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space-mermaid-writing · 3 years

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House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #House Arrest #Chapter 1 #my writing #Clint #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson #imagine #chef reader #mcu #marvel

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navalcriminalimagines · 4 years

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Going to the beach with Gibbs+ him seeing reader in a bikini for the first time

i’m sorry this took me that much time! i hope you’ll enjoy it!

warnings : smut

Mexico

you met Leyla and Amira when Leyla’s mother tried to get them back. You immediately hit off with Leyla, talking about difference things, mostly personal. Amira loves you and it didn’t take her long to call you Aunt Y/N. When she asked if you were Uncle Gibbs’ lover, Leyla saw something in your eyes, and she knew.

She is now the only one that knows, or actually the only one you talked about it with. Ever since they went back to Mexico, Leyla keeps telling you to visit them. Seeing the man you love flirting with some lawyer lady, you thought it was the right time to take some time off.

One night, before going home, you gave Gibbs a paper, “What’s this?” he asked, barely looking at the paper.

“I need you to sign it,” you said. “I’m taking a week off, now that our case is over,” Gibbs hummed in answer, and quickly signed the paper, before handed it to you. “Thanks,” you said and you were gone.

The flight didn’t take that much time, you couldn’t wait to get there. Leyla welcomed you with a hug at the airport without Leyla, “so good to see you, Y/N,”

The weather was amazing. Hot and sunny, it took you two days to get tanned. You were having fun with the girls and Mike Franks. The man probably knows something’s up, he keeps teasing you about Gibbs. “I thought he was coming with you,” “He sure is missing something,” he said when he saw you in your bikini.

“Shut up, Franks,” you just answered, with a smile. How do you wish Gibbs was there.

“He’s probably screwing over with that lawyer,” you told Leyla, on the third day. You two were on the beach at night, enjoying the beautiful view and the warm weather.

“I’m convinced he feels things for you,” Leyla told you. “Mike is too,”

Indeed, Mike does think so. That’s why he did everything he could to bring Gibbs to Mexico. On the fifth day, a friday, Franks went to the city and came back two hours later, with Gibbs. You were playing in the ocean with Amira while Leyla was making dinner.

“Gibbs, I’m glad you came,” she hugged him.

“Nice to see you, Leyla,” he smiled. “Where’s my goddaughter?”

“Beach with Y/N,” she winked at him.

Gibbs dropped his bag in one of the bedroom, figuring out just now it was where you were sleeping. There’s no other room in the house. Is he going to share a bed with you? He can’t do that and not making a move. He’s going to sleep on the couch.

He made his way to the beach, seeing barely your head and Amira’s heads out of the water. He saw her jumping on you, trying to drown you playfully. Neither you or Amira saw him coming, until he had his feet on the water. He only had a beach shorts on and sunglasses. Your heart almost stopped when you realized it was him. “Uncle Gibbs,” Amira shouted. He smiled. She tried to run in the water to get to him, he grabbed her and made her spin before hugging and kissing her, “Hey sweetheart! You having fun with aunt Y/N?”

“Yes, i’m trying to drown her! can you help me?” she asked with a big grin.

“I’m waiting for her to greet me first,” he spoke up, making sure you heard it. Your body was still underwater. You stood up slowly, reveling your perfect shaped body, and glowing skin. Gibbs’s heart sunk at this very moment. He watched you walking up to him, Amira still in his arms. He lost all his strength as he stared at you, he had to put the little girl down.

“Hey you,” you said when you were standing right in front of him. “Isn’t that a surprise?”

“H-Hi there,” he managed to say. “Mike invited me. Hope you don’t mind,” he did his best not to look at you from head to toes. You were so beautiful. Your bikini was only hiding what it has to hide. You didn’t have big boobs but it was perfectly shaped for your body. Gibbs imagined for a second what it would be like to touch, hold, caress and kiss them.

“Uncle Gibbs, are you coming in the water or are we going to just stand there?” Leyla said.

He smiled and grabbed you by the waist, putting you over his shoulder like a potato bag. One of his hands softly brushed your firm ass, sending shivers in your spine. “Gibbs! Not my h—“ he threw you in the water. Which was the worst idea. When you got back on your feet, you rise from water like the most beautiful mermaid. “You’ll pay for this,” you said playfully, Amira was still laughing. You looked at her and tried to grab her but Gibbs protected her from you, putting his arm around your chest. You had your back against his chest, skin to skin. You loved it. “Come on sweetie,” he invited Amira to drown you.

The three of you played until Mike called out for you. Dinner was ready, Franks offered a glass of bourbon to Gibbs and a beer to you. You had a really nice dinner all together. Amira quickly fell asleep in your arms, exhausting from playing all day.

Sun was going down, you had a little summer dress, with your bikini still on. The dress didn’t cover much more, Gibbs was enjoying the view. Leyla and Franks agreed to go back inside, leaving you two alone. “Are you having nice vacations?” he asked.

“Amazing. I understand why you wanted to retire here years ago. It’s beautiful and peaceful,” you said, like at the sea and the yellow-orange sky.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming. Mike had been bothering me since monday,” he told you, “I’m leaving on sunday and you can stay a few more days if you want,”

“I’d love to, but it has to stay occasional. Otherwise, I won’t enjoy it as much as I am now,”

A silence built itself between you. As you watched the sea, you thought about a midnight bath with him. How wonderful would it be? Your naked bodies in the water, touching each other, kissing, making out, making love... You were sad he put a t-shirt back on. You loved the early sight on your bare chest, haired as you imagined, strong and shaped like you love. Should you make a move? Is Leyla right? Is he interested? You looked at him from time to time. You noticed he was looking too.

“Water is at the perfect temperature at this hour,” you let him know.

He looked again at you and chuckled. “Need to check that by myself,” he stood up, and offered his hand. You took it and you and Gibbs walked to the sea, hand in hand. He watched taking off your dress, reveling your body again. He needs to get into water before you saw him getting hard. He followed your lead and the two of you got into water.

“It’s not midnight yet but feels like a midnight bath,” you said.

“We aren’t naked,” he answered.

“Yet,” you murmured but he heard and smiled. A short moment after, he showed off his shorts “I am,” he said.

This was no or never. “Give me a hand?” you turned your back at him. Your hair were tied in a messy bun, Gibbs softly went for your bikini’s knot. He undone the first on your neck and the second in your back. You felt his fingers brushing your skin. You felt like you were missing air. You held on your top for a moment, before letting it go on the water. You still had your back to him, and you took off your bottom. “I am, too,” you said.

Neither of you knew what to do for a long moment. Although he couldn’t see it, knowing you were naked made Gibbs semi hard. “You are beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered. You took a step back so your body was against his. it didn’t matter for the water. You felt his cock against your ass. You wanted him more than you ever did. Gibbs gently kissed your neck, shoulder and collarbone. You hummed in content. He made you spin around so you were facing him, he didn’t even looked at your breast, he immediately went to kiss you deeply.

You let access to his tongue in your mouth. One of your hand was in his hair and the other on his chest, while his hands were rubbing your back and ended on your ass. As he grabbed your ass’ cheeks, you moaned in his mouth which made him smile. Gibbs was getting fully hard, his cock slid between your legs. “Don’t want to ruin the mood but I don’t want our first time to be a quickie in the sea,” you said.

“Me neither,” he answered but stopping kissing and touching you was impossible for Gibbs. He grabbed your legs to make them around his waist. He started to walk out off water, until you both became self aware you were completely naked on the beach. The waves took your clothes to opposite sides. You laughed and Gibbs followed you.

After you recollected your things, you put your dress on and told Gibbs to wait for you. You ran to the house, took a blanket and went back to him. You grabbed his hand as you were running, not giving him time to realize he had to run too.

There was a hidden spot further on the beach. You put the blanket on the sand and took off your dress again. Gibbs didn’t give you another second, he picked you up again before laying you down, kissing you passionately.

His erection came back as quickly. “you sure about this?” he asked.

“More than anything,” you kissed him.

His hands were traveling your body. He grabbed one of your breast and caressed it for a moment before moving to the other. Then his mouth found its way to it, and you moaned. He loved the sounds you were making. While he sucked on your nipple, his right hand moved to your pussy, softly touching your bottom lips. He could feel how wet you were, “So wet already,” he smiled against your skin.

“Don’t want—teasing, Jethro. I need you inside of me,” you whispered to his ear.

“Let me enjoy the view first,” he got on his knees, in front of you. He looked for a moment at your naked body, laying there just for him. It was the most beautiful sight he ever saw. Your body was perfect in every way. And the way you looked at him was making him melt. You had love and desire in your eyes. So did he.

“FYI, I’m on birth control,” you let him know. With your hand, you reached for his hard cock but he didn’t let you.

“No teasing you said,” he intertwined his fingers with yours and lined himself with your center. He stoked his cock against your clit a few times before sliding inside of you. The contact made you both growled from pleasure. He laid on you, kissed you and started to thrust. Slow and deeply. He kept the pace for a moment, stopped at a moment when he was at the deepest inside you. You both stared deep in each other eyes, and he went back at it. You were out of words, the feeling was too much. Gibbs was making love to you. He started to go faster, and faster until he felt you were getting close. So was he but there’s no was he was coming before you did.

“I’m gonna cum, J,” you let him know.

“Cum with me, baby,” he said. Gibbs was fucking you as fast as you could until he felt your body tensed against his, your pussy tighten around his cock, and you were telling how much you were loving it, how good he was. That feeling and your words made him cum too. He whispered your name as he came inside of you.

Gibbs stayed for a moment on top of you, both of you catching your breath. He looked at you for a moment, before kissing you. He slid off you and lay to your side. You moved to rest your head on his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat. “Don’t want this to stay in Mexico,” you said.

“Me neither,” he answered.

You and Gibbs were in a such a happy state, you almost fell asleep naked on the beach.

#agent gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs #ncis reader insert #ncis imagines #ncis fiction

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awstenknyght · 3 years

Text

Big Hero Six AU Part Two!!!!!!

A/N: i finished the next part!! please give me validation i love this au so much- also disclaimer!! this is not exact to the movie because A. obviously some details have to be rearranged and B. disney should’ve let hiro say fuck and i will stand by that

Warnings: death, language, spoilers for the big hero 6 movie!!

Tags: @love-pyramus @mrlcverman @joshkatz @thatsmycigarbutyoucanborrowit @weaselweaselweasel @the-cowbi @mister-sunny-raccoon-boy @panicky-pancakes

Wheels followed Kath to another room, this one more isolated than the rest. “I want to show you what I’ve been working on.”

Katherine pulled out a roll of duct tape. She put a piece on Wheels’ arm and pulled it off quickly.

“Ow! What the fuck Kath?” Wheels said, pulling her arm back.

A small box across the room lit up and a boy rose up from it. He was tall with blonde hair. One of his eyes was a stormy blue, it almost looked like it was made of metal.

“Hello! I am Switch Eye, your personal health care companion! I was alerted to your need for medical attention when you said ‘ow.’”

“A robot?” Wheels asked, amazed. She moved closer and examined it. “Kat, this is amazing-“

“I will scan you now,” Switch continued. “Scan complete. You have a slight thermal abrasion on your forearm. I suggest an anti bacterial spray.”

Wheels watched in awe as Switch Eye sprayed something on her arm. “You must’ve done some serious coding on this thing.”

“Mouse worked on it too,” Kath replied with a shrug. “He’s gonna help a lot of people.”

Wheels grinned. This whole school was nothing like she expected. For the first time in years, she felt like she had something new to learn. And SFIT was where she needed to be.

There was a knock at the door. A man came in and smiled. “Katherine! Working the midnight oil?”

“Just picking something up, Professor,” Kath replied with a grin.

Then man spotted Wheels’ bot and picked it up. “Wow. This is an excellent piece of machinery. What’s your name?”

“Wheels, sir,” she said, tapping her fingers excitedly, ready to ramble on and on about her work. “I used magnetic-bearing servos. Wanna see how I put them together?”

“Hey genius, he invented them,” Kath called over her shoulder.

Wheels’ eyes widened. “You’re Snyder? As in Snyder’s law of robotics?”

“The one and only!” he chuckled. “You know, you have some real skill. Have you ever thought of attending here?”

“I- uh-”

“She’s pretty serious about her bot fighting career,” Katherine said with a smirk. “Ready to go?”

Wheels bit her tongue and nodded. Maybe she could go here.

As they got out to the car, Wheels stopped. “I have to go here. If I don’t, I’m gonna explode.”

“So dramatic,” Katherine said sarcastically. “You could always do the showcase?”

“Showcase?”

“Invent something that blows the judges away, and you’re in. It’s gonna be hard. You’re gonna have to give up bot fighting.”

Wheels looked down at her fighter. She had to do this. Whatever it takes, she’d get into SFIT.

***

“I have. No ideas. Brain empty.”

Wheels was surrounded by crumbled up papers and broken pencils. She had been sitting for hours. None of her ideas were good enough.

“Wow. Washed up at fourteen. So sad,” Katherine said sarcastically, not looking up from her book.

“I’m never gonna get into SFIT. I’m never gonna amount to anything.” She felt Katherine pick her up and spin her around before throwing her lightly onto the bed. “Hey! What the fuck?”

“You just need a to look at it from a new angle,” Katherine said with a shrug.

Wheels threw a pillow at her sister before something caught her eye. Her bot. What if-

Wheels grabbed the notebook off her desk and began scribbling all over it. Katherine smiled with satisfaction and went back to her half of the room.

Over the next month, Wheels worked on her project relentlessly. Finally, almost a month later, it was ready.

“Are you scared?” Katherine asked as she pushed a large recycling bin to Wheels’ assigned stage.

“What? No. You’re talking to an ex bot fighter, nothing scares me.”

“Yep, she’s scared,” Josie chimed in from behind. She’d been spending a lot more time with Katherine’s friends from school, and they were more then happy to help her out.

“Kat! Your girlfriend is bullying me!” Wheels whined.

Katherine laughed. As everyone else continued to joke around behind them, she pulled her little sister to the side. “You ready shithead?”

“Of course, asshole.” Wheels nodded her head in determination. “I have to get into this school.”

“You will,” Katherine replied. She looked through the curtains to see a small crowd gathered. “You’re on!”

Wheels took a deep breath and rolled up to the stage. This was her time to shine.

“This is a microbot,” she said, holding up a small black piece of metal. Her microphone screeched. The crowd began to look uninterested and she panicked.

Then, she caught Katherine’s eye. Her sister nodded her head and mouthed ‘Breathe.’

Wheels took a deep breathe and continued. “It might not look like much, but when it comes together with its friends,” she put on a headpiece. “Things get a little more interesting.”

The bins next to the stage tipped over and thousands of tiny bots spilled out, forming a geometric structure next to her.

“The possibilities are limitless. Building, transportation,” the bots lifted her up and moved her across the stage. “Even accessibility! You think it, microbots can do it!”

The crowd, which had grown significantly since the demonstration started, cheered. Wheels left the stage and was met with a huge hug from Katherine, as well as congratulations from Davey, Cora, and everyone else.

Wheels noticed one more person coming out from the crowd. “Dad?”

Pulitzer nodded tersely. “Excellent bots you’ve got there, Octavia. You know, we could make a lot of money mass-producing these.”

Wheels didn’t know how to respond. Her father had never said anything about her work before, barely even looked at it. And now he was willing to work with her to mass-produce them?

“Not so fast,” Snyder said, running up. “You could also wait and develop your bots, or you could sell them to someone who only cares about his own self interest.”

Snyder was giving her father an icy glare. Wheels knew the two didn’t get along, but she never questioned why. Pulitzer had a lot of enemies.

The two bickered awkwardly for a bit before she cut in. “Sorry father, but I’m not for sale.”

Snyder smiled as Pulitzer walked away, assistant in tow. “You made the right choice kid. I hope to see you at school.”

He handed her a white envelope with the school’s seal on it. Her eyes widened. No way.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. There was lots of congratulations, Cora invited everyone over for dinner, but Katherine pulled her away.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Wheels said as she gazed at the school she’d soon be attending. In a high-pitched mocking impression of her sister’s voice, “I should be proud of myself that I’m finally doing something important with my life!”

“No, I was just gonna say that your shirts on inside out.”

“What?” she looked down at her t-shirt. Kath was right. “Fuck you.”

Katherine laughed. “Welcome to need school, nerd.”

Wheels smiled. “Thanks for being for me. I wouldn’t be here without-“

Before she could finish her thought, people stated flooding out of the building. Katherine pulled someone aside. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“There’s was a fire,” she coughed. “Everyone else is out, but Snyder’s still in there!”

Katherine let her go and moved towards the door. Wheels grabbed her hand. “Katherine, no. You’re gonna get hurt!”

“Snyder’s in there. Someone has to save him.” With that, Katherine ran inside.

Stupid Kath and her stupid hero complex. Wheels moved to follow her, refusing to let her do it alone.

She was blown back by an explosion of heat. Everything went black, then red. Jet head was pounding. Every sound around her was dull, as if it was happening far away. Her hearing aid must’ve fallen out.

Katherine.

There was no way she could’ve survived that. Kath was gone.

#fuck you im pinning this #PLEASE read it and talk to be about it-

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shadow-scenarios · 4 years

Note

*kicks down the door* This sounds like fun idea for a an amazing milestone, so hopefully I make it! How about our pal Joker, fluff, and “In the End” by Marcus Warner?

My door... :(

Thank you for the request though!! I like writing Joker fluff. Very good song choice as well, though it took me a while to find!

Post Writing Note: I know this is shorter than I promised but I honestly really love the way this turned out!! Felt as though adding anything would’ve ruined it. This is probably my favourite piece I’ve written so far.

- Nexus.

In The End

Trigger Warnings:

None.

Genre:

Fluff.

Description:

A late night date with Akira. Though he is often busy, moments like these are a reminder that love is not fading.

Even as the sun began to set, there was life & activity within LeBlanc. Tuscany illuminated the windows ever so slightly & the natural light refracted from the glasses Akira was cleaning, specs of rainbow light flickering whenever he moved. It was entirely peaceful as closing hours drew near, less than half an hour left. So when his silence was interrupted by the swing of the door alongside a chiming bell to welcome the guest in, he smiled at the figure. There they were, a little early but at least they could make conversation.

Coffee wafted through the air as Akira made their usual order autonomously, a scent which they were used to. Despite his best attempts to disassociate himself with it, the smell clung to his clothing. Watching the way they blew on their drink was soothing & he took a moment to relish in the finer details of his significant other. It was a Sunday, which meant their usual uniform was swapped for casual attire. Sunlight was fast fading so the coat they had on was more than appropriate for their outing.

“ So... Where is it that you want to take me? ” was all they asked as they took a sip of the hot beverage, careful as to ensure they would not burn themselves. Akira had claimed that they had a special surprise this evening & to come to the café. Although they were patient enough to wait, their curiosity was peaked.

“ You’ll see soon. Futaba is looking after Mona, so it’ll be just the two of us, ” he smugly replied.

The conversation soon turned to their day as they finished their drink & Akira closed up shop. Ann had been raving about some of the local crepes so they had taken the opportunity to try them out on this particular day off. Surprisingly, she always hit the nail when it came to good recommendations & they were rather delectable. He listened with a soft smile on his face, happy to just be able to talk to someone about having a normal life.

Hand in hand, the two walked into the train station. Tokyo was busy even during the evening hours but it was more bearable than a commute to school in the rush hours. Inokashira Park came up & Akira swiftly pulled them off the train line.

During nighttime, the park was breath-taking. Not in the way that the sight was fantastical but it was clear that the moonlight’s sheen touched the area tenderly. Streetlights were present but casted very little light in comparison to its usual sunny disposition. The trees lolled half-heartedly in the cool breeze & they could see the foggy white cloud that was their breath. It was cold but not bitter.

Very casually, Akira retrieved a blanket from a bag that they had yet to notice & gestured for them to sit. Obliging, they did so. What came next was an assortment of foods that had clearly been handmade, as they were placed in containers they could have sworn they saw in LeBlanc. As they ate their first bite, he silently watched.

“ This is... Really good! Did you make it yourself? ”

“ Yeah. I’m just glad you like it, ” Akira replied, pulling out some of his own food before speaking once again, “ There’s something else I want to show you after we’ve eaten. ”

The meal was some of the best food they had eaten. Perhaps because he was such a good chef or maybe it was the idea that someone cooked specifically for them. After cleaning up together, Akira took their hand & began to lead them down a path that they had walked before but it seemed all that more mystical in the dark. With no summer heat to beat down on the two of them, it was soothing to be surrounded by nature.

So when the path led upwards into a tiny little alcove, they audibly gasped. There were the stars & the moon, in perfect view. The architecture was out of the way, dismissed as a second thought as they stared into the endless abyss of the sky. Not even the planetarium could compare. Sombre hues of a galaxy intertwined with specs of stardust which illumined the midnight violets; the periwinkle blue and the carnation pink.

Akira jumped them out of their stupor as he wrapped his arms around them, basking in the beauty of both the sky & his significant other. There was nothing for him to do but smile as a singular thought crossed his mind: In the end, they were everything.

Word Count: 700

Publish Date: 28.10.20

#{ joker }#{ 100 followers special!! }#p5r #persona 5 scenarios #persona 5 royal x reader #persona #persona 5 imagines #persona x reader #akira #akira x reader #akira kurusu x reader #akira kusuru #p5r akira #{ me who never goes outside trying to describe a park: 👁👄👁 }#{ stars are super fascinating to me... }#{ i really like describing the night sky if you can’t tell }

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sheyshen · 3 years

Text

Fictober ‘21: Day 5

Prompt: “ I’m not saying I told you so…” Fandom: World of Warcraft Rating: G Pairing: Tish/Night (aka Tirastrasza/Nitraxion) both are OCs

It was a clear and sunny day, and in Tirastrasza's opinion, perfect for flying. She had spent much of the day cooped up in the Dalaran libraries sorting through scrolls older than she was, organizing and fixing enchantments on tomes whose wards were starting to fail from age. But as much as she enjoyed her time surrounded by knowledge both ancient and new she still preferred her time soaring the skies, especially alongside her closest confidant and mate.

Putting the book she had in her hands in its spot on the shelf before her, she turned and made her way out of the library. A short break wouldn't hurt anything, and then she could get back to her tasks with a clear head. Striding out she passed by a few apprentices studying their spells, some focused and writing note after note, others looking bored out of their minds. She smiled at them as she passed, their instructor nodding her way before admonishing one student that looked to be dozing off.

She paused, trying to think of where Night should be at at the moment, certain he could use the break as well. He favored the gardens so she decided she would start there.

Sure enough, she spotted him weeding one of the many beds of flowers in the main gardens. She grinned at him as she strode up.

"Tish…" while he did look happy to see her, his voice held a tinge of suspicion. "Aren't you in charge of the libraries today?"

She waved the question off, "I'm just taking a break. Care to join me?"

He thought a moment before wiping his hands on a towel. "I was pretty much finished, so it wouldn't hurt. What did you have in mind?"

"Just a bit of flying, clear my head."

"That might draw some attention." He stood, dusting off his knees. "Dragons aren't unheard of around here, especially reds, but I'll stick out too much."

"Ah, it'll be fine." She grinned and winked at him.

Or at least he was fairly sure she did. "You know it's hard to tell when you wink with your eyepatch." He followed after as she walked off, the pair heading for the teleportation crystal that would take them down to the forests below. It'd be safer to transform there than in the city itself.

"But you were able to tell." Her grin widened.

"I've spent much too much time with you since we've met. I've gotten used to your habits." He smiled affectionately at her for a moment, before continuing. "Speaking of, you did let the other one you were working with know you were taking a break right?"

She strode into the room that held the crystal, smiling at the guards as they walked past. "You mean Mey? Don't worry, she'll figure it out. Besides, we won't be gone that long."

"You should've at least left a note," he sighed, this wasn't the first time she'd wandered off without telling anyone, and every time she got yelled at. "She's going to be pissed."

She waved him off as she triggered the enchantment. The room shifted, fading around them, and in a blink, they were standing in the camp on the opposite side of the Crystalsong Forest. Walking down the path that lead to Dragonblight they hid off to the side, using the cover to shift forms.

Tish shifted first, scarlet robes turning to a brilliant scale of the same color, covering every inch of her as she grew larger, her face becoming reptilian, the scars that showed underneath her eyepatch becoming more pronounced, and the bit of cloth shifted and became part of a jeweled headdress that adorned her horns. Once the transformation was complete she shook herself, the chains and decorations that she wore tinkling with the movement, and flexed her wings. "It feels like it's been so long since I had a chance to wear this form." She looked down at night, "well?"

"I can wait here for you."

"Night…"

"I'll stand out, Tish. It's best if I just enjoy what I can in this form."

"We don't need to go anywhere near the Dragonshrines or the temple. We can go to the Storm Peaks, I know you’ve been wanting to go there. Only other dragons there are proto-dragons and who cares what they think." She nodded towards the north and then the east, "or the Grizzly Hills. Plenty of plants for you to see."

He debated for a moment before finally giving in. "Fine, but not for too long." He spread his arms, shifting form. Where Tish sported crimson scales marking her as one of Alexstraszas flight, Night became covered in midnight blue and onyx scales, scales so fine they appeared as if leather or skin. He shook as he transformed, his head taking on a more sharklike appearance and his wings flexing as he reached his full size. He wore no ornamentation save a bangle on his right paw that matched his mate, but he had an ethereal glow to him as if he was constantly shifting in and out of this plane of existence.

Giving his body a final shake he nodded, "shall we?"

"Hope you can keep up!" She said as she flapped her wings hard and launched herself into the air. She circled, riding on the updrafts until he followed after, then both Tirastrasza and Nitraxion headed off towards the snowy mountains of the Storm Peaks.

He had had his concerns, nether dragons weren't common in Azeroth, much of that due to both the flights of this world (especially the blues) and his own flight believing it best that they stay in outlands, but meeting Tirastrasza had made him dare go against his matriarch's wishes and stow away on a transport back to Azeroth. They had been inseparable since, traveling across Azeroth to explore and learn and to just enjoy life.

And while he worried what would become of them if he was discovered, the thrill of being able to see this world for all its beauty made it worth it. And while he had complained about her slacking off, he got swept right up in his excitement that both had spent much more time than they had intended exploring the snowy peaks. The sun had started to set by the time the pair returned to the pathway and shifted back to their mortal forms, and it had gotten dark when they reached the camp and used the crystal to return to Dalaran.

Waiting for them, with arms crossed and glare on her face was Mey. The blood elf huffed in annoyance before greeting them, "welcome back."

"Oh! Mey! I'm so sorry, I wanted to just get some air, but time got away from me! I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

The elf smiled cooly at her. "It's no trouble at all. In fact, the tomes and scrolls you were assigned are waiting for you to finish."

Tish looked surprised, "they are? Well, that's… great, thank you, I'll be sure to take care of them in the morning when the library is open."

"Oh, don't worry. I requested access for you all night so you can finish." The smile appeared more cruel than sweet, "I appreciate your help!" She bid them a good night and left.

"Love." Night patted her on the shoulder, "I'm not saying I told you so, but… I can at least give you a hand."

She looked at him, gratitude obvious on her face, "you will? I'll pay you back, I'll cover for you next time you want to get out of work alright."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather you just finish your work on time." He stepped out of the building, Tish by his side, as they headed back to the library. "Besides for a red you are terrible with plants." He shook his head, though he couldn't muffle the laugh at the look on her face.

"That was one time, and I had never seen a plant like that!" She started to laugh as well. "Fine how about I find another way to pay you back."

"After we finish work."

"Yeah yeah."

#my writing #fictober21 #wow #world of warcraft #warcraft #oc: nitraxion #oc: tirastrasza

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eternaliax3 · 4 years

Text

Moving On

Slowly migrating my fics onto here from AO3!

One-Shot | AO3 Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Relationship: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G Summary: Adrien's off-handed comment spurs Marinette to accept that she wouldn't be anything more than a friend and to consider someone else.

Marinette was left wondering at what she should do about Adrien as time went on. While her love for him never dwindled, she was steadfastly losing hope for their future as he never showed more interest than friendship.

It was when she was pondering this while she sat with Alya and Nino during lunch that she made up her mind, because Alya brought up the topic of Luka.

“So Marinette, what's going on with guitar boy?” She wiggled her eyebrows at her as she nudged her arm. Marinette looked at her not amused.

“Nothing, Alya. And you know that.”

“But he's so into you!”

“I know, he even confessed to me earlier.” Her eyes turned rueful as she remembered his words as Silencer, and then as himself.

At this moment, as she was staring at her sandwich, Adrien walked up to the group and overheard what she said.

He waved as a greeting, his smile sunny as ever.

“You guys talking about Luka? He's a really cool guy Marinette, you should definitely go for him!”

It was that moment where one could see a young girl's heart break, and the other two people could only look on in a mixture of horror and pity as the one who said it remained oblivious. And yet he continued on, driving the knife even further into her heart.

“You two would definitely make a great couple. I’m rooting for you!”

Marinette plastered a smile onto her face. “Thanks, Adrien.”

Alya and Nino started talking about something else, anything, that Marinette didn’t hear as she zoned out staring at her sandwich. She spent the rest of the school day quiet and thoughtful.

The next week Marinette was sitting on her balcony in the evening, staring at Luka’s contact information on her phone. During the week, she made her resolve to move on. It was painful, oh, it was so painful, but she accepted that Adrien didn’t see her as anything more than a friend. The first few nights were spent crying and writing sad diary entries. But she eventually accepted it.

That night, she sent a text message to Luka asking to meet.

━━━━━━━━

Luka agreed to meet her at the theater to watch a movie, and then get dinner together at a restaurant near the Seine. While the day of the date loomed closer and closer, Marinette decided to craft some new clothes to commemorate the occasion. After all, it was special and she wanted Luka to know that too. She decided to make a circle skirt in her signature color with white and black flowers, and a ruffly white off-the-shoulder top with straps going over the shoulders. She paired her signature flats and purse with them and on the day of the date she twirled in front of her mirror, proud of the new outfit.

Her hair was also left down, and she tied a pink ribbon with a bow on top of her head.

Tikki smiled at her outfit, beyond ecstatic that Marinette was going to be happy. It was also never a bad thing that her ladybug was creating.

Marinette walked down to the theater, butterflies exploding at her stomach, but calming once she saw Luka. The butterflies melted into excitement, and she ran over to give him a hug.

“You look beautiful, Marinette.” His eyes glinting with appreciation at her new outfit and hairstyle. Marinette blushed and thanked him. She noticed that he also wore a new outfit, ripped black jeans that accentuated his tall legs, and a Jagged Stone t-shirt with a black vest over it. His guitar in its case was on his back. It was casual, but definitely Luka’s style.

“You look good too, Luka.” Marinette smiled genuinely at him.

“Thanks, Ma-ma-Marinette.” She had to laugh at that, a slight tinge of embarrassment wafting over her face, but knowing that he was more affectionate with the endearment.

“Shall we go in, then?”

“Of course.”

Luka took her hand in, her much smaller hand in his, and lead her inside.

━━━━━━━━

The movie was enjoyable, and halfway throughout Luka put his arm over her shoulders and she leaned into his warmth. Her heart skipped a few beats as she felt more happy than she did the last month being there with Luka.

After the movie, they both went down to the Seine. Grabbing a bite to eat from a local restaurant, they talked about anything that came to their minds at the moment. Kitty Section and practice, designing new outfits, schoolwork; Marinette found herself rambling at times, but Luka was ever patient with her, finding it endearing when she would gesture with her hands. It spoke of her passion when she was talking about designing.

It came to the topic of music, and Luka took out his guitar and started strumming the chords of a song he was writing. Marinette closed her eyes and let the notes circle around her, the two stuck in their own little world.

“I think I just came up with a new song, Marinette.” He smiled and started strumming a few upbeat chords and humming along with it. His voice was a low timbre, and Marinette found her heart flip flopping and a blush rose to her face.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the music, one she recognized as the melody he played to her when they first met, but different. Revised into a more complicated but accompanied with lower notes at times. She found herself more inspired and her already happy mood lifted higher.

And she pulled out her sketchbook, a mini one that fits into her purse so she could take it with her anywhere. She shot a smile to Luka who closed his eyes and continued playing. They sat together on the steps of the Seine, a guitarist and a designer, finding inspiration from each other and enjoying their time together.

They both didn’t realize how much time had passed as they sat together.

━━━━━━━━

Two months have passed, and Marinette found herself thinking less and less of Adrien, and more of Luka. Pictures of Adrien that she took down that first day of those fateful words that were spoken to her were replaced by pictures of Marinette and Luka together, and of other friends.

Her stutter was nonexistent now, and she found herself becoming good friends with Adrien. She started wearing different outfits that she created and wearing her hair in different styles that she finds online.

Luka and her meet some days after school, sometimes on the weekends, though with Luka’s part time job it was sometimes difficult to schedule a date. Most of the time, it was planned on the spot, after a stray text message sent to each other saying I miss you , it usually led to them meeting up after school. It was instantaneous and improvised, and Marinette wouldn’t have it any other way. Her favorite activity was listening to him play his guitar and sing. She smiled fondly as she remembered the keychain she made him that was now on his guitar case—a little black music note, dangling off of a keyring that seemed to wink in the light.

She found herself missing him every moment he was away, and counting down the seconds she could see him again, even though it was sometimes for days if their schedules didn’t permit it. Marinette found out that he was quite the gentleman, being polite towards every one of her friends and respecting her space. It also seemed like they were on the same wavelength, as if Luka was so in tune to her and she to him, that whenever she tripped or was about to, Luka would catch her and hold onto her.

One of her favorite memories together is when they were walking, and she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. Luka caught her by the waist and swung her around to hold her in an embrace, as if it were straight out of a romance movie. She laughed and poked his nose, and he responded by pulling her into a sweet kiss.

Sabine and Tom even adored him, saying that he was welcome to visit the bakery anytime and that he was always welcome to stay for dinner. Which surprised her, since Tom was extremely protective of Marinette. It spoke of Luka’s character in spades, if they were taken with him so easily.

━━━━━━━━

It was a few more months that passed and Hawkmoth sent out akumas with a vengeance. Akuma sightings that had to be dealt with in the middle of the day, past midnight, and then in the early morning at times. It drove Marinette mad, and Luka was ever so understanding about Marinette having to leave in the middle of their dates. It ate at her inside, she didn’t think she deserved him.

On the other hand, Marinette hadn’t made any progress into tracking down Hawkmoth, and she felt so guilty towards the people of Paris. How is she doing her job correctly aside from purifying akumas if she couldn’t even figure out who the person starting it all was?

One day she was at Luka’s house for one of their usual hangouts, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She wasn’t enjoying his presence as much as she usually would have, and she was distracted and mopey. Luka couldn’t help but ask what was wrong. And she crumbled. She tried to be strong for so long that it was all let out once he asked that.

“There’s just too much pressure, Luka!” She said in between tears. “There’s just too much. I’m only sixteen years old and have to handle so many things!”

There was so, so much she wanted to say to him, but couldn’t. The next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in a warm embrace.

“I’m here for you, Marinette. You’ve done an amazing job so far. Just let it all out.” His warm voice wrapped around her and she cried harder.

“I don’t deserve you, Luka.” She sobbed.

“Yes, you do.” He smiled at her and gave her a sweet kiss that she reciprocated.

She felt lighter after that, as if the world wasn’t resting solely on her shoulders anymore, and she wasn’t alone.

━━━━━━━━

It was when they were sitting at a café eating lunch together on a lazy weekend that she decided to ask something that was on her mind for a while.

“Hey, Luka? Why did you start liking me?” Her eyes bored into his as they crinkled into smiles. “Was it when you saw me for the first time?” She joked.

“I actually started to like you before then.” He replied with total honesty. At her gape, he continued.

“It was during the time after Juleka came home and started to talk about you. She said that you helped to include her in the class picture a few years ago. She said so many good things about you, and you made my sister so happy that day. I knew you were a good person.”

Marinette couldn’t help but blush, her face heating up. “Wow, that long? That was years ago!”

“Yes, for that long.” He reached over and held her hand on top of the table. “I’m really happy you gave me a chance, Marinette.”

“I’m really happy too, Luka.”

━━━━━━━━

It was during patrol and when she was transformed into her alter ego that Chat Noir asked why she was in a happy mood for the past few weeks. And she told him the truth.

“I’ve started dating someone.”

Chat Noir could feel his own heart breaking as she said that. While she looked into his eyes, he couldn’t help but try and keep a happy facade. After all, she was his dear partner and he had to be happy for her in the end.

“Are you happy, milady?”

She smiled, one that genuinely reached her glowing eyes. Eyes that weren’t happy because of him.

“Very much so, Chat.” She turned towards the glowing city lights around them. “He’s...amazing. Really inspirational and he’s there for me all the time.”

She giggled and started swinging her trusty yoyo in her hands.

“He really sees who I am under the mask.” Her eyes turned wistful.

“But you know what’s funny?” She turned back towards him. “It was actually the boy I loved before that told me to go for it.”

Chat Noir realized he never had a chance with Ladybug. And he had to accept it in that moment.

“I’m happy for you, Ladybug.” And he truly meant it, as he went home trying to mend his broken heart.

━━━━━━━━

The next day, Adrien went to class looking a mess. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was slow in responding to people when they tried to talk to him. It even really worried Marinette throughout the day as she was able to see how he was acting in front of her.

The end of the school day came around and she put her hand on his shoulder as the students ushered out of the classroom, chattering about.

“Adrien, are you ok?” She was wearing a small pout as she looked at his defeated demeanor.

“Hey Marinette, I’m fine.” He tried to hold it together by giving her a small lopsided smile. “Don’t worry about me. Aren’t you meeting Luka soon?”

“Yes, but I wanted to check up on you. If you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you.” She smiled.

“Thanks, Marinette. I really appreciate that. I’m glad things are going well with you and Luka, by the way.” He started walking towards the front gates of the school.

“Yeah, he’s really great. I’m really glad I gave him a chance.” She spun around next to him to look earnestly into his eyes. “Hey, maybe we can all go on a triple date! Nino and Alya, Luka and I, and you and Kagami!”

“Ka-Kagami?” He sputtered.

“Yeah! Isn’t she the one you’re pining for?” She nudged his arm.

He laughed. “Not Kagami.” If only she knew.

“But let’s change the topic here, is Luka treating you right? After all, you only deserve the best.” He winked at her and she laughed.

“He definitely does, Adrien. He really sees me.” She said, and he had to stop right in his tracks in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

Marinette also stopped as she realized what she just said and scrambled for an explanation.

“Oh well, you know, I just feel like I have a mask on sometimes, with how much I have to do with the bakery, schoolwork ,and being class president.” And being a superhero that fights akumas at all times of the day , she thought. “Luka just sees past all of that. He really sees the person under the mask.”

Marientte smiled as past Adrien, she saw Luka waiting for her at the school gates.

“Well, try and get some rest today, ok Adrien? I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She left and ran towards Luka, and Adrien could only stand gaping as the deja vu almost knocked him over. Words that were spoken in the night kept repeating in his head and he kept cycling Marinette’s face with Ladybug’s face over and over and over in his mind.

Oh my god, what have I done?

#eternalia writes #miraculous ladybug fanfic #lukanette

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crescent-quill-writings · 4 years

Text

Swaddled in a Midnight Sun

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2785

Relationship: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/ Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette

Additional Tags: Canon Era, Alternate Universe: Angels, Angel!Lafeyette, fluff, snowstorms, near-death experiences, horses

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The wicked winds blowing in from the north had frozen the earth, frost-bitten the air, and brought the world to a standstill. Those who could took shelter within their homes around the hearth, waiting for the seasonal celebrations to bring relief from the permeating dark and cold of winter. The world was peaceful in its icy, permeating silence, almost beautiful, too.

Still, there was a war that needed to be fought and won.

There was an elephant among the ice and snow of the Patriot’s camp. The conversations were hushed, threatened by the violent weather whipping around them and tension so thick it could be sliced through with a bayonet.

“Do you think the war will be over in time for Christmas?”

“Doubt it. If we’re lucky the redcoats will get us before we freeze to death.”

“I just hope we don’t run out of rum before then…”

“Ay, I’ll drink to that.”

John Laurens had had enough of the morbid, idle chatter the soldiers distracted themselves with. The war could be won before Christmas, and the British wouldn’t even know what hit them. Even though the chance to turn the tides in their favour was just within reach, apparently no one had the balls to brave the elements and bring a message to Washington. It was only a little blizzard, after all. What’s the worst it could do?

With a sharp whistle that pierced through even the howling northern winds, John’s trusted steed came trotting over to him in an instant. He mounted the spotted chestnut in one swift motion, and barely a moment later they were galloping off into the dark December night.

“If you want something done right, you do it yourself.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Though he was gripping the reins with all his might, John could no longer feel his fingers. His cheeks were stinging and reddened from the frost-bitten whips of wind lashing at his skin as he rode onwards. Even the forest path offered little relief from the relentless blizzard, and his steed’s heavy breaths were like a smoking gun in the sub-zero air.

“Just a little longer, girl, we’re halfway there.”

In truth, John didn’t actually know how far they had gone. With the frost on that was threatening to freeze his eyes shut and the heavy cloak of snow and darkness he could barely see ten feet ahead of him.

Despite the deep-set chill in his bones, he fought off another shiver and forced himself to focus on the way forwards. His efforts didn’t work as well as the soldier wished. Though it was just for a moment, his vision faded and his senses dulled.

In that little sliver of time, John missed the splintering of frost-bitten wood as a great fir succumbed to the season’s savagery.

John swore with a shout as his steed reared up with a shrill cry of a whinny, “Sunny- Steady, girl!”

It was no use. There was no calming the mare’s frayed nerves against the shock of adrenaline the near-death experience caused. John barely had enough in him to stay awake, nevertheless, fight for control of his horse. His frozen fingers released the reins and with a swift kick from his steed he was sent crashing into the snow.

Winded from the impact with the frozen ground, John gasped for a breath of icy air as he pushed himself onto his knees. He could only just make out the sound of the mare’s swift hooves clambering through the snow before she too was lost to the darkness.

He never realized that the cold could burn worse than the brightest of blazes. His military coat was useless against the winds that rocked him to his very core and sapped whatever was left of his strength.

“Gotta stay awake,” John whispered through chattering teeth as another shiver wracked his body, “There’s a war we need to win, people we can’t disappoint.”

But John was fighting a losing battle.

The frost of numbness that had taken away feeling from his extremities begun to permeate his whole body and mind. He tried to fight against it, and though his will to survive was strong, the winter was stronger.

For a moment, John no longer felt so cold, only tired. So tired that he could sleep forever should the opportunity ever present itself. His body ached for something to rest upon, somewhere to lay his head, and through bleary eyes, the snow beneath him looked to be a good bed for until the storm passed.

He let himself relax, slowly unravelling as he began to fall into his deathbed. He expected to feel the soft diamonds of the blizzard’s wake to meet with cheek. He expected to slip into an eternal sleep as heavy frost froze his eyes shut. That moment never came.

*~*~*~*~*~*

John wasn’t sure when the frost finally released his thoughts, but he didn’t care either. In his moment of lucidity, he focused on the secure, welcoming embrace of another. He shifted closer to them with an unintelligible sound, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed himself into their chest for every bit of warmth they had.

He whined when he felt them shift, crowding more into their space to keep them from slipping away. He felt their chest vibrate with a quiet laugh before a pair of soft lips graced his forehead.

John finally peered up at the one holding him so dearly, only to gasp at who he saw, “Gil!”

“You gave me a good scare there, mon etoile,” Lafayette spoke, and though his tone was sweet he couldn’t hide the crystalline tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Sil tu plait, for both our sakes, never do something like that again.”

John couldn’t help but laugh at the request, though it seemed his smile brought more relief to the Frenchman than he could’ve imagined. He laced their fingers together and cuddled closer, enjoying the company of his foreign companion.

“I am just happy I managed to find you in time,” Lafayette continued with a small sigh, brushing a few of John’s curls from his face. “You do not always make my job easy.”

“Gil, what are you on about?” He frowned, unable to make sense of the Frenchman’s words.

For a moment John wondered if Lafayette was real or just a trick of his mind to turn his final moments into a pleasant dream. This realization terrified him and sent his rational thought spiralling down a rabbit hole of paranoid panic. He didn’t want to go like this, he didn’t want to be another casualty to the warring weather. He wanted to survive. He needed to survive.

“Deep breaths, mon etoile, what is the matter?”

“This… This can’t be real. You can’t really be here.” I’m dying!

John pushed himself out of Lafayette’s grasp, stumbling back into the snow before managing to get himself on his feet again. He teetered under the force of the whipping winds, a deep chill seeping into his core as he tried to make sense of his reality. It was dark, it was cold, he was lost and he was alone. I should be alone…

Unable to make sense of his situation both John’s body and mind began to crash. He lost his balance, falling into the snow as he once again gave in to a wintery grave. In an instant, he was in Lafayette’s arms, held so tight he felt like the singular reason for the Frenchman to be on this earth.

“John, you mustn’t move so suddenly!” He admonishes, though his tone was undercut with sorrow as he began to cry, “If I could not bring you home safe… Mon Dieu, I would not know what to do with myself.”

There was a distinct pang of guilt in John’s chest as he stared dumbly up at the Frenchman, watching him cry. He swallowed thickly, reaching up with a shivering hand to cup Lafayette’s cheek in an attempt to calm his grief.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay,” He whispered, making Lafayette focus back on him and not on what could have been, “I just don’t really know what’s going on right now…”

A silent question hung in the air, one John was sure would break both his and Lafayette’s heart if he ever put to words. Thankfully, the Frenchman seemed to understand as he gave a solemn nod and a sigh before he next spoke.

“Be not afraid, mon etoile, you are well and alive,” He began to explain, placing his larger palm over John’s hand as he pressed a kiss to his tender, frozen skin, “And I am real, though I have not been entirely honest with you…”

“Whatever it is, Gil, you can tell me,” John reassured, though he could not stop the shine of fear in his eyes. It was hard not to worry about what Lafayette would say next when he still couldn’t make sense of what had already happened.

“I am not supposed to do this, but…” The Frenchman hesitated only to shake his head and find his resolve again. “It is best if I showed you.”

John opened his mouth in a question, but Lafayette only hushed him with a gentle kiss before covering his eyes with his hand.

Though he could not see, John felt the shift in the world around him. It was silent, the howling winds put to an end by only Lafayette’s will. He felt a single snowflake land on the tip of his nose, tickling him with a moment of cold as others fell in slow-motion onto his golden-brown curls.

Then, Lafayette pulled his hand away to allow John to take in the newly calmed environment. It reminded them both of how beautiful a winter’s night could be, but John was still left with so many questions. He looked to the Frenchman for answers, only to be stunned into silence from what he saw.

Shining like a midnight sun with beautiful hues of blue and speckles of gold were a pair of angelic wings resting behind Lafayette in relaxed arches. They pulled close to his body as the Frenchman gave a sheepish smile and a tilt of his head in response to John’s reaction.

“Surprise?”

“Of all things, Gil… I never thought you were this,” John trailed off as he reached to trace his fingers along the edge of one of the Frenchman’s wings, quietly admiring their delicate strength. “I guess it makes sense, though, I always thought you were too perfect to be human.”

Lafayette couldn’t help the warm, bubbling laugh that escaped him as he brought John to his feet, leaving a wing draped over his shoulders like a cloak. “It makes me happy to see you are still well enough to flirt. Come, let’s get you home.”

John could only laugh along with the Frenchman as he took his arm like a lady accepting a dance at the Winter’s Ball. He wasn’t sure if they could make it back to camp by the morning, but with Lafayette by his side, John didn’t care.

Before they could begin their hike the galloping of swift hooves sounded in the distance, sending both the angel and the soldier on high alert.

They expected to see British calvary darting through the trees ready to take them out, but instead, they were familiar, always welcomed face.

“Sunny!” John beamed at the spotted chestnut’s appearance, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes… Didn’t think I’d get to see you again so soon.”

But the mare wasn’t the only one who approached. Following close behind was another horse, a familiar-looking bay with an even more familiar rider.

Alexander barely allowed his steed to properly halt before he leapt off its back, rushing towards John and Lafayette for a desperate embrace. “You scared me half to death! Don’t you ever going riding out into a blizzard like that again, I don’t care if your life depends on it!”

“It’s good to see you too, Lex,” John replied with a weak laugh as he ruffled Alexander’s hair.

Still, as Alexander continued to ramble on John couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to Lafayette. He looked up at the angel in question, absentmindedly running his fingers through his feather down as he leaned more into the warmth of his wings.

There were so many things John wanted to ask, about Lafayette, about what this meant, about everything. He couldn’t find the words to begin, never mind the fact that the adrenaline-filled need to survived had dissolved into the calm night, leaving a sluggish fatigue in its place.

“Hush, mon petit lion… Save your sweet nothings for the morning,” Lafayette suggested with a soft smile, placing a hand on the small of each soldier’s back. “Let us get back to camp before sunrise, oui? I believe a good night’s sleep would do us all some good.”

Despite the huff that Alexander gave in response, he still couldn’t help but grin at the Frenchman’s words. He gave John and Lafayette one more squeeze before slipping out of their embrace to mount his steed once more.

Lafayette kept John under his wing as he led him over to the spotted chestnut. He let John mount first, though as the Frenchman settled behind him it was obvious he’d be taking the reins. John didn’t entirely mind, he knew that Lafayette was a good rider and frankly he was grateful to be able to spend more time swaddled in angelic feather down.

Alexander led the way home, keeping the pace at a gentle canter. Feeling safe and secure with Lafayette behind him and Alexander only a few feet away, John allowed him to slip in and out of sleep as they rode onward.

Who knew a near-death experience could be so exhausting?

“We are home, mon etoile,” Lafayette cooed quietly as he shook John awake, “As sweet as you look while asleep, I can’t imagine a saddle would make for the best mattress.”

“It’s only a little worse than the cots they give us,” John mutters with a small laugh as he slipped off of his steed’s back.

Alexander was by his side in a moment, playfully jostling John as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Said the guy who nearly took a nap in the snow. C’mon, we’ll push our cots together so we can cuddle up, it’s the best way to avoid hypothermia.”

“Be honest, petit lion,” Lafayette chided softly as he ruffled Alexander’s hair. “You are just jealous that John has been swaddled without you.”

“So what if I am? It’s not like everyone gets to be in love with a literal angel.”

As the two other soldiers shared a laugh, John began to space out from the conversation. Having an answer to one of his many questions made him remember the original purpose of his journey; a message for the general to tip the scales in their favour.

“Wait,” He murmured, stepping out of Alexander’s and Lafayette’s hold as he stops to think. “I gotta- I gotta see Washington, there’s information from the south he needs to know!”

“Hey, Jacky, take it easy,” Alexander spoke as he took John’s hand again. “His Excellency already knows, a courier came through as soon as the snow stopped. It’s all gonna be okay.”

John couldn’t quite describe his relief at the sound of this news. He let out a sigh, the last few tensions finally leaving his body.

“That means the only thing left on the agenda is a good night’s rest,” Lafayette concluded with a small smile. “Come, my tent is not far.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

John was sure it was sometime near dawn when he blinked open his eyes. He rolled over lazily and pulled the blankets closer to him, only end up sneezing as his nose was tickled by soft feather down.

He smiled, feeling Lafayette shift next to him as he fixed a few feathers that had been ruffled by sleep. The Frenchman murmured something unintelligible in sleepy gratitude as he pulled John closer.

On Lafayette’s other side, Alexander was being held the same John was; a strong arm holding him close and a wing around his scrappy frame to keep him warm.

John closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax once more in Lafayette’s care. Even in the middle of a deadly winter and a losing war, the three always found these little perfect moments when they were together. It made sense now, and knowing that he and Alexander would be safe no matter how the war went was a peace he never thought he’d know.

Who knew all it’d take was a little blizzard to feel so safe and warm.

#hamcember #Hamcember 2020 #my writing #hamcember prompt 16 #Snow Angels #Hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #Alexander Hamilton #John Laurens #marquis de lafayette #Lafayette #canon era #snowstorms #Angel AU #near-death experience #fluff #laflams

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bernadineisreborn · 4 years

Text

Reality VII

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Author’s note: Hellooooo and welcome back. In this chapter, things get figured out. You probably knew all along, but now reader knows too, so that’s good. UMMM okay that’s it, hope you all enjoy! Please please please like or comment or (gold-tier) reblog!! But, I appreciate you just for reading! Love you! –Bernadine

Warnings: swearing/vulgarity, me not knowing wtf I’m doing

Word count: 1883

CATCH UP HERE: Series Masterlist

Draco did not consider himself weak. He was resilient, he was intimidating, he was a Malfoy, for fuck’s sake.

He hadn’t allowed himself to feel emotion since the school year had started. His Aunt Bellatrix’s advice rang in his mind almost constantly: any emotion would allow Snape, or worse, Dumbledore, to read him with ease.

He sat in the Slytherin Common Room, his metaphorical muscles tired from the weight on his shoulders. Draco had been back at Hogwarts for three months, and hadn’t made much progress with the Vanishing Cabinet. He needed to do something else.

Of course, he had other plans. None of them were as good as the Cabinet, but they could work.

Draco thought of the package he had hidden in the Room of Requirement. It was a last resort, he reminded himself, to use the cursed necklace that laid inside in attempts to kill his headmaster. Dumbledore, Draco was sure, would somehow manage to evade the curse it gave those who touched it. He had to find a way to fix the Vanishing Cabinet and allow other Death Eaters to do the pillaging around Hogwarts.

It was a Saturday, which meant a few things. First, Draco had time to himself. He could work on his task, mostly unbothered. Second, there was a Quidditch match.

Draco watched longingly as Crabbe and Goyle lazed out of the dorms, clad in green and silver uniforms, nodding to him as they went by. Draco grunted and repressed the intense desire to follow them. A Quidditch match sounded perfect right about now.

Emotion, thought Draco numbly, is the hamartia of mankind.

----

You squinted as you woke up, sunlight streaming in through the tall windows of Ravenclaw Tower. There had been no dreaming last night; no furred or feathered creatures had patrolled your subconscious at all.

You weren’t sure whether to be grateful or suspicious. This was the second morning you had woken up without having had the dream since you’d spoken to Trelawney.

The Great Hall was filled with excitement, as the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams prepared for today’s Quidditch match. You usually would have attended with Marcus, but as things were now, you weren’t really in the mood.

Instead, you explained to Sue and Mandy, who were dressed in yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves, “I’ll get to catch up on homework that I haven’t been able to do. You know, since I’ve been in detention.”

They seemed content with this answer, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. You waved to them as they headed off to the Quidditch pitch.

You’d brought Trelawney’s loan, The Dream Oracle’s Sequel: More Dreams, More Divination, with you, and you started reading as you sipped on your morning tea.

An hour later, you knew breakfast was officially over because the leftover food, plates, and your still half-full teacup vanished from the table. However, you had made it to the section titled “Dream. Interrupted: How to finish your dream experience,” and were eager to try the book’s recommendations.

You dashed to the seventh floor, and found the blank wall you needed to utilize. You started pacing, desperately thinking, I need a place to sleep to fall asleep without interruption.

After your third pacing in front of the wall, a small door appeared.

The Room of Requirement was a bit less of a secret location that it had been last year. Harry Potter had made the place legend when he’d started the D.A., and you’d visited a few times, curious about the place’s magic.

Now, it was more useful than ever. Through the doorway was a very cozy room. There were windows that let in fresh sunlight, framed with heavy-looking velvet drapes, and there was a bed bigger than any you had seen before, covered with fluffy quilts and throw pillows. There was also a pot of tea, and you realized delightedly that it was chamomile from it’s smell.

On top of the bed were a pair of silk pajamas, in exactly your size and favorite color. You changed quickly, and drew the drapes over the windows. Hazy midday sunlight trickled in from behind the curtains, giving the room the appearance of a faint golden glow.

You poured yourself a cup of tea and settled in the bed, skimming the chapter of The Dream Oracle’s Sequel again, for good measure. According to the book, you needed to do a short incantation, and then you’d be able to sleep until the dream had finished.

You readied you wand, setting your tea on the bed stand, and spoke, “Somnum Integrum.”

Almost immediately, you started to feel drowsy. The bed’s blankets were so comfortable, you wondered whether you were in heaven.

And you wondered if the rabbit would ever move, damnit! It lazed in the emerald grass, without a worry. The sun was shining brightly, and as you watched, you understood why the bunny wasn’t afraid. No one would hurt her here, she was somehow completely safe. The snake approached first, cautious, stalking. It’s blue eyes, you realized, were actually closer to a gunmetal grey. The hawk swooped in then, graceful and feathered. Its talons were outstretched, and you noticed that they were scarred with small, almost invisible, winding lines. The rabbit was oblivious to the mini-knifes plunging at her through the sky.

Just as you thought the hawk would strike, the snake propelled himself up and met it, deflecting the blow from the bunny and taking it himself.

The rabbit, now, was clued in. She watched, eyes wide as the snake and the hawk struggled. Their fight showed no signs of ending, and you got the impression that the rabbit was afraid for the fate of both parties involved.

In a flash, the snake broke free and winded himself around the rabbit in the grass. At first you thought he would squeeze her to death, and the rabbit seemed to think so too. Then, the snake faced the hawk again and hissed. You realized, with a bit of surprise, that the snake’s stance around the rabbit was protective.

The dream fizzed and faded away, and you were catapulted into a memory: a lonely, sad hallway at midnight. But… a different perspective.

This time, you were the one huddled against the wall, weeping into yourself.

A tentative hand touched your shoulder. You opened your dream eyes. The hand was long and pale and connected to an equally long and pale face: Draco. The moonlight shone through the window and hit his white hair at an irritatingly perfect angle.

“Y/N,” he asked, grey eyes full of concern, “Are you alright?”

You jolted awake, back into reality, back into the Room of Requirement.

Around you, the large bed was still unbearably comfortable. Through the windows, afternoon light streamed, and you realized that you must have been sleeping for a few hours. You threw the comforter off yourself, and padded across the cool stone floor barefooted. Drawing a heavy velvet curtain back, you looked outside. The Quidditch stands were still full of people, and streaks of yellow and green warred in the air above the field.

You remembered the dream, then, looking out at the sunny November day. You weren’t entirely sure how to feel. It almost felt like the snake and the hawk were other people. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? If the rabbit was you, then maybe the snake and hawk were people you knew.

Your mind drifted curiously to the second dream. Why the hell had your subconscious conjured that? Draco hated you, or so you were rather sure. But his expression in the dream had been so caring… so conscious of your feelings. There was something you were missing.

You gathered your things, still pondering the dream’s revelations. In the hallway, a figure stood to meet you. It was Draco, and he looked angry. His wand was raised in a rather threatening position. When he met your gaze, his expression relented slightly.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said lamely, lowering his wand.

You scoffed and stepped back, a bit surprised to see him standing there, especially after the dreams you’d just had. “Yes, it’s me. Who’d you think it was going to be?”

“Someone else,” he stated, his eyes wandering over you. His brows quirked up, “Do you ever put on real clothes when you’re not in class?”

You looked down, and noticed with a jolt that you were still wearing the Room’s gift: the perfect silk pajamas. “Yes, obviously. Erm, what are you doing here?”

His expression shifted, eyes narrowed, “I need to get into the Room of Requirement.”

“Oh. Right,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest in an attempt at a defensive pose, “What for?”

Draco sneered, “None of your business.” His eyes softened then, and he opened his mouth to speak, “I—”

But your hand had flown to your mouth in recognition, the things you were carrying falling from your arms in the process. His expression, his eyes. Even though the expression of the Draco in front of you was nowhere near as sympathetic as the Draco in your dream, it was enough. You knew: Draco was the snake.

He stared at you, brows pinched together, his face somewhere between annoyance and confusion, “Merlin, get a grip.”

You weren’t paying attention. You quickly scooped the things from the floor, Draco making no attempts at helping you, and started walking away. Over your shoulder, you called, “See you in detention.”

Draco watched you walk away, then turned back toward the now-blank wall in front of him. He exhaled, and allowed his expression to neutralize, as if he was slipping on an ice-cold, skin-thin mask. Pacing quietly, he thought. I need the Vanishing Cabinet. I need the Vanishing Cabinet. I need the Vanishing Cabinet.

The Room of Requirement was both a great comfort and a great stress to Draco. He walked into the room carefully, the fixing of Cabinet was not going well.

He tried for an hour or so, working on the Cabinet, following instructions from every book on Vanishing Cabinets in order to fix it.

As he worked, he wondered what you’d been doing in here, in pajamas, no less. Draco recalled the night you’d caught him in a rather…unfortunate position. He had expected to hear rumors the next day about what you’d seen, he’s expected you to tell everyone, he’d expected his reputation to need repairing. But, you’d stayed quiet, and he had no idea why.

That night, he considered, she was wandering the halls alone too. Awake at an ungodly hour. Maybe she… Draco stopped himself. He didn’t care why you’d been out of bed. You meant nothing to him. You were a nuisance, you were…

Well, he was a little grateful that you hadn’t given him the additional stress of telling people that The Draco Malfoy was crying and alone and hopeless.

Draco lazed around the Room of Requirement. In this form, there were lost objects everywhere. Objects people had come to store somewhere—anywhere: old broomsticks, he assumed these were faulty; random books; broken desks and chairs; an ancient looking teapot and teacup set, even with tea still in it. The tea wasn’t even cold yet. Draco wondered briefly if the pot was charmed to never cool. He sniffed. Hmm, chamomile.

---

Tag List: @drawlfoy @buckys-hoeee @silversslytherin @acciodracoo @afootnoteinyourhappiness @a-hopeless-fan @ilkaeliseb @accio-rogers @laurarestrepo98 @ellewoods2b @naomi02hook @ohitsmai (tumblr won’t let me tag you, it might be a setting you can fix) Did I miss anyone?? If I did, just let me know!!

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

Note

13 with Cole and Claire

First of all, Toby, I love you. Second, Cole/Claire gang rise. “Wait, Cole and Claire dated?” Yes! The following ficlet is set Cole’s freshman/Claire’s sophomore year, which is the school year before Nando and co. arrive. And in an interesting first, it’s Claire’s POV. Claire, if you do not know her, is from the drama club. She’s one of the nicest people at Kiersey College.

And yes, she dated Cole Kolinsky. I honestly think it’s a crime that she winds up breaking up with Cole Kolinsky, but in Claire’s defense, it’s a mutual decision. And don’t worry; they stay friends.

So without further ado! From this list of sappy prompts. (Yes, I’m still accepting them if you want!)

13. “The way I feel when I’m with you...”

Claire is having a great birthday.

She knew it would be a good day when she woke up to sunny skies and a forecasted temperature above freezing, which, honestly, it’s about time, since it’s April 18th. Spring has pretty much arrived to campus, and even though this is her second spring at Kiersey, she feels like she maybe almost forgot entirely how pretty it gets. The trees are budding— slowly, but surely— and there are a few flowers coming up— bulb stuff, mostly hyacinth and iris, like they have in the backyard garden at home.

So that’s how her birthday starts— with a smile, a recognition of spring, and a nice breeze through the window, which Ellie opened, by the way, because they’re trying to ‘embrace the outdoors’ in Joy Hall Room 134. Ellie is asleep when she wakes up, because Claire is definitely the earlier riser in their roommate duo, but the second she lifts her curly ginger head from the pillow, the first words out of her sleep-deprived self are, “Happy birthday, legend!”

There are other things in the morning, too— a FaceTime call with her mom, an invasion of said call by her siblings and her dad to say happy birthday, a regular voice call with her grandparents because they can’t work FaceTime, and— maybe sweetest of all— a text.

iMessage

4/18/18, 12:03 AM

Cole💕🎶

helloooooooo don’t yell at me for my poor sleeping schedule choices but its past midnight so happy birthday :) you make me very happy, i hope you have the best day (when you wake up, which i hope isn’t now because it’s way past your bedtime)❤️

She laughs at her screen when she reads it, and can’t really wipe the smile that lingers off of her face. Ellie is awake by that point, and she has some kind of best friend boyfriend-radar, because she immediately pipes up from her bed across the room. “Uh-oh.” Claire looks up, and she’s grinning. Her hair is everywhere, because of the way she slept on it. “Mushy text alert.”

There’s literally no use denying who the text was from, so Claire just shrugs and shakes her head, still smiling. “He just said happy birthday.”

Ellie sits cross-legged, and pulls her duvet around her shoulders. So much for embracing the outdoors. “What time did he send the text?”

“Uh… 12:03?” Claire pauses. “Why does it ma—”

“Because that means he didn’t see it on my story.” Ellie flashes a freckly grin. “Which means he remembered organically. Which already makes him better than He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

“Oh.” She laughs a little. “I guess you’re right. Yeah.” Her ex from freshman year, Devin, was notorious for a number of things, among them forgetting her birthday. Ellie plotted his murder on the regular.

Me: Thank you!💜💜💜

Me: And good morning! I hope you slept well, despite being awake at midnight…

Cole texts her back during breakfast, by which point her day is already pretty much going. She gathers with Ellie and their small circle of friends, mostly hallmates from last year they bonded with really well in the shared terror of freshman housing. They occupy the same table at the dining hall every time they get breakfast, and today, Niamh and Hannah from across the hall bring her a plastic crown and a purple balloon to tie to the back of her chair.

She doesn’t wear the crown to her 10:30 class, tempting as it is. On her way there, she texts Cole again. He’s being cryptic in a cute way, and it’s exciting.

9:04 AM

Cole💕🎶: thankfully yes, i did sleep well, i hope you did too :)

Cole💕🎶: you’re free at 4:30, right?

10:18 AM

Me: Yes!

Me: Why do you ask?

Cole💕🎶: i reserve the right to let you wait to find out

Cole💕🎶: but

Cole💕🎶: you should meet me in the orchard around then

Cole💕🎶: if you want

Me: Omg

Me: Of course I want!🥰🥰

Me: You’re making me excited!

Cole💕🎶: good!

Cole💕🎶: you deserve a good day

Cole💕🎶: ❤️

Me: You’re so sweet🥰🥰🥰🥰

Cole💕🎶: hahaha

Cole💕🎶: have fun in linguistics!!

Me: I will!!💜

She winds up being soft over him for pretty much the whole morning, which is definitely cheesy, but it’s all in the privacy of her head, so nobody needs to know. She runs into Reid at lunch, who does her the hilarious honor of (loudly, badly) singing Happy Birthday and getting a good percentage of the dining hall to join in. In her afternoon theatre class, she hangs out with Zelie, her favorite senior, and then walks out of class to a funny post her brother made for her on Instagram. The sun is still warm, and everything is good.

So it’s already a good day. And then Cole makes it better.

She walks up through campus toward the orchard at 4:30. She’s wearing her favorite outfit, which is maybe not the most important detail but still makes her feel good. It’s a lavender blouse with a black skirt, and fun floral-patterned purple tights. Her flats are maybe not the most sensible choice for walking in the orchard, but at least she doesn’t have to go that far.

Because when she gets to the actual orchard, Cole is already in sight; he’s sitting under a tree. The sight of him alone is enough to make her face warm, and it just gets easier to blush when he raises a hand over his head and waves.

She waves, too, and takes in the sight. Cole has spread a blanket out on the grass, and he has a small grocery bag to one side and his guitar case to the other. There’s a white box next to the grocery bag, and a small bundle of purple irises on top of the box. He’s in a green beanie and a flannel with plaid in the same color, and his smile is soft. “Hey,” he says, as she stops by his blanket. “Happy, uh— happy birthday.”

“Cole,” she laughs, and drops down to sit across from him. “What’s— did you set all this up for me?”

“Well— yeah.” Cole half laughs, as he nods, and pushes his rounded glasses up the bridge of his nose. He is entirely too cute to handle, and Claire is going to melt. “I had a little help, but yeah.” He pauses, shifts the way he’s sitting, and then grabs the flowers. “These— may or may not be stolen from campus grouds, but—”

“They’re beautiful,” she says, before he can finish, and takes them when he holds them out for her. They’re her favorite color, soft purple, and she laughs as she adds, “I think I know exactly where you stole them from, too,” because they look an awful lot like the flowers in the garden outside the student center.

“Just don’t tell campus security,” Cole mumbles.

“I would never.” She puts a hand to her heart, and knows she’s still smiling like a big sap when she meets his eyes. “Thank you. You’re so sweet. These are going in my room.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice is soft, and he’s smiling right back. For good measure, she leans across the blanket to close the small distance between them, and kisses his cheek. This, as it often does, turns his entire face pink. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t do it on purpose, for that reaction. “Uh,” he adds, as the blush floods his cheeks. “So I brought some stuff.”

“It looks like it!” She leans back, to survey the scene on the blanket again. “You did all this by yourself?”

Cole shrugs, gently, and murmurs, “I… may have had a little help. Reid told me this is a good spot for a picnic, but I did the rest.”

“He’s a man of wisdom,” she muses, regarding Reid, and then, as Cole reaches into the grocery bag, adds, “But you are a very sweet boyfriend, and for that I’m very grateful.”

Cole is still blushing, as he roots around in the grocery bag. “Let, uh— let me explain, and then we can eat.”

He walks her through the small assortment of items in the bag— sandwiches on the good, fresh bread from the dining hall, and snacks he bought at the grocery store. The white box has cupcakes inside, but not just any cupcakes— purple cupcakes, with cream cheese frosting, from the bakery in town she loves. She’s about ready to fly in her joy as he explains this to her, rocking back and forth gently as he speaks. “I know there’s a lot,” he says, “but, uh, I thought you could always have the extras some other day. And maybe Ellie would want one?”

“These are my favorite,” she cries, which he obviously knows, because he bought them for her birthday in the first place. “You’re the actual best person alive. Did you know that?”

Cole shrugs. His hair, wispy and light brown, is blowing gently where it sticks out from under his beanie. With the blush under his glasses, and the small smile on his face, he couldn’t be cuter. Claire is sure of it. “I mean,” he mumbles, all bashful and sheepish. “It is your birthday.”

Which is true. But he’s still totally outdone himself. And that’s before he pulls out his guitar.

She eyes it while they eat, but doesn’t ask. She figures he brought it out here for some reason, and he’ll eventually explain, which she turns out to be right about. It would be lying, though, to say that, as they eat, she’s not secretly hoping he’ll serenade her. Cole’s guitar is sort of the whole reason she started liking him in the first place. Not the actual guitar itself, but the way he is when he plays it. He’s super talented, and super cute when he does it, and she first started to notice him when she first heard him play.

So she waits. Patiently. More than a little excitedly. They eat the food he packed, and she tells him about her classes, about her breakfast with the girls, about her serenade from Reid and his impromptu backup singers. The sun shines warm on her shoulders, and he tells her she looks pretty. It’s more than enough to give her butterflies.

She’s eating a cupcake when the guitar finally gets brought up. It’s after a pause in conversation, while she pulls the wrapper off of the cupcake and he takes a deep breath. He’s fidgeting with his hands in his lap, a sign he’s thinking. When he speaks, he’s looking down at his hands. “So, um.”

Claire waits. She puts the cupcake down on a napkin, and nods. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m— yeah. I’m fine.” Cole’s laugh is gentle, and nervous. He nods, and then takes a deep breath for a second time. “I, uh… I was going to write you a card,” he starts. “I know that’s sort of, like. A thing people do.” He pauses. “But, uh… well… okay, I tried to write a card. Or, like, something like that. But I realized…” He fixes his beanie, and then takes a deep breath for a third time before he finally blurts a bunch of words out at once. “I’m… not good with words in that way, and I honestly, like, I don’t know how to write down the way I feel when I’m with you.”

The butterflies are at it again. Claire knows she’s smiling at him. She might even be blushing, too. And it just gets easier to smile and blush and all that jazz when Cole finishes his ramble with, “So I, uh… I wrote you a song?”

He reaches sideways for his guitar. The case is undone, so all he has to do is throw the top open. “You did?” she asks, because in that moment, she can’t even find the words for the excitement.

“I, uh— yeah.” Cole rests his hand on the neck of his guitar. It’s maybe the most beautiful instrument Claire has ever seen, except her own flute, but she’s sort of biased towards the latter. Cole still looks hesitant, still red in the face. “Is that weird?”

“Oh, my God, no,” she laughs, and shakes her head as she leans forward. “Cole, that’s— that’s maybe the sweetest gesture anyone’s ever done for me?”

“Well,” he laughs, “maybe don’t speak so soon. You haven’t heard the song yet.”

“I’ve heard your other songs.” She could kiss him. She wants to kiss him. She has done that before, a good number of times considering they’ve been together for two months. But right now, she especially wants to. “I can’t even— Cole.” She puts both hands over her face and laughs. “You’re the sweetest boy.”

Cole laughs, too; it’s the same bashful noise she’s gotten so fond of with him. Gingerly, he pulls his guitar from its case, and settles it into his lap. One test strum of a G chord, and she is positive she is going to combust with all the softness.

“Sorry, I, uh—” Cole stops strumming, and shakes his head. “I’ve never actually, uh, played someone a song I wrote them before? Especially not, like, a girlfriend.” He winces at himself. “So this is sort of new for me, and I’m, uh— a little embarrassed.”

“Oh, my God,” she murmurs. “Please do not be embarrassed.”

She guesses that’s enough for him, because he takes another of those huge breaths, and with that, he plays her the sweetest song she’s ever heard.

It’s like watching a little concert that was meant just for her. The lyrics are soft like a love song on the radio; his guitar sound is just… well, there’s nothing like it. In the entire world. Claire is blushing like crazy, and the best part is that he is, too, right through the whole thing, as he looks down at his guitar and sneaks her smiles between verses. When he finishes, she wishes she’d made a voice memo of it on her phone or something. Something to hold onto.

“There is no way,” she breathes, as the last chord hangs in the air, “that you’re a real person.”

Cole laughs, doubling over his guitar. He’s the cutest boy in the world. “I really hope I’m a real person,” he replies, and she wastes no more time. She lunges across the blanket, takes care not to knock the guitar off of him, and grabs his face to kiss him gently. When he smiles against her lips, she thinks her heart is literally going to fly.

How is this happening to her.

“That was so sweet,” she tells him, when she’s looking into his eyes, hazel and dazed behind those cute glasses. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“That was a thank you,” Cole breathes, and then adds, “Happy birthday.”

Claire laughs. She presses to his forehead, and then kisses him again.

This is, by far, the cherry on top of the best birthday she’s ever had.

#does claire need a tag?#actually he's cole #claire/cole #sappy prompts #ficlet #kiersey college #kiersey drama club #mel writes

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years

Text

lay down your weakness | jhs

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff here and there

au: bestfriend!hobi, friends to lovers (kind of)

word count: 6.5k

summary: Hoseok had imagined this moment more than enough times. Except in his head it took place somewhere more romantic than the back seat of his car and you always loved him back.

warnings: dom/sub themes, dom!hobi, sub!reader, hoseok is a sweetheart tho, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, size kink, unprotected penetrative sex, semi public sex, possessiveness, but also kinda tender fucking, some dirty talk, creampie, pining and a whole lotta angst (i warned you.)

a/n: this fic is based on the song “howling” by RY X. i hope you enjoy! <3

playlist: visit my playlist page and select “lay down your weakness”. (links to be added later)

When Hoseok's phone vibrated on his night stand at an ungodly hour of the morning, his heavy eyes had widened at the sight of your name lighting up the screen.

He wasn't expecting you to call tonight. You'd texted him nearly eight hours ago -- not that he was counting or anything -- to tell him you were leaving for your date with some guy from one of your classes, even sending him a mirror picture to prove it that made his breath hitch when his eyes glossed over the black dress which hugged your figure just right.

You were always asking if you looked okay. He told you that you looked lovely. Even sent one of the silly little thumbs up emojis, as if to say go get your man like a supportive friend should.

But what he really wanted to say was that you looked perfect in that dress and that you would have no trouble catching Jungkook's eye looking like that. After all you managed to catch Hoseok's eyes in your sweats and one of his over sized jumpers playing games at midnight on his couch.

Except that is the exact opposite of what you're supposed to say to your best friend, so he swallowed the words like he always did.

Anyway, he'd turned in for an early night after that, hoping to get the image of Jungkook's hands stripping you out of that sinful dress out of his mind before it led to even more scandalous images of you without the dress, sat in Jungkook's lap and wishing it were him underneath you. His mind liked to taunt him, saying that it really could have been him if he hadn't left it too long to make a move, falling so deep into the friend zone that he knew there was no way back out.

So receiving a call from you this late at night surprised him to say the least.

Sleepy fingers fumbled to hit the green answer button before you rang off on the other end of the line, the selfie you had forced him to take way back when your hair was long and his hair was blonde that he had set as your contact picture disappearing, quickly replaced by the sounds of your sniffles crackling down the line and suddenly he was upright in bed.

"Can you come pick me up?"

"What happened?"

"Don't wanna talk about it." Another sniffle, Hoseok already throwing a hoodie over his pajamas.

"I'm on my way. Hang tight."

A pang of worry throbbed in his chest as he envisioned you stood shivering somewhere on the side of the road while he hastily shoved his feet into the first pair of shoes he found. Or at least that's what he told himself it was as he started his car, bumping up the heat for when you would slide into the seat next to him.

Because somewhere deep down, he knew the reason he was speeding down city roads at 01:37 as the dashboard clock liked to remind him, was simply because he wanted to be the one to tell you everything was going to be okay. A part of him was even a little glad that things hadn't worked out with Jungkook. And he hated himself for it.

It was like his eyes were alert to you, spotting your hunched figure leaning against a scuffed wall outside some scummy bar before he was even close enough to see the tears streaking your cheeks. You didn't give a little wave like you usually did when he pulled up, no coy smile making his heart do little flips, just that same pang of miserable sympathy in equal measure to his niggling guilt. Instantly he knew that this one was bad.

Still, he leaned across the center console and pushed the door open in a welcoming gesture for you to hop on in like he always did because you said it was gentlemanly and he was a sucker for praise when it came from you.

"Y/N?" He asked simply, expecting a hello or a reassuring smile at the least.

But when you slumped into the passenger seat, bare arms hugging your torso, he was met with nothing but a glum vacant stare.

While you usually seemed to fill the room with your presence, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed or the way you hummed along to the radio under your breath enough to brighten his mood instantly like a perfect spell. Now you seemed small as you pressed your forehead to the window and watched the blurry orange glow of streetlights pass by with watery eyes.

The funny ache in his chest was back but this time it was an overwhelming longing to reach out and hold you, wipe away the tracks that stained your cheeks. But he feared that if he did you would shatter into a million pieces right in front of him so he tightened his grip on the steering wheel until the veins in his hands strained in the dark and focused his eyes on the road.

Unspoken words were thick in the air. Silence didn't usually bother him, not with you. You spent copious amounts of time in each others quiet company all the time. It was comforting.

Not this, though. Even the hum of the car engine and the click of the indicators seemed deafening. But he knew you well enough to know that pushing you to talk wouldn't make a difference and you'd let him in when you were ready. His job was just to be there when the time came, like a best friend should be.

Hoseok wasn't sure if he was supposed to be dropping you off at your place — honestly the thought of leaving you alone when you were still shaking with muffled sobs made him sick to his stomach — but it didn't feel right to take you back to his apartment either.

So he let the wheels of the car drive a journey every inch of which he had burned to memory, until he was pulling into the far most parking space in a darkened lot, otherwise vacant due to the hour, that overlooked the sea and the little slip of beach beside it.

All concerns were out of the window now. Hoseok didn't care if it was late and he should have been sleeping or that he was going to be tired at work tomorrow. This place was only called upon for special occasions. Or emergencies.

It was your place. Where the two of you came when you received good news or bad news; wanted to laugh or wanted to cry; when it was sunny or when it was raining; when you got your college acceptance letter or the day Hoseok's dog died to name a few.

Hoseok cut the engine, plunging you into complete silence, apart from the tranquil crash of waves which seemed to comfort you somewhat.

If he strained to look over he dashboard he could see the overgrown steps which led down onto the pebbled sand, water beyond it black with the reflection of the cloudy night sky, apart from a slither of moonlight which glistened across its surface.

Hoseok always thought it felt different here at night. Melancholy. You said you liked it better without the bustle of people — it was a popular spot for couples which always made Hoseok burn from the inside out with a yearning to hold your hand like they did — more so now it was just you and him and the rolling waves.

After a few long minutes of watching the tide, you finally permeated the hush with a shaky sigh.

Hoseok wanted to wrap you in his arms there and then like he usually would without hesitation. But something felt different so he refrained. Spoke tentatively instead. "Are you okay?"

You scoffed and he worried he'd said the wrong thing but then again it was the most he'd gotten out of you since you'd left the bar. "I'm pretty shit, actually."

Moonlight highlighted the way you threw your head back against the headrest in self reproach, pressing your knuckles to your eyes but failing to stop the fat tears that slipped out anyway.

Hoseok bit his lip. "Want to talk about it?"

"Turns out the date was just a stupid bet with one of his friends." Your laugh was hollow, shake of your head sorrowful. "We didn't even make it to movies before he was running off with some other girl he met at the bar"

Hoseok's heart shattered. He knew first hand how excited you had been for this stupid date; you'd been blabbing on about it all week. About how much you liked Jungkook. About how much he liked you.

"Fucking bastard." Hoseok gritted, fists clenching as he envisioned all the ways he could fuck up Jungkook's pretty face for making you hurt. "You're better than him, Y/N."

"But I'm not!" A hand slammed on the dashboard, making Hoseok jolt when your voice raised incredulously. "Jungkook was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to me but he doesn't want me, Hobi. No one ever does."

I want you. The words died on his tongue before they could be spoken, Hoseok sucking in a breath as he mulled over something more appropriate instead.

"Don't be ridiculous," the anger lacing Hoseok's tone made you finally loll your head in his direction, taking in the way he tensed beneath your gaze. "Everybody wants you around here."

It was true, at least in Hoseok's eyes; he had to deal with sleazy men looking you up and down when you danced with him in a strictly PG fashion on nights out or the campus guys who always interrupted your conversations while you ate lunch together. Even he caught himself staring at you from time to time. Or all the time, actually.

"Then explain why I'm some fraternity joke, Hobi?" Tears were salty on your tongue, voice unnaturally croaky. "Twenty bucks was all I was worth."

Hoseok's hand flew out to squeeze your hand comfortingly before he could think better of it. When you didn't pull away he had to fight to string a sentence together, too caught up in the way your hand felt soft beneath his larger calloused one.

"You're worth so much more than that." His words were laced with a sincerity that made the hurt ache a little less. "Everything. To me."

You sniffed, lacing his fingers with yours and letting the drag of his thumb across your knuckles soothe the ache in your temples from the cheap alcohol at the bar and the tear in your heart.

"Sometimes I think that nobody will ever love me."

The confession lay heavy in the air, nearly making Hoseok choke, or perhaps that was the I LOVE YOU's which were fluttering against his ribs like a bird in a cage.

"You know that's not true." The words were hoarse, Hoseok barely able to think through the blood pounding in his ears when you rested your head on his shoulder. From this angle he could see the rise and fall of your chest, slightly calmer now. The lashes pressed to your cheeks which glistened with a dampness in the dim lighting. And the perfect curve of your lips which he could easily capture between his own if he just cupped your cheek and leaned down a little -- no, definitely not thoughts that you should be having about your best friend, especially not like this. Selfishness won out though as he still could not bare to push you away, pushing his face into your hair instead and chastising himself for savoring the moment.

"I love you." It was barely a whisper against your temple and it should have dissipated on his tongue like the sea foam below but the way you hugged your knees to your chest filled him with an unstoppable desperation to make your hurt go away, even if it would twist the ache in his own heart like the point of a knife.

Your sigh was soft. "Yeah, but not like that."

If only you knew...

A hard swallow, another twist of the knife. "How is it any different?"

You averted your gaze and every second that ticked by in silence made his pulse race. Until you were pulling his face into your hands carefully, eyes zoning in on his parted mouth determinedly and before he could question your intentions his lips were pressed against yours in a hard kiss that made his head spin with a lethal mixture of relief and infatuation.

The plushness of your lips was softer than anything he had ever imagined late at night while you slept in his bed and he slept on the couch. It was barely a delicate brush at first, warm breath mingling with his before your lips were molding to his like you knew them well.

The sour taste of vodka lingered on your tongue as it swiped languidly over his bottom lip and he was silently glad he brushed his teeth before picking you up, never expecting to have his mouth on yours ever let alone tonight of all nights.

You broke away with a gentle pressure on his chest, teeth sinking into his lower lip before letting it go with a barely audible pop. When your eyes fluttered open, Hoseok was stiff, lips slightly more swollen than before and you had to admit he looked good with his hair still tousled from sleep and his chest rising with labored breaths.

"That." You murmured, releasing his hand from yours to swing your leg over his lap, mounting yourself on his thighs and ignoring the way the steering wheel pressed into your back. Hoseok's legs parted instinctively. "You don't love me like that."

Hoseok couldn't help the way his breath hitched when your groin landed in his lap, a red flush creeping up his neck when he felt his own crotch begin to stir at the visual image -- his dreams literally coming true -- squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on his ragged breathing to stop himself filling out his pants and making things awkward between you.

"What are you doing?" It was all but a rasp, tongue snaking out to dampen his lips, head pounding with alarm bells which couldn't quite drown out the desire warming in his chest.

"You said that you love me..." His nod was violent, never an action more truthful. You noticed the way he trembled beneath you when your fingers trailed down the front of his hoodie, testing the waters. "Can I trust you to help me forget?"

He very nearly groaned when he felt your breath ghost hotly across his neck to whisper the insinuation into his ear with what you hoped sounded like confidence, seductiveness but what Hoseok recognised as torment and recklessness.

"You can always trust me." You knew he meant it, though you didn't know it stretched as far as this. Neither did he, usually confident in his own self control but not now, as you leaned down to capture his mouth for the second time and maybe the last for all he knew so why not at least try to enjoy it?

Except before your lips could touch and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself, Hoseok hesitated.

Deep down he knew that you didn't love him back, that this was the sadness or the alcohol or both talking and that he should tell you to think about if this is what you really wanted and drop you home instead. But the way you looked at him with a dark intensity, almost pleading, shattered and fragile, made him want to do whatever he could to put you back together. He knew that he could make you feel good, even if it would be a temporary reprieve and it would hurt him more in the long run.

But mostly, Hoseok was a selfish person. It was too tempting to let himself believe you wanted him truly in this moment. He was weak and he couldn't resist.

He leaned in a little closer, your foreheads touching. Dear god, he couldn't fight his thoughts, too enamored with the fact that you were really sat in his lap right now, the smell of the perfume he knew all too well overwhelming his senses.

"Okay." Was what his shaky voice managed to stutter. "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure." It was spoken against the corner of his mouth, your fists tangling in his hoodie and pulling him up to meet your mouth in a kiss more intense than the last that made you fizz with an excitement that dulled the hollowness because he was so so warm, pulling you from the cold water in which you drowned and keeping you afloat in his comforting embrace instead.

You kissed him like you always wanted to be kissed, with an urgency that told him how much you wanted -- needed -- to feel him everywhere, a burning in your lower belly that had you tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, arching into his chest and seeking a further closeness.

It was hot and breathy and the most sensual sensation Hoseok had ever experienced when your tongue pressed against his with an electric curiosity, steeping him in a passion that set him alight, the flesh of his cheeks burning where your lips caressed them and where your exhales tickled his nose.

His hands hovered nervously over your body, not quite sure where they were supposed to go, and when you smirked into the kiss and pressed his hands firmly to your inner thighs, he quickly got to work rubbing circles into the bare skin which peeked out from beneath your dress. Even when a blush crept onto his cheeks as his fingers brushed the edge of your lace panties, making him forget how to move his lips for a second and clashing your teeth together awkwardly.

Hoseok still couldn't quite believe this was really happening and he mentally chastised himself for messing up. This had to be perfect. Something told him there wouldn't be an opportunity for a do over.

You didn't seem to care though, soft laughter tinkling into his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck and found his lips again in the darkness like a perfect puzzle piece. The sound was simultaneously the prettiest and the hottest thing he'd ever heard when it faded into a shallow whine when your clothed heat bumped against his hardness lightly.

"Shit, y/n." Even Hoseok couldn't curb the growl that left his throat when you started to grind in circles against his crotch, the agonizingly slow pace not helping the half hard situation he had going on.

By this point your panties were starting to stick to your folds, a lewd wet spot appearing on Hoseok's grey sweats where you tried to gain some friction on your swollen clit which throbbed for attention every time you felt his cock twitch through the fabric.

"You're so hot." He couldn't help it. The real thing was better than any of the ways he imagined you getting off above him when he was alone with his own hand wrapped around his cock.

The husk in his voice went straight to your heat. If the tent in his pants was anything to go by, his own hips stuttering up to meet the pace of your thrusts, Hoseok wanted you and the knowledge was enough to have you clutching at his hoodie strings, hole clenching for him to fill you up and make you feel whole again. Feel wanted.

Hot palms were kneading the flesh of your ass now, sliding beneath your dress until the fabric was bunched up around your waist. The way Hoseok's eyes widened at your black underwear was cute, distracting you from the reminder that you'd worn them especially for Jungkook. His mouth fell agape when you guided his hand underneath the waistband. "Like them?"

"Love them." He'd seen your underwear a few times before by accident, when you changed at his place and chucked one of his huge hoodies over top of your otherwise bare body, the image burned into his memory enough to get him hot and bothered, mouth dry as he remembered that this time it was a purposeful display, all for him.

The smirk on your lips was wiped away when the feeling of his hand cupping your mound made you whimper, skin on skin much better than the rough friction from his sweats.

Hoseok let out a gasp of his own when the pads of his fingers circled your hole teasingly, surprised to find your arousal already drenching his fingers and making his cock throb painfully against his pants but he wanted this to be about you so he kept his thighs firmly planted to the seat. The idea that it was him who got you so wet was enough to satisfy him anyway. He never thought he, your best friend, could have this sort of effect on you.

"P-please." Impatience was clouding your vision, falling forward to grip the car seat when Hoseok's knuckle dragged your arousal up your slit, brushing briefly across your swollen clit and making you jolt at the electric touch. "Need you so bad, Hobi."

The way you slurred over your words, eyes squeezed shut and chasing the feeling of fullness between your legs made him groan. Even more so the broken way his name escaped your lips, practically begging him to touch you. As much as he would have liked to tease, make you writhe and plead for his fingers, he was too curious to see how fast he could make you fall apart.

The pads of his fingers made quick work of your clit, rubbing fast circles into the bud which made you buck off his lap, head thrown back and exposing the expanse of your neck which Hoseok longed to mark up all nice and pretty and claim as his own but he knew you weren't his so he refrained.

The strangled noise which left you when he slipped his middle finger inside you, promptly followed by a second, nearly tipped him over the edge, clasping the base of his cock through his sweats before he blew his load right then and there at the sheer visual of you using his hand to fuck yourself nice and slow by bracing yourself on the seat behind him.

Not that he could really see much in the dark what with with your panties obscuring your core from view but the lewd squelch as he curled his fingers inside you and the shaky breaths next to his ear punctuated by a string of blissful moans was enough to have him palming himself a little too excitedly, momentarily losing sight of his guilt and succumbing to the moment.

"Mmf, Hoseok gonna cum." The warning only encouraged him more, his wrist snapping at a sinful pace while his thumb toyed with your clit, alternating applying a firm pressure and rubbing it back and forth when he felt it throb deliciously against the pad of his finger.

"Let me see you, baby." There was something about the way he coaxed you through your high, almost commanding as he challenged you to fall over the edge that made the coil in your stomach tighten and suddenly your vision was fading to black and you could barely hear his encouraging but authoritative rasps as your head lolled against the window. "Cum for me, that's it."

He watched with an apt fascination as you came around his fingers, like he'd never seen anything like it before; and it was true, Hoseok was sure you had never looked so pretty and he had never felt so alive as in this moment with you clenching around his fingers, the pretty sighs fogging up the glass all his doing.

The emptiness inside you was back when he slipped out his fingers and wiped them on his hoodie, careful not to stain you with any of your arousal when he wrapped you in his arms, hearts beating in time now.

You stayed like that for a few moments. Him rubbing soothing circles into your back and trying to comprehend what just happened, nerves kicking in at your silence. You breathing in the scent of his woody cologne as your breathing softened.

"Are you okay?" He finally whispered, unable to stop his thumb from tracing your bottom lip when you sat back to look at him, wide eyed and still shaking from the come down of your orgasm.

"Mhm." Your nod was tentative, a funny warmth spreading across your chest at the way his eyes lit up, giving away the grin he was biting his cheek to suppress. "Remind me again why we haven't done this before?"

He stiffened. Because this means more to me than you will ever know...

The tension creeping into the cracks between your bodies made you shift, surprised when you brushed over something which made Hoseok groan.

Adrenaline made you flush as you reached between your legs to grip him through his pants curiously.

"You're still hard." You bit your lip. It drove him crazy.

"Don't worry about me." His laugh was breathy but it faltered when you squeezed his length over the fabric. "I-I'm fine like this."

His cock felt huge in your grip and another bout of lust pooled in your stomach when you realised that you could just slide your panties to the side, loosen the strings of his sweats and easily ride him right there, sure that his girth would stretch you out just how you liked it. And maybe, just maybe, fill the emptiness for good.

"Wanna feel you, though. All of you." Hoseok felt himself melt at the pout on your lips, putty in your hands. Whatever you wanted he'd let you do it. Even if you still weren't his, he knew in that moment that he was irrevocably yours. "Please?"

Your hands found his waistband and he gripped your wrists firmly. You silently wondered what it would be like if he pinned them above your head and had his way with you. But then you caught his concerned expression.

"Are you sure about this? Once we do this we can't go back."

Hoseok still didn't let go after you gave an affirming nod, wanting verbal consent. "I want you, Hoseok."

You could tell that broke him by the fucked out look on his face.

Weak. He was weak when it came to you. And, as he was learning, weak for the way you shimmied his sweats around his thighs and whimpered when his girthy length slapped against the expanse of toned stomach which peeked from below his hoodie. You'd always expected him to be big, the one time you caught him sneaking out of bed after one of your movie nights with a loud and proud boner confirmation enough. But the real thing made you burn with a hunger to sink onto his already leaking cock.

Your small palm was cold when it finally wrapped around his throbbing cock, the sensation a euphoric relief from both the neglect and the years of lusting after this moment. He threw his arm over his eyes, losing himself to the sensation and letting his hips buck into your touch.

Now he was actually here he couldn't think of anything other than the slow slide of your palm down his length, how he wanted to husk that his cock was made for your hand but he knew it wasn't true so he pressed his lips together and listened to the sharp huffs of air which pushed through his nose with every twist of your palm around his engorged head.

"Wait!" Hoseok lurched forward suddenly, fingers digging into your shoulder, face buried and panting in your chest. "Gonna blow my load if you keep that up."

"You don't want to?"

Strands of his hair stuck to his damp forehead and he shook them out of his eyes. His sudden grip on your hips was bruising as he pulled you down into his lap, breath hot against your neck. "Wanna see you fall apart on my cock first."

Hoseok had no idea were the sudden surge of confidence came from. The hormones perhaps or maybe he was just like any other guy, losing himself once he got a hand around his cock. It definitely shouldn't have been the fact that he had his best friend, the girl of his dreams, in his lap and his head was swimming with thoughts of how right this felt even though it was supposed to be so wrong.

"Oh. O-okay." Your core was pulsing again, the authority in Hoseok's voice different from how you were used to. You were quickly realizing you liked the way he smirked when you writhed at his words and braced yourself on his shoulders to pull your panties to the side, ready to just sink down onto his cock then and there.

"Don't." It was firm, commanding. Made you shiver. "Back seat. Now."

You obeyed, practically throwing yourself through the gap in the seats with anticipation, missing Hoseok's warmth during your brief separation until he was hovering over you with a hunger in his eyes that took your breath away. Like he wanted to devour you completely. If he'd asked, you would have let him.

"T-take this off." You mumbled, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie which he pulled over his head with his t-shirt in tow. Hands instantly trailed up his chest, taking in the slight firmness of his shoulders in the dark, not quite remembering when your best friend gotten this broad. There was a pang in your chest. It felt safe here with him, like nothing was wrong with his strong form hovering over you.

By the time he was throwing the pile of fabric in the front seat you were working on your panties, Hoseok's eyes darkening with lust as he watched you kick them off and slide the thin straps of your dress down your arms.

The night air was cool against your nipples, making you gasp. It was a small bliss but you were thankful you didn't wear a bra when Hoseok's bare chest pressed against you skin on skin, instantly warming you.

The drum in Hoseok's chest intensified when he took in your bareness for the first time. His imagination had done no justice. He wanted to commit every inch of you to memory; the perfect swell of your breasts, each soft rise and fall of your chest, soft thighs squeezing around his waist as he gripped the flesh of your ass with a roughness he could no longer curb. Skin warm and flushed and shivering lightly with every delicate touch of his fingers, hair fanned out on the seat like a halo.

Hoseok wanted to say that you were perfect, that he felt like the luckiest man on the planet right now with you laughing at him breathily from where you hid self consciously behind your fingers, a shyness he didn't understand when you looked like this.

He wanted to say that he loved you. To open the car window and scream it into the salty air so that every crashing wave and every grain of sand and every droplet of rain which had started to best down on the car knew it.

But the words wouldn't come so he simply placed a careful kiss to your cheek, roaming downwards and mumbling against your jaw. "Don't hide from me."

The dip of your collar bones proved too enticing to resist, his lips attacking the slightly damp skin and sucking harshly until you were left with a plethora of purple bruises across your neck, the way his teeth grazed your flesh and his tongue laved the burn making your core ache. It was passionate and hungry but somehow tender, as if he wanted to worship every inch of you.

"Hoseok!" You gasped when he found the sweet spot behind your ear as easily as if he had done it a million times before. Like he knew it was there. "What are you doing?"

"Mine." The single word was growled against your jaw line as Hoseok pressed a series of kisses up to your chin, skipping your lips when they parted in waiting in favor of leaving another pretty bruise on the opposite side of your neck. "You hear me? All mine."

Maybe you were lost to the moment or maybe Hoseok's possessive side was the reason your heart started to race, moaning unabashedly now. "Y-yours! I'm yours."

Hoseok couldn't tell if the words went straight to his heart or to his rock hard cock.

Something inside him snapped and he just couldn't hold back any longer, hands running up and down your sides as he kissed down to your breasts, taking a nipple into the heat of his mouth and smirking when you arched into the touch. "Look at you, getting all worked up from just my mouth."

Hands spread your legs roughly and you were at his mercy, enjoying the way he hummed in admiration at your glistening folds.

"All for you." You breathed, believing your words wholeheartedly.

Hoseok's fingers found your sticky clit, stroking with his fingertips lightly. "All for me." He flushed with pride.

"Please fuck me now."

The words he'd always imagined spilling from your lips, breathier in real life he noted. It made him wonder how the other three more sentimental words he wanted to hear would sound.

"Since you asked so nicely." Nerves wracked Hoseok's frame when he realised that this was actually happening, hands shaking as he gripped the base of his cock to line it up with your clenching entrance.

When he finally pushed inside, your warmth swallowing his cock until his hips were flush to yours, it felt like you were finally whole.

The stretch burned, but it soon faded to something close to bliss as you felt every inch of his cock drag against your velvety walls, the head hitting so deep inside you that each thrust took your breath away. It grazed your sweet spot just right, like your bodies were made for one another.

Hoseok didn't give you much time to adjust, wanting to see the way your face twisted with every thrust. Wanting to see how quickly his cock could reduce you to a fucked out mess. "Bet he couldn't fuck you like this."

"W-What?"

"Jungkook." Hoseok licked his lips, trying not to cum when his words made you clench around his sensitive cock. "You were made to take my cock."

"Fuck, Hoseok."

You followed his gaze to where his length slipped out of you, glistening with your arousal, Hoseok running the head through your slit to nudge your clit before it was disappearing into your entrance again. "Look at you, taking my cock so well, hm?"

"Yours." Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the fullness and his sinful mouth. "Only yours."

"Bet he feels so fucking stupid for missing his chance to feel this pretty pussy."

Arms wrapped around his neck, fingers cupping his face and slotting your lips together. Your eyes were shut and it was almost instinctive — did he lean in or did you? — expressing how much you wanted him and how good he was making you feel with a long press to his puckered mouth that felt like rain on a hot summer evening, water breaking a dam. Relief. Like falling into one another's skin.

And every time your hips met skin on skin and you sighed into his mouth, Hoseok felt his heart swell. Even with the expletives slipping past his lips every now and again, he fucked you with a fondness that consumed every inch of his being, one which he felt when he saw you from across the room or when you turned up at his door unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

Love. He hoped you could feel it with every roll of his hips because he couldn't make the words come out.

Then you were reaching a second high, eyes rolling back and soft mewls of overstimulation caressing his ears as you clenched impossibly tight around him and he fell over the edge alongside you, face falling into the crook of your neck as he coated your walls.

In the few moments after, with you pulling him close and his chest pressed to yours, he could feel your erratic heart beat against his skin; and Hoseok swore the final pieces of his own heart fluttered straight out of his chest and into your palms.

Just you, him, and the rolling waves that swelled and crashed achingly in time with every pump of his heart.

But all good things have to end eventually. It was late. You were tired. He had work in the morning. You weren't in love.

There were tissues in the glove box and he helped you clean up, pulling his hoodie over your head when you started to shiver. If you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent it was like his arms were still around you. Hoseok never complained when his own arms prickled with a chill at the loss of your warm body pressed to his.

Then your head was on his shoulder again, both arms wrapped around his waist as you gazed off across the ocean, breathing soft with a hazy smile resting on your lips. The you he was used to back somewhat, if he ignored how much better he knew you now than ever before.

"I love you, you know." Hoseok sounded choked. He didn't mean to.

"I know." A few beats of silence. "Thank you. For making me feel better."

His inhale was shaky as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face, unable to stop the corners of his lips turning up when you glanced up at him through your lashes even despite the hollowness in his chest. "How about I take you to see that movie instead, huh?"

"I'd like that."

And for a blissful moment Hoseok thought that things might be different now.

He clung to that maybe for the short drive home and while he carried your sleeping form into your apartment, letting himself in with the spare key he kept on his keychain and when he tucked you into bed with your shoes placed neatly beside the door.

He believed it even harder when you gave him a sleepy kiss goodbye.

And even when you sent him a mirror picture nearly a week later and he said you looked lovely like he always did while he hoped and he hoped that your date with Park Jimin would be as disastrous as the last, he maintained a slither of hope.

Because one thing would never be different: Hoseok was weak when it came to you.

#btssmutclub #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts #hoseok fanfiction #hoseok angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #hoseok imagine #bts scenario #hoseok scenario #kwordsmiths #btswriterscollective #<3 love

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nirfanatxt · 4 years

Text

La La Lost You - Part 1

A/N: inspired by La La Lost You - NIKI

He had his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, Chelsea boots hitting the pavement as he walked up to his new apartment. Some of his things were already there from days ago, being arranged by his sister. All he brought was a black backpack during his flight to the city, no hint of someone who was moving across the coast. Although, his hooded eyes and dark circles could be a giveaway. Tired did not even cut it close, he was extremely exhausted not being able to get any sleep on his flight even the doorman didn’t nearly look as dead as he was.

The building was so different from his previous one. Los Angeles was hot and sunny, living in a shared house with his college friends had been chaotic but warm. New York on the other hand is all about tall buildings, cold and intimidating but gave him hopes and dreams nonetheless. They said the city never sleeps, everyone buzzing at any time of the day tirelessly chasing their dreams and they might have been right to some extent as he saw his sister waiting in the lobby holding a cup of coffee. She gave him a small smile before embracing him in a tight hug.

“Glad you can finally be here.” she whispered. Her smile was as bright as always but he could see a frown making it way to her face upon seeing his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep? You have your first day today!” she scolded, pushing him into the open elevator. He just chuckled at her behavior and shrugged.

“Well, you know me. Not really a fan of sleeping on a flight when it can be free entertainment for hours.” His sister rolled her eyes at that. Not much had changed about her brother, apparently. But even then, she could sense the hesitation in his eyes when he came in, that was so different from how he was when he first visited his dream city.

“It’s not free, it’s all in.” The floor was 31, he had never been that far up in a home unit building. He could kind of see why his sister chose this particular apartment, the hallway is warm and welcoming like home. It was unlike how he first pictured it upon seeing the towering building when he walked in.

“Whatever. You’re one to talk, it’s not even nine yet.” gesturing to her attire and that iced coffee that seems to just completely melted away all of the ice. She didn’t bother to respond, adjusting her bag and checked her watch.

“Shit, I have to go like now but I promise I will be home to take you out for dinner. Enjoy your first day, little brother!” she quickly handed him the key to her apartment and scurried away quickly in her heels. He thought it was crazy how it was only six but she already had places to be but he had to leave in three hours anyway.

When he got to his room, he was faced with a huge window overlooking the city. The view from up here, New York City in all its glory. It looked like it came straight out of a movie with all the skyscrapers and taxis littering the streets. A sense of realization hit him at that moment feeling like his dreams finally came true ever since he moved to the States. Then he looked around the room, finding it perfectly decorated by his sister who had gone to work a few minutes earlier. Some of his books were arranged neatly in a wall-shelf, pictures that he used to put on his bedside was on his new desk, and his posters up on the wall. His gaze fell on a pile of folded clothes near his bed. One shirt stuck out with its colorful tone compared to his usual darker ones. Tugging it out, he saw that it was a white Malibu shirt with 80s neon colors in the middle. It was her shirt.

His first day had gone well he decided as he boarded into the subway. Never once he had thought he would be working the Culture desk for The New York Times so early in his career but he guessed a little push was all he needed when he applied for the job. Everyone in the newsroom was very welcoming and his little cubicle near the window was a just a dream came true. But as he glanced at the time on his watch that he had not changed since his arrival in the city, he realized just how far away he was from her. She must have been asleep by now on the couch in front of the telly with her dog right beside her and here he was, on a train on the way to his supposedly new home.

The morning was not as beautiful as it was in Los Angeles he realized as he stared into the sky on his way to Empire. His sister decided that today would be the day they finally explored Chelsea, even go as far as taking a day off, and she believed a small little diner serving the best breakfast is a good place to start. He appreciated it, really, but his mind was wandering too much ever since he remembered her. It wasn’t like he could stop.

Leaving the sunny heaven was not easy, nor it was leaving his friends, and her in particular. Then again during his short time studying there, he didn’t expect to have fun, didn’t expect bond that well with his housemates, didn’t expect to fall in love. He was a reserved person, focused and determined. His only goal when he came to UCLA was to study and study only but life has a funny way to turn things around, he supposed. The shared house was the cheapest option he got when he decided he wanted to save up for a life in New York. His sister had recommended it since one of her old friends was living there and it lived up to expectation.

The college experience got way better than he expected. Sure, he still was studying his ass off and his housemates respect his ambitious way but they also never let him became too holed up in the study room, occasionally pushing him to go out with them. Had it not been because of them, he still would be the antisocial kid that he was. It was during one of those days did he met her. Light brown hair, ocean blue eyes, rosy cheeks, holding a cup of wine so elegantly while laughing at something her friends said.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” she had said. He had expected a mocking tone to come with the sentence but there was only a playful smile on her face. She had noticed his t-shirt and it turned out, both of them were a huge fan of The Maine. Coincidentally a show was set to roll that very weekend and they found themselves in front of the barricade a few days later, hand in hand. Everything seemed to go smoothly ever since. A day would not be complete without each other; a little bit of laughter, a couple of coffee cups from Alfred, and end tangled up in each other embrace.

“Are you okay?” his sister asked, breaking him out of his trance. He gave her a small smile gazing at the small diner. It wasn’t as big as he thought it would be, it looked and felt old school. Not surprising at all when it comes to his sister choices. A little bit of familiarity in such a busy and modern world. Maybe she was looking for home the way he did in LA, just in a different form.

“You’re my only brother, you know. I can see it. Talk to her.” she said as he closed the menu. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he never thought about it. He couldn’t count how many times he picked up his phone, ready to click her contact just to close it again. A relationship is not a familiar territory for him, not real ones, much less miles apart.

“You know why I can’t. I was never meant to fall in love.” he sighed. It was such a foolish answer to blame his feelings, he knew, but he wasn’t about to explain the way he didn’t have much faith in himself to keep a long-distance relationship intact. It wasn’t his forte and he didn’t want to risk scrapping his knees in the process once it all tumbled down.

“No one ever plans to.” she countered. He grumbled but kept quiet, not up for an argument so early in the morning. She was about to say something when the waiter came with two plates of waffle. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had been craving it, she probably would bombard her little brother with questions. As she glanced at his face, content even for a moment, she decided she would leave it at that today.

It was midnight when they got to the apartment. He hadn’t felt at ease during his time in the city until he properly reconnected with his sister. They never continued their conversation even though he knew how much his sister wanted to and he appreciated her for giving him space to think. By the time he came out of the bathroom, his sister had gone to bed leaving a cup of tea for him. He wasn’t nearly as tired so he settled on the balcony, a playlist in the background.

Cherry was playing in the background when his phone suddenly lit up. A call from her. Hesitantly, he picked it up and pressed it to his ears. Her voice filled up his senses with a small hello. But it wasn’t her usual cheery voice nor angry the way it had been when he broke the news. He didn’t want to even imagine her shedding a tear but he could hear it in her voice.

“You left your Santa Cruz hoodie and it’s been the only thing I wear going to sleep. Fuck, it’s so hard to forget you.” she sniffled. Before he could reply, she had ended the call. He wasted no time in calling her back but she was long gone. All of his calls went straight into the voicemail but he didn’t leave one. He wasn’t sure how to so he stopped calling.

The song played again and it was as if the lyrics were mocking him. There’s a piece of you in how I dress. What an irony, he thought. His mind was restless the rest of the night. Sleeping didn’t seem like an option. The demons in his head kept taunting him ever since he heard her on the phone. Maybe he shouldn’t have left. His dream is here, but is it worth it when his heart is in LA? As he looked outside the window, he convinced himself that he would be okay.

#calum hood imagine #luke hemmings imagine #harry styles imagine #calum hood fic #luke hemmings fic #harry styles fic

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loveissupernatural · 5 years

Photo

“The Man Behind the Mask”

Pt 6

Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You’ve recently moved to Queens, New York after your father finds a new job with the U.S. government handling alien affairs in the city. You’ve grown up in a small town, and it’s your junior year of high school; culture shock takes a whole new meaning when you’re saved by the famed new web-slinging Avenger - and when you meet a new group of friends at Midtown High that seem to always be hiding something. But things quickly get personal.

Masterlist / Pt 1 – Pt 2 – Pt 3 – Pt 4 – Pt 5

You gave Peter one hell of a farewell after school that day. The buses were lining up to take students home, and you gave Ned a quick hug before turning to Peter with endless emotion in your eyes. You couldn’t put into words how thankful you were to him for his promise to request Spider-Man’s help, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. The burning questions, the ache of the unknown, could finally end for you and your mother – or, at least, the possibility was there.

You gave him a watery smile before wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek against his unscratched one. His arms welcomed you, and soothed your worry like a balm. For the millionth time that day, you whispered, “Thank you, Peter. So much.”

The faint scent of some sort of cologne (or did he just naturally smell like that?) made you melt against him. Your hand barely brushed the chocolate curls at the base of his neck. He had to know how much this meant to you.

You could’ve sworn his arms tightened when your fingers barely touched the nape of his neck, but you tried not to read too much into it. Your heart was heavy enough already with your father’s situation, so you didn’t need to start looking too deeply into Peter’s feelings about you, in case they weren’t reciprocated. You weren’t sure if you could handle it right now if they weren’t.

“Anything you need,” he whispered back, “let me know, okay?”

Peter Parker was a saint.

You regrettably pulled apart from him, frustrated that you had to end the intimate moment. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that spread from your stomach to your throat at the way he was looking at you. How could someone be so handsome, yet simultaneously look so puppy-like?

You could’ve sworn you heard Ned mutter something along the lines of “whipped”, but you decided that you’d imagined it.

The sunglasses-donning gorilla dropped you off at your apartment that afternoon instead of at the facility. Your mother insisted that you needed to go sleep in your own bed and escape the stale environment of the prison masquerading as a hospital. She’d looked at your sleep-deprived face that morning and refused to let you argue with her – after all, you had school. You only stopped disagreeing when she promised to text you at least twice a day with updates on your father’s condition.

You wanted with every fiber of your being to be by your father’s side, but you couldn’t ignore the joy of the thought of sleeping on a mattress instead of a much too small, lumpy loveseat. Your back couldn’t take it much longer.

When arriving to your apartment, it felt strangely empty with just you. The sparse furniture and cold grey of the granite countertop reminded you how alone you were. Almost two weeks had passed since you and your family had moved in, but with your mugging scare and your father’s “accident”, not much unpacking was done. You threw your backpack half-hazardly on a living room chair and practically power walked to your bedroom. The memory foam mattress was calling your name.

You pulled out your phone and your thumb hovered over your group text with Peter and Ned. You’d exchanged phone numbers with the two at lunch as soon as it was clear that you all were taking part in a government conspiracy theory. It was obvious to you three at this point that you were lifelong friends.

“I’ll talk to Spider-Man tonight,” Peter had told you quietly after lunch, walking you to your next class. “I’m sure he’ll want to help. He’s dealt with alien-related issues before.”

“Of course he has,” you laughed, joy spreading through your entire body like a sunny day. “Peter, I really appreciate this. I – I realize that this is sensitive information… please let him know that I can be trusted.”

Peter gave you a half-smile, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans. A rogue curl fell to his forehead as he looked at his sneakers. “I think he knows.”

You resisted the urge to hug him again. Your face was still cooling down from the hug at lunch.

You looked up to see that you were at your next class already, and you inwardly cursed. Peter’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, and you hated that you were already parting ways, even if it was only for an hour and a half.

Peter smiled at you, crinkles forming underneath his chocolate eyes. You had an uncanny feeling that he knew exactly how you were feeling.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” he said gently. His voice was like honey.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying to control your urge to smile like an idiot. He nodded and started backing away, maintaining eye contact with you until he had to turn, nearly knocking into someone again. He put his head down in embarrassment at his repeated clumsiness, but you laughed. It was funny how he knew exactly how to make you feel better without even trying.

You bit your lip and clicked on your group text with your friends, sighing. You decided to start the conversation with a gif of Forrest Gump waving “Hi!”. You needed a little humor in your life right about now.

Ned was the first to answer, replying with his own gif of a chubby toddler waving enthusiastically. You giggled. Peter quickly followed with a gif of Jim Carrey’s face covered in tape, waving demurely. You snorted.

So, I’m not at the hospital tonight, you texted. Mom said that I needed to get out of there for a bit. Can’t disagree with her…

That’s good, Peter replied. Hospitals can be the worst.

You wondered about Peter’s experiences with hospitals, but you decided that was a conversation for another day.

What’re you doing for dinner? Peter suddenly asked, and dots appeared by Ned’s name as he was typing.

I don’t know, figured I’d order take out again, you replied. You honestly hadn’t thought about it.

Mom’s insisting on “family dinner”, Ned replied. She won’t let me out of it. Especially since I skipped last week’s to work on our robotics project.

Bummer, Ned, Peter typed. Y/N? Do you want to come over for dinner? Aunt May says that carbs are the best medicine.

Dude, is she making spaghetti? Ned asked almost immediately. He followed with a gif of a sad-looking puppy.

Yeah lol, Peter replied.

DAMN IT! Ned cried.

You pressed your phone to your chest and took deep breaths, your heart racing. Was Peter inviting you over to meet his family? Surely you were reading too much into this. You were a friend in need and Peter was doing what he did best, comforting you.

Sure! I love Italian, you replied with shaky fingers.

Peter replied at the speed of lightening, like he had it typed out already.

7:00, 20 Ingram Street in Forrest Hills, Queens, he sent. You liked the message.

Should I take the subway? You asked. You’d be lying if you said the thought of riding the subway for your first time alone didn’t scare you. Spider-Man was right about you being a magnet for trouble.

Cab, he answered immediately. May says she’ll pay you back for fare.

You insisted that she didn’t need to, that dinner was certainly payment enough. Peter warned you that she would shove money in your hand anyway.

You launched off of your bed, invigorated by the thought of not only not spending dinner alone, but spending it with Peter. You rifled through your closet and instantly hated everything you had to wear. If you were meeting his Aunt, you had to make a good impression, right? You vaguely wondered about the whereabouts of his parents, but decided that was also a conversation for another time. He’d tell you if he wanted to.

You settled on skinny jeans, black booties, and a vintage tee. The last thing you wanted was to seem like you were trying too hard. You made sure that your hair and makeup was done, though – you didn’t want to look like you weren’t trying at all.

You went downstairs and power walked through the lobby, almost out the spinning doors before registering that the man at the front desk asked if you’d like for him to hail you a cab. You nodded shyly.

You read the cab driver Peter’s address from your phone, pleased when he nodded and made a comment that it wasn’t far. You pushed down the joy at the thought of your proximity, and how easy it would be to visit Peter if you wished. But you were getting ahead of yourself.

Your phone dinged with a jokingly sour text from Ned, telling you two to have fun without him, that he’d be miserably stuck listening to his dad’s ramblings about his newest hobby. He insisted that you call an ambulance if you hadn’t heard from him again by midnight, that he’d died of boredom.

In fifteen short minutes, the cab driver stopped in front of a quaint apartment building. You paid him and gave him a decent tip, appreciating the kind conversation he’d made on the way. He was by far the kindest stranger you’d met outside of Midtown High.

Peter texted you an apartment number shortly before you’d arrived. You looked down at your phone, then up the outside staircase. A little exercise never hurt anyone, right?

Wrong, you decided once you’d reached Peter’s floor. You leaned against the stair railing and took a moment to calm yourself and your racing heart. You weren’t sure if it was nerves making your heart thump, or the fact that you’d just climbed four flights of stairs. You decided that it was both.

You checked your reflection using your phone camera one last time, rubbing off a bit of rogue lipstick that had made its way onto your front teeth. You slipped your phone into your purse and approached the numbered door, taking one more deep breath. You could do this.

You raised your fist to knock, but before you could, you heard what sounded like a struggle and heated whispers behind the door.

“Mayyy,” you heard a voice whine, assuming it was Peter’s. He sounded quite put out.

The door flung open to a beautiful middle-aged woman with a full smile. Her brunette hair was tied up in a messy bun that should’ve looked messier, but was just flattering. She wore circular tortoise-shell glasses and loose-fitting patterned pants that you desperately wanted to borrow. She had an effortless beauty about her, and you found yourself wishing that you would age that gracefully.

“Hiii,” she grinned, and her voice was sweet. “You must be the Y/N that I’m hearing so much about.”

You heard a groan and it was at that moment that you noticed Peter a few feet behind her, running his hands over his face and looking completely and thoroughly humiliated.

She seemed to backtrack at his reaction. “Oh – I mean, not that I’ve heard a lot about you. Because then that would mean Peter talks about you all the time and that – that would be weird, right?” She looked back at him as if for approval, but his face was stoic.

You couldn’t fight your amusement at May’s candor, and reached out your hand. “Hi, yeah, that’s me. You’re Aunt May, right?”

“Just call me May,” she smiled, shaking your hand so enthusiastically that her messy bun was flopping. She stepped back and opened the door further to let you in. You liked her already.

The apartment was smaller than yours, but it was warmer and radiated comfort. You much preferred it to the cold, sterile feel of your home. It had echoes of fond memories and laughter. Your nose was greeted by the delectable smell of cooking spaghetti sauce. And to top it all off, there stood Peter, in jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, trying his hardest to smile at you through the embarrassment still etched in his features.

“I love your apartment,” you told May, looking around. You decided to give Peter a moment to regain himself. “It’s so homey.”

“Why, thank you.” She swatted her hand in an ‘it’s nothing’ matter. “It’s not much but it’s treated us well through the years, huh, Pete?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answered lamely, scratching the back of his neck. The movement caught your eye.

May walked by Peter and lightly punched him in the arm, whispering something along the lines of “chill out”; you couldn’t catch the whole thing.

Peter suddenly cleared his throat, as if trying to gather courage. “Thanks for coming, Y/N.” His smile was starting to seem more like the Peter you knew and less totally humiliated.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you quipped, walking toward him and opening your arms for a hug. He gladly accepted, but you kept the hug short since May was watching. The quickness of it didn’t stop the racing of your heart, though.

“So, I heard from a little birdie named Ned that you were making spaghetti?” you asked, turning toward May who was stirring a pot in the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder at you with raised eyebrows.

“That kid can eat more spaghetti than anyone I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something,” she said with amusement. “Even more than Ben.” She paused, then kept stirring. “Uncle Ben,” she explained, “my late husband.”

You frowned, Peter’s comment about hospitals coming back to you. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” May shrugged, setting down the sauce spoon and turning to another pot that was full of noodles. “It was a few years ago.”

You turned to look at Peter, but he was looking at the floor, an expression on his face that broke your heart. The loss was obviously still fresh for him.

“Is – is it homemade?” you ask quickly, eager to change the subject to anything that would erase that expression from Peter’s face.

“Oh, of course!” May answered cheerily, a smirk on her face that implied gossip was coming. “You can’t move to New York and have Italian food that isn’t homemade – I’d be a disgrace.”

“Too bad spaghetti is the only thing she knows how to cook,” Peter fake-whispered conspiratorially, settling beside you with a playful smirk. You laughed with him, happy that he was out of whatever state of mind he’d been in moments before.

“Hey, I heard that,” May deadpanned, turning off the stove burners and shooting Peter a playful look that feigned offense. You laughed again. You enjoyed Peter and his aunt’s dynamic.

Dinner was lovely, peppered with pleasant conversation. You quickly understood why Ned couldn’t keep his hands away from the stuff. As soon as you took your first bite, you were famished. Lunches of Midtown High’s questionable menu and dinners of the hospital’s goop quickly caught up with you.

“Sorry,” you apologized as soon as you realized how quickly you were eating, patting your mouth with a napkin. You were embarrassed by May’s surprised expression. “I haven’t had a homecooked meal in… well, honestly I can’t remember the last time.”

May’s surprise was replaced by a kind and understanding smile. Peter looked like he couldn’t be happier.

“Well, at least someone likes my food,” she muttered playfully at Peter.

“Oh, c’mon,” he laughed, rolling his eyes.

“So,” May announced after a moment, putting down her fork and wiping her mouth. “Peter says that you’ve met Spider-Man.”

Peter suddenly coughed, choking on his mouthful of pasta.

“You okay, Peter?” you asked, placing a concerned hand on his shoulder. He nodded at you with watering eyes.

“Just w-went down the wrong way,” he said hoarsely, then shot a glare at May that you didn’t understand. You hastily removed your hand from his shoulder.

“I mean,” May said, ignoring Peter’s stare, “he told me what happened on your first night here and all. And then that something happened with your dad. You’ve had a rough go of it, huh?”

You sighed and nodded, swallowing your mouthful of food. “It’s definitely been a whirlwind of drama since I got here, I can’t lie,” you tried to laugh. “But I met Ned and Peter, and they’ve honestly kept me from going crazy. I’ve barely been here any time at all and they’ve supported me like they’ve known me their whole lives.”

Peter watched you, his expression soft. You tried to avoid further eye contact with him, fearing a fiery blush would betray you.

“I’ve got a good one here,” May agreed, squeezing Peter’s arm. He looked down at his plate humbly. A curl fell to his forehead. “Ned and Peter have been best friends since they were kids. And they’re definitely the best kids I’ve ever met.”

“I can agree with you there,” you said, and you didn’t avoid Peter’s gaze this time. Despite the incessant butterflies, you tried to express to him through your eyes how thankful you were to him – for dinner, for going to bat for you with Spider-Man, for his friendship, for everything.

The moment was tender, and you were embarrassed that it took May clearing her throat to knock you out of it.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Y/N, I hope that you know that,” she said, and when you met her eyes, they were knowing. You realized in that moment that she had you pegged – she knew how you felt about Peter, which made you wonder if Peter knew. Were you that obvious? You really wished that you had a better poker face.

“Thank you so much,” you told her, truly thankful.

“I’m always here if you want a homecooked meal,” she added.

“Just the spaghetti though, I’m warning you now,” Peter whispered to you.

She swatted at him. “You know what? I’d appreciate it if you stopped dogging my cooking in front of our guest.” She turned back to you. “Seriously, I don’t like the thought of you holed up in that apartment all by yourself with everything that’s going on. It’s, I don’t know –”

“Lonely?” you finished for her. She nodded.

“Having a support system is the most important thing when dealing with tragedy,” she said, placing a soft hand on Peter’s shoulder. She looked at him with emotion in her eyes. “No one knows that better than Peter and I do.” She squeezed his shoulder and blinked a few times before looking back at you. “So you’re welcome here any time. Really, I mean it.”

You couldn’t put into words how much that meant to you. No wonder Peter was such a giving person, living with a parental figure like May. These people had barely known you for any time at all, and they were opening their home and their hearts to you.

You fought back tears, refusing to cry at Peter’s dinner table. “Thank you,” you managed to say.

May reached out and briefly held your hand. She sniffled, then suddenly clapped, light in her eyes.

“Y/N, did Peter ever tell you about that time he gave himself a wedgie trying to climb over a fence?”

Peter went pale.

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

“We really need to work on our Chemistry project, May,” Peter begged, shooing you out of the kitchen with desperation. May was on her fourth embarrassing childhood story of the night, and poor Peter was about to combust with embarrassment.

You looked at him with amused question, because you were thoroughly enjoying May’s stories. “We have a Chemistry project?” you whispered. Peter was the genius – it was perfectly possible that you’d missed the fact that you two had a project to turn in.

He gave you a pointed look and you suddenly understood why he was trying to get you away from May.

Your mouth formed an ‘O’ and you quickly started nodding. “Uh, yeah, yeah, it’s due next week, and we’re already behind. We – we should really get started. Right, Peter?”

He nodded to his aunt enthusiastically, grabbing his backpack from the floor. “We’re gonna go to my room, okay?”

“Oh,” she deflated, obviously disappointed that story time was over. She put a hand on her hip and shooed you toward the hall. “Go, get started!”

Peter sighed in relief and motioned for you to follow him.

“Hey, and keep the door open!” May called after you two, making Peter furiously blush and run a frustrated hand through his messy hair.

“Duh, May!” he called back, voice cracking. He mouthed an “I’m sorry” to you. You giggled quietly at his pink cheeks.

Peter darted every which way, muttering apologies about the mess, grabbing clothes and papers and shoving them under his bed.

“It’s really no big deal, you should see my room,” you insisted. “It’s a total wreck.”

Peter suddenly grabbed something small and vial-like off of his desk and shoved it into his pocket. He turned to you nervously, and it was obvious that it was something you weren’t meant to notice. You looked at his pocket curiously but decided to shrug it off, respecting his privacy.

“So, tell me about this Chemistry project we’re so desperate to get started on,” you smirked, crossing your arms. Peter coughed out a laugh.

“Sue me for wanting to stop that endless torture,” he breathed. He pulled the chair from his desk and motioned for you to sit, always the gentleman. You obliged. Peter sat on the end of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees. You tried not to look at how wonderfully lean his arms were. For a guy that didn’t play any sports and had a prestigious internship with a famous tech giant, he was surprisingly toned.

Your eyes darted to the ground, hoping against hope that he hadn’t noticed your staring.

“So…” he said slowly, wringing his hands. You decided to look at him, forcing down the blush that was threatening to creep up your neck. “I, uh, talked to him.”

You instantly sat up straighter, watching Peter with rapt attention. “Spider-Man?” you asked hopefully. He nodded, running a hand through his distressed curls. “And? What did he say?”

Peter looked at you cautiously. “He – he told me that he doesn’t think talking to you in person would be a good idea. I mean, since they know it was him who broke in, they’ll probably be looking for him, and since they’re already keeping an eye on you—”

You sighed and nodded in understanding. Spider-Man was right, but you couldn’t help but feel the disappointment in your gut at the thought of not having another early morning visit from the hero.

“He doesn’t want to get caught talking to me,” you finished for him.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, noticing the disappointment in your tone. “But – but he does want to help, and he, uh, said that he can give you information through me.”

Your eyes lit up, hope returning where it had just vanished. “Really? He said that?”

Peter smiled at your obvious glee, happy to be the cause of it. “Yeah. I, you know, told him how important this was to you. I kind of had to convince him, but he came around.” Peter stretched his arms behind his head proudly, and you couldn’t stop your squeal of excitement.

At Peter’s wide eyes, you quickly quieted down, whispering “sorry!”.

“Haha, yeah, you’re understanding it now!” Peter said loudly, turning his head toward the door. “Good job!” It was evident this was for May��s benefit.

“Oh, man, I owe you one, Peter,” you insisted, your hands cupping your cheeks in sheer disbelief. “I – I don’t know how in the world I’ll repay you..”

Peter had the grace to look humble, but you didn’t miss the slight tint of pink around his ears. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’ve been covering for me in Chemistry, so…”

You resisted the urge to go hug him again. Honestly, this was such great news that you could kiss him, but the last thing you needed was an excuse to do that, because you’d been wanting to anyway since the moment you’d met.

“Did Spider-Man tell you anything about what was in those files?” you asked quietly, noticing how hot your cheeks had become at the thought of thanking Peter in the way that you wanted to. You tried to change the subject.

“Actually…” Peter rose from his bed and came toward you, kneeling a few inches from you. Your heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings at his proximity, unsure of what he was doing. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding when he reached toward a desk drawer, opening it and gingerly pulling out a thick yellow envelope labeled TOP SECRET in thick red font. “He gave this to me.”

“Wow, he gave you that?” You couldn’t hide the awe in your voice. “He must really trust you.”

Peter was still kneeling with the file, staring thoughtfully at the words of warning on the front. At this distance, you could really see the cut on his cheek more clearly, and you were amazed to see how much it had healed since lunch today. In fact, it was almost gone.

Peter looked up at you, and as his gaze always did, it made your heart rate quicken. “Well, you know, Spider-Man trusts Mr. Stark, and Mr. Stark trusts me, so…”

You smiled at the pride shining in Peter’s eyes. It was obvious that Mr. Stark’s trust meant the absolute world to him.

“Well, good,” you affirmed, holding his gaze. “I think he’d be an idiot not to trust you.”

Peter’s ears turned a darker shade of pink, and the fact that you were the cause gave you a deep sense of satisfaction.

Peter suddenly held the envelope up in front of his face, so that you could clearly read the bright print. Whether it was for dramatic effect, or because he wanted to hide his blush, you couldn’t be sure.

“Ready to go through it?” he asked, tone almost playful.

You lowered the file from in front of his face and leaned forward in your chair. Your face had never been this close to his before. You could smell that addictive cologne-like scent again, Peter’s scent; a mix of men’s body wash and the slightest hint of sandalwood. He swallowed loudly, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Your eyes followed the action.

It took all the strength you could muster not to kiss him right then. Oh, how badly you wanted to. But not now, not when May could walk in any minute and revoke her “our door is always open” policy. Not to mention, you had no idea how Peter felt about you, and the last thing you wanted was to ruin a friendship with someone as wonderful as him.

You settled for giving him a soft smile, one full of adoration. “Let’s do this, Parker.”

Pt 7

Tags: @rivaea @starksparker @its-nikki-bitch

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, DM me!

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rizlowwritessortof · 5 years

Text

What Happens At the Roadhouse...

I was craving some early-season Dean. Also, I blame part of this on @jensensgotyoudean - Liz, you know what you did! (Another note, for those of you not familiar with it, Des Moines is pronounced ‘Demoyne’ - drives me crazy when I’m reading something and I’m not sure how something is pronounced and it trips me up through the whole thing LOL)

~~~~~~~~~~

Bailey’s just looking for a couple days post-hunt R&R at Harvelle’s - and then he shows up. Cocky bastard.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Bailey (Female OC)

Word Count: 3152

Warnings: Nothing but some enthusiastic young Dean sex, no angst here

Harvelle’s Roadhouse, 2006

Bailey squinted as she entered the bar, her eyes slow to adjust from the bright sun to the dim, dusty light inside. It was sparsely populated, as usual, and she headed for her favorite bar stool. She flung her leather jacket over the chair behind her and took a seat. After a hunt, this was her favorite place to unwind, spend a couple of days with Ellen and Jo, help work the bar, just kick back.

Ellen came out of the kitchen, a twelve-pack in each hand, stepping behind the bar to set them down before she acknowledged her latest customer. A welcoming smile lit her face as she saw Bailey, and she reached into the cooler for a cold one. “Bailey. Good to see you, sweetie. Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks, Ellen. Nice to be back.” She accepted the freshly-opened brew from Ellen and took a swig, then set it down, sighing happily. “Ice cold, just what I needed. How are things?”

“Oh, you know, same shit, different day. Jo’s been gone for about two months straight, I think she’s avoiding me. But nothing much changes around here, you know.”

“Where’s Ash?”

“In his room. Tied one on last night, I think he’s still sleeping it off.”

Bailey grinned. “Sounds about right. Seen the boys?”

“You mean the Winchester boys? They stop in here and there. Why do you ask?” Ellen winked as she asked the question, and Bailey ducked her head to hide the blush.

“No particular reason, lady, mind your business.”

Ellen laughed, low and throaty. “You know that boy’s gonna break your heart.” She took a towel to a couple of glasses, putting them back on the shelf. “If I was your age, though, I might think it was worth the risk.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and Bailey laughed.

“I’ve missed you, Ellen.”

“Backatcha, girl.”

Before she knew it, it was past midnight, and the weariness was catching up. She booked a room and welcomed a hug from her hostess before heading up the creaking stairs. The rooms and the beds were well-worn but clean, and after a quick shower she crawled between the sheets with a grateful sigh, dropping off as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Sunlight tried to peek through the closed blinds, one shaft of light sneaking its way to the side and hitting Bailey right in the eye. She frowned at it, then rolled to her back and stretched. Probably should get up, anyway, see if Ellen needed any help making breakfast or anything. She rubbed her eyes and got out of bed, making her way down the hall to the bathroom, the wood floor chilly on her bare feet.

She came into the hall, still yawning and half asleep, and walked right into a solid wall of man. His hand shot out, taking her arm to keep her from falling on her ass, and she looked up into the amused green eyes of Dean Winchester. “Bailey! Well, my day just got all kinds of better.” His voice was warm and lazy, with that just-woke-up husky quality to it that made her heart trip up a little.

“Dean. Hi. I, uh, didn’t expect to see you.”

His eyes traveled down her body, and she could almost feel them like a caress on her bare legs. “Yeah, I can see that.” The sexy little smirk that curved those sinful lips made her blush, and she jerked her arm away from his grasp.

“Well, don’t let me hold you up. Gotta get downstairs and help Ellen with breakfast.” She hurried back to her room, trying not to think about the fact that his eyes followed her until her door closed and hid her from his view.

“See you downstairs,” he called out, a teasing note in his voice, and then she heard the bathroom door shut and the shower start.

She leaned against the door for a minute, then shook her head and grabbed her bag to get dressed. Damn it. This was not the way things were supposed to go. She was supposed to gain the advantage, leave him stuttering and flustered. In her imagination, that was how it played out, anyway. But being face-to-face with Dean Winchester sent all those plans right out the window, it wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair, with his stupid hair, and those stupid lips, and his fucking pretty green eyes with the long, long eyelashes, and that solid, broad chest and tight ass and bowlegs and… “Damn it.”

Ellen watched, arms folded, as Bailey worked furiously to set up the buffet line. “We tryin’ to set a new record?” she asked, and Bailey let out a frustrated sigh.

“Just trying to help. If you want me outta your hair, I can go...”

“Something wrong?”

Bailey sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes. No. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe later. Thanks, Ellen.”

Bailey was in the pantry searching for an extra bottle of maple syrup when she heard Dean clear his throat behind her. She closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath and set her face in a neutral mask before turning to face him. “So you finally made it downstairs. Takes a while to get the makeup just right, doesn’t it?”

He made a face. “Ha-ha-ha. You’re a regular comedian. What are you doing?”

“Getting some syrup for Ellen. If you don’t mind.” She stood there, bottle in hand, and waited for him to move.

“I don’t mind.” He stood there, smiling at her, not moving a muscle until she moved towards him, and then moving only as far as absolutely necessary to allow her to squeeze by.

“You’re such a juvenile,” she whispered angrily, trying to ignore his quiet chuckle.

He ambled into the bar behind her, nodding as Ellen smiled and called out his name. “Dean! When did you get here?”

“Late last night. Didn’t wanna wake you, so we just kind of helped ourselves to a couple rooms.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Still sleeping, I guess. He was still working on something with Ash when I went to bed.”

“Well, it’s good to see you. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

“Thanks, Ellen.” He looked right into Bailey’s eyes as he continued. “It all looks really tasty.”

She felt herself blushing and clenched her teeth. “Fucking asshole,” she muttered under her breath, and he grinned.

“Heard that.”

“Meant for you to hear it,” she snarked back, then laughed out loud as Ellen walked by, cuffing Dean on the ear.

“Behave yourself, or I’ll kick your ass.”

He looked at the older woman with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Ellen.” Bailey sent a sunny, victorious smile his way, then turned and followed Ellen into the kitchen.

Bailey hummed quietly to herself as she washed dishes, elbow-deep in the huge sink. The Sunday buffet didn’t bring in a huge crowd or anything, but the Roadhouse didn’t have amenities like a dishwasher, so it had to be done by hand. She had sent Ellen off, telling her to go relax for a change and let her finish cleaning up. Wasn’t easy to win an argument with her, but she finally gave in and headed to her living quarters, probably to work on books or clean her own space, Bailey guessed.

She had put the last dish in the huge drying rack and was drying her hands when Dean walked into the room. “Great timing, there, Winchester.”

His mouth quirked into a one-sided smile. “I could’ve helped, all you had to do is ask.”

Bailey shrugged, hanging up the dish towel. “I offered, she needs to take a break once in a while.”

“Yeah. Woman works hard, that’s for damn sure.” He wandered around the room, and she caught sight of him gnawing at his lip, clearly wanting to say something and not sure how to begin.

“Dean? Something wrong?”

He sniffed, finally turning to face her, hands in his pockets. “I was just wondering what I did, you know, to piss you off. Seems like you’re mad at me. Is it about Des Moines?”

“Des Moines? Why would I be mad at you for Des Moines?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe – did I push you into doing something you didn’t want to? I mean...”

“Dean, all we did was make out in a closet. You didn’t push me into anything – like you could make me do something I didn’t want to, anyway,” she laughed, but she could feel the warmth in her cheeks. Damn it, that happened a lot around him.

“It was just a way to pass the time – a really fun way to pass the time,” Dean grinned back. “I thought maybe you were mad about it, I don’t know.”

“We didn’t even really do anything...”

“Second base,” he teased and she grabbed the damp dish towel and threw it at him.

“Oh, and we’re back in high school again.” He was smiling that kind of shy, but secretly pleased smile, looking down at the floor, and she felt a couple of the butterflies in her belly take off. “You know, you could’ve rounded third.” She couldn’t help giggling at his wide eyes when he raised his head in surprise.

“Oh, yeah? Now you tell me.” He moved closer as she leaned back against the sink. “You know, that pantry is pretty much the same size as the closet we were in. When I found you in there earlier, I just wanted to close the door and...” He leaned in, threading his fingers through her hair and moving it back over her shoulder as he brushed his lips over hers, just a barely-there touch. His green eyes were warm as he looked into hers, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

“All right, you two, take it outta my kitchen.” Ellen stood in the doorway, her arms folded and a knowing smile on her face. “Go on, we gotta prepare food in this place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean answered, grinning and reaching for Bailey’s hand. She pushed away from the sink and followed, sending a parting smile over her shoulder at the older woman.

“Damn, those were the days,” Ellen muttered to herself, grabbing the ledger she had come for from the corner table and leaving the room.

Dean almost plowed into Sam, who was on his way down the stairs, as he rushed upwards. “Hi, Sam,” Bailey called out as Dean pulled her by, and Sam sent a laughing “Morning, Bailey” after her, continuing down.

“Where we goin’?” Dean asked, coming to a sudden halt.

Bailey pulled at his hand. “Come on.” She headed for her room, letting him follow her in before she closed the door, and he backed her up against it immediately. After kissing her breathless, he took a step back and held out his hand, but she looked back at him, her smile fading a little. “Y’know, I think maybe I do need to say something. About Des Moines.”

His face fell, and she resisted the urge to laugh. “Okay. Tell me.”

She pushed away from the door, chewing on her lip for a second before she spoke. “Well… after that… I don’t know, it was like we kind of left things – unsettled. At least I did. I really expected you to call or something, try to meet up, finish what we started? I don’t know. It just felt like...” She stared down at the floor. “It felt like it was nothing to you. Like maybe I really was just something you did because you were bored, but you didn’t really give a shit about it. When I didn’t hear from you at all, not a message, nothing... And the thing was, and I shouldn’t even tell you this, but I was wound up for days, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, imagining how the rest could have gone. I felt like you just – threw me away. And when you stopped me this morning in the hall, and you were all flirty and cocky, I don’t know… I just wanted to punch the smirk off your face.”

“You think it was nothing to me?” He huffed out a sarcastic little laugh. “I dreamed about you. I thought about you every time I...” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I never called you because – because I felt like an idiot. I figured it was no big deal to you. I felt like a loser, made out with a girl for twenty minutes and couldn’t fucking get over it. I figured the best thing for me to do was to let it go instead of mooning over you like some fucking nerd teenager.”

“Yeah? Well, I couldn’t let it go.”

“Well, I couldn’t, either.” They stared at each other for a long, lingering moment, and then Dean moved, fast, pinning her against the door and kissing her, all restraint gone. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the fingers of one hand gliding up through his hair, then gripping hard. He moaned, bucking his hips against her, slipping his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and moving up to squeeze at her breast.

He finally lifted his head, panting, pulling his hand from her shirt and working the buttons free, resisting the urge to just yank her shirt open and send them flying. She swallowed hard as he pushed the cloth down her arms and reached for the clasp of her bra, and she shook the shirt from her arms, letting it drop to the floor. Dean stared down at her, his jaw working, grabbing and kneading at her breasts with both hands as he kissed her again, hungry and demanding.

He moved back suddenly, taking her hand and pulling her along to the foot of the bed. A thick quilt hung over the bed frame, a little lower than waist-high, and he looked at it, then looked at her, questions asked and answered without a word. She stared into his eyes as she unfastened her jeans, shoving them down over her hips along with her panties. His eyes fluttered closed for a split second, and then he bent and helped her step out of her clothing, dropping kisses to her thighs and belly, nuzzling into the crease of her thigh and nipping gently before standing back up and stripping his own shirt off. He reached back for his wallet, pulling out a condom as she unfastened the button of his jeans and he watched her, predatory, as she helped him undress.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver through her.

“Promise?” she challenged with a smile, and he let out a soft grunt as she gripped his erection, giving it a squeeze before sending his boxers down to his feet.

He stepped out of his jeans and grabbed her by the shoulders, kissing her hard and quick, then turning her towards the bed. “Bend over there for me, Beautiful, and hang on.”

She gladly did as he asked, gasping a little as his fingers stroked through her folds, rubbing at her clit for a delicious moment before penetrating her with two fingers, burying them to the last knuckle. The position she was in left her on the balls of her feet, almost on tiptoe, and she struggled to push back into him, seeking. “Be patient, baby, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice rough as he worked her open. “God, you’re so tight, so wet for me, I can’t wait to feel you around me.” She was whimpering, fistfuls of the bedding in her hands, trying not to beg, but he wasn’t making it easy.

Finally he withdrew his fingers, and he moaned as he put them to his lips. She waited impatiently, heard the condom wrapper ripping and his quiet hiss as he sheathed himself. “Dean...” she managed to force out as he traced over her body with his fingertips, caressing her curves and giving her ass a squeeze before gripping one hip and lining himself up with the other hand.

She felt everything inside her go fluid as he slowly pushed inside. It seemed like forever before he was flush against her, invading the deepest part of her with such sweet aching pleasure that it was already overwhelming her senses. He was feeling it, too, groaning and gripping her hips hard, his fingertips digging in almost painfully. “You all right, baby?”

“God, yes.”

“You feel fucking fantastic. Better than any of my dreams. And they were pretty damn good.” He began to rock in and out, gentle and barely moving at first, swearing softly under his breath as her body clutched at at him. “Don’t worry, sweet little pussy, I won’t go far,” he muttered as he pulled back, shuddering when Bailey moaned at the impact of him fully impaling her again.

Her nails were digging into the bedding as she struggled to meet his quickening thrusts, but she had no leverage. Her moans turned into breathless cries as he picked up speed and began to drive into her, holding her hips in place. She bit into the quilt covering the bed beneath her, the repeated impact of their bodies building the tension in her until she let go with a muffled scream, her world shattering around her.

Dean was gritting his teeth, his hips a blur as he chased his orgasm, letting out a feral growl as he came hard, his head spinning a little with the force of it. Bailey was whimpering softly, still shuddering and shivering with aftershocks, her legs hanging limp from the bed rail. Dean resisted collapsing over her, his muscles seizing with one last violent shudder before he took a breath and reluctantly pulled out.

He slipped his arms around Bailey’s body and lifted her upright, then swept her up in his arms and moved around to lie her down in the middle of the bed, disposing of the condom before dropping down beside her. After a couple of minutes, she turned towards him, letting him pull her close as she laid her head on his shoulder. “You did not lie,” she whispered, and he smiled. “I mean, a guy says something like that to a girl, and doesn’t follow through? That would be real disappointing. I am not disappointed. Holy shit, Winchester.”

“Glad you had a good time. I had a great time. Better than I imagined, and I’ve got a hell of an imagination. I imagined some pretty amazing things with you after Des Moines.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe sometime...”

“Definitely.” He felt her smile against his skin, and her lips nibbled at him before she spoke again, softly. “You think they heard us downstairs?”

“Nah.”

“Really?”

“Well, probably not. But if they did – what happens at the Roadhouse stays at the Roadhouse.”

She sighed and snuggled closer. “That’s a relief.”

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

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#what happens at the roadhouse...#dean fic #dean x oc #dean x bailey #dean smut #early season dean #sexy bastard #man of my dreams #no angst here

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aiimaginesbts · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Resemblance

A/N: A short fic written for Lucien’s birthday :)

Reader x Gavin

Genres: Fluff (PG-13?)

Word count: 3,539 words

Disclaimer/Copyright. Photo from Mr Love: Dream Date.

There’s a growing chill in the air with each passing day that keeps me on my toes. By the time I flip at the calendar on my desk and see the word ‘November’, anxiousness and excitement that have been building up for the past few weeks had hit me all at once. I can’t wait for that day to come. However, if I don’t finish the task I’ve set for myself in time, it will all be for naught.

Just a little over a week earlier, Lucien had unwittingly solved the problem that had been plaguing me since the end of autumn while we were walking down a shopping street together. “Look, isn’t that a figurine of that idol you’re friends with?”

“Huh?” Stopping in my tracks, I’d turned my attention towards the display in the store window that Lucien was pointing at. A small figurine, not much bigger than my hand, stood out amongst other dolls lined up to its right and left. “Oh, wow.” Wanting to take a closer look, I’d unthinkingly released Lucien’s hand to step closer to the glass window. It might have been small, but the details were all there – Kiro’s attention-grabbing blue eyes, the highlights in his blond hair, his bright smile, even his lean muscles – heat had crept up to my face as I’d remembered what a perfect physical specimen he was. It was like a mini-Kiro was right there in front of me. The thought of owning a tiny Kiro amused me to no end, and I’d giggled. “It really is the spitting image of Kiro!”

“Hmm.” Stepping beside me, Lucien had peered into the window, trying to see what I was seeing. “Does that mean you know his features well?”

“Huh? Oh…” Lucien’s sudden question had surprised me. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I guess… We have worked together several times. Plus, he’s famous. You see him everywhere nowadays.”

“Really? But, if I’m not mistaken, we’ve worked together more, haven’t we?” Pressing further, Lucien had forced me to call forth the number of times he’d appeared on my show; Miracle Finder, and all the times we’d spent together working on planning it. “I’m quite sure that I’ve appeared on your show far more frequently than he has.”

“Yes, of course you have. You’re our guest expert, after all.” My gratitude for all his help had automatically brought a brilliant smile to my face.

“Then…” With one step forward, Lucien had brought himself mere inches away from me. As if that wasn’t enough to leave me all flustered, he’d taken back the hand that I’d let go earlier. “Do you remember my features as well as you know your idol friend’s?”

“Uh-huh,” I’d said stupidly, blinking up dazedly as he’d stared down at me. How was I supposed to think when his gorgeous face was so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath fanning over me? Summoning all my willpower to focus, I came up with an answer; “I can’t really say for sure when you’re right in front of me, Lucien. It’s only when I don’t see you that I can try to recall what I remember.”

“Fair enough.” It’d felt like I’d been released from a spell when Lucien had straightened back up, putting a bit of distance between us. He’d still held on to my hand, though. Not that I was complaining – the heat radiating from our point of contact was welcome in this cold weather. Yet I’d found myself thinking that I wouldn’t have minded it even if he’d held onto me on a hot, sunny day in summer. “Shall we go now?”

“Okay,” I’d given in to his gentle tugging, but as we’d walked off, I’d found myself glancing back towards the store for a final look at mini-Kiro. Even though I’d known all along how popular Kiro was, seeing such a merchandise still came as a nice surprise. Being friends with such an amazing star felt like a dream.

“Do you want to buy it?” Lucien had misinterpreted my attraction to the figurine, and his expression had fallen a little. It was almost as if he was pouting. My attention was drawn back to him instantly. This wasn’t an expression that I saw very often, if at all.

“No,” I’d clarified with a shake of my head. “It’s just mind-boggling that the person I personally know is a toy.”

Chuckling, Lucien had mused, “I wonder if collectors would agree to such a simple term as ‘toy’. But,” he’d smiled teasingly at me, all sulking gone now, “if there was a toy of you, I’d buy it immediately.”

Even though I’d laughed it off then, the thought had stayed with me long enough until I’d found the time to visit an arts and crafts shop two days after that. After explaining what I intended to make, one of the shop assistants had kindly taught me the basics that I’d need. Although I’d managed to buy all the things for the present that I want to make, I’d been so busy with work since that it’s only about half-finished now. The panic is starting to begin in earnest.

Looking at my phone as I hurry up to my apartment, I calculate that I only have less than a week to finish the present before Lucien’s birthday. The unfinished doll sitting on my coffee table is still rough in its development, with only the basic shape of a human, but without any discerning features. I suppose this is where I need to call on my powers of recollection, huh? Lucien’s question the other day about me remembering his features are called to mind, and I can’t help grinning to myself as I work on sewing the doll.

Fortuitously, Lucien is coming on set to shoot an episode of Miracle Finder the very next day. As he talks to the cameras, I find myself watching him intently, paying more attention to his fine features than I normally would. It’s no secret that Lucien is incredibly good-looking, but I’ve never given much thought to his defining attributes. His black hair is kept short and well-trimmed, in line with the rest of his appearance – Lucien has a very neat look. Without his loose, white lab coat, his sturdy build is more apparent underneath his crisp, black dress shirt and slacks. The dark colours contrast sharply with his fair skin, making him look far more noble than the average guy.

However, the feature that draws my attention immediately every time is, without a doubt, his perplexingly beautiful violet eyes. It’s not just the colour, though. There’s wisdom beyond his age hidden behind those vivid irises, so mysterious and intriguing that I can’t help wanting to stare into them for hours just to see if I can uncover what’s hidden within those depths. And yet whenever he smiles as he teases me, a little weight seems lifted from the heavy sadness that always lurks there. I’ve always wished that I can make him smile. Always. So that one day there will be no trace of that sorrow left behind.

Before I know it, shooting is wrapped up, and those eyes I’ve been watching for so long flick in my direction. Oops. Afraid that I’ve been caught in the act, I hurriedly look down at my notebook, although I have completely forgotten why it’s lying open in my lap.

“Is there something on my face?” A soft voice so close to my right ear that his breath ruffles my hair makes me jump in my seat. From the silence that follows – even my co-worker, Kiki’s excited, non-stop chattering comes to a pause – I know that the whole studio heard my startled yelp. Blood rushes to my cheeks immediately. Looking up at the source of my shock, the heat gathered in my face intensifies when I find myself almost nose to nose with Lucien, who’d bent down to whisper in my ear.

Seeing my astonished reaction elicits a low chuckle from him. It’s infuriatingly charming, because that’s what Lucien does to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologises, although his sincerity isn’t all that convincing when he’s literally laughing in my face. I start to pull my face into an indignant pout, then stop when he continues, “It serves you right for staring at me all through the recording session. I could barely concentrate.”

That soft, beguiling grin of his is as nonchalant as ever, making me wonder if his words are really honest or just meant to tease me. On the other hand, regardless of my doubt, just the thought of him being distracted by me is enough to make me flustered. Oh, but I can’t tell him that I really was looking at him! “I was not staring at you!” Panic causes my denial to come out as an unconvincing, embarrassing shriek.

“Really?” Drawing up to his full height, Lucien rubs his chin thoughtfully. Knowing full well that he doesn’t believe me at all, I can’t look up at him. Instead, I give my attention to the notebook in my hand, even though I can’t make sense of anything that’s written on the white pages. “I could have sworn that I have holes from your eyes boring into me.”

“Even if that’s true, which it isn’t,” I ground out, aware of my imminent defeat but refusing to surrender, “You scared me out of my wits, so I’d say we’re even.”

“Indeed. Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you go this time,” he raises his arms in mock surrender, then stoops back down to whisper, “but I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

That titillating threat, blown into my ear like a delicious promise, sends shivers down my spine. Even though I’m at a loss for a comeback, I instinctively turn to face him, but Lucien is already walking away. Remembering that he’d said he still has some work to finish, I refrain from going after him. It’s already very gracious of him to spend his precious time recording my show. I shouldn’t bother him any further.

Fortunately, getting the recording for the next episode done gives me the time and motivation I need for the last spur of effort in finishing Lucien’s present. With the last stitching done to keep a purple button in place, I cut the thread and lean back to examine my handiwork. As far as homemade crafts go, it’s pretty good, even if I do say so myself. I’ve spent some time today to go pick up a small cake at the bakery after work, but I knew I’d have time to finish before midnight. Any weariness I may be feeling dissipates when I look at the doll and think about the man it represents.

And just in time, too. The clock hung on the wall opposite me shows that it’s ten minutes to midnight as I wrap the present with a soft, thin cloth and tie a ribbon at the top. That’s when it hits me; I’d completely forgotten to do the most important thing – ask Lucien if he’s free tonight!

Cursing my own carelessness, I jump off the sofa to get my phone. I was so absorbed in finishing the doll that I didn’t notice if there was that muted noise of the front door of the apartment next to mine closing or not, which would tell me that Lucien’s come home. Even my phone is still in my bag where it has been since I got back. Fishing the device out of my bag, I see that I have one missed call and two messages from the man himself.

“Are you home? I saw your lights are on.”

“Too busy to answer my call?”

Trying to calm myself down so I don’t give anything away, I call Lucien. “Hello?” After three rings, the familiar, comforting voice greets my ear.

“Hi. Sorry for the later response. I was a little distracted,” I say a little breathlessly. My eyes stray towards the clock again. Six minutes to midnight. “Is it okay for me to come over?”

“Now?” He asks, mild curiosity colouring his tone.

“Yes, if you don’t mind. If you’re busy, I won’t stay for very long.” I wished that he isn’t but I quickly add the last sentence anyway, afraid of being turned down.

There’s a short pause on the other end. “… Sure.” The answer prompts me to let out a breath I’m not aware I was holding. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Normally his last statement would be enough to send me into a tizzy, but I’m too pressed for time to put much thought into it. “Be there soon.” As soon as I hang up, I hurry to take the cake out of the fridge, already placed on a nice white plate. All that’s left is to light the candles. A few minutes later, I’m standing before Lucien’s door, wondering how to press his doorbell when I’m struggling to balance the cake and the present in my hands.

Just then, the door opens, revealing Lucien on the other side. “Oh! How did you know I’m here?”

“It’s easy to notice, since I’ve been waiting for you,” Lucien gives me another one of his easy smiles before he looks down at my offerings. “And what is this?”

Internally scolding myself for getting distracted, I burst into a Happy Birthday song. The corners of Lucien’s lips spread out further as he waits for me to finish. “Thank you. Would you like to come inside now?”

“Uh, yes.” Belatedly feeling foolish for singing in the corridor, I hurriedly follow him into his apartment. He closes the door behind me, but doesn’t go further into the house. Feeling awkward standing in the narrow entranceway, I ask, “Shouldn’t we go in?”

“We should,” Lucien agrees. “But before that…” Suddenly, he steps closer to me, prompting me to step back reflexively. There isn’t much space left behind me, so my back immediately hits the wall. Even though he rests a hand on the wall next to me so casually, the effect it has on me is world-shaking. Lifting my chin up, my heartbeat thunders in my ears as he leans down, moving closer and closer to me. “Perhaps I should blow the candles out before they go out on their own.”

“Oh. Right.” Stupid me and my overactive imagination! Trying to will the heat away from my face, I lift up the cake so Lucien can blow out the candles. The light in the entranceway isn’t on, and in the dimness of the small space lit only by the light from his living room, the flickering light from the candles bathes his face almost magically as he moves closer to them. With part of his face shielded by his falling bangs, what I can see of his face glows like an ethereal being. Then he takes a deep breath and releases it over the candles, extinguishing them all in a single exhale, and the moment is over, finally returning my senses to me.

Unaware of how captivated I was by him, Lucien moves away and invites me in. The desk he works at in the corner is littered with papers, but his coffee table remains neat and clear, giving me space to set down the cake and my gift. “Are you still working?”

“I just finished when you came,” he assures me. Although not entirely convinced that he’s telling me the truth, I don’t want to contest his statement. Just give me a chance to give this to him properly. I won’t disturb him for too long, I vow to myself.

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday, you know.”

“Well, my birthday just started, so technically, I wasn’t.” Informing me of this so matter-of-factly is meant to rile me up, so I fight the urge to pout like I know he’s expecting. Sensing my infuriation anyway, Lucien’s lips perk up as he takes a seat next to me on the sofa. “Besides, now I have the best excuse to stop working and unwind. I can’t think of a better way to start my birthday and end my night than spending it with you.”

Sweet words like thick honey leaves me at a loss for words, and I turn away before he can see how affected I am by them. Correctly assuming that he can’t get a response from me – not anytime soon, anyway – he reaches out for the small bundle next to the cake. “Is this for me?”

“It’s a gift for your birthday,” I confirm with a nod. “It isn’t much, though.”

“No gift from you is too little.” Holding the present in his hands carefully as if it’s precious china, his eyes shine with something that I don’t remember ever seeing before. He looks… happy. Just seeing it lifts my spirits up to new heights. “Can I open it?”

“Go ahead.” As his long, elegant fingers tug at the purple ribbon, my heart starts racing again. For a different reason this time. Is it really good enough to be a present? Would such a clumsy, hand-made knick-knack be a good fit for someone as classy as Lucien? Will he hate it? Questions fly through my mind like a tornado as he unveils the present.

Once he pulls the ribbon, the white cloth that has been wrapping the gift falls away, revealing the doll. Lucien’s eyes widen as he takes it in. Well, at the very least, it seems like I’ve managed to surprise him. It isn’t very big – just about as tall as the tablet he uses at work – but in his large hands, it looks really tiny. Said hands pick it up and turn it over, observing my handiwork from every angle. I feel like my work is being put under careful inspection, and it’s making me really nervous. “It’s nothing special, it’s just a hand-made thing after all. Nowhere as detailed or impressive like the figurine we saw the other day…”

“Yet to me, it is the more precious and amazing than anything you can buy at a store,” Lucien finishes for me, cutting my self-depreciating babbling short. My spirits perk back up with his words. Does that mean he likes it, after all?

“I do. Judging from this, I suppose we can conclude that you do remember my features well,” he answers happily when I’ve mustered enough courage to ask. Then he sobers. “Although, there is just one problem.”

“What is it??” Once again, I start to panic, holding myself back just enough so that I don’t snatch the gift away from him to see what’s wrong with it. Is there a loose thread? Are the violet-button eyes lopsided? Is the pristine white lab coat it’s wearing stained?

Watching my barely-contained anxiousness, Lucien lets out a light, mirthful laugh. “If you remember our conversation from the other day, I said I’d like a doll of you, not of myself.”

“Oh.” For a moment, relief washes over me, before his words sinks in and draws out shyness instead. How could I make a doll of myself?! And especially as a present for him! I’m nowhere near that self-confident enough for that. Trying to wiggle my way out, I giggle nervously. “What would you want something like that for? So you can stick pins in it?”

“I would never do something so horrible to anything that looks as cute as you are,” he titters at the thought. “It’s simply so that I can bring you with me everywhere I go, and look at you all that I want. But since you wouldn’t make me one, you’ll just have to stay by my side. Always.” He shifts closer to me on the couch, until our knees are bumping into each other. My heart drums an erratic beat as he moves closer and closer, until our lips are just about to touch. Then he stops.

Having him stare at me with barely any space between us is making me squirm with anticipation and longing. After a few seconds, I can no longer bear it. “Um, Lucien…?”

“Hmm?” He’s so close that I can feel his very lips vibrating from the sound that he makes.

“Wha– what are you doing?” I whisper. It feels inappropriate to speak above the softest volume imaginable. At this distance, he can hear me breathe anyhow.

“Why, looking at you all I want, of course.” I can hear the trill of laughter in his answer, but I can’t think rationally enough to get mad at him for teasing me, much less come up with a witty retort. “Although… there is no way I can stop myself when you’re this close to me.”

Before I can ask him what he means, Lucien closes the infinitesimal gap between us, and anything I might have to say is lost in our kiss. Wrapped in his tender embrace, drowning in his gentle kisses, I don’t think I mind him looking at me all that much, after all. If this is how it’s going to be, I wish Lucien’s birthday would never end.

Thank you for reading! All feedback is welcome.

#mldd #mlqc #mldd lucien #lucien #lucienxreader #mr love

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