, a smile appearing on the vampire's lips. If anything, if he had a chance to say it, Reggie was the most beautiful thing to Vinnie's eyes. Though as a sad as it had pained him he knew he would crash into something if he doesn't focus.

His eyes scanned around the area before carefully landing in front of a cafe looking place. Reggie looked around the place when he climbed down from the vampire's back as he tucked in his wings. "Um... Vinnie." Reggie mumbled softly as he dragged his feet closer to Vinnie. Vinnie let out a hum, "Yeah Reg?" "Correct me if I'm wrong but this is a human cafe is it not?" Indeed it was. "Yeah. I figured to have a nice bite here for a change." "True it's just... don't you rather want to go to Ms. White's Diner? It's one of your favorites right?" Vinnie had to fight back the urge of going to his favorite 50's diner and share a monster shake with Reggie, he had a plan and he's sticking to it. He gently takes his paw and said, "This is just as good Reg, promise. Plus they serve your favorite here. Trust me." Reggie looked at the place and at Vinnie, seemed to be small on numbers of humans... So it could be okay right?

The two monsters entered the cafe and walked it's way to a table right in the center. The place was nice, clean, quiet, cute, and had a nice nature aesthetic with potted plants hanging from the ceiling and the smell of coffee and tea with some sweets filling your sense of smell. "This place is nice." Reggie said, his eyes focused on every little detail around him. The V-Man couldn't help but smile proudly, the date's going so well so far.

A waiter walks over to their table with a notepad and spoke to the two teenage monsters, "Afternoon gentlemen. What can I get you for drinks?" Vinnie opened the menu. "I'd like a black coffee with a side of milk creamer." The waiter nodded and looked at Reggie waiting for his answer. The werewolf quietly looked through the menu, his eyes widening like space saucers. "O-Oh my...Um...w-water would be fine..." The waiter wrote the orders down before hurrying to the back. Reggie looked at Vinnie with a raised brow, "This place is expensive Vinnie. They don't even serve your favorite drinks here. And I think you need it, you look ill..."

Vinnie knew Reggie was worried, he can hear it in his voice, but he can't simply explain it... Since the night before last he hasn't had a drop of blood to nibble a sip from due to how stressed and nervous he was getting over asking Reggie out and planning out this perfect date. Black coffee was the best he could get to that bitter goodness. And if not, the creamer would do the trick. Still, he knew he can't say all that to Reggie, not to seem not cool in front of his crush but also because he doesn't want the werewolf to feel bad or blame himself. Instead he just smiles his traditional smile and leaned back in his chair as he coats his voice with soothing calmness, "It's fine Reg. Everything fine actually. I just... had a big batch during breakfast and need the coffee here is good as I'm told. Plus, the money, don't worry. I got it covered." He finishes with a wink and another smile which caused Reggie's shoulders to calm down slightly.

After a few more seconds the waiter returned with their drinks and a notepad still in hand, "Here is your black coffee with a side of milk creamer and your glass of water sirs. May I interest you into something to eat?" Vinnie glances at the man's meaty neck and silently licked his fang out of sights, his brain wracking him inside his skull to try and not accept the urge to chomp down onto that neck and drink up. His hand quickly grabbed the coffee cup as soon as it was set and took a big gulp of it. Bitter. Not as bitter but still helps a little. He thought, feeling his nerves calm down a bit more. He glances over at Reggie and smiles, "Why don't you order first? I'll follow after." Reggie fixes his glasses and looked over the menu, a few times his eyes peeking at Vinnie as if asking for his help. "G-Gee...there's a lot of good options... Um..." He pondered out loud, Vinnie could see the human tapping his pen in a annoyance type manner. He bite down on his bottom lip some to fight back his new urge to range his neck. Before the urge could happen for real, Reggie's voice rang out to Vinnie's ears, "I-I guess I can have the Pea & Carrot Soup with the Greek Salad as the side?" "And you sir?" Vinnie had to remember how to talk before he took a quick glance at the menu before blurting out his order, "I'd like a French Onion Soup." And like before the man walked away after writing the orders down.

Vinnie noticed Reggie seemed more awkward and fidgety then his usual form. "Everything alright Reg?" Vinnie asked, his voice truly worried. He truly is worried for Reggie. Maybe he caught that waiter's rudeness towards them because of their race? Maybe it's the fact it's clearly two boys out doing things beyond friends? The vampire's head is just about to explode over the thoughts on what could be wrong with his Reggie- My Reggie? Vinnie thought of having Reggie of his very own before... I mean it did sound nice to him but would Reggie be down to being...

Reggie softly shook his head with a mumbled, "It's nothing, really..." But Vinnie knew something's been bothering his pal. Maybe... Vinnie felt sick thinking this, Maybe he's not comfortable being on a date with me... Before he knew it the food had arrived but the two didn't seem in the mood to enjoy it... Vinnie gulped down the rest of his coffee and stared down at his dish.

Great, my nerves are all over the place now and Reggie ain't having a good time... He thought as he watched Reggie gently nibble on his soup and salad, the two barely having one or two small conversations. This date is going terrible...

The two left the cafe quietly and quickly after paying for the bill. The two were still pretty silent. Reggie broke this awkward pause in the air with a smile, "The food was pretty good Vinnie." Vinnie doesn't reply. "Vinnie..?" Suddenly, the second monster on this date let out a groan like sigh before slumping his body down a grass area in the side walk, "That stupid waiter! 50 bucks and all he had to do is make it nice!"

Reggie tilt his head at this and quietly asked, "What do you mean...?" There was a pause when Vinnie looked away with no answer, causing it to click to the smarter of the two. "Vinnie Stoker, did you pay a human waiter for our date?" Vinnie sighed, "Not just paid Reggie, I paid the guy $50 to hold off any other reservations so it can be just us... I know you don't like really crowded places but that guy ruined it. I wasted 50 from my allowance just to have a guy be rude to you." Vinnie covered his face with his palms. "I'm sorry Reg...I really am..." Surprising Vinnie, Reggie grabbed his hand and pulls him up before guiding him somewhere.

"Hey Reg, where we going?" He asked, but his question fell on deaf ears as the werewolf still guided him silently. Suddenly the vampire began to feel a new kind of nervous. Was Reggie mad? Was he going to yell at him for bribing a human? Does he know he hasn't been drinking his daily sips of blood? He felt sick at the ideas of any of those being true and he blew this date... His one chance... And he blew it major time... There might not even be a second chance in this... "Look Reg..." Vinnie started, hanging his head low in shame. Reggie stopped him, "You didn't have to do any of that Vinnie. I would be perfectly fine going to any place we usual go." Vinnie did not want this date to be ruined. He did not want his friendship to be tainted. All Vinnie wanted to do was do what he planned, even if it was sudden...

"I like you Reggie!"

Reggie stopped suddenly and whipped his head around so fast he must've felt dizzy. No turning back now huh? Vinnie thought, taking a deep breath in, "I've always liked you Reg... And I mean really like you... Like...Like... I always get happy in the mornings because I get a chance to be near you at school, it's the only reason why I don't ditch as often. And when you're not there I feel sad...so sad I feel sick... I often re-read the messages we send back and forth after school because I miss talking to you that much... A-And that time when I was running for School President and you were helping me... Reggie, I felt so happy just being around you...seeing you so happy at what you were doing... I know this isn't stuff you want to hear instead of a apology...but I swear to you it's truer then true Reggie... I really like you... I've liked you for so long...I don't know when but I know when I figured it out... when you were fallin from the sky and I was running to you... All that's been runnin' around my head was "I can't let him go"... Reggie... you matter to me so much the idea of you not here with me is killing me..."

Vinnie was so scared to look up at his friend, scared he made it worst... "I just...I know this date ended up bad... but I-" Vinnie's words were cut short when he lifted his head to finally face his nerves, quickly his lips were covered by the soft fur of Reggie's lips. The teen vampire felt his undead heart beat for miles and miles as every second slowly passes by between them, his eyes widen more then the usual wide but slowly his body began to melt by the warmth of Reggie's lips and they slowly blinked to a close while his lips push pressure back into the kiss.

The kiss lasted about a extra minute before the two pulled away, Vinnie's ears catching a soft small puppy like whine coming from deep back within Reggie's neck. "You like my lips that much Reg?" Vinne asked with a tease in his voice, smiling more when see that same expression of bashfulness Vinnie witness when he asked Reggie out in the first place. "Okay, I'm sorry... does...this mean you like me too...?" He asked, hopeful of his words being a positive. Reggie giggles softly, "Of course it means I like you Vinnie... Why else would I agree to go on a date and kiss you?" Vinnie felt stupid asking such a obvious question. "And...why else would I do this?" After Reggie said that, he guided Vinnie again towards a secret spot. A nice little isolated hill spot overlooking the entire town and beach. Reggie...planned this? The vampire looked at Reggie in disbelief, now noticing the blush fur on his cheeks. "I... I like you too Vinnie... A lot... I've always had felt it too but that day when you risked everything just for me was when I realize it was more then a simple crush... And I wanted to show you how I felt since then...but I was too chicken to even bring it up in conversation... So, when you asked me out, I was nervous that I might miss my shot...so..." "So you ended up setting this up?" Reggie nodded some, his bangs sweeping over his warm brown eyes in a cute shy manner.

Vinnie smiles softly and wrapped his arms around Reggie's frame, his lips lightly touching a small peck on his cheek. Sure, this wasn't the date I had planned... Reggie giggles and gently sat on the grass, Vinnie following after. The sun was just about going darker as the stars began to appear above them like candles they used to have lit from their old fears of the unknown... Vinnie could help but smile when seeing Reggie's happy face when he cuddles into him. But I honestly couldn't ask for anything better.

#gravedale high #vinnie stoker #reggie moonshroud #vinnie/reggie #reggie/vinnie #vampire boyfriend #werewolf boyfriend #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

41 notes · View notes

sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

Text

You’re Dead, Hargrove

on ao3 also

Steve had cried when Billy had fallen. Had sobbed as he stood helplessly by Robin’s side while one minute Billy had been caressed by El’s hand and the next he was seemingly dead on the ground. Steve had collapsed to his knees and Robin had almost stumbled to join him. He’d gone back to his vacant home again eventually. He’d finally accepted it and he’d gotten a job. Tried to forget about everything for a while even if he knew he’d never forget it. The monsters, the screams, Billy’s lifeless crystal pools before Max herself closed her own brothers eyes. Then, a month later, he’d gotten a call with the yell of Max’s voice.

“He’s alive!” she yelled into his ear. And then in a whisper with a rage he couldn’t quite describe, “He’s fucking alive!”

“Who?” Steve asked, only a little confused. He had a hunch.

“Billy! He’s alive!” Steve froze up, shoulders locked and eyes unblinking. “He’s in the hospital. Has been. Apparently he was just transferred back. They called the house and asked for Neil but he wasn’t here. So they told me instead. I may have yelled at them a little. But he’s at the hospital and no one else would probably take me right now. So, can you come get me?”

Steve took a moment to catch up and Max seemingly allowed it, “I— yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a few,” he agreed. She thanked him and hung up her end of the line.

He stood there clutching the plastic yellow kitchen telephone for a moment though. He’d hoped. He had laid awake for hours and hours with the dwindling hope that there was any chance. He knew Max had too, had called him a few nights when the house got too quiet. And the room across from hers held too many shadows.

They’d never had a funeral. Neil Hargrove didn’t want to waste money on a casket. He’d taken that as a sign. Because funerals were a send away to the deceased right? Without one there was a bit of a halt in flow. Now, it was a lot of Neil Hargrove not wanting to waste money and the fact that the government supposedly didn’t want to give back the body. But still, Steve kept going with the coals of Billy’s survival. He was so relieved now that his limbs lost function with the way excitement rumbled in his bones.

On his way to the Hargrove-Mayfield residence he thought to himself more. He knew that Billy would be different. After that? Steve wasn’t that naive to not think of these things. But he wanted to get along with Billy. He wasn’t going to miss this second chance. They’d both messed it up the last time. But maybe they’d be able to start something of a friendship. Call it a guess that Billy might not have many of those.

Max brought a bright blue backpack with her when she tossed herself in the passenger seat, “Hey! So,” she buckled when he simply pointed at it over her shoulder and put the gear in reverse. “So,” she started again, “I kinda haven’t told anyone else. But I will once I see how he is,” she spoke unsurely of herself. He smiled kindly and she relaxed into the seat a little.

“That’s a good idea, Mad Max,” he nodded as he tried to keep his jittery hands straight on the steering wheel. “We should make sure he’s better prepared for visitors. I think just us going in for now is fine. We shouldn’t bombard him.”

“Right,” she agreed, “That’s what I was thinking.” He glanced over and saw the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her. He removed one shaky hand and put a fist out midair. She stared a moment and then pressed her own wobbling fist against his own. They shared a bubbly laugh while they could.

...

Well, the room wasn’t warm. Neither was Billy by the looks of the goosebumps on his arms. But his face was pink and healthier than the last time they’d seen him. Max stood ahead of him in the doorway. All three of them had a sort of staring match.

Until Steve spoke, that is, “Hey, Billy,” it came out as more of a whisper as he waved at the man choppily. But Billy looked at him tearily and smiled.

“Hey, Harrington,” he looked back at his sister, “Maxine. It’s good to see ya.” His voice sounded dry and a little cracked in a few places. Like aged porcelain. He looked a bit like it too. He had thin scars that sprouted all over his skin. White and pink pale wisps that peaked out of the thin white T-shirt. There were black and blue threads that held some of the longer cuts. His hair was buzzed but it had grown to about an inch sized fuzz around his skull.

Max rushed forward and halted right beside his bedside, “Can I hug you? Please?” her knees bent a little at the final request. Billy’s eyes were wide and reflective as he nodded. She threw her arms open but moved slowly. They clung to each other and ‘I’m sorry’s’ were tossed back and forth relentlessly. Repeated over and over again by both of them. They stayed huddled on the edge of the bed so Steve allowed himself in with silent steps. He hovered in the middle space of the doorway and the end of Billy’s hospital bed as he stared out the window respectively letting them have their reunion.

“So, Harrington,” he heard suddenly, “What’s been up since I left?” Steve looked at the two again. Max sat in the empty and partially dusty chair closest to Billy’s bedside. Her hair brightened in the sunlight that peaked through the mostly opened blinds. Billy had a pleased smile when Steve looked at him. And then he noticed the little dots contrasted against Billy’s paled skin.

“I never realized you had freckles,” Steve answered instead. Then he jolted a little at the realization that he’d said it out loud. “I mean, cause, you know, they look...nice,” he stuttered. “They’re a good look.”

Billy smirked at his dumbfounded fumbling, “Thanks, Harrington.” His own pink ears didn’t go unnoticed.

Steve sighed in relief silently and nodded, “Steve. You can call me Steve.”

Billy tilted his head much like an innocent bird, “Alright, Steve,” he said casually. “Missed you too,” he added after a blank moment.

Steve eyebrows came together in his confusion, “Really?”

Billy grinned a little dopily, “Yeah.”

The room grew warmer.

...

Steve hadn’t expected the drastic change. Sure, Billy still made his sarcastic comments and jokes. But, they were produced with a foreign sort of care. Steve found himself a little dumbfounded a couple times when Billy called him nicknames with no joking aim to his voice.

“What’s this, Princess?” he asked when Steve handed over a folded brown paper bag. Something began to boil in Steve’s tummy and chest.

“A puzzle,” he answered, “300 pieces,” he smiled widely. Billy raised one eyebrow and opened the bag noisily. He pulled out the box and admired the picture. It was something out of a calendar, the lineup of top model muscle cars. Silvers and golds and blues and reds and greens. “I just thought it looked cool,” Steve shrugged. He truly, definitely, absolutely hadn’t noticed the Camaro right dab in the middle. Nope.

Billy chuckled and set it in his lap, “Well thanks,” he smiled toothily. “Welcome back, have a seat,” he gestured to the seat that Max had sat in the last time they had visited.

Steve nodded and did as requested, “Max had homework to do so she told me to come visit alone. Hope that’s okay,” he gripped the arms of the chair and slid it so he could face Billy better.

Something fell from Billy’s expression, eyes turned down in disappointment, “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. I’d prefer you to actually want to be here instead, actually.” Blatant honesty was another thing Billy had taken up, or maybe he just enhanced it with all the help from the therapist that came in on Wednesday’s.

Steve crossed his legs and kept his hands around the arm rests with furrowed brows, “What are you talking about? I was already coming, she just couldn’t make it this time around. I want to be here, Bill. Kinda want to retry the whole friend thing if you don’t mind actually,” he looked off to Billy’s shoulder.

Billy looked surprised at that, “Wait,” he lifted his arms a little, “You want to be friends with me?” he asked.

Steve looked back at him and smiled, “Well yeah,” he tuned, “I think we could both use a buddy.” He flapped his ebows out a little as if to nudge him goofily.

Billy’s lips twisted, “I will not be referred to as a ‘buddy’ thank you very much,” he grumbled.

Steve only laughed as he wrapped an arm wound himself comfortably and leaned back, “Yeah, yeah.”

Billy opened his mouth and then closed it again before looking at Steve and opening it again, “I had my third session with Dr. Eros today.” The therapist.

Steve looked on interestedly, “How’d it go?”

Billy relaxed more in himself, “we talked about you actually.”

Something fluttered in his abdomen nervously, “Me?”

Billy nodded, “He said,” Billy looked down and then back up again, “And I agreed, that I should apologize for how I treated you.” He seemed to be struggling for words so Steve silently let him find his footing. “You just wanted to finish high school and I just assumed you were a sucky person because of all the bullshit Tommy Hagan cranked out.”

“You know, I already forgive you,” Steve assured. Although, Billy didn’t look any bit assured at all.

“No, Steve,” he sat up and swiveled around to his feet dangled off and he could look directly at him, “You don’t need to say that. I was bad. I was,” he grew teary, “I pushed everyone good away. Anyone that was nice to me and that was horrible. So, for me, if you really do forgive me. Help remind me that I can’t push you away. You can’t forgive me that easily. That’s not how it works.”

“Seems to me that you’ve ingrained that into your own head just fine by now,” Steve smiled forlornly.

Billy pressed his lips together, “Please, I need something earned.” Steve watched as Billy slowly got up to his feet and traveled over to the chair beside him.

“Alright, Bill, whatever you wish.”

Billy nodded determinedly, brows creased, “Thank you.”

“Now let’s get to that puzzle,” he untangled himself and leaned forward. “I suck at them so hopefully you’ll be a bit better.” Billy snorted quietly and Steve found himself gazing and stupefied by the surprisingly adorable sound. Steve took the box to distract himself by opening it.

“My reflexes and muscle endurance is still shit,” Billy watched Steve’s hands. “But I’ll try, Pretty Boy.” He called Steve that the most.

They worked on the puzzle for three hours. They got distracted multiple times and had to stop when a nurse wandered in occasionally to check vitals and blood pressure or give Billy his food. They had finished and cheered half heartedly to celebrate when Billy laid back in his mattress with a long sigh. A content one.

“Man, you know what I could really use?” he asked with his eyes closed and his long eyelashes shadowing his cheeks.

“What’s that?” Steve stretched his back and shoulders.

Billy stayed still, “A smoothie.”

Steve lowered his arms and stared at Billy’s, for once, peaceful face, “Really?”

Billy nodded, “Hell yeah. I love them, I do miss the Orange Julius’ they had in Cali.”

Steve shook his head, “There’s one in just the next county over,” he disagreed, “Oh, and there’s a smoothie bar that just opened actually,” he added offhandedly. He didn’t mention the one in the mall.

Billy chuckled in a sarcastic manner, “Some people don’t like it when you’re trying to be happy, Steve.”

Steve leaned forward again to focus, “What do you mean by that?”

Billy simply opened one eye and said, “You gonna go get me a smoothie or what? Maybe it’ll be easier to down than the flavorless burgers they have here.”

Steve shook his head, “I doubt that.” But he gave Billy a considerate hug goodbye anyway.

...

Steve had only been gone forty minutes. But apparently that was enough time for Neil Hargrove to finally hear about his son’s arrangement in the hospital. Why Max had insisted that he didn’t know was beyond Steve’s knowledge. But he also knew that Max was smart and most likely had her good reasons. So when he heard from the nurse that he had arrived and was in the room with Billy, he ran. Ignoring her requests to slow down and not bringing the smoothies into the room. The door hit the wall when it opened and he had to act fast to keep the smoothies from tipping over and onto the floor.

He hadn’t even had time to look up when he heard, “Oh!” and a harsh laugh. “That's why you kept looking at the door instead of at me? Thought someone was coming to save you from this?” The man sounded dangerous but Steve almost laughed when he looked up. The handlebar mustache and rectangular face. He wasn’t surprised. The man looked like the type and Steve had his own expertise when it came to reading people. Billy’s glassy and unemotional eyes were what really made the difference though. Billy had started to portray his emotions, now they were all blocked off. It was scary.

“Shut up and get away from him.” Steve hadn’t even realized he said it. But he did feel the adrenaline rush that came with the disastrous rage that surfaced. Neil’s face morphed from cruel amusement to fury in just one second. Billy’s transformed to horror. Steve felt his stomach twist but he gathered enough of a hold to offer a shaky smile to the familiar blue eyes.

“Steve—“

“You have some nerve to speak to me that way,” Neil spoke quietly. Steve wavered for only a moment. He had faced worse monsters than the senior Hargrove. Hell, he’d faced one Hargrove already. Of course, he still wished he had his bat or Max in this round too.

“I have more reason than nerve,” Steve spouted back and relaxed his shoulders forcefully.

Neil looked out the door and when Steve blinked he was faced with a smiling man, “Why don’t we speak outside, boy?”

“No— Da— Sir,” Billy shifted in his spot but Steve had already turned on his heel after setting the drink tray down on an empty seat. Neil Hargrove’s footsteps followed him all the way outside and even to his car. When he heard the tempo of them speed up he ran again. Opened his trunk and took out the bat.

“What the fuck is that?” the man roared. Steve disregarded him and gripped the hilt just like he did when he was preparing himself for a demodog. The parking lot wasn’t very empty but there was space and no one out to witness firsthand what was about to happen.

Steve taunted the bat and held it low, “You come near me?” He nodded to the blood rusted nailed bat, “You get hit.” Neil looked frightened before he shifted to unbothered. There was a glint in his eyes. Something broken between scared and doubtful.

“You don’t have the guts, kid,” he spoke. Steve already assumed that Neil wouldn’t be one to back down from a fight; too egotistical.

“Oh yeah?” Steve waved the bat back and forth like a golfer before taking a swing. He made easy eye contact with the tense man, “Try me.” Neil took a step back and straightened his posture. Steve was still taller.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Want me to stop bullying my pathetic son, eh?” he perceived unconcern.

“Almost spot on,” Steve smiled wickedly and tightened his hold as his anger and annoyance grew uncontainable, “I want you to fuck off.” He stepped closer when Neil opened his mouth, “I have connections in this town. And I have ways to take you out in just a measly hour at any given notice. So, you leave him alone or you leave this town. Because if I see a hair out of place on him by your hand?” They were nose to nose and the tip of the closest nails were poking Neil’s chest stingingly. “You’re dead, Hargrove.” He pushed the man back with a force that made him hiss in pain when the nails dug in. Steve smiled unkindly and backed away slowly until Neil took the hint.

Max arrived with Susan not too long after Steve had returned to Billy. He’d calmed Billy down as much as possible and then shoved a lukewarm blueberry and vanilla smoothie into his palm to cease the questions.

Steve stayed silent through any inquisitives for most of his visit.

...

“Max said Neil left town,” Billy opened with when Steve walked through the doorway.

“Ran off where?” Steve asked without looking. He removed his backpack and sat in the accustomed chair as he unzipped it.

Billy sounded on edge and relieved all at once, “No one knows, but he left two hundred in cash and his car is gone along with a forth of the house.”

Steve snorted, “Figures.” Billy grunted in what Steve supposed was agreement.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Billy went on as he took the paper diner cup filled with milkshake.

“Yeah, I sneak your weekly smoothies and milkshakes in all by myself. You’re welcome,” Steve deflected.

“Steve.” He sighed and looked at Billy. Billy looked determined and unbridled and Steve was done with side stepping.

“I threatened him with my bat,” he said and fiddled with the straw in his own treat.

“Why?” Billy asked curiously, not exactly what Steve had expected as the response. Maybe more of a, ‘why the hell are you interfering, Harrington?’ sort of thing.

“Uh,” he squinted as he pondered how to answer. “Well, he’s an asshole, he hurt you, and I hate him. So I think that’s enough of a reason,” he nodded to himself and took a sip of vanilla ice cream. Billy hesitated and then did the same but didn’t take his eyes away from Steve’s.

“Are you two having, like, a full conversation like this?” Max barged in unapologetically. “‘Cause you’re not saying anything and it’s creepy

Billy spoke before Steve could, “I got him to answer.”

Max sat by his feet on the end of the bed and swung her legs, “Care to restate?”

Billy rolled his eyes fondly as Steve watched them with his jaw lowered, “It was the bat.”

Max smirked, “I knew it. What did you say to him to shake him up so bad?” Steve settled himself with the knowledge that he'd managed to remove another monster from Hawkins as he formed an appropriate response. That he technically did the right thing, and he didn’t actually end up hurting anyone.

“That’s just for him and I to know I think,” he deflected quietly. “And he’s gone now, so all that matters is getting Billy back on his feet.”

Billy’s eyes grew dewy but he smiled freely, “Okay,” his voice cracked with emotion. Max scowled but didn’t push it. Instead, she took off her bag and picked out a comic that Steve didn’t recognize.

“Here,” she shoved it into Billy’s hand, “It’s a new one Dustin gave me.” When a tear fell and Billy brushed it away, no one mentioned it. At least not right away. When Max went to get a drink downstairs Steve scooted closer.

“You know you’re not alone, right?” he looked down and grasped Billy's hand with both of his own. “You have me and Max. We’ll be here every day, Bill,” Steve swore. “No, need to waste your tears over that asshole.”

“I just never thought it would happen,” his cheeks were wet. “I mean, I don’t have either of my parents left.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched, “And you don’t need them.”

“But I do, Steve!” Billy’s hand shook even between Steve’s own. “What am I supposed to do? My mother’s somewhere off in Washington state and my father is a piece of shit that won’t even try to change.”

Steve leaned in and spoke quietly, “Both of them don’t deserve you. You’re so strong, Billy. You went up against an interdimensional monster and won. You’ve grown and you’re working on yourself, allowing yourself into therapy and getting actual help.” Billy’s lips quivered and more tears fell. “You’re so much better than them, Bill, better than them put together. So much better.” Billy pawed away the wires and Steve was halfway on the bed as he held him.

His shoulder was drenched by the time Max returned. But Billy had a new light to his demeanor. And that was way more important.

...

Max stopped Steve before they exited the doors to the parking lot, “We should tell the others.”

Steve stared at her, a little boggled, “Uh, okay. We can do that, yeah,” he nodded.

“Tonight,” she looked up at him stonily. She acted like her brother more than most would think since they weren’t biologically related. Unbudging.

“Max,” he looked at his watch, “It’s six, they’ll all be having dinner with their families.”

She laughed a little, not in an amused way either, “At least they get that luxury even if we don’t.”

“Max—“ he began warningly.

“You don’t have to hide it, Steve,” she put her hands on her hips, “We know that your parents are practically nonexistent. They’re never around in the first place and Joyce had to drive you home from the hospital after Starcourt. And you were here for most of the week.” He sighed tiredly. He couldn’t disagree with her, no one ever disagreed with Max and won easily.

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Mad Max,” he patted her shoulder fraternally. She looked unimpressed in return. “How about we get some KFC and you, me, and your mom can have our own little dinner.”

She smiled and he felt something release itself from the back of his mind, “Let’s go then!”

…

He may have gone a little overboard, there was lots of fried chicken and lots of mashed potatoes in his and Max’s possession as they walked into the house. Susan was reading on the small sofa as muted baseball illuminated the television box.

“Steve bought dinner, Mama!” Max greeted loudly as she kicked off her shoes and joined her mother.

Steve laughed to himself, “Hope you don’t mind, Ma’am,” he set a bag of food beside Max’s on the table. Susan had gotten a lot more independent in just a few days. Had gone out for dinner with Claudia Henderson, made very good friends with her. Had a job in a boutique in town and everything. Max started spending more time with her now too.

“Oh, it’s just fine,” she waved his nerves off and opened a bag, “Thank you, and take a seat, Hun.” He did just that and Max went to get plates and silverware from the kitchen. Susan looked at him as she opened the containers, “How is he?” she asked earnestly.

“He’s doing even better since you last visited,” he responded as he eyed the condensation bubbles on a lid move, “Much better actually. His motor skills are improving and he’s laughing more. We went outside the other day and watched the birds. The fresh air improved his mood a ton,” Steve smiled at the memory.

“That’s wonderful,” Susan smiled as she listened to him. “I’m glad he’s got a friend like you.”

Steve’s cheeks darkened a little, “He’s a nice friend to have.”

Susan nodded a bit distractedly and then she sat up straighter, “Oh! I’ve started re-doing his bedroom. I patched up the walls,” they both winced at that, “Repainted. All the works,” her smile was hesitant. Like she had a podium to prove too.

“Can I see it?” Steve pointed to the hallway without looking away from her.

She stood up, delighted, “Yes, yes,” she led him down and to a partially chipped door. She opened it and let the door swing by itself with a push. The walls were a pale blue and Billy’s bed stood lowly against the wall with white blankets and pillows. There weren’t any posters or personal belongings. Susan seemed to notice his own observations. “I only kept Neil,” she spoke his name with disgust, “From turning it into his own at home office by suggesting a guest room. I used this to cope guess,” she admitted shamefully.

Steve shrugged and looked at the bed again, sunken lower in the middle edge, “Better than I did. I didn’t leave my bed for weeks,” he looked back at her.

She smiled sadly and patted his shoulder, “Let’s get back. Max has most likely stopped waiting for us by now. I have a hunch it took so long just so I could finally speak to you about him. She’s not very good with words,” she whispered to him with a small smile.” They stopped at the end of the hallway to see Max scooping potato into her mouth unmannerly. “Billy never was either,” she finished.

...

Billy was staring at his lap the next time Steve entered. His eyes were wide and moist, there wasn’t anything surprised in them though. The man looked like his worst fear had just come true.

Steve set down his bag and shuffled close, “What’s wrong?” Billy held up a postcard displaying ‘Hawkins’ in green, cursive writing.

“It’s from my father, he’s back,” Billy didn’t even look up as he held the card to Steve’s chest. He took it from Billy’s trembling hand and read the back. Billy recited for him though, “‘Your boyfriend can’t keep me away.’” Steve stared at Billy and dropped his hand with the card clenched in his fist. “Charming right?” Billy’s eyes were hollow, somehow more broken looking than any of the times they’d talked. And they had exchanged many stories, Steve had lost count of the amount of times Billy had cried. This was something old.

“I’ll find him again,” Steve promised, “This time I won’t let him off so easy.” He kept the hostility he felt away from Billy’s eyes. Didn’t want Billy to have to worry so much about it.

“There’s only one place you can find these types of postcards, Hawkins is usually printed in red. Must be symbolic.” Steve stood up, ready to head out the door as he developed a plan. But he stopped. Billy was looking at him, eyes wide and moist again. The sunlight shun and Billy looked like that of an angel. Steve leaned down and wrapped him up in his arms. “I’ll get him out of here, Bill. I promise this time.” It was the first time Billy pulled him in back. So Steve stayed a moment, not rushing anything even though his mind was half with Billy and half running downstairs to the pay phone.

When Billy was the one to let go, Steve stepped back. “Good luck,” he heard just as he reached the doorway.

He turned around and smiled, preserving, “Thanks!” Like he wasn’t going to go and quite possibly kill Billy’s father. Maybe just severely maim. But Billy’s lips lifted at the corners and his eyes looked more structured, so Steve left with a prominent smile.

He went downstairs to the pay phone and took it off the hook to place in the crook of his neck as he pulled quarters out of his pockets. He dialed. It rang and rang and then there was a connection.

“Hello?” he heard.

Steve took a breath and then dived, “It’s Steve. And I need you to listen to what I have to say. Clear your schedule for the day.”

He sighed, “What is it now?”

“I’m hunting down Hargrove and I need your assistance.”

“Steve, you know he’s in the hosp—“

“Not that one.”

It was quiet for a long time, “You at the hospital?”

“Yep.”

“Have any clue where the bastard is?”

“Yep.” He looked down at the postcard still in his hand, “Meet me at the Roadwood in Marion.”

“I’ll be there, kid,” Hopper cut the line. And Steve went to the car.

...

The desk lady looked very uninterested in Steve as he walked up to the counter, “I’m here to see Neil Hargrove,” he smiled casually and leaned a little against the counter. “Is he here?”

The lady’s gum popped and she leaned forward, searching out a paper with her pencil, “Room 5,” she stated and leaned back again.

Steve’s smile tightened, “Thanks,” he nodded and left back out the door. Stopped by his car to get the weapon. And when he got to the door he knocked and then stood out of the way of the little peephole. The door opened a moment later revealing Hargrove’s pinched and confused, ugly, face. “I thought I told you to leave.”

Neil looked over a bit bewildered and then he scowled, “And then I realized that it’d be idiotic to listen to some teenager.”

Steve continued to look unimpressed, “I’m twenty.”

“Same thing.”

Steve took his bat out from behind his back, “I suggest you get in the room and wait for my friend to get here. Then we’ll deal with you.”

Neil hesitated and Steve rose the bat up threateningly before the man bolted into the room. Forgetting to shut the door. Steve followed him in after spotting Hopper’s truck and waving a signal to him. Inside, Neil had gathered the bedsheets like he was going to capture some sort of animal.

“Now,” Steve began like the good conversationalist he was, “Either you leave today or I deal with you personally.”

Hopper appeared behind him in the doorway, “The walls are soundproof,” he closed the door. “Too many noise complaints, brought business down,” he was beside Steve with a roll of duct tape around his wrist and a crowbar in his hand, “Installed much better stuff.”

Neil backed up to the opposite wall, “This is illegal.”

“And you abuse your son,” Hopper snapped, “So make your decision because our job is to protect this town. And you’re one of the things we get rid of. And that’s either the county border or the ground. Figure that shit out on your own. I don’t play nice with people like you.”

Steve smirked humorlessly, “I warned you,” he mused.

Neil glanced at his suitcase and held his hands up, eyes shifty, “I’ll leave, I’ll leave!” Steve looked at Hopper and was met with the same expression, doubt. And it was further rooted when they both spotted the small pistol badly hidden under a wrinkled shirt.

Steve leveled his bat out and stepped forward, “No you’re not.” He rushed Neil, whacked his leg and got the bat stuck before it ripped out due to the bulky man falling to the ground. He gave a yelp of agony and blood dripped into the carpet slowly. He started crawling to his suitcase but Steve brought the bat down on his back. Neil kept going between the moments Steve checked on Hopper who was standing and watching, crowbar at the ready if needed. When Steve looked back at Neil again he was reaching for the gun. Neil had just gotten it in his grasp when he rose the bat in the air and slammed it down on his head.

Steve stepped back again and sighed, “Now you’re really dead, Hargrove.”

Hopper took him. Backed the truck up and covered him with a tarp. Steve didn’t ask where. Didn’t need to know.

But, just so you know, they never did see Neil Hargrove again.

...

Billy didn’t ask either, not exactly. Steve just walked back in, hair wet from a shower and completely different clothes. He watched him sit down, eyes wide and Steve nodded while he scratched under his jaw through a yawn. But that was it, no great breakout. No yelling, no thanking, nothing about it.

“So,” Steve propped his elbow on top of the arm of the chair and then his chin in his hand, “Any plans for when you get out?”

Billy shrugged and his face was less solemn, “I’m not sure, I’ll probably move out of town. Everyone here thinks I’m dead anyway.”

Steve’s eyes widened, “Uh—“ he grasped the arm and leaned forward, “Max wanted to tell the Party. Did she tell you that? I barely stopped her last night.”

Billy didn’t show anything towards recognition, “She what?”

Steve sat back in the chair again, shoulders sagged tiredly, “We were thinking of letting the others know you’re alive.”

Billy brought a hand up slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Steve.”

“I know,” he put his hands up and bit his tongue as tears surfaced. He was really going to miss Billy Hargrove, wasn’t he? “You’ll probably want to go all the way to,” Steve waved a hand around thoughtfully, “Like, France or something. At least there are no monsters there.”

Billy’s eyes were a little lost and far away, “I can’t speak french.”

Steve looked up quick and then laughed, running a hand through his hair, “New York?”

Billy shrugged, “Probably not...” Billy hiccuped through a shaky breath, “How about you?”

“I’m not smart enough to do any of that,” Steve picked at a loose thread. “I was considering Colorado. Maybe get a degree in teaching art? My aunt always said I had a bit of a talent when it came to a canvas.” He shrugged to himself and looked up to Billy. Fond, glittery eyed Hargrove.

“That’s great,” he whispered and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to his chest. “I’m tired, do you mind shutting the blinds?”

Steve got up and traveled around the room blocking off all the light, “I’ll stay a little longer, ‘kay?”

Billy stared at him for a very long moment, half laying down with his blanket clutched. Steve stayed still with his hands around the stick to close the blinds and looked right back. And then Billy cried.

Steve rushed forward, “Hey, hey, hey,” he sat on the side of the bed and eased Billy against him. “It’s okay,” he rubbed Billy’s back as he sobbed. Each raspy intake of breath like a nail in Steve’s chest. “It’s alright, Billy. You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Steve pressed his head against Billy’s, “Susan will take you in. She’s been working on your old bedroom.” He didn’t mention how it was originally Susan’s grief distraction project for a guest room.

“Really?” Billy said through harsh breaths. Steve nodded against his shoulder. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled into his shoulder, “Guess I just,” he paused and went a little limper, “I guess I just didn’t like hearing that you would be so far away in the,” he put his hands up in some mock, grand gesture, “Foreseeable future we’ve thought up.”

Steve sat back a little so he could see some of Billy and take hold of his hand, “I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone, didn’t I?”

“Huh?” Billy’s arms tightened around him and little and Steve melted like chocolate left in the sun.

“We could leave town together,” Steve offered instead, “We could get an apartment or something in some other small town or a city somewhere.” Billy’s breathing slowly eased back to soft hiccups of intakes as Steve rocked them side to side. Billy let him, let him help in the ways he knew how.

Steve felt a kiss to his cheek, “Colorado sounds nice.” And even if it seemed far away and near inconsiderable, they allowed themselves to hope. To dream something up. Together.

#steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #max mayfield #neil hargrove #susan hargrove #tw: nongraphic descriptions of violence #and mentioned death #jim hopper

38 notes · View notes

sunkissedchldrecon · 3 years

Note

Okay finally here!

What can you do set yourself free?

I see stars at first, on a pitch black sky. Someone, most likely you or a friend I now see could be another person really. There's a trauma to this energy, one where someone can't let go of another's problems or parting. A girl or person crying against a door, it's classic but it happens.

Had to leave for a second.

I think there's some trauma with a friend, I thought of friendship and a letter or words all of a sudden I'll try to ready but ignore if it doesn't fit.

"thank you,

You'd always been there for me. When we stayed up and you taught me guitar (any instrument or something with work even) even when I threatened to give up at every second.

You helped me with that stupid school project and dance.

Really, you'd always been there and I couldn't have wanted anything else. I spent the best years of my life with you.

You mean a lot to me _____, really." I saw this more as a getting older thing or something felt like a mature atmosphere of remembrance.

Some family may have gotten covid or an illness recently to any time.

These people you've known are irreplaceable. I feel you may struggle with these thoughts of how much you mean to people or not being able to say the things you'd like at all times. Someone reaching out their hand to grab someone before it's too late. Slow, and filled with unsaid words someone wanted to desperately share.

'It's too late.' This is something that came across my mind.

There's a feeling that something you've stick to has recently ended or you feel you fell farther back than you started at.

Remember to take breaks, you already know this but there are some things you're telling yourself you have trouble sticking to.

There's always an option, in any case you have the right to say something to someone, these things yes can end badly. But it's better said than unsaid. You need to be straight for now, thorough and orderly as you can with your needs and intentions. People are constantly on your mind or were, I feel you may have stopped this. That's good if you have. I see a third eye and possible fourth open or opening. This time is gifted to you, use it wisely and all you can. Go outside and just sit down doing nothing. Go climb a tree or embrace rain you can never capture completely with your bare hands. One eye is needed for sight and justice of some kind, open your own for insight into the future, this eye is in your mind and throat, clawing to be rewarded and abundant. It yearns and grows, you can't keep it silent forever love, truth in the next year or 2 will come out. It could've not happened or has. I can't share completely for your futures perseverance but know you must say your heart and thoughts or the eyes to your throat will be closed with the opening thoughts it keeps with it. The fourth eye is of the religious value and power in your life. Keep your guard for the next of winter and fall, mostly October I feel. Someone is deceiving you and all will be shown in the pale moonlight of an eve. A game of cards or mind. Gather with the people you know to seek the mole out.

This isn't much on how to heal but it's advice of steps to get there, time now needed is cleansing. Your values are kept as sacred in ways. You must drop 2 and keep all the rest, a time to choose your values and admire your goals. People will always catch themselves when they fall, connections cut will be okay.

I feel this didn't resonate as much sorry tell me if not and I'll retry, I've been worried about my intuition recently.

this totally resonated don’t worry!! especially the part about needing to open up my heart & throat. i’ve been told to work on my throat specifically the past month or so.. and honestly, i haven’t been doing it 😔 i also heavily agree with the need for connection with nature and cleansing. ty so much for exchanging with me 💛💛💛

#tarot #sun answers #ask #smndragon #advice for sun

2 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 4 years

Text

“That’s a double like.”

hoseok x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.4K

a/n: I had a request ages ago for cowardly Hobi watching a scary movie. However, I didn’t really know how to make a whole drabble based on that so I turned it into this. This is the second time Hobi and Petal hang out in the long term couples universe, however, this can be read as a stand alone as well. Ok, that’s all, so I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! :))

IF someone had told you just a week ago that Jung Hoseok would be wandering around your apartment looking at your framed photos on the walls and trinkets on various shelves, you would have actually scoffed in their face. As if you’d ever let Jung Hoseok into your apartment.

However, a lot can change in a week. You also wouldn’t have just had dinner with the man a week ago, but here you were, belly aching from eating too much and laughing with Hoseok all evening long.

And as you waited near the microwave for a bag of popcorn to finish popping, you watched the man look around at your things. He sported a fond grin as he took a moment to look at a picture frame of you as a young girl cuddling with the old family dog.

“This is cute,” he beamed, looking over at you just as you smiled in response.

“Of course it is, I’ve always been adorable,” you playfully bragged.

“I like a woman who’s self-aware,” he flirted back, you nearly rolling your eyes but stopping yourself, knowing he’d make a comment on it.

“Cool it with the compliments,” you teased. “You already made it inside my apartment.”

“Hey, I’m being a perfect gentleman,” Hoseok smiled innocently. “Probationary friends, Petal.”

“Right, just your regular boy next door,” you played along as Hoseok made his way toward the kitchen. “Jung ‘I follow the rules’ Hoseok,” you teased. He positioned himself next to you, leaning against the counter as he looked closely at your face, his eyes scanning your features.

“For now,” he smirked, you instinctively rolling your eyes in response. “Every time you roll your eyes like that you make it that much harder to take things slow.”

“That so?” You simpered. You and Hoseok both leaned toward each other slowly, your desires drawing you closer.

“Mhmm,” he confirmed, his gaze on your lips. “And by the way, I’m never gonna stop complimenting you, so you can just get used to it, Petal.”

“I think I can handle that,” you smirked, leaning closer to him your lips nearing his just as the smell of burnt popcorn wafted through your kitchen. “Fuck,” you quickly turned, ripping open the microwave door to reveal the smoking bag. “Oh no,” you whined, Hoseok giggling next to you. “Let me retry,” you pouted in defeat.

As you started another bag of popcorn, Hoseok watched you closely. He admired the way you moved quickly. Energetic. That’s how he would describe you. You were bouncy as you did even the simplest of tasks and he found it completely endearing.

When you looked over your shoulder at him Hoseok straightened his form, the previous moment having passed, his composure and resolve returning. “What are we watching?”

“A scary movie,” you told him, a smirk on your face as he looked at you with wide eyes, full of surprise.

“Why would we do that?” He asked in shock, a smile toying on his lips as he began mentally hyping himself up.

You giggled at his fearful expression. “I know you’re a bit of a coward, Hoseok.” He shot you a look that said yeah, exactly. “I want to fuck with you,” you chuckled, Hoseok scoffing at your mischief.

“Wow,” he grinned, shaking his head. “This is unbelievable.”

Raising your eyebrows at him, you looked toward the door. “Would you rather call it a night?”

“Evil,” he shook his head, pushing himself from the counter as he began toward your living room. “Your popcorn is burning again,” he told you as he exited the kitchen, you gasping as you frantically turned to the microwave.

By the time you cooked another bag of popcorn, only burning some of it, Hoseok had put the movie in and was sitting on your sofa shaking his head when you entered the room.

“Aw you got it all ready,” you grinned as you sat down a few feet from Hoseok on the couch, holding the bowl of popcorn out to him. “I think I got most of the burnt bits out, but no promises.”

The man giggled as he grabbed a few pieces. “I can’t believe we’re watching this,” he gestured to the TV where Texas Chainsaw Massacre was just starting, a speech playing about the tragic events you were about to watch unfold.

You both froze in your spots as the sounds of rummaging played on the dark screen, the sudden burst of light from a camera flashing accompanied by an eerie processing sound making you both jump, the image of a decaying hand flashing on the television.

“What the fuck?” Hoseok asked, pulling his knees up to his chest. You immediately regretted your choice of movie as you tucked your knees to your chest as well. The camera continued to flash, the sound getting creepier and louder and more intense with every click, body parts being displayed with each one.

When a decomposing body appeared on the screen, you squeezed your eyes shut as Hoseok started repeating, “ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.”

Gaining the courage to look over at him, he was cowered into a ball, his face turned to the side so he couldn’t see the screen. If you weren’t so creeped out yourself you would have laughed at his cowardly position.

As a broadcaster on the movie told the accounts of the horrid scene, you scooted closer to Hoseok until your body was pressed against his, making him turn his head toward you in surprise.

“You’re scared?” He asked you, looking you up and down.

“I hate scary movies,” you nearly smiled, flashing him a guilty look.

“Then why—” he started, scoffing again as his lips curved up into a stunning grin. “God, you’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“Shut up and cuddle me, you coward,” you sassed, Hoseok grinning as he opened his arms up for you to curl up next to him. You grabbed the remote, muting the TV before pressing your body to his.

“Coward,” he repeated with a chuckle, his chest vibrating against your face as your hand settled on his abdomen, his arms wrapping around you.

“I wanted to see you scared,” you giggled at yourself.

“Was it worth it?” He asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“It was actually,” you smiled teasingly, lightly soothing your thumb along his abdomen, the muscles clenching at the touch, filling you with a bit of pride that you could have that affect on him. Before either of you could say anything else, you blurted out, “I like you, you know.”

Hoseok smiled, though you couldn’t see it, his hand coming to lay overtop yours on his stomach. “I like you too.”

Sitting up a bit so you could look at him, you shook your head. “No, I like like you.”

“Whoah,” he teased, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a double like.”

“It is,” you grinned bashfully, feeling heat spread across your cheeks.

Hoseok flashed you a stunning smile, his eyes scanning over your features before locking on your own orbs. “I like like you too, Petal.” Looking into his eyes in that moment, you had an overwhelming yearning to kiss him, but he spoke before you could. “As difficult as it is, I really do want to take things slow with you. We have time,” he told you sincerely, the words just making you fall for him even more.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, fully aware of the words that just left your mouth as you kept your eyes locked on his.

Hoseok’s smile widened as he averted his gaze downward. “I’m starting to think probationary friends is just a front,” he joked, you giggling in response. “Of course you can kiss me,” he whispered.

You leaned toward him, but you didn’t push your lips to his just yet. Instead, you nudged your nose against his with a grin. Then you lowered your lips to kiss his chin. “You’re beautiful, Sunshine,” you told him, Hoseok letting out a breath of air at the compliment.

He didn’t say anything, however. He simply dipped his head to catch your lips in a needy haste. The feeling of his soft lips against your own was even better than your first kiss and you found yourself wondering if they would continue to get better with every kiss in the future.

184 notes · View notes

douxie-casperan · 4 years

Note

☽ for the memory meme? :)

☽ - A memory of their father

At least a whole month had passed since the three of them had come to end up in a somehow even more scrungy apartment based in the heart of New York City and despite the chill of the air Douxie had snuck outside onto the balcony in dire need of something a bit fresher than the mustiness of inside to be alone with his thoughts. Despite all the filtration wards that had been set up to make Nari that little bit more comfortable they barely seemed to be making a dent and the second he realised he was fidgeting more than focusing on the paper sitting on the coffee table outside seemed the wiser course and so here he was.

Stupid as it might sound life of late was feeling disturbingly monotonous in how it was get up early (UGH), grab something quick to go because there wouldn’t be a chance to eat until the first shift was over, hopefully get a snack before heading to the second job then if really lucky have enough time to crawl back here to collapse somewhere with no energy left for much else except on those scarce days off eked out when the stars aligned right. The three job days were even worse, you wouldn’t think his sleep schedule could get even more erratic but it turns out the threat of higher rent could do that to anyone and he was a particularly soft target to begin with.

On top of that as someone who adores travelling staying put for long usually drove him stir crazy after a few months he was already showing signs of it happening here too. In comparison somehow Arcadia never did, maybe it was because it’d felt like a home much like Camelot had done once? Part of the reason was definitely the fact Zoe could be a constant for the first time ever compared to the days, weeks or months scattered over the centuries whereas now they were once again forced apart by both wrong end of the continent stuck with phone calls or laughing at one another over the camera only. He misses the bookshop so much work had been put into, the customers that came into Benoit’s always asking how he was doing, the novelty of not having to pretend trolls didn’t exist even if the whole Akriridon thing was a surprise not to mention the apocalypse round two that came with them. It was a good normal and one he was felt a bit lost without.

Leaving also meant that certainty of Merlin was out there somewhere waiting for his moment to pop back up really was gone, something that had been a constant reassuring thought and it’s almost like being a moored boat just one wave away from drifting to parts unknown. Much like the explosion some things that happened still didn’t seem real, more like they were more this weirdly vivid nightmare that forgot to let him wake up so was stuck in a golden haze with no way out.

Glancing through the door he can just about make out Archie perched next to Nari on the armrest having grabbed the sofa for herself and looks to be marvelling at something on the TV making him smile softly. It’s likely one of the David Attenborough docs she seemed to have become quite taken with particularly in how the camera could ‘travel’ between all these places faster than even she could. Neither had the heart to say it was clever video editing, even the magical deserved a bit of sparkle in their lives. This’ll just be for him then and that’s fair enough.

Grabbing one of the two shoddy white plastic lawn chairs he’d picked up dirt cheap with the added bonus of easy cleaning he sits down and pulls his favourite guitar into his lap. Taking a deep breath to try and dislodge anything that might be rattling around his throat that shouldn’t be he begins to strum a few testing notes and making a few minor adjustments to get things about how they’re needed. There had been words banding through his head the past twenty minutes and if they weren’t going to let themselves be written down then going straight to testing will have to do he supposed. Using the staff was an option but… Maybe when he is more certain that he won’t be spit balling something terrible, on the fly usually fell one way and not always in the positive.

Grazing the strings once then a second time, the wizard begins to quietly sing not at all caring who might hear.

~*---*~

Within the earliest boughs of Spring

Everything felt fresh, new and wild

Full of possibilities it could bring

Was spared a sword and led away

Into the court of a King

Things were so innocent back then

Night became day and day into night

With chores as endless as my curiosity

Who could have imagined such a sight?

An orphan free to roam in a castle

Yet easily scared by a simple knight

I guess it was only a matter of when

As I grew older things started to change

You saw something coming, didn’t you?

I noticed, I did, even thought it strange

You grew quieter and the arguments worse

Everything I knew had started to rearrange

Spring was finally coming to an end

That Summer would burst into life

Blazing ready to reduce everything to ash

It sensed blood and carried a long knife

Poked and prodded them all just so

Then marvelled at the ensuring strife

With hindsight it was such an obvious trend

Within your fabled workshop

You would perfect the Amulet

After working for hours and hours nonstop

A weapon to save Camelot you said

But it was not humans it would adopt

To Trolls instead it would ascend

Killahead came ordering lines to be redrawn

I remember that Arthur was lost first

Wasn’t this supposed be a new dawn?

Yet I lost a sister, a Master, a home

And only more resentment did it spawn

There was only Archie now I could depend

Time started to become rather slippery

Though I did what you bade to the letter

Silently we became watchers of history

Dwelling in this brand new Autumn

I was spending it in as much happiness as misery

Some days it was much harder to pretend

During a trip to Babylon fought a specterghast

Helped move a strigoi on that was haunting folks

Honestly the adventures have been unsurpassed

The people, the food, all of the places

The future started to seem so much brighter than the past

Even met someone who’d one day be more than a friend

Learned far more than I dared dream

Visited places beyond imagination

Though couldn’t say much for my self esteem

All I wanted was to do right by you

I guess my life had a running theme

One that the passing years alone would never mend

Eventually the leaves began to fade

It must have started when I settled in Arcadia

Then upon a day when the world fell into shade

The first sign came in the form of an eclipse

To protect people I stood there unafraid

As the Winter began to descend

Seeing you again was like some form of rehash

Current or younger we argued just the same

Then suddenly my entire world was over in a flash

You even said you were proud of me

Before in my arms you turned to ash

And to another plane you would transcend

It would all came down to one last spell

I fought so hard for us all

But it was time for a final farewell

Everything moved too fast

No one was left to catch me when I fell

Only hearts to rend

Goodbye

It was so hard to say

This second chance, a retry

I love you both, I hope you know?

No matter what that was never a lie

Not being here though, it’s hard to comprehend

But I’m still here

The path ahead is clear

I refuse to simply disappear

No longer bowing to my own fear

Every word is spoken sincere

Because my time is now

This life is my own to walk

~*---*~

As the last few words leave his lips he is not ashamed to admit that tears had started falling probably about four verses back and are still coming so he tries to rub the evidence away on a sleeve. Unfortunately all it ends up doing is smearing salt into blue eyeshadow leaving him even more of a mess than he’d started plus an aching chest. It hurts so damn much but it is a good hurt, a reprieve.

“Some grand tribute, huh? Still can’t do much without it all setting me off again.” It is said half sighed while leaning back where he is barely able to make a single star out because of all the lights that blare well into the night unknowingly snatching away another source of comfort. But they’re still there he knows, watching as they have his entire life. Nothing is forever in the world of magic nor in life, not as long as somebody is still there to talk about it.

“Thank you for everything, Master.”

#Anonymous #No facts truer than a good meme #Trollhunters #3Below #ToAWizards #Tales of Arcadia #Wizards #A future on the run

16 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 4 years

Text

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 7

Obiyukiweek 2020, Day 4: Free Day

The air still smells like freesia and vanilla as Shirayuki returns from her shower, scrubbed clean and with the thinnest pajamas she can muster. Even now the heat’s starting to settle on her skin, turning her post-shower dew into regular summer sweat, and oh, she needs to get that fan oscillating stat, before she stews in her own juices like some Shirayuki-flavored pulled pork.

She settles on the bed, flapping out a hand to turn it on and--

Ugh, it’s just...pushing hot air around, at this point. Maybe if she’s sweats through another set of pajamas tonight, she’ll be able to convince Nanna she needs an AC unit in her window.

(Her room-- back when it was her mother’s-- had a unit, but after an unfortunate incident that involved her father, a thwarted clandestine encounter, and a hole in the garage roof, the replacement instead went into the kitchen, where it’s lived every summer until it malfunctioned and froze to the sill. Grandad’s replaced it since, but still-- it’s never returned to her window. Of all the sins of her mother Shirayuki’s had to answer for, this one is hands down the worst.

“Really?” Obi laughs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt. She sees the barest hint of abdominals and suddenly, the orientation packet isn’t half as engaging as it was before. “Not the whole...’grandparents convinced their first great grandchild will pop out before graduation’ thing?”

“To be fair,” she manages, breath thin as the worn fabric drops back over her current distraction. “The point was pretty much moot until, um...”

Oh, that-- that grin is trouble. “Until you climbed on top of me and made me come hard enough to go blind?”

He really, really doesn’t need to say it like-- like that. “S-something like that.”)

She’s ready to just call it a day at this point-- and nearly does. Rolling up onto her side, she reaches for the cord to her lamp--

Buzz. Buzz.

Shirayuki blinks. That’s...that’s her phone.

She’s tempted to ignore it-- she does not need Kihal speculating about what her and Obi could get up to in the woods “all unsupervised” tomorrow, and Obi should still--

9:12, her phone reads. His shift at the club is over, and by now he’s probably--

Home. Texting her.

Shirayuki nearly drops her phone straight down the crack between her bed and nightstand, and oh jeez, it would be nice if she could just...calm down for once. Be cool.

It buzzes again. She yelps, trying to flick the screen on with a wild shake. She can save being cool for another day. One where she’s seen him more than once in two weeks.

hey, the text reads, nestled in its innocuous gray bubble, we should talk

Shirayuki experiences something that could medically be called an event. Is he upset? Has she done something--?

not a bad talk, he clarifies, just miss you

She rolls onto her back with a smile, thumbs poking at the screen to say, i miss you t--

mebbe a sexy talk tho ;3 i *rlly* miss u

is that for the sexy or the bad grammar

Both.

She catches the call on the first ring, barely having time for a breath before Obi drawls, “You weren’t complaining about sexy things two weeks ago.”

With all the dignity of a mathlete champion, Shirayuki replies, “Hnn?”

(”Eek!” She yanks the controller up, to the side, anywhere that might help move her character away from giant beetle on the screen. “How do I--? Where do I--?”

Obi’s chest makes a hollow thunk when she rams into it. He coughs; it takes her a full, frantic second to realize it’s to cover a laugh.

“You know,” he murmurs, plucking the controller out of her hands, “joycons don’t have motion sensors.”

“I don’t know,” she returns primly, folding her legs back down over the edge of the bed. “And also you told me this game was easy.”

“Rune Factory is easy.” His mouth twitches. “Half the game is farming.”

“And the other half is fighting...whatever those things are.” She waves at the screen, scowling at the RETRY? stamped across it. “Which is hard.”

“It’s not,” He leans back, setting the controller on his nightstand. “You could even say...”

His arm hooks around her waist, dragging her on top of him. “...It’s as easy as I am.”

Her breath rasps out of her, and oh god, she can feel his dick pressing up against her thigh, so hard already. “You’re not making me feel very accomplished.”

“Well,” his fingernails scrape up the back of her legs, “we can fix that.”)

“You were very enthusiastic,” he remarks casually, “from what I remember.”

“Mm, well.” Two could play at this game...maybe. “It was two weeks ago.”

She may not be able to see him, but she can feel his grimace through the wire. Or well, the air? Wifi? Shirayuki wasn’t really up on how phones worked past the Edison era. It’s not like they ask how cell phones work on the SATs.

“Sorry,” he sighs, pillow audibly whumping over the receiver. “I know I warned you, but I really thought we’d have had more time to talk.”

“It’s okay.” She squirms against her sheets, fighting a shrug he can’t see. “I...I missed you, but I know how much the hours mean to you.”

“I missed you too.” His voice is so soft, so vulnerable, so unlike the boy who made her miss auditions a year ago. “I’m glad we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“Me too,” she breathes, and oh, it doesn’t seem soon enough. Not when she wants to wrap her arms around him, lay her head on his chest and just listen to him breathe. “You could--”

Come over. Her teeth snap down on the offer. Sure, it’d be nothing for him to hop up to the garage roof, for her to leave the window open--

But that’s how she got here, and nope, no. Not happening.

“--come pick me up tomorrow?” she squeaks out instead, cheeks burning. There’s no way he won’t know she meant something else, that she was avoiding--

“What? Don’t want to be smooshed in the backseat of Big Guy’s swagger wagon?” She can hear the smirk on his lips. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I don’t think Mitsuhide would appreciate you calling his minivan that,” she informs him primly, not a laugh in sight. It’s a feat only achieved by the judicious application of her teeth to her cheeks. “And I was! I mean, I am. It’s just...”

“Big Guy gives priority seating based on height?”

Well, that’s definitely part of it. With all five of them, she’s always left in the back seat, alone, and Obi--

“Gotta say, looking forward to all that leg room,” he drawls, “and getting an airbag all to myself. You think he’ll let me at the aux cable?”

“Never.”

“Aww.” Shirayuki knows he’s pouting; a full-on, little kid lip wibble. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“You know what you did.” A two hour meme mix on the way to Laxdo. “Besides, I just thought it would be better if we, um, had some time to ourselves. Before.”

“Oh?” he hums, so curious, and-- oh, it doesn’t usually take him this long to pick up on when she’s trying to, um, tell him something. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since we’d have all day-- oh.” There it is. “You mean alone.”

“W-well, it’s been two weeks,” she hedges nervously. “And I’m not saying I couldn’t, um, behave--”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up.” The words come out fast, pinched. Maybe she’s being too pushy; Obi likes to tease, but that doesn’t mean he’s always in the mood to-- “I’m definitely not going to be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“O-oh.” Well. That’s hitting different tonight. Maybe because it’s already over ninety, and her temp is climbing with it. Or maybe because she’s only wrapped up in the thinnest, most barely-there clothes she has; the kind he could rip like tissue paper--

Or maybe because it’s been two weeks, and despite going eighteen years without needing any sexual contact, she’s as tragically hard up as a teen comedy protagonist.

“I didn’t know you were...in a bind.” His voice drops to a rumble, and ah, that is not helping the situation. Her thighs slip against each other, trying to dull the ache. “You know I’m always happen to lend a hand when you need it, kid.”

“It not that bad,” she murmurs, but it’s starting to get there the longer he talks. The more she thinks about him showing up tomorrow, just them alone in her house-- “And you didn’t have time to come over.”

“I don’t need to come over.” He’s laughing, but there’s something in it that’s more, that’s almost a purr. “Come on, kid, I gave you those earphones for a reason. Hands free.”

“O-oh.” She’s all too aware of them now, clipped over her ears. Her hand’s only holding the screen out of habit. Hands free.

“I mean, if you’re really hard up,” he hums, “we could do something about it now. Take the edge off.”

She-- she shouldn’t. “Obi! You don’t really mean...?”

“Absolutely. I’d really like to--” his voice cracks,and oh, oh-- “it’s been so long since I made you come, babe.”

(”Well, that’s the last vote for Dreamiest Hair,” Shirayuki sighs, her flyaways dancing at the edge of her vision. “What’s the next category?”

Kihal glances down and grins. “Sexiest Voice.”

She gapes. “Is Mrs Gazalt really going to let us give out an award for that?”

“Mrs Gazalt takes her position of club supervisor very seriously,” Kihal informs her, “and by that I mean, she sits in the corner playing Words with Friends and just lets us do what we want, as long as it isn’t dangerous. Or illegal.”

“Still.” Her mouth pulls tight, a grim line across her face. If the rest of the club could see her now, her Cutest Smile win would be revoked. “That seems, I don’t know...”

“Like it wouldn’t be a contest? I know.” Kihal shrugs. “But that’s what the freshmen picked. I guess they’re just really hoping Obi will growl through his whole acceptance speech.”

“No, I-- wait, Obi?” Her mouth is dry suddenly. She crosses her legs beneath the table. “Why would--? Obi?”

Kihal rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, you’ve heard him over the headset. He’s got that whole like, gravel thing going on. And when he gets heated with someone, like that time with Raj, hoo--” she fans herself-- “I know you have a thing for Zen, but like, I still don’t know how you didn’t jump him.”

Her cheeks burn, painfully. “I-I don’t-- that’s not--”

“Come on, Shirayuki,” she clucks, rolling her eyes. “You have ears. That couldn’t have done nothing for you.”

At the time she’d been so mortified that Raj had not only followed her to the place that was supposed to be her escape, but that he’d brought up what happened, like it didn’t even bother him--

Well, sex had been the last thing on her mind. At least the actual, arousing kind. But now, now--

Listen, I’m sure you have a lot to say but I really can’t-- his voice breaks, and the phantom pressure of his fingers weighs on her lips-- I was supposed to have your back, and I fucked up. I know it doesn’t make up for what happen but I-- his breath rasps from his throat, so raw that hers hurts in sympathy-- I’m sorry.

--she gets it.

“Right, um--” it’s hard to think with her face so hot-- “we should still count the votes anyway.”)

(He wins in a landslide. His acceptance speech at the drama banquet is so suggestive that he ends up with half a dozen panties shoved into his pockets. They tumble out of his jacket when he leans over the console to kiss her, right over the stick shift and onto her lap.

What am I gonna do with a bunch of ladies underwear? he’d murmured against her lips, fingers toying at the strap of her gown, earning her own personal vote. You need any, kid?)

“O-okay.”

“Wha-what?” She winces at the loud bang over the speakers, followed by a softer, more distant “Fuck.”

“Ah, is everything--?”

“Fine,” Obi assures her, sounding like maybe some of his limbs are out of order. “Just...dropped my phone. I didn’t...are you sure?”

Her fingers clench in her sheets. “Yes. I just...don’t really know how to start.”

“Well.” His voice drops playfully low. “Are you in the position?”

“Is the position laying down?” she asks, nervous. “Because I’m laying down.”

He tries to smother it, but she would know his laugh anywhere. “Yeah, great. Good. You’re ready?”

Shirayuki squirms against her pillow, legs rubbing together so hard they should chirp, like some sort of horny cricket. “I guess...”

Obi doesn’t hide his laugh now, just lets it rumble out from his chest in a way that is...not helping. Or maybe it is, considering the whole...situation. “You guess?”

“I just--” am terrified-- “don’t understand.”

He grunts, and by the sound of rustling in her ears, gets comfortable. “What’s holding you up?”

Everything. “It’s better if we just wait isn’t it? I mean to do this, um...”

In person. With someone who knows how to touch her, instead of her fumbling around and showing just how bad at all this sexy stuff she can be.

“This involves sexy talking, doesn’t it?” If distress is a destination, then she’s already laid out a lawn chair and ordered a drink from the cabana. She’s hopeless when her speeches are planned and PG, let alone when she’s trying to improv and it’s about-- about-- “Do I have to talk about penises?”

He makes an ungodly noise. “Kid.”

“I just don’t think I have the experience to talk about them with any sort of authority,” she presses on, brain undaunted by how ridiculous she sounds. “Especially if I’m also supposed to be doing...other things. It’s really--”

“Shirayuki--” he says her name so soft, so fond, and she knows, she knows-- “you should learn how to do it yourself, too.”

--that he’s seen right through her.

“I don’t see why,” she mumbles stubbornly, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. “You’re going to Lyrias too. Your room is in the building next door, and it’s connected to mine! I don’t really think I need to learn how to-- to--” she whines, the words sticking in her throat-- “this!”

“Kid.” He heaves a sigh, and even though she’s dying from the mortification of Being Known, it sends shivers right through her. “Just because you’re subscribed to Sexy Culinary School Weekly with Obi doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to cook on your own.”

“You magazine needs to work on its name.”

“Yeah, let me just go workshop it with Princess Prettymane and Calico Dog.”

“It’s duchess.”

“You know that doesn’t make it better, right?” he deadpans. “Princess Prettymane at least has alliteration. Also,” his voice lilts, playful, “you’re trying to change the subject. Which is cute, and really makes me want to kiss you until you worry that we’re going to ruin another pair of tights, but--”

“I’m not wearing tights right now.”

His jaw snaps shut.

“See,” he manages after a long moment, hoarse, “that is a very distracting thing to say.”

The gravel in his voice scrapes at an itch she didn’t know she had, heat painting a searing line down her spine. She’s already slick from sweat, but this adds another texture to it, one that’s growing more insistent by the second.

“And very confusing.” She doesn’t know what it says that even his complaints are doing it for her. “Since a few seconds ago, you weren’t sure if you could talk sexy, and now you’re telling me all sorts of things.”

“I was just...informing you. Of the situation.” Her nails pluck nervously at her waistband. “It’s summer, so, um, no tights.”

“Oh right,” he breathes, wry, “just setting the scene.”

“You know,” she tries again, too shrill, “I’m really fine with how you do it. I don’t really think-- I mean, is it really necessary that I have to--?”

“Kid, you’re the one that said okay,” he reminds her. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s just better for you if you know what you like. That way if you...”

His breath rasps from his throat. “...You should know what you like, separate from, ah, someone else.”

It’s a nice wrapping job he’s done on this baggage, but even with only a year under her belt, she knows what the tag on this one says. “I’m not going to go to college and suddenly not want you anymore, Obi.”

“I know that,” he says, but he doesn’t, not really. Obi doesn’t really talk much about before, about all the girls he’s snuck into his room or met at a party or whatever, but he thinks that all this, this whole wanting to put Tab A into Slot B thing, is the default. That you meet someone and maybe you talk a little and then bingo-bango-bongo, you know if you want to get on a horizontal surface with them.

He doesn’t get that this, for her, isn’t her normal. If Zen hadn’t been kind to her that first day, if he hadn’t helped Kihal with her Brecker problem, if the rumors surrounding them hadn’t whipped up to a fevered pitch so even she couldn’t ignore them-- well, Shirayuki wouldn’t have even been thinking about romance.

So the fact that she can look at him and feel like she’s walked into the country club’s sauna with her school clothes on-- that different. That’s special. That’s not going to just happen with someone she meets in an 8AM lecture.

If only she were as good with word things as her English grades suggested she should be, she’d be to tell him that.

“This isn’t about...” Obi lets out a disgruntled huff. “Listen, I know I definitely had some inspired ideas about what you would like from...before--”

(She’s still panting as she comes down, tremors zipping up and down her spine, “How did you...?”

Obi smiles, a wide Cheshire Cat grin. Fitting, since she definitely feels like she’s been dragged down the rabbit hole. “How did I what, kid?”

“Know to do that. With my hips,” She smooths her palms over where he’d grabbed them. They ache; it wouldn’t surprise her if she had hand-shaped bruises slapped across them tomorrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d like that.” Obi curls into her side, too pleased. He’s hard against her hip, but-- she likes it. “When I caught you coming off that ladder, you made that little hiccuppy noise, so I figured...pretty sensitive right?”

She stares.

He blinks. “What, did I say something--?”

“Obi” she manages, “that was four months ago.”)

“But if you knew what you liked...” She doesn’t need to see him to know there’s a feral smile stretching across his face. “I could do much better.”

Oh, that sounds...nice. She shifts, and she-- she leaks, thick slick coating the tops of her thighs.

“Besides, if we’re going to bring toys into the equation,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the conversation, “you should know what makes you feel good without any electronic intervention, if you know what I mean.”

Ah, she-- she definitely does.

“Toys?” she squeaks. “I don’t-- I don’t remember any, um, toy talk.”

Obi hums, amused. “Well, I did promise you a good graduation gift.”

“You--you already gave me one!” Her hand skips up to run over the smooth plastic. “I’m using it right now!”

“Mm.” He’s too pleased with himself, like he’s caught her scent on the air from all the way across town. “But you won’t need them much at school. So...”

“I won’t need t-that at school either!” She’s glad she’s got these headphones; her cheeks would be making her phone’s screen go haywire. “I’ll have you, and I’m very, um, happy with your performance. I don’t think we need to add, um, props.”

“As chuffed as I am to have you appreciating my prowess, kid--” oh he’s going to be unlivable after this, she can just tell-- “that’s all the more reason to have something in the wings to mix it up. Especially since we’re waiting t-to--” he stumbles, voice dropping to a murmur-- “I mean, since we both want to, um...”

He’s so tortured trying to talk about it without actually talking about it that she takes pity on him. “Since I’m afraid of penises, but we both like to touch each other.”

“I mean, since we’re waiting to have sex,” he manages, pained. “Or at least, the kind that involves dicks and, ah, going places.”

She’s been around him too long, because without even missing a beat, she claps back, “Oh, I didn’t realize yours was having its own hero journey.”

“It has certainly felt a Call to Adventure,” he mumbles, “and a Woman as a Temptress.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, a Meeting with the Goddess,” he amends, quick enough that she grins. “And once again, you’re trying to distract me. Though I thought it would more like ‘clothes I am missing’ instead of ‘Campell’s seventeen stages thesis.’“

“I’m sticking to what I know,” she tells him primly. “But I suppose I could tell you that, um, I’m not wearing a bra?”

He grunts, gutted. “Ohh, you are really just trying to make this difficult.” He adds, a little waspish, “All this trouble better be working for you, because it’s definitely working for me.”

“Oh, are you--” she swallows, hoping he can’t hear it-- “did you really want to try that?”

“Ah, I mean...” His breath comes sharp, short. “Yeah. If you would like to.”

Her breath catches. “I haven’t really, um...”

Done this. Ever. It would be so easy to say it, but it’s just-- belaboring the point. He knows. He just...thinks she’s a much better student than she is. At least about things like this.

“Listen, I haven’t...” He hesitates, and she realizes-- he’s embarrassed. “This isn’t something I’ve done with anyone before. You know I’m not really anyone’s...long term option.”

Grandad always says that she shoots from the cuff-- a nice way of saying doesn’t think before talking-- but she doesn’t regret it, not one bit, when she blurts out, “You’re mine.”

Obi’s breath rasps into the speaker. “Y-yeah. I know.” With a swallow, he adds, “And I know you think I have a lot of experience, but there’s a lot out there to try, and I haven’t even brushed the surface of it, you know? And I just thought, knowing you, knowing how curious you are...”

She blinks. “You mean...you’ve never been with someone long enough to, um, explore?”

“Ah, plenty of people would pick up Sexy Culinary Weekly up off the rack, but um--” he huffs out a laugh, soft and self-deprecating-- “you’d be the first to pick up a subscription.”

Shirayuki doesn’t like to pry, but for a good long moment, she considers asking for a list with some names. Just to talk, of course.

She takes a deep breath instead, trying to focus. “So you want to-- to explore with me?”

“If you want to,” he’s quick to say. “I know all of this is...new. I just thought since we won’t be doing a, ah, traditional progression here--”

“Traditional?”

He sighs. “You know, the uh, porn formula. Fingering, hand job, blow job, eating--”

“OKAY,” she yelps, clapping a hand to her face. “I get it!”

“Right, well, there’s a lot between what we’re doing and PIV.” She nearly giggles at how he says it, piv, like it’s a word and not an acronym. It's almost...cute. Like an adorable monster she could get a plushie of, instead of something that involved penises and could make her pregnant.

“And since we’re not doing any of that soon,” he continues, “we could, ah...take the scenic route. And maybe that would be a little less intimidating for you, since we’d both be new at...whatever we’re doing, instead of feeling like you had to catch up.”

Her heart flutters, and the warmth in her gut spreads up to her chest. “I think you’re mixing metaphors.”

“Sorry, I can’t think of cooking puns for everything,” he deadpans. “Think of it as not having to rush to read back issues, I guess.”

She hums. “I think you’re asking me to help with recipe development.”

“Well, if we’re going to embark on culinary adventures together--” he presses, voice bubbling like he’s trying to keep down a laugh. Several, if she’s anything to go by-- “then you should be comfortable with what your body likes before we add any...additional ingredients. You have to learn to do it the right way before we do it the easy way.”

“Oh,” she breathes. Obi was definitely starting to have a point about doing all this now. “Like New Math.”

“Wow, kid,” he deadpans, “really getting right down to the dirty talk.”

She flushes. Good thing he can’t see her. “I-I thought that was your job.”

He laughs, a rumble she feels right down to her bones. “You’re right. What are you wearing?”

She coughs. “Really?”

“I’m trying to set the scene,” he informs her, far too innocent. “This is a delicate shared fantasy we’re making. Wouldn’t want you to get thrown out of it because I mention panties and you’re wearing boyshorts.”

“I’m not wearing underwear,” she blurts out. “Wearing it overnight increasing the chance of yeast infections.”

Ah, there it is: the regret. It would be nice if she could just...not be like this. If she could just think through what she says when she’s nervous, instead of talking about diseased vaginas with her boyfriend while he’s trying to...make love at her, or whatever.

Now she has to contend with this endless silence, wishing that her mortification would at least dampen her desire even a little. Heaven knows they wouldn’t doing any recipe development tonight, after that. “O-obi?”

“Sorry, I just--” his throat makes a hollow thunk that echoes over the line-- “I got distracted.”

She blinks. “By what?”

“Thinking about how much I want to be there,” he admits, “and what I’d do to you if I was.”

“O-oh.” Maybe some culinary adventure wasn’t...so off the table as she thought. “A-and what would that be?”

A strangled groan tears between them. “I want to eat you out so bad.”

That-- that was not what she’d thought he’d say. “Really?”

“Yeah.” His sigh is strained. “You make such good noises.”

“You like it?” Her thighs clench, and oh, she wishes she knew what to do about it. “I figured it would taste...weird.”

Not that she’s ever tried. But she’s tasted blood (too coppery, bad texture), and well, boogers (too salty; thanks, childhood), and she can’t imagine that can taste much better.

“No,” he hums. “You taste just right. Are you touching yourself yet?”

There’s no way to explain she’s just been rating bodily fluids on a scale of most to least appetizing, so she settles with, “N-no.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, now that he’s reminded her that her body isn’t just some inconvenient appendage for her brain, Shirayuki can’t forget that it’s there. And she certainly can’t ignore the heat between her legs, or the way her skin feels as sensitive as flash paper, ready to burn up at a moment’s notice.

“You should do that,” he tells her, just short of a command, and ah, yeah, that’s sounding like a better and better idea every second. “What are you wearing?”

She’s out of cutesy stalling tactics. Or at least, she can’t think of any, not when her vagina seems to have a pulse of its own. “A tank top. And pajama shorts.”

“Sounds cute,” he breathes. “Put your hand down them.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Pubic hair crinkles under the tips of her fingers, scratchy against her palm. It’s wet too, tangling when she tries to slide further down so she just..doesn’t. “What now?”

“What do you usually do?”

He’s panting just the barest bit, and the sound of him already so undone is what spurs her to admit, “I, um, usually don’t do anything.”

“But you’ve tried before.” She should have never told him that. “What did you do then?”

“I, um--” she licks her lips, nervous-- “put my fingers inside?”

“Right away?” He laughs, and it’s fond, gentle. “No wonder you’ve never gotten much of anywhere. How about you just cup yourself now.”

She does. Little hairs wrap themselves around her fingers, coming loose, and oh, those always refuse to wash off later, clinging to her with the same tenacity as glitter. It’s comforting to feel weight there, at least, even if it clearly isn’t Obi’s. Still, it’s...vaguely unpleasant.

“I don’t feel much,” she reports, trying not to let her frustration leak through. Maybe she just isn’t cut out for masturbation.

“You wouldn’t,” he confirms, “you need to part your lips first.”

She nearly does, until she thinks better of it. “What does that have to do with--?”

“Not your mouth.” He’s barely covering a laugh. “Your other lips.”

“O-oh.” Of course. That makes...more sense.

Her fingers splay, parting her flesh, and ahh, there is...a lot more of her than she remembers. She’s read about lips blooming like flowers before-- mostly in the books Nanna likes to read-- but nothing had ever...blossomed down there for her before. But it’s definitely all petals and sepals now, if things like that were made out of flesh. She saw something like that once, on one of those Syfy shows her grans liked to watch when she was a kid--

She jolts as something slaps her hard, right on the breast, and oh, she’s-- she’s forgotten she’s still holding the phone. Or at least, she was. Now her hand is boneless, empty, and her screen has belly-flopped right onto her boob.

“Oh, um, wait.” She fumbles with it, one-handed, trying to find some place to put it. “I need to--I need to put down my phone.”

He hums, bemused. “Two hands would help.”

Shirayuki’s definitely struggling with one, that’s for sure. Her bedside table is too far for her headphones to reach without tugging; the bed itself is just asking for her to squirm her way to an End Call. She’s stuck discovering all this with one hand plastered in between her thighs, dipping between her vulva in a way that can only be termed distracting.

By the time she settles it on her pillow, far enough away to avoid any mishap via cheek smooshing, she’s practically panting. Maybe she needs to take up a sport at Lyrias; Mathletes clearly isn’t cutting it.

“Okay,” she sighs, dropping back onto her bed. “Now I’m ready. I am parting my...myself. What’s next?”

“Are you wet?”

Well, if she wasn’t before, she certainly is now. “I, um, think so?”

“All right.” His bed groans, like he’s shifting on it, and oh, how she wishes she knew what he looked like now. “Just start sliding your fingers around. You know where your clit is, right?”

“Yes,” she manages, squirming as she rubs at her folds. “I’ve seen a diagram before.”

He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that sends a shiver down her spine, and yeah, she can take a real good guess at where her clit might be. “Don’t touch it.”

Her fingers still. “Why not?”

“You’re sensitive,” he tells her, so casual. “You get squirmy when I touch it directly. I mean, feel free to try...maybe you’re a lighter touch than I am. You could like it.”

She’s about to balk-- if it doesn’t feel good when he does it, she’s not going to do any better-- when his voice drops and he adds, “Tell me if you do.”

Well, let it not be said that Shirayuki doesn’t believe in science. Which is the reason she’s doing this. Hypothesis testing. Not because her boyfriend asked in a ridiculously sexy way.

With a steeling breath, she swipes her clit with the pad of her finger and-- y i k e s.

She grits her teeth, nerves still jangling. “Um, yeah, that didn’t feel great.”

“Too bad.”

With a sigh, she stretches her neck, hoping to get that raised-hackles feel out of it and-- oh.

Rum Tum stares down at her with his glassy black eyes, mouth stitched into its permanent smile. That’s really...not helping.

“Um.” Duchess Prettymane is next to him, head tilted in question. Calico Dog is definitely just...judging her. “Give me one second.”

With her free hand, she turns each of her stuffies around, placing them in a line on her window sill. They don’t need to see any of this.

“Okay.” She settles back into her pillows. “So I definitely don’t touch that. I just...touch around it?”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, amused. “But no rubbing! Long strokes, just barely brushing it, both fingers, one on either side.” She can hear his grin when he adds, “You like to be teased.”

She wants to protest that; she nearly does, but--

Her fingers skid over her folds, tracing just around the lip of her slit, stopping just shy of her clit, and-- mm, all right, he, ah, definitely has a point. This feels much better.

Still, she’s so used to Obi’s touch; he lingers in all the right places, calluses catching on her clit in a way that makes her writhe. Her own fingers are too tiny and her movements too awkward. She’s too wet too; as much as it’s definitely helping with the, um, sensations she’s feeling, controlling her fingers makes her feel like a contestants on one of those Japanese game shows. Just when she thinks she’s gotten it, when she’s starting to build to something interesting if not good--

“How is it?”

She nearly nicks herself with a nail. “Better when you do it.”

“Ah, I see,” he hums. “A pillow princess--”

Shirayuki has absolutely no idea what that means, but she knows she’s being teased. “No--!”

A thunk stops her mid-thought. Her hand snaps away from her shorts. “Did you hear that?”

“Kid--”

She eyes the door warily. “Do you think it’s Nanna?”

Obi smothers a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure that was just your phone.”

“No, I put it behind my--” she looks down, and oh yes, there it is, right on the floor.

“Oh,” she breathes, mortified. “Oh. Right. Just, um, give me a minute.”

It’s a tricky proposition trying to fish it off the floor. For one, her bed is high and her arms are short-- oh, she was so committed to the whole fairy bower aesthetic of lofting her bed when she was twelve, but now it’s really inconvenient-- and for another, one hand is contaminated with, um, juices, and though she doesn’t want to smear any of that all over her phone--

Well, wiping it on the sheets is a bad decision. Nanna’s nose is sharp, and if there’s one conversation she doesn’t want to happen, it’s why does you bed smell like sex, Shirayuki? She’s done well not getting grounded so far, despite the number of times Obi’s been caught shirtless in her room, but she knows better than to try to test her grandmother’s patience on it.

Shirayuki drops to her belly, elbow digging into the mattress to ground her. Her finger are just long enough to brush the screen--

“Hey kid,” Obi sighs, “do you actually want to do this?”

She yelps. Only a quickly placed hand keeps her from meeting her carpet face first. She does have her phone though. “What?”

“I thought that this was going to be fun and sexy, but now...” He grunts, uneasy. “It seems like I might forcing you, and that’s really not what I wanted to happen. If you don’t want--”

“NO! I mean,” she manages, throwing herself back on her bed, “you have a point. Even though I prefer you touching me by lot--”

Obi hums, too smug.

“--we can’t always make the time to, um, do that.” It’s be nice if the bed could just swallow her whole right now, put her out of her misery, but-- she wants this. She wants him, and part of that is having terrible conversations that make her feel like a five alarm fire in a fireworks factory. “And if we’re having trouble just a few houses away, I’m sure we’ll find a way to have it when you’re only a few doors down too. Which is fine, it’s not like I have to, um...”

He makes a noise, intrigued, and oh, she really hates how badly she does want to keep this boyfriend. If only she liked him less, then she wouldn’t have to talk about any of this at all.

“I just mean, sometimes I think about you when we can’t be together--”

“Sometimes?”

“You know what I mean,” she snips, annoyed. “Sometimes I think about you in a specific way and I get a little, um, stuck. And that can be frustrating. So it’s probably better that I learn this now, than--

“Wait.” He’s breathless, unfocused. “Are you telling me you’ve been all...stuck lately?”

“N-no!” That is really not what she wants to be talking about right now. “I mean, a-a little? Kind of.”

She can hear the rush of his breath through his nose, his long thoughtful pause--

“Do you need some inspiration?” He’s eager, voice tight and nearly winded. “Purely above the waist, of course.”

It occurs to her that he means pictures; pictures of the adult variety. The yes leaps to her lips, but oh, what if Nanna saw it, and--

“Here, one sec.”

He’s not joking; barely a second later her phone buzzes, snapchat informing her that Obi has a new photo. She frowns, flicking open the app, and -- oh. Yes. That was. Definitely not there a few moments ago.

He’s naked from the waist up, lounging in a pair of gym shorts, his legs spread wide where he sits, and-- “Are you, um...?”

“Hot?” he growls playfully. “For you, yeah.”

“Hard,” she blurts out, since she never misses an opportunity to make a fool of herself. It would be nice if her curiosity could take a vacation for a day or two. Give her skin a break.

“Oh. Um. Yeah,” he grunts. “I mean, I’m trying to get you off, and I’m think about touching you. Sort of...a natural response.”

“But you aren’t touching yourself?”

“We hadn’t really talked about that,” he murmurs shyly. “This is supposed to be about you. I didn’t want to get distracted.”

“Ah...” That place between her legs throbs. She snakes a hand under her waistband, and oh, they’ve barely lost any ground at all. “You should.”

“W-what?”

“Touch yourself,” she tells him, running her fingers over her folds. “I think it would help.”

“Oh.” She might as well have hit him for the way that bursts out of him. “I didn’t--”

“I can give you inspiration too.” She whips off her tank before she can think better of it, struggling when she realizes, no, one hand will definitely not be enough to get the job done--

And then it’s nothing to take a picture, or to send it. A few taps and he’s choking, “Did-- did you mean to send this to me?”

It’s then that it strikes her: she just sent a naked picture to her boyfriend. Well, a half naked picture, but for what he could see she might as well have done the whole thing.

“Oh, is that-- is that okay?” She drags her safe hand over her face, sweat clinging to her palm. “I should have checked--”

“Yes!” he pants, half wild. “Yes, this is okay, Very, very okay. I just...you really want me to use this? For, uh, jacking off?”

“Could you?”

“Haah,” he breathes. “Yes. God, your breasts are so good, babe. And your face...”

“Then yes.” She licks her lips, nervous. “Please.”

“I don’t really need the help,” he warns, “I’m a real pro at this.”

“I want you to.” She doesn’t know how she says it without even a stutter. The thought of him touching himself like that, knowing that he’s thinking of her, just her-- “I want you to touch your-- you--”

“Really, kid, you don’t have to--”

“Cock.”

Just saying it shakes her up like a soda can, ready to burst, and she almost wishes she could take it back, that she could unsay half this conversation-- until he groans; the frantic slide of clothes loud from his end of the phone.

“What do you-- what should I--?”

He sounds so lost, his words hardly above a whine, and that’s the only reason she’s able to say, “I want you to, um, stroke it?”

“Yeah, I am-- I am already there, babe,” he assures her, voice throaty and strained. “You’re touching yourself too, right? You’re wet?”

“Y-yeah.” She slides her hand under the band, and ah, she hadn’t know it was possible to be wetter, that her thighs could be slick nearly to the edge of her shorts, but here she is. “I like hearing you. I-I mean...after graduation, when we went to the field, I--” she licks her lips, mouth so dry-- “I really wanted to hear you come again.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” His mattress creaks, distressed. “That was-- that was two months ago. You could have just--” he hisses, so sensitive-- “god, I would have come for you anytime.”

“Could you?” It comes out coyer than she expects, far too confident to sound like her, and she nearly apologizes, until he-- he--

He whimpers.

“If I asked really nice,” she hums, fingers skating along her folds, clit pulsing with how much she wants this, wants him. “Could you come for me again?”

He groans, pained. “Y-yeah. I could definitely arrange something.”

“Now?”

“Shit. Fuck.” He moans, but it trails off into a laugh. “Definitely won’t take long if you keep this up.”

“Good,” she sighs, pace quickening, her fingers daring to loop ever closer to the crux of her problem. “I want to hear you. It’s been so long...”

She hesitates. Obi is always the one to tease, and her the one that squirms away, the one that needs to be cajoled back into the scene, but now--

Well, the shoe is on the other foot isn’t it. “It’s been so long,” she says again, only this time she lets her voice go breathy, lets it linger on the cusp of whine. “Don’t make me wait, Obi...”

He doesn’t.

“Fuck,” is the only word he manages before he’s groaning, whimpering, making every sexy sound he can at once as he comes hard.

“Haah,” he moans, breath heaving. “That was-- that was definitely not how I expected this call to go.”

Shirayuki stills her fingers, mouth slanting into a smirk. She’d always wondered how Obi could watch her orgasm and not want to do it himself, not need to do it when she’s dying every time, but-- now she gets it. She may not have come, but there’s something supremely satisfying in watching-- no, listening to him fall apart instead.

“Oh?” She still sounds coy. Like Obi does every time she goes half-blind from the force of her own climax.

“You didn’t come, did you?” He’s put out, and she can tell his eyebrows are drawn, that his jaw is set. “I could--”

“No, no, don’t worry about me,” she assures him. “I’m fine. Besides, we have to get up tomorrow.”

“Ah, fuck, right. Senior Day.” He sighs. “All right, fine. But next time--”

“Next time,” she agrees. “Though I really enjoyed this time too.”

He makes a noise that sounds like dying. “Yeah, well, that’s great, but I’m not the one who needs to learn how to get off like a champ. But whatever,” he sighs, “we have all the time in the world for you to get it.”

Her chest warms, and she smiles against her pillow. “Right. I’ll see you tomorrow? Bright an early?”

He groans. “Yeah, yeah. Bright and early. Good night, kid.”

#obiyukiweek20 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #lemon #my fic #rarely pure and never simple #listen this originally was supposed to run parallel to zen and kihal's B-side #BUT HERE WE ARE #this little opener turning into a whole fic in itself #but i promise #NEXT TIME IS SENIOR DAY

28 notes · View notes