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matwith1t · 3 years

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A/N: We’ve got the works here… Thank you to the anon for the request! I can’t find it, otherwise I would link, but here we are!! If you’re not 18+, please head over to my masterlist and read something a bit more fluffy!! I’d love to hear all of your thoughts… words of affirmation is my love language 🔥 I hope wherever you find yourself in the world, that you’re having a good day/evening!!

Request: When you start to want more than your friends-with-benefits arrangement with Mat, he rejects your suggestion. But after a few months apart, and after you found someone else, Mat rethinks his feelings for you // Ex-FWB With a Fluff Ending

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut // WC: 10K // Angst & Smut & Fluff

The two of you are not in love. At least not really.

He soothingly stroked your arm when you laid in bed together after a shared intimate moment. You threaded your fingers through his hair whenever he leaned his head on your shoulder. He calls you every Tuesday night because he knows that’s your busiest day of the week, and hearing his voice relaxes you. And you wear his last name on a hockey jersey because you know how much it excites him.

You keep his favorite snacks at your place. He keeps your favorite candle on his coffee table. You watch every hockey game. He respects your schedule. His laugh is your favorite sound. And your eyes are his favorite color.

But the two of you are not in love. At least…not really.

Sitting up against the headboard of your bed, you clutched the white linen sheets––that smelled like him––to your chest as you watched Mat tug his jeans over his legs. He bent down to grab his shirt that was thrown on the floor and easily slipped it over his head; as you savored the last seconds of seeing his bare chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the bedroom floor to make sure he had everything. But even if he forgot something, you knew––just as well as he did––that he would be back.

Mat’s chuckle brought you out of your thoughts, “Don’t give me that look.”

The light-hearted chuckle you let out was exactly the opposite of how you felt on the inside as you watched him get ready to leave you. A sharp pang of heartache ripped through your chest as you rolled your eyes, “I’m just waiting until I have the place to myself.”

Mat paused his movements of fixing the chains around his neck to fit under his shirt to look up at you. The corners of his lips curved up in a smirk, “Excited to be alone?”

“It’ll be quiet.”

He let out a quiet hmpf as he took two steps forward to the foot of your bed where his shoes were. He bent down, out of sight, as he tied the laces together before popping up in a matter of seconds. With the way he looked around your room again; it was easy to convince yourself that maybe he was purposefully stalling. Maybe he wanted to stay with you just as much you wanted him.

You watched his movements carefully as he rounded your bed; thinking he was heading toward the door, you felt the tug of your heart follow him. But he stopped to stand next to you, head tilted as he looked down at you.

You pressed yourself further back against the headboard and held your breath.

He bent down, palms pressed flat on either side of you––trapping you under him like he had done just moments ago––and he leaned his face close to yours, “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes locked in on his, “Staying in bed all day.”

Mat raised his eyebrows as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours, “Alone?”

You gulped, “Alone.”

He let out another hmpf as he continued to stare at you. In such close proximity, you were able to see everything about him. You saw the little blemishes that dotted along his chin, dark creases under his eyes, and how there was a section of hair on his left eyebrow that stuck up, going the opposite direction of the shape. They were little imperfections, but they made your heart tighten in your chest when you thought about how you were the only person who was able to see him this close up.

At your answer, he smirked, “Think of me.”

Before you had any time to process as to why he said those words to you, he closed the barely there space between your faces, and met your lips in a slow, deep kiss. Your eyes closed. The familiar zip of ecstasy pumped through your veins whenever he kissed you, but right when your hand dropped the sheet that was covering up your chest to cup his cheek; Mat pulled away.

In one swift motion, he spun around on his heel as he left you to walk through the door.

Stunned at his abruptness of ending the kiss, you continued to stare at the door with your mouth hung open. And even after you heard the front door of your apartment close, signaling his final departure, you continued to stare at your bedroom door.

He was everything you’ve ever wanted. He was everything and more. And you couldn’t comprehend how effortlessly he acted whenever he walked away from you. Because whenever you left him, it was a struggle. It always either felt like a battle in your head on whether you overstayed your time at his place or if he wanted you to lay next to him as he curled an arm tightly around your waist.

With each time you gave in to staying between the sheets longer with him, you felt a piece of your heart break even more. Because it only prolonged the eventual ending of moments you savored with him before one of you left.

Mat didn’t know that you did have plans for after he left. You needed to water the plants, grocery shop, meet a friend for lunch, and do a few loads of laundry to start the week off. But like him, most of those plans quickly went out the door.

Because with the way he left you––The way he always left you––you wanted more of him. So with your plans easily abandoned, you sunk down further under the sheets, head tilted back on the pillow with your eyes closed.

And as you laid in bed alone, just like he asked, you thought of him.

–––

You were woken up by a kiss on your neck.

The faint sound of a film on the television could be heard in the background, the smell of burnt bread––presumably from a failed attempt at Mat making toast––wafted through his apartment, and you felt a layer warmer than any blanket on top of you. You laid on your back, eyes peeking open to adjust to the light, and stared down at the person draped on top of you.

With a faint smile, you lifted a hand and fiddled with the ends of Mat’s hair on the back of his neck. You felt his chest expand against yours with an intake of air, and with eyes just like yours, barely open, he smiled up at you.

“We fell asleep.”

You let out a soft laugh and continued to play with the ends of his hair, “And then you woke me up.”

Mat rolled his eyes as he slightly lifted himself up from you, palms pressed down on the couch next to your head, “I woke up not even five minutes ago.”

Not believing him, you let out a hum, “Mhm,” and continued to let your fingertips softly touch his skin.

Because with the smell of burnt toast, you knew he had woken up more than five minutes ago, yet he still came back to wrap his arms around you on the couch.

You slowly moved your fingertips on the back of his neck in slow circles, and when you saw him close his eyes, you knew you were doing something right. And at a slow pace that was tortuous for you touching him, your fingers moved to the side of his throat, up his cheek as you traced the bridge of his nose, and then through his hair. You combed your fingers through the front of his hair, but like every time, his hair flopped back onto his forehead in place.

He opened his eyes and you smiled.

With your hand running slowly through his hair, your eyes admired his face as he loomed over you. And like your slow movements, he slowly lowered his head to press a soft kiss on the base of your throat. You barely felt his lips brush against your skin with how delicate the touch felt. He pulled his lips away, but kept his head tucked into the crook of your neck. You shuddered slightly as you took a deep breath; preparing yourself for disappointment to flood your body by the end of your stay.

But you pushed that familiar feeling aside.

Swallowing thickly, you let the hand that ran through his hair drop down to his shoulder as you pulled him closer to you. Chests pressed together, you felt as if you were to explode any moment. Hot hair fanned your neck as Mat breathed heavily against your skin, not pressing his lips onto you any further until he had your permission.

Unable to wait any longer, you tugged on the ends of his hair, turned your head to expose more of your neck, and shallowly breathed out your agreed upon word for consent.

“Please.”

That word was all Mat needed to hear before he pressed his lips back on the same spot of your neck. But this time you felt him; felt his lips nip at your skin repeatedly. And when he sucked on your skin just a little too hard, a whimper escaped your lips.

The sound was encouraging enough for him, but you still slid an arm around his neck to pull him closer. With legs intertwined on, you bent your knee against the back of the couch, resting your sole on the back of his calf.

Mat slowly worked his lips up your throat, “Are you cold?”

His whisper was louder than the uncleanly thoughts swirling in your head.

“No,” you gasped out with eyes closed.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, goosebumps forming everywhere on your body, as the places where he deposited open mouthed kisses on your skin scorched like a wildfire. And like how you previously touched his face ever so slowly, he trailed his hands along your sides at an even agonizingly slower pace.

His hands wandered, fingertips eliciting a slight shudder from you every single time they dug a little deeper into your skin.

“You’re shivering,” Mat mumbled before closing his lips just underneath your jaw.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt and he rested his palm flat on your hip. You thought best to leave his observation unanswered as the mixed feeling of his hands and lips on your skin produced another moan. Both of you were silent from then on; Mat kneading the skin on your hip as his light stubble scratched your neck as he continued his trail of kisses.

Mat had one hand trailing up and down your thigh, as his other creeped further up your shirt, massaging your breast over your bra. He pressed his lips to the spot where your jaw met under your ear, slowly working his way across your jawline.

“Mat,” you pleaded, voice hoarse.

He placed a feather of a kiss at the corner of your mouth. And when you slightly turned your head, eyes finally open, you saw him already staring at you. But you didn’t have enough time to admire his face as you’d like. Sooner than anticipated, you two met in a kiss, his lips instantly parting yours and his tongue begging for an entrance.

The eagerness of his kisses contrasted his slow and gentle touches on your skin. It threw you off for a moment, but Mat made a low, almost inaudible, sound in the back of his throat. His tongue met yours at the same time his hand squeezed your breast and you let your fingers dance across his back.

As your body heated up, so did the movements between the two of you.

The two of you parted for a moment to discard your shirts, Mat staring down at you intently. He looked troubled, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as his shoulders expanded in a deep breath. As you tried to catch your breath, you tilted your head to the side with a shy smile and tucked a section of his hair behind his ear.

Mat contradicted your gentle movement.

He brought a hand to his mouth, sliding his index finger and middle finger between his lips. Below him, you watched in fascination, both excited and terrified at the amount of disappointment already brewing in the pit of your stomach.

Mat brought his fingers out of his mouth, and in an act of arrogance, he raised his eyebrows and smirked. But before you could lean up and trap him in a kiss, his hand crept under the material of your underwear, wet fingers gliding over you, between your slit. On instinct, your eyes closed and your head fell back onto the pillow.

His fingers were languid at first, slow and steady as they became acquainted with the sensitive area. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and sucked in a deep breath. His movements were excruciatingly slow. Every time the pads of his fingers brushed your clit, your breath shortened, catching in your throat.

You gripped onto his shoulder for support, your hand moving to the back of his neck, urging him toward you. You held Mat close for a kiss and he instantly deepened it. He made the concentrated grunt in the back of his throat again as you felt his bulge against your thigh. The hand he had on your breast trailed down your chest, across your rib cage until he could hook an arm around your waist.

His arm tightened around you as he urged your thighs even further apart with his knee. His middle finger began to move in circles over your clit, gentle at first, then increasing in pressure. You sighed, grabbing onto his shoulder even tighter. When his speed increased, you couldn't fight the moan that escaped your lips, and you broke the kiss to bury your head in the crook of his neck.

His fingers worked harder. And you felt an euphoric sensation that sat low in your gut as it began to build and build until it overpowered disappointment. A feeling that enraptured you––A feeling you only wanted to share with Mat––spread to the tips of your toes.

You bucked your hips against Mat’s hand, letting out an uneven breath against his shoulder. He kept going, encouraging you to let it happen. And so you did. You allowed yourself to be consumed with the feeling of Mat.

Beneath him was the closest place you had found to a heaven on earth.

But when his movements slowed and his hand came out from your underwear, your high came crashing down. As if the previous experience of pleasure hadn’t just happened, you felt numb. The spark of euphoria you felt electorate your body was no more, and instead, you welcomed back disappointment.

This was your routine with him. The passive day spent at his place when neither of you had any other commitments started and ended the same way every time. Every time it started with excitement, curious as to what the day had in store. And then the excitement sparked into mutual desire for one another. And then, like every time, it ended with disillusionment.

“Stop,” you whispered.

Immediately, Mat removed his hands from you and sat up on the couch.

He sat on the other cushion from you, chest slightly heaving as he stared down at you in concern, “Are you okay?”

Still reeling in how your emotions went from one hundred to zero in a matter of seconds, you shook your head.

“You need to talk to me,” he looked panicked, and it bruised your heart even more, “Please.”

The breath you took in was audible, cutting through the tension, as you leaned over and picked up your shirt. Hastily, you covered yourself up and tucked yourself into the corner of the couch. With your knees bent, and arms curled around your legs, you stared at Mat who hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

At the sound of your voice, he looked calmer, but that didn’t do away with the anxiety in his eyes, “Do what?”

“This…Do what we’re doing,” you pinched the bridge of your nose as you saw the puzzle pieces of your words connecting in his mind, “Being whatever we are.” You felt your bottom lip tremble as the exhaustion from all of your rendezvouses with Mat caught up to you, “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Why?”

You could see it in his eyes that he knew why you were cutting off the arrangement. He was more intune with other people’s emotions than he led on, which made this confrontation even more gut wrenching. Because with your admission would come his answer.

He had seen you at your most vulnerable moments, comforted you in times of need, been the reason for your earth shattering blisses for a little over a year, and the two of you shared intimate moments together without either of you stripping off your clothes. And like how he knew what you were about to confide in him, you knew what his answer would be.

You never thought he would be this cruel and have you say what you wanted aloud.

“I want more than this,” your words were direct with your desire, but the undertone in your voice was unsteady, “The––The feeling I have with you can’t be compared to anyone else. I feel so happy with you and it––You make me feel like a better person.” You bit the inside of your cheek as he stared through you, “Can’t we be more than this?”

He blinked once. Looked down into his lap. Blinked again. Ran a hand through his hair. Blinked for a third time. And when he looked up at you, his eyes were still lifeless and dull.

“You know I can’t give you that.”

You knew what disappointment felt like. You felt it every time he kicked the covers off and got dressed to leave you. You felt it every time one of his friends made a passing comment after they won a hockey game about how Mat could paint the town red as you sat next to him. You had even felt it fifteen minutes ago, when Mat had you trembling underneath him.

Disappointment was synonymous with Mat. But that didn’t make the let down any easier.

You let out a shaky breath, tears stinging behind your eyes that threatened to fall at any moment. But he had seen too much of you that afternoon for you to dispense any more emotion in front of him.

With your eyes downcast on your twiddling thumbs in your lap, you let out an almost inaudible half whisper, “Why?”

Mat released the breath he was holding, and scanned your face that felt like it would crumble any moment, “I…” He ran a head through his hair, letting out a shaky breath, as he racked his mind for an excuse, “You know I can’t. There’s––I’m not around that often, I wouldn’t be able to––”

“But we spend time together,” you croaked out, “We spend so much time together.”

With Mat’s failed excuse, he was silent.

And as the two of you stared at each other in silence; Mat’s eyes emotionless and your vision blurred with tears…There was no battle in your head wondering if you’d overstayed your visit or Mat wanted you next to him.

A single tear rolled down your cheek, but you wiped it away fast with the palm of your hand. You sniffled back the rest of your tears, lungs burning as they barely expanded with your deep breath. His eyes followed your figure as you stood up from the couch, and the more you stared at him, the more you felt your heart slowly fall apart because there was no convincing yourself of anything with him anymore.

The silence hung thick in the air like the regret on both of your faces as you made your way to his door. The further you walked away from him, the further you could feel the strings of your heart that connected to him stretch. They were exceeding their limit, and with one foot out the door, you felt the harsh snap that finally disconnected your heart from Mat when he spoke up.

“Are we done?”

His voice carried softly over the silence, but it was the sharpest pain you felt.

With a jagged breath, you gave him an answer without turning around, “I want someone. Someone who can give me more than this.” And with your back to him, you let your tears silently fall as they pleased, but kept your voice just as soft as his, “And I wish it was you.”

Without waiting for a response you knew he wasn’t going to give, you left him the way he always left you; alone.

–––

You missed him.

You missed the way he made you feel.

You missed the way his head felt on your shoulder when you rode the subway together. You missed the way his voice reassured you after a long Tuesday. You missed the way your heart fluttered whenever you heard him laugh. But most of all, you missed the way he always encouraged you to be the best version of yourself.

You missed him.

So you called him.

Your call came at one in the afternoon on Sunday, two months since the last time you had spoken to each other, and he picked up. You didn’t say a hello. And you didn’t ask how he was. You only said that you wanted him to come over.

“I thought you said you wanted someone?” Mat’s voice ached through the phone as if he replayed the last moment he saw you in the doorway, “I thought you wanted something more.”

“I just want you,” you breathed out in response to him, “Please.”

And before you had any chance to retract your request from him, he rushed out that he was on his way over and hung up.

Pacing around in the kitchen, you tried not to think of the consequences that would follow this meetup. It had been so long since you had seen Mat, but the only thing you wanted was familiarity. And your intentions over the phone were as clear as Mat’s rejection of you two months ago.

A few hurried knocks on your door interrupted the concern floating in your head. With a deep breath, and a little anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach, you walked over to the door and opened it. The first thing you did was push away the feeling of disappointment in your gut and admired his face.

Unlike the slight stubble he had the last time you saw him, his face was clean shaved. He looked more youthful, but his eyes were tired and filled with longing. They were missing their usual gleam, but the longer his eyes stayed on you, you began to see the familiarity in them. And he was dressed rather nicely––a button up shirt, dress pants, and a belt––as if he had just came from an important brunch.

Whenever either of you showed up at the other’s place, both of you knew what the purpose of the visit was. But before hands wandered and eyes closed…You would always talk through a film together, travel on the subway for take out and a bottle of wine, or run menial errands together because Mat was always too lazy to do them himself. But with how you left him two months ago––confessing to wanting something more and he only wanting something physical––Neither of you knew how to approach the situation.

With a deep breath, you stepped back to let him into your apartment and closed the door. You made the call, so you made the first move.

You kept your eyes on your feet as you slowly took a step toward him. When the tips of your toes touched his shoes, you finally looked up at him. The two of you were so close together, but you had never felt further away from him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He whispered like a secret as if the two of you weren’t the only ones in your apartment.

You nodded your head, “Yes,” you gulped when you felt the tips of his fingers graze your palm, “One last time.” And when you finally looked into his eyes, they were dark with lust and despair, “Please.”

And with that word, Mat didn’t waste any time before he grabbed your hips, bringing you toward him in one swift tug, and crashed his lips onto yours. There wasn’t anything gentle about it––he knew what he wanted. But perhaps there were some unresolved feelings he hadn’t uncovered from your last conversation as his fingers softened against your skin.

Not expecting for Mat to be so determined with the first kiss, you let out a squeak of surprise. But he deepened the kiss and you melted into him with ease, molding your body around his as your arms locked around his neck. His tongue clashed with yours, hands gliding up your back until he was able to cup the back of your neck.

“Are you sure,” he murmured against your lips as both of you paused for a breath. He walked you backwards until you pressed up against the opposite wall, not too far from your bedroom, “That this will be the last time?”

You nodded fervently, sticking with your head as your heart fought to overpower your logic. He kissed you again as a strangled sigh escaped your lips, “Last time,” you whispered. Your eyes lowered away from his skeptical stare as you fiddled with the ends of his shirt.

Mat tilted your chin up with his index finger, trapping your lips as if he was trying to convince you that he didn’t want this to be the last time. He wrapped his right arm around your back and squeezed your right hip. He kissed you hard, eager to prove how much he wanted you.

Like every time he kissed you, you were left out of breath. And when you felt well and truly breathless, Mat trailed his lips across your cheek to your jaw, down your neck, and up to your ear, where he whispered words that caused your eyes to fly open.

“If it’s the last time, then let’s make sure you remember it.”

His words paired with his lips nipping on your neck, made you unable to form a coherent sentence. And you were sure he was able to feel the gulp you swallowed as you tilted your head to the side to give him more access.

Once his lips trailed up your neck, he was quick to collide his lips with yours, his body pressing flush against you as his hands trailed up and down your sides. You whimpered into his mouth, submitting all control to him.

“Bedroom,” you breathed against his lips.

At your request, Mat pressed two more kisses to your lips before he connected his hand with your to pull you into your room. He slammed the door closed, as if he wanted to keep the whole world out from prying on the way he would inevitably make you feel.

In a flurry, Mat unclasped his watch from his wrist and kicked off his shoes while you took off your socks. Neither one of your clothes were fully removed before he grabbed onto you again. You didn’t want to think how this would be the last time you were pressed up against him, and it seemed like he was eager to keep you from doing the same.

Mat had you against the wall, his hands massaging your breasts through your dress as you messed up his hair even more with your fingers. You whimpered into his mouth, which spurred him on, and he ground his hips roughly into yours, sending the familiar electric jolt of electricity through your bones to the tips of your toes.

He repeated the process while grazing his hands down your sides and grabbing a handful of your dress, tugging it up. But if this was going to be your last time together, you wanted him to remember it too. You were busy popping the buttons on his collared shirt, and unlatching his belt. The way you successfully undid his pants without looking, while nibbling on his lower lip, was a testament that you were sticking true to your word.

Mat thought you were done, so he moved his hands back up to your breasts, but you knocked his hands out of the way, gliding one hand down his exposed chest before boldly plunging your hand into his pants. Mat moaned against your lips, forcing your head to tilt back so that he could kiss you even harder.

Gently squeezing him outside his boxer-briefs, you noted that he was already growing in your hand. But you knew him well enough to know that he wanted to move things faster. So you slid your hand past the elastic waistband of his underwear and grabbed hold of him.

Mat broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips in concentration, and focused your eyes on Mat’s face as you gently grabbed him at the base. Instantly, his breathing shallowed. You trailed your thumb along his length to gauge his reaction before slowly sliding your hand up and then back down.

After a few swipes, Mat placed one hand beside your head, palm flat against the wall to support himself. In his other hand, he held a gathered handful of your dress, fingers digging into you hip to hold you steady. Feeling him respond underneath to your touch, you increased your pace. Mat’s eyes closed instinctively, gulping through parted lips as his breathing came in sharp uneven puffs.

“That good?” You asked, brushing your lips against his earlobe.

Mat grunted before responding, “Yeah.” His voice was thick and guttural, and you loved the way it reverberated in your ear, as if it was only meant for you, “Yeah––That’s good. More.”

His head dropped to your shoulder as you continued to pump him at a steady pace, and you marveled at the fact that he was completely at your mercy. But Mat wasn’t at your mercy for much longer. He managed to find the strength to pause his breathy curses to whisper in your ear, “I don’t know how much longer I can wait before I take you.”

You turned your head to meet his lips for a prolonged kiss. As soon as your hand was out of his underwear, and his pants were pooled around his feet, Mat spun you around to face the wall, as you heard the sound of your dress unzip all the way down. His fingers were anything but unhurried, but you still felt as if Mat was taking his time unzipping your dress as you felt his knuckles graze against your the ridges of your spine.

When he was successful in unzipping the dress, he slipped it off you in one fluid motion. But before you could turn around, his chest was flat against your back as his hand snaked around your hips and dipped into your underwear, discovering that you were just as ready for him as he was for you.

“God,” Mat moaned, dragging his lips along your shoulder to your neck as he slid a finger inside of you.

You tilted your head to give him more access, and the combination of your skin between his teeth and his finger curled inside you while his thumb stimulated your clit was too overwhelming. And as you felt yourself slightly shudder from the familiar sense of pleasure Mat gave you, he slid your underwear off your hips. He removed himself from your back as you stepped out of your underwear and Mat picked his jeans up from the floor and dug around the pocket for his wallet.

Frantically, he opened it in, and when he found the condom he looked for, he let everything drop to the floor.

He pulled you forward, hungrily kissing you before gripping the backs of your thighs, “Bed.”

With your arms around his neck, all you did was nod in agreement as you felt his hardness between you. He let his hands trail up from your thighs to your hips as he guided you to the few feet of room that separated the two of you from your bed. Once you felt the mattress hit the back of your calves, you unhooked one arm from Mat’s neck to brace yourself for the fall.

But Mat was faster. He hooked one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you ever so close to his chest as he slowly let you down on the mattress. And as you inched your way backwards, his hurried kisses slowed down the tiniest bit as if he wanted to prolong you beneath him for as long as possible. The two of you stayed like that for a bit, you underneath him as Mat cupped your cheek, savoring every kiss like it was his last.

But both of you unable to hold off on the reason why you called him over in the first place, the hand that cupped your cheek dropped and you heard the sound of the condom packaging tearing. With a breath, you opened your eyes right as he finished rolling on the condom.

“Ready?” he said huskily with his forehead pressed against yours.

You nodded, breath ragged as you felt him against your thigh, “Yes.”

With that, he guided himself inside of you, crawling up your torso as he pushed in inch by inch. Like every time you found yourself in this position, your eyes instinctively closed, your jaw dropped at the sensation of feeling this close with him, and you released a satisfied sigh.

You felt Mat’s breath on your cheek as he grabbed your hip with one hand, steadying you before pulling out almost all the way. You gasped at the loss of contact, but your breath was stolen when he slammed back in.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, throwing your head back when he pulled out and then connected your hips again.

The third, fourth, and fifth time…you conceded to him and let him do what he pleased. Entirely out of breath, you simply let your mouth hang open as you waited for him to press into you again.

“If it’s too much, let me know,” Mat said with his eyebrows raised in amusement, as his next thrust penetrated you a bit more gentle, “And I’ll stop.”

Unable to speak as he continued to thrust into you, you shook your head. You tucked a piece of hair behind his ear as your hand dropped to his strong back, “This is––This is good,” you gasped out as you felt him deeper inside of you, “You’re doing amazing.”

At your praise, the amusement in his eyes vanished as he let out deep breath through his nostrils.

He adopted a steady rhythm, neither too fast or slow, but with the force he thrusted into you at, it had you quickly feeling like you were going over the edge. You dug your nails into his back, and when he spread your legs even wider, the sensation he made you feel became even more intense. You bit the inside of your cheek, but the moans came anyway, begging him for more.

“That’s it,” Mat said through broken breaths, not even flinching when your nails scraped his shoulder blades, “Are you close?”

Whimpering, you nodded enthusiastically.

Satisfied, Mat grasped your hips and practically lifted them off the bed for each thrust. Barely able to see straight, and feeling entirely out of control, there was a flame burning in your lower gut, shooting out tingles that zipped up every vein of your body. And there was absolutely nothing you could do to hold onto the feeling of how he felt buried inside of you.

Mat knew you reached your peak when you could no longer assist in the thrusting and was left disorientated with slow breaths. Mat sped up his pace, driving himself into a state of bliss shortly after and collapsed on top of you.

After a minute or two of Mat trying to catch his breath from on top of you, he raised his head, relieving some of the weight on top of you. He didn’t say anything, just looked down at you with gentle eyes as he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek.

You shut your eyes tight, revelling in the euphoria that lingered in your body for the last time with Mat.

With your eyes still shut tight, you felt Mat shift around. You could feel your throat close up as you expected the inevitable to happen, but when you felt the warmth of your duvet that had fallen off the bed cover you––and felt a strong arm wrap tight around your waist––you let out a sigh of relief.

Your back was pressed against his chest as you felt him also let out a sigh of relief, as if he expected you to ask him to leave.

He soothingly stroked your arm and pressed a featherlight kiss to your shoulder as the two of you laid in silence.

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open, fighting the drowsiness taking over your body for as long as you could. Because once your breathing evened out, and your eyes closed, you knew he would be gone. So, you savored the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms one last time. And you savored the silence that allowed yourself to slip into a dream of what it would really feel like if he reciprocated your feelings.

You found solace in the silence surrounding him.

–––

You met someone else.

In the four months it had been since you had last been with Mat, you had met someone else.

He was nice; someone who was prepared for commitment. But he didn’t like to ride the subway, and he didn’t like to lean his head on your shoulder. He never called you on a Tuesday night. His laugh caused you to smile, but it wasn’t an ear-to-ear smile. And he liked to watch movies in silence.

You met someone else.

But you still found yourself comparing him to Mat.

Whenever those thoughts creeped into your mind, you tried your best to push them out. The only way Mat was in your life anymore was if you tuned into an Islanders game. But the boy you met didn’t like to watch hockey that much, so it was rare you caught a game.

Not watching an Islanders game wasn’t the end of the world, after all, you did run in the same social circle, so you saw him occasionally. But your sentences were always kept short…That was if either of you approached the other, which was more rare than you watching him on the television. But you had never seen Mat when you were with Noah, the new boy you had started seeing after you ended your friends with benefits with Mat.

But there was a first time for everything.

You were at a friend’s house, a mutual friend between you and Mat, so you shouldn’t have frozen up when you saw him walk through the door. In the kitchen, you stood with Noah, who had an arm draped over your shoulder, and some friends. You tried your hardest to contribute to the conversation, but like always, Mat distracted you without trying.

From the way his hair was messily styled, but looked put together at the same time, to the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled…You couldn’t help but admire him. He was in the middle of laughing, and you felt the corners of your mouth tug upward, but then his eye caught yours and his laughter died down. Sad that you couldn’t hear your favorite sound anymore, you saw his eyes narrow in on the arm around your shoulder.

“Everything alright?” Noah whispered in your ear.

You broke eye contact with Mat just as you saw the faintest bit of pain in his eyes.

Tilting your head up toward Noah, you smiled tightly and lied, “Never better.”

He chuckled, pressed a kiss to your temple and went back to conversing with your friends. Immediately, your eyes went back to where you last saw Mat, but he wasn’t there. You scanned the crowd frantically, afraid you lost your chance to hear his laugh again, but when one of your friends called him over to join your circle, you lost your breath.

Mat stood across from you, jaw slightly clenched and his knuckles that held a beer bottle were a few shades lighter than his skin tone. He greeted everyone he knew, but when it came to you, he barely offered you a smile before turning his attention to Noah.

“I don’t think I know you.”

Your jaw dropped at Mat’s bluntness, and a few of your friends snickered. Being friends with benefits with Mat wasn’t a secret from your friends, but the two of you never really talked about it around them, and none of them knew why things ended.

“I’m Noah,” he introduced himself, an easy smile on his face because you had never breathed a word about Mat to him, “Nice to meet you. And you are?”

“Mat,” he said his own name with a sharp undertone, and his eyes glanced back down at Noah’s hand around softly tracing his nails up and down your shoulder. His eyes softened for a split second, before he heavily breathed through his nostrils, raising his eyebrows at Noah, “And the two of you are…”

“Mat,” you snapped at him with a glare before Noah could answer the question.

You had been seeing Noah for a little under two months, and your relationship didn’t have a title on it. Which you were fine with since the two of you agreed to take things slow, and Noah reassured you he was committed to you. Because at least with Noah, he expressed that he wanted a relationship with you. Mat never gave that to you.

Mat shrugged his shoulders, knowing full well what his intentions were. He smirked slightly before raising the glass bottle to his lips; and he dropped the question as he engaged in conversation with your friends.

Throughout the night, you kept catching Mat’s glare on Noah, but when he looked at you, there was a fondness that you’d never seen in the time you spent with him. He always had gentle eyes, always knew how to draw you in with one look, but there was a sense of regret swirling about whenever he looked at you.

You had moved into the dining room, standing in the corner of the room with Noah, as you felt like a schoolgirl with a crush as he held your hand and told you how pretty you looked. He squeezed your hand, and just as he tilted his head to lean forward in a kiss, he pulled back, straightened his posture, and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as his eyes scrunched together in confusion as he looked down at the ground.

“I think a ping pong ball hit me?”

Your eyes dropped to the ground with his, and right behind his heel, you saw an orange ping pong ball. Immediately, you picked your head up and stared over his shoulder to see Mat with his vision locked on you in the corner. Your jaw clenched as tight as his, because you had been his beer pong partner more than enough times to know how competitive he became, and how he never wasted a shot.

You glared at him the same time he softened his gaze.

Bending down, Noah picked up the ping pong ball and returned it back to Mat’s team. He didn’t know that Mat had intentionally ruined a moment between the two of you. You stood in the corner with Noah for a few minutes longer until you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once you finished up in the bathroom, you were fully prepared to go back out with Noah. But when you opened the bathroom door, and saw an anxious looking Mat, you knew he would sabotage your night once more. Before you could say anything, he made his way into the bathroom, and locked the door.

“Mat, what are you doing––”

“Just hear me out,” he rushed out as he ran a hand through his hair, “Please.”

If that last word didn’t hold so much meaning to your relationship with Mat, you would’ve pushed past him and left him alone after the stunts he pulled earlier. But with his eyebrows pulled together, tormented eyes wide with anxiety, the least you could do was honor his request.

So with a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and nodded your head.

Mat cleared his throat and tucked a piece of his hair behind his right ear, and then tucked a piece of hair behind his left ear, “I––How was your Tuesday?”

His small talk threw you off, but you played along, “It was fine.” With a single breathy laugh, Mat raised his eyebrows at your answer, and waited in silence until he got a truthful answer. With a roll of your eyes, you huffed, “It sucked. Like always.”

“Do you talk to Noah about your Tuesday’s?”

“I don’t think we should talk about this,” you dropped eye contact with him and reached out for the door. But Mat blocked your exit. You tried stepping around him, but he mirrored your movement. With a sigh, you dropped your shoulders, “What do you want, Mat?”

With your question, his face grew serious and he took a step toward you.

“What do I want…” He hummed and took another step toward you. Ever so slowly, like the last time you met at your apartment, he reached the tips of his fingers out to touch the inside of your palms, “I want to eat my favorite snacks on your couch, lay in bed together, see you wear my jersey again…” He wiggled his eyebrows at his last desire, but before you could shove his shoulder at his show of arrogance, he quickly reached down to lace his fingers with yours.

“I want to hear about your Tuesday’s,” his voice shrank, but when he looked into your eyes, he offered you the smallest of relaxed smiles, “I miss the color of your eyes.”

At a time and place in the past, this was exactly what you wanted to hear. It was everything and more you wanted to hear, but it had come months too late.

The moment you dropped his hand was the same time the smile on his face dropped.

“I’m with Noah now,” you took a step back, “I––I’m with someone else now.”

Mat rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm and when he removed his hands, you saw a harsh pain in them that could only be classified as regret that he caused himself, “Please,” he pleaded with you and took a step forward to catch your hands again. But you stepped back, “Seeing you with him tonight it––Or even when we were together months ago, just imagining you with someone else––”

“That’s not fair,” you felt a painful sting behind your eyes, “I told you I wanted more, but you said no.” He was silent and you sniffled, “You can’t say this now.”

“I miss you,” he gulped, and again, he stepped forward and reached out for you, “I’ve never missed anyone as much as I miss you––”

You shook your head, clamping your lips together trying to block out all of the words you wanted him to say to you months ago, “Mat, stop––”

But like you didn’t want to hear his confession of feelings, he didn’t want to hear that he was too late, “It’s just…Fuck,” he swore under his breath, and shook his head as he looked down at the ground, having trouble stringing the right words together. But when he looked up at you, you could clearly see the inner-turmoil he had gone through over the past months, “I can’t even lose you because I don’t have you.”

The suffering behind his voice caused a single tear to roll down your cheek.

He stepped aside, removing himself from blocking the exit. With a sharp inhale, he sucked in a deep breath, holding it in––just like the tears behind his eyes––as he accepted defeat, “I never had you, did I?”

Unable to stand in his presence any longer without feeling like you were going to sob, you quickly brushed past him and through the door with clouded vision from holding in your tears.

As you left the party, not bothering to tell anyone you were making an early departure, the only thing you could think of was that he did have you. Even if he never thought he did…He had you months ago when you started your friends with benefits. He had you all the time during your arrangement. He even had you when you left him alone on his couch after ending things. And now more than ever, even though you were with someone else, he still had you.

He would always have you in some way.

–––

Your relationship with Noah didn’t progress.

Whether it was due to the fact he never picked up on how Tuesday’s were your worst days or how he picked up on you being distant ever since that party…A relationship never progressed with him.

A month and a half had passed since that party where Mat had you in the bathroom and confessed his feelings for you. Admittedly, you imagined the moment to be sweeter than the heartache both of you felt in that tiny room, but he had said all the words you dreamed about.

You also missed the way he slowly stroked up and down your arm after an intimate moment. You missed the way his hair tickled your neck when he leaned his head on your shoulder. You missed the way he always lit your favorite candle at his place, and always had a backup in case the candle burned out. And most of all, you missed the sound of his laugh.

The month and a half had been miserable. You didn’t have Mat. And you didn’t have anyone who could replace him. So when a particularly hard day came around, you were too exhausted to care that you might not have Mat anymore.

He picked up halfway through the second ring.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, airy, as he breathed in a few breaths, waiting for you to say something. But when all he heard was a shaky breath, he spoke with an even more gentle tone, “Not a good Tuesday?”

Sitting on your couch, wrapped up in a blanket pretending it was someone’s arms around you, you clenched your jaw and shook your head. You felt your throat close up as you sniffled, “No.”

“Is there…What can I do?”

“Come over,” you whispered. And with the way your quivering voice––especially on a Tuesday––Mat knew that all you wanted was a hug, and for someone to say everything would eventually be okay, “Please.”

“Sit tight,” you could faintly hear a smile toying on his face, “I’ll be there within the hour.”

As much as you wanted to stay on the line with him, because even hearing his breathing on the other end calmed you down, you knew he couldn’t be on the phone when he traveled to you. Reluctantly, you hung up after breathing out a nearly inaudible okay.

And like every promise Mat made, he arrived at your place––with a container of soup––within the hour.

You tightened the blanket around your shoulders when you saw him standing in your doorway. He wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt from a year the Islanders made it to the playoffs, and scuffed up sneakers with the laces barely tied together.

Stepping aside, you welcomed him into your apartment, and he wordlessly walked in and headed toward your kitchen. Blindly, you followed him. He set the container down on your small kitchen table and then bent down to open the cabinet where you kept your pots. He poured the soup in the pot, turned the burner on medium, took down two bowls from a cabinet above the stove, and then opened your silverware drawer for two spoons.

He moved around your home like he had never left.

Once everything was in place, Mat turned around the same time he released a deep breath. And with one look at you, his smile was dismal, and his eyes brimmed with sadness thinking about all of the Tuesday’s you had to deal with by yourself.

Neither of you had to say any words to express how lonely you both felt without each other.

You had barely taken two steps toward him when he instinctively opened his arms for you. Barreling into him, his arms felt better around you than the blanket you had wrapped tight around you for the last few hours. With a shaky breath, you breathed in his scent, and you noticed that he smelled like your favorite candle.

Even with your layers of clothes, and the blanket you had, you still felt the heat of his fingers and palms as they softly ran up and down your back, “You’ll be okay.”

With eyes squeezed tight, you gasped for another breath.

“We can talk about it over soup,” Mat whispered as one hand went from your back to soothingly stroke up and down your arm.

You nodded your head against his chest.

The two of you stood in the middle of your kitchen, leaning against each other, until the soup was finished heating up. He took a ladle, poured the soup into two bowls, and carried them to your living room. You followed him, skeptical as to why he didn’t sit at the table, but when you saw him carefully sit cross-legged on your couch––waiting for you to sit across from him––you faintly smiled.

You dropped the blanket from your shoulders, and mirrored Mat’s cross-legged position on the couch. With a bowl of steaming hot soup in each of your laps, you unloaded your treacherous Tuesday to him. And he listened. He listened intently; asking questions where appropriate and reassuring you that the best thing you can do right now is be the best possible version of yourself.

After the soup was finished, the two of you stayed on the couch; you twiddling your thumbs, and Mat tucking his hair nervously behind both of his ears, because neither of you knew where to go from here.

But like all of the times you had been with Mat, he braved through the uncertainty and went after what he desired.

He stretched his limbs out on the couch, feet brushing against your thighs as he lifted his arms over his head. His eyes shut tight as he let out a yawn, and then extended a hand out to you. A small smile made its way onto your lips as you reached out for his hand and he pulled you down into his chest. A laugh escaped your lips as he pulled you into him, both of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place.

And as you settled between the back of the couch cushion and Mat, you listened to his rapid heartbeat as he played with the cotton fabric of the navy blue shirt you wore.

“Is this my shirt?”

You shook your head no against his chest, “It’s mine.”

Mat let out a soft chuckle as he pinched your hip, “I know it’s your shirt, but it…You’re wearing my last name.”

You lifted your head from its soft place on his chest and awkwardly turned your head over your shoulder to see for yourself. And just like he had said, you were able to make out a B-A-R and the number 13 in orange writing. When you got home from your long Tuesday, it was the first thing you saw when you changed into lounge wear. And lucky enough for Mat, it just so happened to be his last name and number.

“I didn’t intentionally wear it,” you mumbled into his chest as his fingertips lightly grazed your bicep. You inhaled an uneven breath, nervous that he might be thinking you called him over for the wrong reason, your voice dropped to a whisper, “I…I didn’t call you over that,” he squeezed your shoulder, reassuring you he knew, “You always make me feel better.”

“More than just on a Tuesday?”

“More than a Tuesday.”

You smiled against his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Lifting your head up, you placed both palms flat on Mat’s chest, and leaned your chin on the tops of your hands and peered up at him, “I’m so tired now, but I want to talk in the morning.”

Mat nodded, “I want to talk too.”

“Do you have morning skate?” You readjusted your head so that it rested just on his collarbone, enough room for Mat to rest his cheek against your forehead.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I do, but I’ll work around your schedule.” You nodded against his chest, ready for sleep, but Mat’s gentle whisper kept you awake for a few more moments, “I want this,” his voice was almost lost under the hum of the air conditioning starting up, “I want something more with you. I want to make it work.”

You pressed a soft kiss to the base of his neck and he tightened his hold around your shoulder, emphasizing his seriousness.

As the two of you laid on the couch, right as you almost fell into a deep sleep, Mat groggily mumbled about how you needed to sleep in your bed to feel better on Wednesday. Despite your unwillingness to move, you sleepily move off Mat with eyes barely open. And just like how he moved around your kitchen, he took hold of your limp hand in his and pulled you along to your room.

You did your night time routine, and when you slipped under the covers, you saw Mat stand by the doorway, prepared to make an exit. But as you clutched your white linen sheets to your chest in a fist, one hand lazily rubbed your drowsy eye.

“Stay,” you said through your yawn, “Please.”

“Okay.”

Mat rushed through his bedtime routine and quickly slid in under the sheets. Much like your position on the couch, he curled an arm around you and you laid the side of your face on his chest. As both of your breathing evened out, slow and unhurried, you knew you were on the same wavelength.

And as you felt yourself begin to lose consciousness of reality and slip into your dreams, you fell asleep with a smile. Because when you dreamed, you dreamed of Mat, and all of his dreams became yours.

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ditzydawn11 · 3 years

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keep me safe

Neville Longbottom x reader

not requested

warnings: attempted sexual assault

2500 words

THIS STORY HAS MATURE THEMES. My heart goes out to all of the ladies who are a part of the 97%. You are strong, you are beautiful, and you are not alone.

When someone tries to hurt the reader, Neville steps in and protects her like the true Gryffindor he is.

Neville was your best friend in the whole world.

In third year you had asked Professor Sprout to use her greenhouse to cultivate a plant for your own needs. You had a knack for potions and although you couldn’t stand Snape’s constant droning in class, your passion for the subject was unmatched compared to any other of your studies.

You had been trying to create a potion that would allow your pet cat, Socks, to levitate. Ever since you first picked her out in Diagon Alley during your first year she had longingly stared out the window in your dorm admiring the owls flying outside.

Obtaining the magical ingredients was no trouble, Snape often let you come and take what you needed because you were his top student. However, to make it cat safe you needed muggle cat-nip, something Snape definitely did not have on hand.

That’s what led you to the greenhouse on a cold and rainy April morning with your small pot and bag of seeds in hand. You didn’t expect anyone else to occupy the small plant house at 7:00 am on a Tuesday so you didn’t bother to knock. You let yourself in and were startled to see another student with his back towards you tending to some plant.

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked out. Before you could react, the poor boy dropped the empty pot he was holding creating a large crash and shattering the clay everywhere. “Oh I-I-I am so-so sorry. I-I didn’t know anyone w-was here,” he said between frantic breaths as he was focused on trying to pick up the pieces. “Don’t apologize, I should have knocked. Let me help you.” you kindly offered. You bent down onto your knees to his level to help pick up the broken pieces. “Here,” you said handing him a rather large piece that was still intact. Neville looked up to grab the piece from your hand. He was so caught up by his own clumsiness that he didn’t get a proper look at you. He was taken back by your beauty, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the subtle red tint to your nose and cheeks from the cold, and the way your eyes sparkled in the early morning light. Neville could barely get a sentence out when your hands met exchanging the Terra Cotta. “Uh..thanks,” he said quickly looking back down at the ground.

You stood up and dusted off the front of your skirt. “I’m y/n by the way. Sorry again for startling you,” “Don’t worry about it. Oh um I-I uh I’m Neville.” “It’s nice to meet you, Neville, Sprout is letting me use the greenhouse to grow a plant of mine for a potion. So it looks like we will be seeing more of each other,” you happily stated.

From that moment on you and Neville became the best of friends. Though if you were being completely honest, you longed for more. You had gone out with a couple of guys on small dates over the years and Neville even took Ginny to the Yule Ball but you never really clicked with someone like you did with Neville.

Now you were in your 5th year starting to think about life after Hogwarts. Laying with your head in Neville’s lap under a big tree near the black lake you two discussed your futures and what you think you would do after graduation. “Hey Nev?” you asked interrupting the comfortable silence between the two of you. “Yes y/n?” he responded setting down the book he had been reading. “What do you want to do after we’re done with school?” you asked him while staring up at his face from down below. “I dunno, maybe teaching. I’ve pretty much taught you everything you know about Herbology,” he responded with a chuckle. “Hey!” you gave him a playful smack “though I do suppose I wouldn’t have passed my last exam without you basically teaching me the last chapter.”

“What about you?” the brown-haired boy asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “I think I want to continue my study of potions. I mean imagine developing a potion to finally reverse horrible diseases and terrible curses,” you replied subtly referencing what happened to his parents.

You were the only person Neville had told the story of his parents to. Ever since then you always made an effort to remind him of how proud his parents would be of him. He often doubted his abilities but you how brave and capable he was. You would trust him with your life.

“If anyone can brew those potions it’ll be you,” he said in a quieter tone. “Aww thanks, Nev, I know exactly who I’ll be getting my ingredients from,” you said with a smile. Nightfall was approaching so the two of you made your way back to the castle for dinner. The two of you were an unconventional duo to everyone else but to you, you were best friends and wouldn’t want it any other way.

Later that night you closed your eyes to fall asleep but your mind began to drift. You began to think about Neville which isn’t uncommon seeing that you spend most of your time together but you were thinking about him in a different way.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him like this before but what’s even worse is that part of you wishes it was this way. You had noticed a bit of...tension between the two of you on occasion. Like the time you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the greenhouse so Neville came up directly behind you to get the watering can for you. Or when you grabbed Neville from the library to go and watch Fred and George’s newest prank unfold and you held his hand the whole way there. You so wished that something more could blossom between you two but the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize your friendship. I mean having Neville as a friend is better than not having him at all. You knew you could spend hours thinking about this so you just decided to roll over and try to get some shut-eye.

A few days later you were supposed to meet Neville in your guy’s usual spot after lunch, in the greenhouse, but he didn’t show. You figured he probably forgot (something he does quite often but you secretly think is absolutely adorable) so you left to go and find him. After searching for a bit you went to check for him in his dorm. Before you knocked you could hear faint sniffling from the other side of the door. You gently knocked and called out “Neville? Is that you? Can I come in?” After a few seconds of quiet the door slowly opened to a teary Neville on the other side. You instantly dropped your bag and gave him the biggest bear hug you could. You broke the hug and asked “Neville what’s wrong? What happened?” “y/n why am I a Gryffindor? I’m so pathetic I can’t even stand up for myself,” he said through his sniffles. “Neville you are far from pathetic. You are the bravest, and most kindhearted, and loyal person I know. That’s why you’re a Gryffindor. Your parents would be so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.” you assured. It turns out that a few Slytherins sabotaged Neville’s potion in Snape’s class so it would explode everywhere. When Neville went to confront them he froze which caused everyone to laugh at him. You continued to hug him until he calmed down but you wished there was some way you could get Neville to believe in himself as you believe in him.

About a week later you found yourself sitting in the courtyard reading your transfiguration textbook for your test tomorrow. You were sitting on a small bench by yourself in a relatively secluded area of the outdoor space. You saw a figure approaching and looked up to see none other than McLaggen, someone who you often complained to Neville about on a regular basis. “So sweetheart, there’s a trip to Hogsmeade coming up and you look like you could use a date,” he said with a sickening smirk. “Bugger of Cormac,” you said as you began to collect your things. “Aww that’s no way to talk to me darling,” he said inching closer to you “you know I don’t like taking no for an answer.” Cormac McLaggen was just about the most disgusting guy at Hogwarts. He had asked out pretty much every girl in the school including yourself on multiple occasions. The answer was always a hard no but he couldn’t seem to get that through his thick skull. “I said I’m not interested now I have to get to class. Goodbye.” you hastily replied while trying to get as far away from the douchebag as you could. Before you could get very far he grabbed you and pinned you up against the stone hedge directly behind you. “What the fuck” you screamed as he began ripping open your uniform blouse and putting his hands on your chest and neck. You fought back as hard as you could but he was just too strong.

What you didn’t see was Neville watching you from afar. He had been sitting with Dean and Seamus when he saw McLaggen make his way over to you. He knew that you would never stoop to that level but it did spark a kind of jealousy in him seeing another boy talk to you that way. When he saw him push you against the wall Neville reacted before he could think and sprinted over to you as fast as he could.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Cormac?” Neville yelled as he pulled the asshole off of his best friend. “Just showing her what a real Gryffindor is like since she seems to spend all her time with you, a pathetic excuse of a wizard,” said Cormac as he began to get closer to Neville who was standing directly in front of you as a shield. “Don’t you ever come near her again? You hear me?” Neville threatened without any hesitancy or fear in his voice. “Yeah right,” McLaggen scoffed as he advanced on Neville. However, before he could do any more damaged Neville punched him straight in the face causing Cormac to fall to the ground.

By this time a small crowd was beginning to form. McGonagall broke through the mess of students “What in the world is going on here?” She looked at the scene in front of her and quickly put together the pieces. “I see, students get to class, I’ll be taking Mr. McLaggen to Dumbledore. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Longbottom, I trust that you will make sure Miss y/l/n is alright. Please take her to Madam Pomfrey if she needs anything. Very well.” and she grabbed McLaggen by the arm and made her way back to the castle.

The crowd had dispersed leaving just you and Neville. Neville realized that he hadn’t even checked in on you yet because he was so disoriented from everything that just happened. He quickly spun around to face you. Your mascara was completely smeared, you were sobbing, and your blouse was ripped open leaving your bra and chest exposed. “Can I- can I touch you?” Neville softly asked not wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way. Instead of using your words you just collapsed into Neville letting his arms wrap around you in an effort to keep all the pain and ugly things as far away from you as he could.

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that but Neville pulled away eventually and used his thumb to wipe off some of your smeared black eye makeup and tears. “Here,” he said while pulling off his burgundy Gryffindor sweater and putting it over your head. He saw that you were still exposed and didn’t want anyone seeing you like that. “Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?” he softly asked while rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You shook your head no “can we just go sit by the lake. I don’t want to go back and deal with everyone yet.” “Of course,” he replied.

Neville guided you over to the lake and you two rested under your favorite tree. There were no words exchanged between the two of you. Just comfortable silence and a telepathic-like connection that told you that everything was going to be alright. Neville rubbed soothing circles on your back as you lay your head on his lap. You don’t know how long you two stayed there but you soon realized that you must have fallen asleep because it was nearly dusk and you were in Neville’s arms walking back to the castle.

He carried you back to your common room and up to your dorm. Neville layed you down on your bed and tucked you into the covers. He made his way to the door but stopped when he heard you call out his name. “Hey, Nev? Could you maybe stay? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” “Oh, uh sure,” he said making his way back to you. He didn’t want to make you feel bad for seeming hesitant because honestly, he would love nothing more than to stay with you. However, the last thing he would want to do is to make you uncomfortable or seem like he was taking advantage of you in your time of distress. Plus with his massive crush on you, he gets incredibly nervous any time something remotely intimate or romantic occurs between you two. But he swallowed his nerves and kicked off his shoes to be there for you when you need him most. He would do anything for you. He crawled under the covers and kept a substantial amount of space between you two though honestly, the school-issued dorm beds weren’t that big.

You didn’t say a word but gently turned over so you were facing away from Neville. You scooted closer to him and in a moment of bravery grabbed his hand from the opposite side of the bed and pulled it over you so you two were cuddling. You let out a sigh of relief partly from Neville not pulling away and partly from finally finding some peace from the stress of the day.

“Neville?” you called out. “Yes y/n,” he called back. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” and soon after those few words left your mouth in the still silence of the room, you were asleep.

Neville let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and bravely planted a kiss on the top of your head. Maybe he really was a Gryffindor after all.

#neville x y/n #neville longbottom #neville x reader #neville fluff #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville appreciation #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fic

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

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REDACTED verse - A special night

Prompt: Any Fandom | Any Characters/Pairings | Ordering a sweet treat to be delivered to the other person at home/work

Word Count: 2,136

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Gavin/Freelancer. Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: NA

Summary: Having an Incubus boyfriend comes with many perks. The Freelancer and Lovely really should have seen it coming.

ConCrit: Y

Well, I guess this can be a sequel to my previous oneshot, REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest. I really wanted to write the Freelancer and Lovely interacting after their first, proper meeting so this oneshot suddenly comes to mind!

Exam week is the bane of every student, everywhere — even for the magical ones.

An uneasy atmosphere lingers around D.A.M.N as the current semester hurl the students into an intense week of revisions, study groups, and extra classes; all for the upcoming exams.

The seniors are frantically cramming for their final papers and projects under the watchful eyes of the lecturers. The Freelancer doesn't envy them one bit when they caught a Sonal Energetic screamed into his backpack for a solid ten minutes.

His scream shakes the student lounge, and the windows shattered.

Once he got that out of his system, he focused back towards his textbook, expressionless. The rest of the students around the Energetic hardly bat an eye over what just happened.

On that day, the Freelancer learned to avoid a large group of seniors until the exam week blows over.

"The tension alone in that lounge could make a Serenity Daemon hide underneath a bed." The Freelancer narrates their experience to Lovely. The two of them are currently having their own study session over at the Freelancer's apartment.

It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and yet here they are - flipping through textbooks, reviewing and swapping notes and downing cans of coffee and Red Bulls from as early as 9 AM. "Even the janitor wasn't fazed by it. He just snapped his fingers, and the windows were good as new!"

That night after their proper introduction, Lovely and the Freelancer had become quite good friends, much to Vincent's annoyance and Gavin's pleased smirk when the Freelancer told him that Lovely would be coming over for their study session.

"Aww, look you, Deviant. Arranging a little study date with that friend of yours," Gavin teased during breakfast this morning. They both woke up early to prepare meals that could last the Freelancer and Lovely throughout the whole day. When his Deviant absentmindedly replied, "Uh-huh" as they were busy chopping the vegetables, Gavin couldn't help but plant a fond kiss on top of their head. "Anyway, I'll be popping into Aria for a bit today. A few of my, ah, older brothers and sisters called for a meeting. Can I trust that you two won't be having too much fun without me?"

The Freelancer stopped chopping to gave their boyfriend a deadpan stare. "Gavin, we'll be studying." They explained. "Our first paper is literally next week. So I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but there won't be any fucking happening." They then stop themselves. They suddenly recalled something. "I don't want to be on that Solaire Prince's hit list too."

Gavin just cooed at their disgruntled partner, as if the genuine possibility that the both of them being shred to pieces by Lovely's possessive boyfriend amused him.

Nonetheless, Gavin pulled his weight to ensure there was enough food and comfortable pillows and blankets in their shared apartment so that his Deviant and the Electro Energetic would be comfortable for their revisions.

An hour before Lovely arrived, Gavin kissed the Freelancer goodbye and Rifted into his home dimension.

And now we're back in the present.

"I think those students around that guy were his classmates," Lovely commented. They take a quick sip of the lemonade that Gavin prepared to refresh their parched throat. Even in a simple pair of slacks, baggy t-shit, and hair pulled up in a bun, they still look as breathtaking as ever. "They reacted as if it was like a regular Tuesday for them. It's so crazy to think that we'll be seniors like them soon."

The Freelancer pours more lemonade into their glass from the pitcher beside them. Their books, notebooks and snacks are spread all over the dining table. A large and fluffy pillow is propped behind the Freelancer so they can lean back on their chair comfortably. "Urgh, mood. I can already imagine the coursework we'll be forced to do in our final semester." They groan. Their brain is fried from all the information and notes they've been reviewing since this morning. On top of that, the thought that they will be getting even more work once they hit their senior year is starting to freak them out.

Seeing the Freelancer is having an internal crisis, Lovely quickly glance at the time on their phone and decides, "OK, I think we seriously need a break. You look like you're going to pull a stunt similar to that Sonal Energetic, and I don't think your boyfriend appreciates coming back to a half-destroyed apartment."

"Gavin can fix the apartment with his magic, don't worry." The Freelancer is quick to assure Lovely. "He did that after he and Vega trashed the place anyway."

"Uh, what? Who's Vega?"

The Freelancer snapped their attention back to Lovely once they realised the name that they accidentally dropped. "N-Nothing! I didn't s-say anything!" They laugh awkwardly, doing their best to brush off Lovely's concerned expression. "Anyway, break! Yeah! That's a good idea! Are you hungry? We can watch something on Youtube and eat in the living room. You're OK with that?"

Lovely gingerly nods; it's best not to comment or ask about this Vega person since the name alone made their friend jumpy. They push their chair back, stretch their stiff spine, and get up to help set the plates and cutleries while the Freelancer heats the lunch they made in the morning.

They then move to the living room with a tray of food and drinks, where the couch and coffee table are surrounded by pillows and blankets thrown around messily.

"You play video games, right?" The Freelancer asked after Lovely settle down on the couch with a blanket over their lap. "Do you want to watch a playthrough or something?"

"Sure! Do you and Gavin play video games too?"

"Gavin does, though he usually only plays those dating sim games for girls. It's a guilty pleasure of his."

"Oh, Otome Games? My respect for your boyfriend just levelled up. Has he ever played Hatoful Boyfriend?"

"Uh... I don't remember he ever mentioned that title. What is it about?"

"We're watching a playthrough of that game. Right now. You can watch it with me, but you can't tell Gavin anything, OK? I promise you're going to love his reactions."

Lovely's eyes light up with glee and grin widely as the Freelancer switch on the Smart TV. When thumbnails of pigeons with pink hearts in the background pop up on the screen, they immediately throw an incredulous look at the Energetic.

"That top playlist is good to watch. Come on, sit beside me." Lovely pats on the empty spot on the couch beside them, unperturbed at the look the Freelancer is giving them. "I think you're going to like Okosan."

The Freelancer press play on the first video and kick back on the couch with the Energetic. What's better than having a break after a long study session? Hanging out with a friend with some good food while watching a crazy romance video game about pigeons!

However, when the fourth video starts to play, the doorbell rings.

"Uh... are you expecting someone?" Lovely asks curiously; their head is tilting towards the door. Their plate of eggplant pasta and buttered abalones are polished on their lap. The Freelancer internally preened when they enthusiastically complimented on theirs and Gavin's cooking skills.

Anyway, the Freelancer moves their empty tray onto the coffee table and flip over the blanket to get up. "Not really. Gavin said he'll be coming back home at night." They explain and went towards the door when the doorbell ring once more.

A delivery man greets the Freelancer with a stoic face, an armful of flower bouquet, and a thick, rectangular item wrapped in hot red packaging.

"I, uh, think you got the wrong address?" They said, confused to hell and back.

The delivery man blinks, unfaze at the Freelancer's greeting. "Good afternoon. Delivery for..." He pauses to read the card attached to the bouquet. "Deviant? We received a request from Gavin to arrange a flower bouquet and some... special chocolates. He also left a message for you: My Deviant has been working so hard lately~ So I got you something to... help you relax. PS: give some of the special chocolates to that gorgeous friend of yours and their boyfriend."

The Freelancer could only gape when the delivery man finished reciting Gavin's message. From the living room, Lovely is also doing an excellent mimicking of a goldfish. Their stunned expression made the man sigh tiredly. "Look, I'm not going to judge your... bedroom activities. Just take the packages already. I still have more stops to deliver."

"O-Oh my god! I'm really, really sorry about my boyfriend!" The Freelancer finally snaps out of it and stammers an apology. Their face is bright red. They hurriedly accept the flowers and package, shoot a quick thank you and slams the door shut.

Lovely watches as the Freelancer stares into the bouquet with a mixed feeling, something between fondness and extreme embarrassment, before they scream into the large sunflowers.

They patiently wait for the Freelancer to get it out of their system before Lovely delicately asks, "So, uh, does Gavin do these sort of things often?"

"No. This is the first time ever." The Freelancer replies. Their voice is muffled because the flowers are still pressed onto their face. "That's what I get for dating an Incubus, I supposed..."

"Aww, don't be embarrassed, dude! I think it's super sweet how much Gavin loves you. Flowers and chocolates? Boy got some serious game; might even give Vincent a run for his money, and you should've seen how we first met."

The Freelancer peeks through the petals and is relieved to find that Lovely wasn't put off by Gavin's forward nature. In fact, they are very accepting of the Freelancer and Gavin's relationship.

Feeling the warmth on their cheeks slowly disappearing, the Freelancer made their way back to the couch. The rectangular package is tossed onto the couch, and the bouquet is on the coffee table. The Freelancer figured they could put the fresh flowers in a water-filled vase later.

"The guy said that Gavin sent you some chocolates?" Lovely reiterate as the Freelancer began to untie the ribbon and unwraps the box.

"Special chocolates, and knowing Gavin, I kinda have an idea of what kind of chocolates they are." They admit and make quick work of tearing the paper wrappings.

Apparently, Gavin ordered two types of chocolates for his Deviant. One box holds a fancy gourmet assortment of salted almonds dipped in rich Belgium chocolate, double chocolate raspberry truffles, vanilla pieces powdered with light matcha and some white praliné hearts.

Lovely whistle, impressed over the spread. "Your boyfriend really went all out for you!"

The box below it contains rows of heart-shaped chocolates, but the short message written on the card of said box proves it's anything but ordinary treats.

'These are homemade chocolates made by one of my close associates. She's a Succubus, by the way, and renowned for her aphrodisiac desserts. You can try some first if your Energetic friend doesn't mind being a voyeur.'

The Freelancer promptly throws away the card and cues them, and Lovely shrieking in embarrassment. Neither of them expects the second batch of chocolates.

"These are sexy chocolates? Like, legit aphrodisiac chocolates made with magic!? Oh my god, I didn't know they were a thing!"

"I didn't either! I was expecting sex toys below the chocolates!"

"Wait - didn't Gavin wants to give these to Vincent and me!? Dude, does he has a thing for Vincent? Because at this point, I should tell you: he noticed that Gavin was purposely riling us up when they first met, and he's been thinking that your boyfriend is out to get him. But, uh, not in the sexy way, but I'm thinking otherwise now. And if that's the case, then you can warn that Incubus to be ready and catch these hands."

The Freelancer groans and hides their face in their hands. "OK, you know what? I'm going to put the special chocolates in the fridge, and then we'll continue watching a few more videos from the playthrough and get back to studying."

"... You're in denial."

"I'm just trying to keep whatever sanity I have left. It's been a crazy year."

"Urgh, tell me about it."

That night, at Lovely's and Vincent's apartment:

"Vincent, baby? I'm back. Look what I got!"

"Welcome home, Lovely. Dinner's ready if you're hungry. Hmm? What's that?"

"It's homemade aphrodisiac chocolates made by a Succubus. Gavin and the Freelancer gave some to us."

"...I'm gonna punch that Incubus in his smug ass face."

"...Does that mean you don't want them in the bedroom tonight?"

"OK, I'll punch him tomorrow. C'mere, Lovely. I've missed you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

#redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #freelancer (listener)#lovely (listener)#gavin #vincent solaire

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Covenant: A Mess

Poly! Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,497

Warnings: Slightly angsty

Summary: Reader has been struggling with magic and feels miserable. Caleb and Pogue try their best to be loving and supportive. Requested by / in collaboration with @dhampiravidi

Caleb trudged inside the apartment, the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes. Taking his gray coat off, he followed the smell of spices into the kitchen. Chili, if Caleb had to guess.

Pogue must’ve had dinner duty for the night. He made the best chili out of the three of them so they only ever ate it if he was the one making it. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the counter, his hair pulled back into a half ponytail, adjusting a setting on the slower cooker that was plugged into the wall.

“Chili?” Caleb asked, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“Chili,” Pogue confirmed. He turned towards Caleb, frowning when he saw Caleb massaging small circles above his eyes. “Another headache?”

Caleb sighed, lowering his hand. “Just a little one. They assigned me to that new case on Tuesday and I’ve been pouring over old court dockets ever since.”

Pogue didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to—the worry was clear on his face. Caleb was quick to smile and reassure him. “It’s like I said, just a small headache. No need to blow it out of proportion, Po.”

The longhaired boy wasn’t the least bit convinced, but didn’t push the lawyer further. Caleb was great at looking after people, but not so much when it came to himself. And if Pogue called him out on it, he would only draw further into himself. The key was to not bring it up and tread subtlety.

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.” He sat down at the table, but not before sliding a bottle of aspirin over to Caleb who accepted it with a quiet thanks.

They quickly updated each other on their days. One of firm clerks was inviting everyone out for drinks next week: Caleb had said he’d get back to them after checking with the significant others. A real nice ’68 Chevy Nova had been brought into the garage for restoration: Pogue was excited to pop the hood and get to work. But it wasn’t long until Caleb noticed who was absent from the table.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s never been able to resist the smell of chili.”

“Rough day. She was crying when I got home and she’s been shut in the bedroom since then.”

“Crying? Why was she—” He cut off immediately. He knew, they both knew. You weren’t really a crier. In all of the time the three of you had been together, there was only one thing they had ever known you to cry about. “She tried Using again today.”

Pogue nodded, a severe frown on his face. He looked down the hall at the shut door, no sounds or light coming from the other side of it. “Looked like it to me. The spell book was already put away when I walked in, but she left the candles out.”

Caleb released a long breath and stared unseeing at the ceiling. How could he fix this?

Magic was a touchy subject. All three of you were witches and even if he and Pogue weren’t regularly Using, they didn’t impose their rules on you. After all, your coven had struck a different deal to gain their magic so they didn’t have to worry about you sacrificing pieces of your life whenever you tried to use it. But that didn’t mean they didn’t worry about you.

Using was…hit or miss with you. You had no problem performing large, high-powered magic. You had no problem blowing thing up or putting an entire bar full of people under a spell. But as time went on, it became apparent that you did not have the same ease when it came to more precise magic. And your struggles weren’t from lack of dedication or practice (you gave even Caleb a run for his money when it came to studying.)

The guys were incredibly supportive of your continued magic studies, but recently your mood had shifted and not for the better. After putting in so much time and effort, and still not having much to show for it, Using was starting to bring some emotional baggage to the surface. Seeing as how you’d been upset in the room for hours, they thought you were close to some kind of break.

Caleb tapped the table with his knuckles. “I’m going to check on Y/N and see if I can get them to talk to me.” He scraped his chair back and moved down the hall. He didn’t wait for Pogue’s reaction. He couldn’t. When someone he loved was struggling his immediate response was to talk with them and find a solution to the problem.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door—he knew that you wouldn’t answer anyway and that you had likely locked the door with no intention of opening it. Eyes went black briefly as he Used magic to override the lock. Normally, his rule was to only employ magic in times of emergency, but this definitely qualified as an emergency.

“Hi Y/N,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. You were on your spot curled in the middle of the bed, body hidden under the comforter. “How was your day?” Your silence didn’t phase him as he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. “I heard you were practicing today, that’s great. I’ve always loved your drive.”

Still, nothing but silence from you.

He sighed and pulled the covers down so he could at least see your face. Your eyes were red and puffy but the crying was paused for the moment, your whole face lax as you stared through him rather than at him.

“Hey, now,” he whispered pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. “Come on, I want to hear about it.”

You pushed him away and he was relieved to see some reaction from reaction, even if it was annoyance.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Caleb,” you stressed turning away from him. He tried to bring you back into his arms but backed off when he felt you stiffen up.

“It can’t be that bad.” More silence. “Just tell me. Please.”

The strong emotions that you had been trying so hard to hide exploded out of you and you were so upset that it wasn’t until after you finished that you realized how aggressive it sounded. “You want to know? Fine! It was a telekinesis spell. A simple freaking telekinesis spell. All I wanted to do was lift the frame that had our anniversary photo in it and guess what! And I ended up smashing it to pieces instead! There was glass everywhere and the photo is ruined, happy?”

You felt tears swimming in your eyes, whether from anger or sadness you didn’t know, and you ran with a huff to lock yourself in the bathroom. No matter what kind of tears they were, you refused to cry in front of Caleb. That would only make him more overbearing than he was currently.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered as the tears started to flow. “All this time and you still mess up a basic spell. How can you call yourself a girlfriend to two Sons of Ipswich if you can’t even get that right?”

Caleb remained on the bed, looking at the bathroom door in grief. He had meant to help you and it seemed that he only made things worse. Sighing in frustration at himself he put himself back together and went back to Pogue who was still tending to dinner. There had to be something he could do, he just wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Well,” Pogue prompted, “How did it go?”

“Disastrous,” Caleb admitted. “I just ended up making Y/N even more upset and now they’re locked in the bathroom.”

“Hmm, that’s rough man.” A timer on the counter beeped, signaling that the chili was officially done cooking. Pogue took some ceramic bowls from the cabinet. “For both of you. Try not to get worked up about—Y/N will come around when they’re ready.”

“I am not worked up,” Caleb insisted. Pogue merely raised a brow and slid a full bowl to him. “Okay, maybe I’m a little worked up.”

“I knew it,” he smirked, pushing his long hair out of his face. “You can’t help it; it’s just who you are, man. But in this case, I’m telling you that you have to be patient.”

He sat down and took a bite from his own bowl, saw the worried look on the other man’s face. “I’m telling you. I learned this the hard way back in high school. Sometimes space is the best approach,” he said with a mouth full of food.

“If you’re sure…”

The two of them kept good on their unspoken promise and didn’t ask you about the incident again. You all still shared the same bed but even there they made sure to keep their hands to themselves, which you were grateful for. You didn’t feel the need for sex given your mental state. Just knowing that they were on either side of you was enough.

A part of you felt terrible for shutting them out, but an even bigger part of you couldn’t get over the hurt. Rationally, you knew that breaking the frame wasn’t that big of a deal. The guys would definitely fix it for you if you asked. Emotionally, however, you were a wreck. Productivity was at zero for the week. During the day you felt void, your brain numb. The night was worse, racing thoughts you couldn’t control as the continuous rewind of the incident playing on loop, preventing you from getting decent sleep.

Life was a mess. You were a mess. But there wasn’t much you felt like you could do about it; you were just hoping that you’d sort yourself out soon.

It was difficult for them for watching you going through it, especially for Caleb. He kept his word and didn’t question you like he had the first night but he hovering, struggling to master the need to make it better for you. Needless to say, he fed you breakfast in bed everyday that week.

Pogue was just as concerned. He never outright confronted you about it, that just wasn’t his style, but he did the dishes every day without complaint. He fidgeted more, even by Pogue standards. And unbeknownst to you, he was playing his guitar, something that normally happened when he was trying to sort something big out.

Somehow, he managed to hide it from you but he wasn’t so lucky with Caleb.

He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “How long have you been playing this one? I like it.”

“This week,” Pogue shrugged trying to downplay it. “The cords were easy to throw together.”

Caleb hummed and went to sit in front of the other man. Pogue started playing the tune again and Caleb found himself humming along after a few minutes. He wore a contemplative look. “Does it have lyrics?”

Pogue shook his head side to side, tossing his hair. “Nope. You know I’m not a good poet.”

Caleb nodded again, the same thoughtful expression on his face. “What if I wrote them?”

***

At the end of the week, you were slightly more recovered. The failure and unconference were still there but Pogue had convinced you to shower with him earlier in the day. It was nice to have clean hair and soft skin again. And you even managed to clear out your emails which always felt like an accomplishment.

“Hey, do you guys want to order takeout for dinner?” You walked out to the living room looking for your boyfriends. You were getting hungry and in the mood to socialize a bit more. For a second, you thought they were both out until you saw them out on the small porch. “Hello?”

They turned around with smiles on their faces and bid you to join them. It was a mild spring day and the setting sun left just enough heat to still be comfortable while sitting outside.

“Are you feeling okay?” Caleb asked, excitement just beneath the surface.

“A little better,” you answered eying the acoustic guitar in Pogue’s hands. Takeout cartons were arranged around the small glass table. “So…what’s all this?”

Pogue cleared his throat. “We wrote a song.”

“You…wrote a song?”

“A song for you,” Caleb further explained. “We’ve been working on it for you these past couple of days. Do you want to listen to it?”

“Y-yeah,” you said startled. This had not been what you were expecting when you came outside.

Pogue started strumming immediately, having already tuned beforehand. The pace was slower but purposeful, his fingers moving gracefully over the fretboard. Your heart fluttered, the notes sounding beautiful. Then Caleb started to sing. He was a graceful as ever, his voice blending in perfectly with Pogue’s guitar playing.

You were positively flushing. As romantic as the two of them were, they had never serenaded you before. In fact, no one had ever serenaded you. You were flattered. Giddy. Dazed.

The words touched your heart. The whole thing was so intimate, especially since they wrote it for you. They were pouring out the love they felt for you, the sadness that came with seeing you struggle. Unlaying the song was the assurance that things would get better.

At some point, you’re not sure when, tears started to blur your vision. The song had barely ended before you threw yourself at them, hugging with all your might. The hugs were returned and you felt a kiss on the top of your head—Pogue. Caleb wiped away a stray tear that had escaped with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured softly.

“Yeah, sorry baby,” Pogue seconded. Everyone was silent for a moment when he cracked a joke. “You should’ve told me that my playing was bad, I would’ve stopped sooner.”

You slapped his chest with no real force behind it. “Shut up. I loved it. These are tears of happiness.”

“That’s a relief. We’ve been worried about you, you know.”

You relaxed into their grasp, the oranges and pinks in the dusk sky further calming you. “I know. I tried to shake it off and be rational about it but I couldn’t. I’ve been…struggling.”

“We know. It’s alright. We’re here for you through the good times and the bad,” he promised.

“I j-just feel like a failure and I don’t want you to be embarrassed of me because I—”

“Stop it. We could never, never be embarrassed of you. You’re strong and kind and smart; what’s not to love?”

“Face facts, baby, you’re stuck with us for as long as you’ll have us.”

More tears gathered. “I love you two goofs.”

“I love you, too,” they said simultaneously, leaning in on either side to press a kiss to your cheek.

_______________

First poly fic I’ve written/published. Thanks so much for reading! And thanks to Jayn for the idea! 😊 If you want more Caleb content, here’s a recent fic of mine. Check it out! If you want more poly content, let me know that too.

#the covenant #caleb danvers #pogue parry #sons of ipswich #fanfic #caleb danvers x reader #pogue parry x reader

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Living Hell ~ MYG [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 4.2K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

↬↬↬Pairing: Min Yoongi X Gender Neutral Reader

The internship of a lifetime is what everyone was calling it but you called it your living hell, every day was a whole new way for Min Yoongi to torture you and make you want to quit doing the things you loved but you kept pushing on despite the feeling of wanting to give up. You weren't going to let someone push you aside like that even if it was every day.

"Y/n!" You looked up from your pad of paper in front of your face to see Namjoon and Yoongi walking towards you, Namjoon had a smile on his face as he walked towards you questioning you on how your song was coming along. Every week BigHit set a task for the winners of the internship to work on songs and present them at the end of the week,

"Really well," You kept it brief since Yoongi was giving you a death glare that you're sure would kill you given half of the chance but then again you were sure Yoongi would kill you given half the chance. The first time you met him you were sure it was just because you were new to the team and he wasn't sure on you but as time passed and he grew colder to you the more you realised he actually just hated you.

"Did you hear me?" Namjoon questioned waving his hand in front of your face, you were staring off down into the hallway as though no one had been standing right in front of you.

"Stupid little child," Yoongi mumbled pushing past you and walking towards his studio, you looked at Namjoon.

"Sorry I was just thinking of some lyrics." You lied trying to pretend you hadn't heard Yoongi mumbling under his breath, it was something you were used to by now.

"They have a competition coming up in a few days, they're going to select a few of you to do some work within a limited amount of time. I'm not supposed to tell you but I figured you could use the heads up." You thanked him while he walked off to his own studio, you stayed in the hall jotting down some lyrics to a song you'd been working on in the back of your notebook. Nothing that was ready to be heard yet but it was there if you ever needed something to work on.

"Y/n?! Are you done?" You glanced over at Yoongi who was standing with his head in the door of his studio,

"Yes." You whispered walking over to him to see what he wanted this time,

"Good. I need you to go and get all this for me, you'll be able to find it easily enough." He handed you a sheet of paper with a bunch of useless items on it, it looked like he was just trying to send you on a wild goose chase.

"Why can't you do this yourself-"

"I'd be nicer to me if I were you, I'm the one that's going to be judging your work next week." He licked his bottom lip as he watched you stand up straight at the mention of him being one of the judges for the competition,

"Then you understand that I need to work on my own things instead of yours..." You were doing your best to be kind to him, you'd been brought up to be kind to everyone you met. Treat people the way that you wished to be treated but Min-Fucking-Yoongi made that extraordinarily difficult for you to be nice to him with everything he was putting you through.

Since day one he'd made it clear he had a strong dislike for you but you had no idea why. You'd been nothing but kind to everyone that worked in BigHit and Yoongi had been one of your inspirations so it was difficult to have someone you'd idolised for so long hate you without truly knowing who you were.

"Listen, if you want to make it in this industry I suggest you do what I ask of you." He pushed the piece of paper into your chest and you hurried out of his studio, going to get your car keys from the small office you had been assigned on your first day.

"I'm sure you're all aware by now that there is a competition coming up. This will be the final test for the interns." Bang PD was speaking clearly as he looked over everyone in the room, all of the interns were sitting in front of the room watching him closely and listening for what they had to do.

"I expect to see work from each of you by next week. People will be leaving us so let this be a warning if your work is anything less than what we expect you'll be forced to leave and your contract will be terminated with us." Swallowing the lump in your throat you wrote down what he was expecting from you all, the types of songs he wanted and how many. You were sure if you put your mind to it you'd be able to get everything he wanted from you and more, the thought of losing this opportunity physically hurt your chest when you'd done nothing but work towards it for years. It had been your dream since you could remember to work with music and BigHit was one of the leading companies that you'd wanted since you were 16. Nothing was going to stop you from working hard to keep this job.

A week passed and you'd tortured yourself trying to keep up with everything, Yoongi had you running around after him like you were his own personal maid. Treating you like a coffee maid instead of a producer who was working within the same industry as him. The only time you got to work on your own music was when it was late into the night and you were locked up in your studio, forcing yourself to stay awake until the unholy hours just to get at least one song done. You were ahead of an intern you knew but you didn't feel it was enough.

Today you were supposed to be working on the final song that would make your work stand out, a song about hardship and pushing through everything someone was throwing at you - you hadn't even noticed you'd written the song about Yoongi, as far as you saw it it was just a song about someone else going through a hard time. Your phone buzzed from beside you as you were about to lay your vocal track down,

[Yoongi]: Need your help in the studio, please.

The emoji he'd sent wasn't like Yoongi at all, a pleading face with a please at the end? It wasn't like Yoongi at all. Yoongi never said please, ever. Maybe he'd finally realised how much he'd pushed you this week and was trying to say sorry for it. You locked your desktop up taking your phone with you towards his studio, it was just up the hallway from yours so you wondered what the big deal could have been when you heard a crash coming from inside his room.

"Yoongi?!" You panicked pushing open the door to see him standing in the corner of his room with a look of fear across his face, you glanced over at the shelves that were now hanging from the wall, one of them still swinging as it held onto the bracket in the wall.

"What happened?" Your voice came out shaky and nervous as you stared at them in horror, everything looked like it was broken but repairable or in desperate need of a trip to the trash cans.

"I was working and they just fell- You didn't do a good job on them!" He snapped at you pointing his finger in your direction, you turned to him. He was bringing this around to you? How had this been your fault when it was his office?

"Yoongi I didn't even install the shelves so would you like to explain how it's my fault?!" You lost your temper for a second but squeezed your thumb between your middle finger and ring finger to try and calm yourself down, bring yourself back to reality where he was your boss and not someone you should talk to that way. Even if he had done nothing but belittle you all week into doing stupid tasks for him. Monday it was running around stores for him to look for a certain writing paper, Tuesday he had you working on his tracks as well as cleaning his shoes, Wednesday he wanted the shelves cleaning so that's what you had done, Thursday he wanted you to take his car to get details and the list went on until today, Friday, the final day you had to work on your own things and you'd done nothing but run around after him like his own personal assistant - who he had you fire because she was 'incompetent' and he couldn't stand her working for him anymore.

"I asked you to clean everything up there the other day so it's clearly your fault." He spat at you, you looked down at the floor to see shards of broken glass everywhere on the floor. If he wasn't careful he could seriously hurt himself and the thought alone made you anxious,

"Whatever, I-I'll clean it up." You stuttered out not wanting to have a huge fight about it. Maybe it had to have been your fault you knew you'd cleaned up the shelves the other week but nothing you could have done would have caused the brackets to fall out of the wall the way they had.

"Can you get me-" You went to asked him to get the dust-pan and brush but he was already out of the room and talking into his phone about something,

"Fuck." You whispered standing up from the floor and going to find the things you needed yourself.

"How's your project coming along Y/n?" Jungkook asked as he followed you up towards Yoongi's studio, he'd seen you walking through the building looking for something so he decided to come along with you.

"I heard Yoongi-Hyung called you to his studio, seems like you guys have gotten really close over the last week." He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck as you walked, you laughed nervously. Everyone had noticed how close you worked with Yoongi but no one had noticed how he was treating you because whenever someone else was around it was as if he was a new person, acting like someone you'd known for years and not someone who was using you to get his own way.

"You could say that." It wasn't in you to bad mouth another person behind their back so you kept your mouth shut and opened the door to the studio, Jungkook's mouth hung open as he walked inside behind you looking around at everything. He was about to step further into the room when your arm reached across his chest to stop him from going any further into the room.

"Careful there's bits of glass everywhere." You muttered nonchalantly to him as you got down onto your hands and needs to start cleaning everything up as quickly as possible.

"What happened?" He asked looking at the shelves he frowned staring at them,

"Yoongi was working when they fell," He scoffed at the word fell and walked over to them being careful not to step on anything that was on the floor but he ran he fingers over the holes in the walls. They hadn't fallen at all, they'd been ripped from the wall anyone could see that. He glanced down at everything at the floor and back up to the shelf as he tried to calculate something in his head, Yoongi had removed everything from the shelves and ripped them down before throwing everything onto the floor but why?

"What did Yoongi say happened?" He was sitting next to you now picking up big shards of glass and putting them into the bin beside you,

"That he was working when they fell." He nodded looking at your face as you concentrated on not hurting yourself,

"How much work do you have left to do?" He was sure this was nothing to do with your work and he was imagining things but Yoongi had been off lately but this wasn't like the Yoongi he'd known all these years. Why would Yoongi smash up his own things just to get you to stop working?

"Not much, I have one song to finish and I'm done, I'll have it finished by presentation time tomorrow." You lied. You'd only have it finished if you stayed late again tonight - by staying late you meant falling asleep on the sofa in your office.

When you finally made it back to your studio that night you were exhausted, you'd cleaned up every small fragment of glass you could find before you went on the hunt for photo frames that looked exactly like the ones that Yoongi had had on the shelves. You'd even gone to DIY stores to get filler for the walls, filling in the holes waiting for them to dry while you fixed up awards with glue you'd picked up.

"Yoongi? What are you doing in here?" You asked tiredly as you saw Yoongi sitting on the sofa in your studio, his feet kicked up on the sofa as he looked at you.

"I came to tell you about your work but you weren't here so I figured I'd wait for you." You frowned at him dropping the bag of rubbish outside the door for the night cleaners to come by and take,

"What about my work?" You looked at the desktop in your studio to see that it was bluescreened, the sad sarcastic face that windows always had whenever a computer did this was evident on the screen.

"What the fuck!?" You screamed rushing over to it, tapping on the keyboard to try and get anything to work,

"It's alright, you backed everything upright?" He questioned smugly looking as you pulled out a USB stick from the back of the PC but it was snapped leaving the metal fragments inside of the computer. Your heart was pounding against your chest and tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about everything that was on the computer and USB drive. Yoongi smirked from behind you as you began to cry silently into your hands, he knew you weren't going to say anything to him so he turned to leave when you finally broke down.

"Why?" You whimpered turning to look at him, tears were streaming down your face as he locked eyes with you. His chest panged with guilt as he saw the broken look across your face,

"Why do you hate me so much?!" You questioned looking at him and then at the computer,

"I've done nothing but work my ass off since I got here! But yet you treat me like I'm nothing, why? What did I ever do to you that was so bad?!" You were yelling, Yoongi had never even heard you talk above your normal tone before and it was shocking to have you yelling at him now. He felt bad.

"Y/n-"

"No, don't ''Y/n'' me. Answer me, what did I ever do to you? You know, Jungkook told me that you probably ripped down those shelves but I've spent my whole day fixing everything for you, putting them back up and making sure they're level. Replacing everything you smashed up, cutting up my hands." You mumbled showing him your plastered covered hands.

"Do you want me to quit? Because if so you got what you wanted." You were calmer now which scared Yoongi even more than when you were yelling, you grabbed your bag from the back of the door and walked away from him.

"I quit. You can have the honours of letting everyone know for me." You walked out of the hallway and onto the staircase of the BigHit building falling onto the step and clutching onto the railing as you sobbed into your hands about everything he'd put you through over your time there.

Yoongi made his way back to his studio looking around, everything was perfectly arranged the way he had it before he'd wrecked it all. The shelves were a little lower than they had been but the holes had to be covered somehow. The trophies he had on display were all fixed back together, you could hardly notice the cracks within them unless you knew they were there and the photographs were back in frames like the ones he owned. You'd done a brilliant job on everything and yet he'd treated you the way he did, he reached into his pocket to take out the real USB stick he'd taken from your computer with everything on it and he put it into his own computer loading everything up onto his system.

"Yoongi?" He looked over his shoulder to see one of the night security men,

"Yeah?"

"It's Y/n again Sir, we found them asleep on the steps, what should we do?" He sighed coming out of his office to see you asleep in the arms of another security guard. They'd found you like this a couple of times over the months of you working for BigHit and they always came to Yoongi since he'd told them to whenever they saw you asleep somewhere that wasn't your own studio. Yoongi had found you asleep on his sofa one night and carried you to yours so that you could get some decent sleep.

"Take them to their studio," He mumbled walking behind them as they carried you towards your room. They laid you down before leaving and he stared at you, the way your brows furrowed together as you dreamt about something you didn't like,

"Yoongi go away," You whimpered in your sleep and he sighed running his hand along your cheek using his thumb to caress your skin as he realised he was the bad thing you were dreaming about.

Groaning as you woke up the next morning you looked around you to see you were in your office, your computer still had the patronising sad face over the screen that made you want to put your fist through the screen just so it would go away. You sat up on the sofa to see a blanket had been laid across your body, a glass of water and orange juice was on the table along with a note.

Meet me in my studio - Yoongi

You scoffed at the note throwing it into the bin and running your hairs through your hair, you opted out of drinking the drinks he'd left you and headed to the mirror in your room to try and make yourself look at least a little presentable and not that you'd spent the night on your studio sofa which wasn't even your studio anymore. You were going to quit. You weren't going to take it anymore. Throwing the door open you made you way down the hall ignoring Yoongi's door as you passed it heading straight to Bang PD instead of going to Yoongi like he'd asked of you.

"You're telling me you're quitting?" Bang PD asked as he looked up from the work on his desk, he was marking through papers with his glasses pressed up against his face,

"Yes Sir, I know it's short notice but my work, there was an accident with my computer and it's gone. To save a lot of hassle I decided to quit that way you won't have to fire any competent interns." The door to his office opened and closed, Yoongi stood behind you panting heavily.

"They're not quitting Sir, they're just tired." He was breathing heavily and PD put his pen down onto the table sighing as he watched the both of you bicker back and forth about quitting,

"Don't let them quit," Yoongi spoke louder than you could and you stared at him as he stepped in front of you and began ranting quickly as though he was rapping,

"Their PC was corrupted last night and I have their original work on a USB stick, there's no need to fire Y/n or let them quit so please just...Don't let them, it's my fault all of this happened, Sir. I took everything Y/n was working on and it's ready for your viewing in the main presentation room."

Bang PD had reviewed everything on the CD while you stayed silent listening to yourself singing on the tracks along with Jungkook and Jimin who were included in some of the songs.

"This is exceptional work Y/n." Bang PD said as he turned around to face you on the chair,

"I won't stop you from quitting if it is something you want to do but from what I've heard we would be at a loss without you on our team." You stared down at the floor nodding along to what he was saying,

"I'll give you some time to think things over," He patted your back leaving you and Yoongi alone in the room, as soon as the door shut you turned to him.

"Do you think this would fix anything between us? That you presenting my work as if everything was fine would be okay!? Are you fucking-" You were cut off when his lips touched yours, his hands pressed on the back of your head to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widened as you realised you were kissing him, slowly they began to flutter shut as you leant into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were kissing Min Yoongi...You were kissing Min Yoongi?! The guy that had made your life hell. You pushed him away from you and shook your head, tearing up as you thought about it.

"Are you actually insane?!" You spat at him glaring at him as he smirked wiping his lips with his hand,

"I think that's the best kiss I've ever had, come here-"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, you're deluded if you think that is ever going to happen." As much as you wanted it to it wasn't something that could happen again,

"You've done nothing but make my life a living hell since I started here, why did you- Why would you-" There were too many questions to ask in such a short time span that you just took in sharp breaths trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, I know I call you dumb Y/n but I don't mean it." He chuckled walking over to you again, he raised his hand to your cheek but you didn't move away you snuggled your face against it. Your whole body felt warm from the small interaction and he chuckled feeling your cheeks heat up and watched as you skin began to glow,

"You like me and I like you, what's the big deal?" You moved away from him yet again,

"The big deal is that you've done nothing but make my life hell, you made me think my work was gone and then magically think it's going to be fixed because I got to keep my job?" You asked him raising an eyebrow at him if he really thought that this was all going to be some magically happy ending he was wrong things like that only happened in the movies.

"Y/n please, I was- I was intimidated by you and you working so hard it scared me...I thought if I could push you down a little and make you work less I wouldn't have to be afraid." You rolled your eyes at the excuse he was spilling out to you and you went to leave the room but his hand was placed on top of yours, you would be lying if you said you didn't feel something there. It was as if there was a huge electric shock running throughout your entire body whenever he touched you.

"I like you, a lot, another reason I made you run around for me so I could see you more often than I normally would...It was wrong okay and I'm sorry but let me make it up to you. Don't run away from me." He pleaded with you, you turned to look at him and sighed. He looked sorry for everything he'd done and he was, he was terrified and felt guilty for everything he'd done.

"Please."

"How?" You questioned folding your arms across your chest to seem more intimidating but mostly to get your hand away from his otherwise you were about to cave in to him right away.

"I'll take you out, just us two. Away from all of this so I can prove how much I like you...Please?" You licked your lips pretending to think about it as if you didn't already have the answer 'yes' written in glowing lights above your head.

"Fine. One date and then we'll talk about it..." You whispered looking at him as he walked closer to you, pulling your hand into his and smiling softly.

"I am truly sorry." He whispered kissing your lips softly as he stepped closer to you.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @taestannie @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @innersooya

280 notes · View notes

berrynarrybanana · 3 years

Text

sounds just like a song - ws pt. 3

A/N: This is a rewrite...I did not edit...and I just...might have added a few things that some people will hate me for. I love you all though :)

Warnings: Mentions of ex girlfriends, mentions of bullying, self doubt, smut for sure, alcohol obvi, and...maybe other stuff?

Word count: 10K

Watermelon Sugar masterlist

July 14, 2018 Bea’s POV

“I find it kind of hysterical that we had to sneak off to a bathroom to say goodbye properly.” I let out a series of girlish giggles, dropping my head against the door as Harry continued to kiss down my neck. “Harry-”

“I don’t want to say goodbye yet.” His words were muffled by the skin of my neck. “Give me five more minutes.”

“Champagne makes you needy.” I gasped, lifting my hips up when he bit a little harder than the few times before, his tongue immediately swiping over the skin. “Fuck, that feels so nice.”

“I bet it does.” He hummed out, his chest vibrating under my palms as he tilted his head up to nip at my earlobe. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

“Believe me, I can’t either.” I pressed my palms against his chest, slightly holding him back from my body. “But you have to get to soundcheck eventually, and I have plans with the girls.”

“I know.” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I just….fuck, I think I’d take you with me everywhere if I could.”

“I’d gladly follow if I didn’t have prior engagements.” I gave him a soft smile, brushing my thumb over the collar of his shirt. “We’ll only be apart for a few hours, that’s not so bad.”

“It can be when we know our time is limited together.” He nibbled on his lower lip. “We only have until Tuesday-”

“Which means we still have three days.” I reminded him. “Besides, I’ve spoken to Claire about Saturday, and I think I might be able to sneak away.”

“Yeah?” His brows lifted, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I guess it’s a date then.”

“I guess so.” I chuckled. “Now, give me one more good kiss before I go.”

Harry smirked, his dimple flashing as he leaned forward like a shark chasing after it’s prey.

🐙🐙🐙🐙

Harry’s POV

I pressed the key to my Tesla into Bea’s palm as I kissed her forehead.

“Don’t argue with me.” I whispered, glancing down at her as she squinted up at me. Her empty hand rose to her forehead, shielding her sensitive, blue eyes from the california sun . “Just take my car so you don’t have to uber around, and we can drive it home tonight from the venue.”

“But Harry.” She sighed, licking over her bottom lip as she looked back at my car. “That thing costs more than...well, everything I own.”

“Shut up.” I snorted, rolling my eyes at her before I stole another kiss. “Take it, okay? It’s just a car, and it literally can drive itself. If you have any questions about it, just shoot me a text and I’ll respond.”

“This is unnecessary, but I really appreciate the gesture.” She smiled. “Thank you for not leaving us stranded.”

“I would never.” I pressed one more kiss to her lips, my fingers squeezing her sides. “Alright, go have fun with your friends. Send me a few pictures while you’re out, yeah?”

“I will.” She took a step back, watching me with an almost sad smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours, darling.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” I repeated back to her. “Be safe, and have fun.”

“You too.”

I turned on my heel, checking both ways before I jogged across the street to the car Gemma and Michael drove to brunch. I slipped into the passenger side, shutting the door with a quick huff as I reached for my seatbelt. I looked across the street as Bea turned to Claire, her arms crossing over her abdomen as the wind blew her long cardigan around her body.

“She’s a wonderful girl.” Gemma gave me a smile, her eyes practically sparkling. “Mum thinks so too.”

“You’ve told Mum about her?” I asked her, pushing my sunglasses up with raised brows as Gem smiled wider. “Gemma, tell me-”

“I didn’t tell Mum, The Daily Mail did.” Gemma rolled her eyes, putting the car in drive before she pulled out of her parking spot. “The bloody paps have already sold pictures of us at brunch to the rags, and I guess a few fans got some snapshots of you and Beatrice entering and leaving the bathroom.”

“Grand.” I huffed, slumping in my seat. “I didn’t want that for her.”

“Harry, she’s a smart girl.” Gemma said. “She knows what she’s getting into with you. She might not know the extent of what she’s getting into, but she knows enough about it.”

“I just don’t want them to chase her off.” I mumbled, pulling my phone out of my pockets, pressing my finger to the home button. “She’s got such a good heart, Gemma. She doesn’t deserve to have her name raked through the mud because of some asshole like me.”

“She doesn’t think you’re an asshole, and I guarantee if I asked her right now, she would say that you're worth it.” Gemma glanced at me with furrowed brows. “Don’t be bothered by it, Harry. Beatrice seems like a strong girl, and she’s got a decent sized support group to look after her.”

I sighed, biting my lower lip before I nodded.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I whispered. “I just can’t help but worry about her.”

“I think that’s natural.” Gemma hummed out. “But I do have to say, this is the first time you’ve ever been worried about your bird and not yourself when it comes to being in the papers. You aren’t even a little bit annoyed that they plastered your face on the front page.”

“I couldn’t care less about myself right now.” I cleared my throat. “She’s not used to this, I am.”

“Well, maybe you should just have a talk about it.” Gemma said. “And you should definitely call Mum before she decides to fly over here to meet Bea herself.”

🐝🐝🐝🐝

Bea’s POV

“Do you think I can pull this off?” I held the maroon colored bodysuit up, twisting the hanger around as I looked at the lack of fabric. “I mean, it’s really cute, but I’m just-”

“Perfect in every way, shape, and form.” Tara pressed her hands to my shoulders, kissing my cheek as I rolled my eyes at her. “I think you would fucking kill in that thing, babe. It’s perfect for your body shape.”

“My body shape is blob, Tara.” I glanced back at her with a wild expression, shaking my head as she laughed. “What could I do for this thing?”

“You have a fucking hourglass figure.” Jackson snorted out a laugh. “And you keep it locked up all the time, so let it out.”

“But I have a tummy.” I lowered the bodysuit, turning towards my friends. “Won’t that look a little unflattering if I just walk around with my stomach sticking out? And my arms-”

“Go put the damn thing on.” Tara carefully ushered me towards the dressing room, snagging a belt and a leather jacket along the way. “Try it, I think you’ll like it.”

I inhaled sharply, pushing the velvet curtain aside before I slid it shut again. I put the items down on the bench in front of the mirror, wiping my palms on my pants as I tried to soothe my nerves. It wasn’t like I was anxious about trying on clothes, I just hated the entire process. I had to undo my shoes, slide my pants off, put the bodysuit on, and then put my pants back on. After I finished all of that, I’d have to do it over again to get redressed. I started the process, balancing my hand against the wall as I stood on one foot. It took me a few minutes, but when I finally finished getting into the bodysuit, I looked at my jeans with a heavy frown.

“Hey, Tara?” I moved the curtain aside, catching her attention. “Can you find me black jeans? I don’t think this shade of blue is gonna look good with the maroon.”

“Yeah, give me a sec.” She turned on her heel, strutting towards the jeans without a care in the world.

I pulled the curtain back before I turned to face the mirror.

The bodysuit had a bottom that was far more comfortable than any other bodysuit I’d worn. It was almost as if it had a pair of boyshorts at the bottom, the material stretchy and comfortable as I moved around. I especially enjoyed the zipper on the side that made it easy to slip on. I didn’t have to flail around like a fish out of water to pull it over my hips or to get it zipped up either. It was absolutely perfect, and the more that I looked at myself in it, the more I loved it.

I twisted and turned, looking at myself from different angles as I waited for Tara to return with a pair of jeans for me. As I turned around, admiring my bum in the pair of cheeky boy shorts, an idea popped into my head. Harry did ask me to send him pictures throughout the day so that he would feel like he was with me. I rolled my lips in, holding back a giddy laugh as I thought of sending him a picture of me in just the bodysuit. It was quite a scandalous idea to me, though I knew there were people who’d sent pictures of far more intimate things to their boyfriends.

I nibbled on the inside of my cheek as the wheels in my brain turned. On one hand, I knew that Harry would never say anything insulting to me about my picture. He would never point out a flaw, or offer a backhanded compliment. He would tell me that he loved it no matter what I sent, I knew that...but I was still nervous to show him my body in such a vulnerable state.

I didn’t even know how to pose for those types of things, and surely someone else would need my dressing room before I finished figuring out the perfect post. I hesitated, my heart beating faster and faster in my chest. I finally grabbed my phone with a heavy exhale, trying my best to expel all of the negative energy from my body as I swiped over to my camera app.

I held the phone up, tilting myself to the side before I looked at the screen of my phone.

I groaned when I saw how I actually looked in the bodysuit.

My legs were far too short, and my skin was far too pale.

I looked like an old picture of me as a chubby child in a bathing suit, my stomach pushing out ever so slightly and the skin of my thighs dimpled. I rolled my eyes, pushing away the tight feeling in my chest as I lowered my phone down. It was no use even trying to take a picture of myself for Harry. The lighting of the dressing room wasn’t exactly helping me too much either.

“If you want to take a picture, you weren’t doing it right.” Tara’s voice interrupted me, causing me to jump as I looked back at her. “You need to learn your angles, babe.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, pressing my hand to my chest.

“I walked in when you started pouting at your phone.” She snorted out a laugh, tossing the jeans onto the bench. “Give me your phone.”

“I don’t think-”

“Listen to the master.” She glared at me, holding her finger in the air. “Do exactly as I say, and we’ll get the perfect set of naughty pics for your man.”

“Tara-” I felt my cheeks growing warm, my eyes growing wide as she swirled her finger around.

“Turn around and drop it girl, Harry will literally have a heart attack.” Tara said.

“I’ve never dropped it, and I never will.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not….I don’t like my ass, okay?”

“It is one of your best features, babe.” Tara looked at me over my phone, a soft look in her eyes as she sighed. “Do you feel insecure?”

“No, I just…” I shifted on my bare feet. “I’m just not as confident as I could be, that’s all. I’m working on it.”

“I truly think this will help.” Tara said softly. “We’ll save dropping it low for the wedding pictures, okay? For now, just… turn towards the mirror and stick your left over your right...that’s perfect Bea! Now just turn your head to the side, hold your hands in front of your stomach, and glance back at me like you’re modest.”

“I am modest, you heathen.” I grumbled, following her instruction as she snapped a few pictures. “How did that look?”

“Perfect.” She said. “Your hair did a lot of work, and we got the perfect shot of your ass without making it the focus.”

“Oh my god, I don’t want to see it.” I groaned, turning towards her with a pout on my lips. “Can you see-”

“How positively exquisite you look in that bodysuit?” She asked. “Yes, you can. Now put the pants on and sit on the bench for me.”

I did as she said, sitting down on the edge before I crossed my legs. I extended them out, pressing my palms to the edge of the bench before I turned my head just like Tara asked me too. I wasn’t sure how she managed to avoid putting herself in the photo, but she did an excellent job of getting me in a raw, natural state with a smile on my face.

When we were done playing around, I changed back into my old clothes before tossing the bodysuit, the belt, and the jeans over my arm. All three articles of clothing would be going home with me, and they would carry this memory with them forever. Tara handed me my phone back with a proud smirk, the device buzzing in my hand as I noticed a picture of Harry on the screen.

“You sent them already?” I asked her. “Fuck, I’m not prepared.”

“Go take the phone call.” She said. “Give me your shit, I’ll get you checked out.”

I handed her my purse and the clothing before I answered the phone, holding it to my ear.

“Hi.” I said softly.

“You’re trying to kill me.” Harry whined out, his voice strained. “When I said send pictures, I meant ones with you doing innocent things. Now I have to wait for hours to touch you again, and all I can think about is you in that changing room.”

“I thought it might be a nice preview of things to come.” I bit my bottom lip as I crossed my free arm over my stomach. “I hope that you liked them.”

“I fucking loved them.” He said. “I plan on having them framed.”

“No you don’t.” I rolled my eyes. “No one wants to see those hung up in a gallery anywhere.”

“That’s not a bad idea…” He hummed out. “I wonder if the Guggenheim will take them?”

“Stop being so cheeky.” I tossed my head back, laughing loudly. “I allow you to put one in your wallet, so that you shall have to squint to see any flaws.”

“That just won’t do.” He tutted softly. “I’m putting them in my house, in large frames! I might even commission an artist to paint you like a little renaissance princess...but you’d have to send me one without the lacy thing for that.”

“In your dreams.” I mumbled, snorting out a soft laugh. “Have you done rehearsals yet?”

“Just about to go on stage and test it all out.” He said. “I was at the mic stand when I got those pictures by the way. I might have had to wobble off stage to take care of some things before I called you up.”

“Did you jack off to those?” I asked him bluntly. “Holy fuck, there’s no way-”

“Um, yeah, I did.” He said plainly. “My girlfriend sends me pictures of herself in lingerie, giving me bedroom eyes, and you expect me not to get hard? You’re insane.”

“You are insane.” I chuckled. “I’m happy to give a little inspiration to you in such desperate times, darling.”

“You sound so smug right now, honey.” His voice was soft, but there was a teasing edge to the tone of his voice that sent shivers down my spine. “Just you wait until I get on that stage tonight. I’ll have you dripping down your legs the second I walk out, and you know it.”

“Fuck.” I all but wheezed the word out. “Maybe I should cut my shopping trip short?”

“Now, now.” He taunted. “I don’t think your friends would like that very much, honey.”

“Alright, I’ve learned my lesson.” I cleared my throat. “Don’t tease if I don’t want to be teased back.”

“My clever girl.” he laughed. “Thank you for the pictures, honey. I think you looked positively stunning, and I really love them a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled, looking down at my feet. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”

“See you soon, Beatrice.” He whispered. “Be good.”

“Same to you.”

I hung up, taking a deep breath in attempts to hold in a squeal.

I fucking loved having a boyfriend.

🍯🍯🍯🍯

Harry’s POV

I slammed my fist into Dave’s covered palm with a loud grunt, biting down harder on my mouth guard as I ducked to avoid his right hook. I didn’t need a bruise on my face during the last show of my world tour, even if everyone would love that. I jumped back up, swinging my arm around for a side hit as Dave grunted in front of me. I took a few steps back, exhaling heavily as I heard chatter around me. I turned my head, my eyes landing on Beatrice and Claire standing by the ring. Claire was busy talking to Gemma, but Beatrice had her eyes glued on me. Just as I lifted my hand to wave, I felt a hard hit land on my ribcage, causing me to fall to the ground.

I heard Bea gasp as Dave laughed loudly.

“You shouldn’t have let your guard down, mate.” He tapped my hip with his glove. “Number one rule.”

“You prick, I was admiring my girl.” I groaned, falling onto my back. “It’s not my fault she’s so bloody gorgeous.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” Bea’s laughter caught my attention, my head lolling to the side to see her standing at the side of the ring with one hand pressed over her lips.

“You think this is funny, huh?” I asked her, my words muffled around my guard. I turned my head to the opposite side, spitting it out before I looked back at her. “You wanna get in here and show me what you’ve got?”

“No thank you.” She laughed. “I’d rather stay down here and watch.”

“I see.” I looked up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath before I sat up straight. I started removing my gloves, pulling at the velcro around my wrists with my teeth. “Come in here and give me a kiss at least?”

“If you insist.” Beatrice mumbled, pressing her hands onto the floor of the ring before she hoisted herself up with a small grunt. “This is too much physical exercise for me, Styles. I’ve already done one workout with you.”

“I’m just getting you prepared.” I smiled up at her as she stood over me. “I want you nice and prepped for our big workout tonight.”

“You two are disgusting.” Gemma groaned, her face twisting up. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Bugger off then!” I laughed, tossing my hand about. “I ain’t gonna stop now, so here’s your warning.”

Beatrice dropped to her knees beside me, holding back laughter as she grabbed my arm.

“I knew you boxed, but seeing it in person is extremely erotic.” She mumbled, pulling the velcro away from the glove before she pulled it from my hand. “You’ve already seduced me, you don’t have to keep trying.”

“That goes both ways.” I let out a breathy chuckle, shaking my head at her. “What on earth possessed you to take those pictures in the changing room?”

“You.” She glanced up at me as she started to undo my wrap. “I was sitting there, looking at myself in that bodysuit...and you just popped into my head. I wasn’t gonna do it first, though. I couldn’t get a good picture by myself, so Tara helped out a little.”

“Remind me to buy her a car or something as a thank you.” I teased, bumping my shoulder into her arm. “You do know that you’re beautiful, right? Like...not to be a proper dick, but you’re one of the fittest girls I’ve ever seen in my whole life, and that’s coming from my heart and not my trousers.”

“Harry.” She laughed, shaking her head as she moved to the other wrist, her eyes avoiding mine at all costs. “You don’t have to sing such high praises-”

“Apparently I do, because you don’t seem to get it.” I whispered, sliding my free hand to her side for a quick squeeze. “You. are. Beautiful.”

I watched her cheeks turn red, her hips shifting about as she pulled the other glove off.

“I won’t stop saying it until you feel it.” I leaned closer, pressing my lips to her collarbone as she started working on the wrap. “I’ll say it a million times a day.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you see me that way, Harry.” She mumbled. “It’s just that I can’t believe it or see it myself, you know?”

I stopped, looking at her as she continued to work on my hand.

When my wrap was fully removed, I lifted both of my palms to her face as I sat up on my knees in front of her. I brushed my thumbs over her cheeks, my brows pulling together as she swallowed harshly. I could see a light glaze over her eyes, almost as if she were going to cry.

“Who made you feel like you’re not beautiful?” I asked her, watching her eyes cast down towards her knees. “Who hurt you?”

“No one.” She mumbled. “It’s not like I can sit and point fingers at every major company or magazine that put me down because of my weight or my body. I can’t individually list every person that’s ever called me names. I can’t sit and add it all up, because that makes it worse. So I just...let it go. You should too.”

I watched her look up at me with an unsure smile, and it nearly broke my heart.

“You are perfect the way that you are.” I moved my forehead closer to hers. “Fuck them all, Beatrice. From the magazines, to the fashion industry, to the people around you that make you feel less than perfect for feeling comfortable in your own skin. I saw how much fun you were having when you took those photos, and I knew that you were feeling good about yourself...so why let those people drag you back down?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s just how the female brain works. We take one step forward in progress and then we leap five steps back when we get a glimpse of peace.”

“Well, we’re not taking steps back anymore.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of her shampoo. “I know it’s hard to love yourself, especially when the whole world is telling you not to, but we have each other now. We’re not alone in this.”

I watched her eyes narrow, her head tilting to the side as she stared at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Who hurt you?” She asked. “Harry, please tell me that you don’t...if anyone in this relationship is perfect, it’s-”

I pressed my lips to hers, sliding my palms to the side of her neck as she let out a surprised squeak. Seconds later, she melted into my kiss, her fingers gripping my shirt tightly as I brushed my tongue over her bottom lip. It took us seconds to find our way to the floor, her legs spreading just enough for me to slot my hips between them. I felt my hand slip down, cupping her breast over the thin, satin tank top that she put on. The soft pink color looked beautiful on her, and I was envious of the blouse as it clung to her body in such a flattering manner.

“Don’t ever do that.” I pulled back, looking into her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. “I know that the world has me on some pedestal, but I’m just Harry. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m going to make mistakes just the same as you. I’m not any better than you, Beatrice, and I never want you to feel that way. We’re equals, and I will never let you put yourself down just to build me up.”

“Kiss me.” She gripped my shoulders, pulling me into her lips again.

I felt the stirring in the lower pit of my stomach, a soft burn accompanied by the blood flowing straight to my cock. I groaned, sliding my tongue past her lips just so I could hear those beautiful noises she made in the heat of the moment. It was almost as if she couldn’t contain her feelings in her body, so they had to escape in soft hums. I felt her fingers gripping at my arms, desperate to pull me closer to her body as she shifted her hips against the mat.

I pulled away, pressing my forehead to hers as my chest heaved.

Kissing her made me more breathless than my workout.

“You’re intoxicating.” I let out a breathless chuckle, sliding my palm from her breast to her neck. I brushed my thumb over her jaw, closing my eyes. “And you smell fucking amazing, what is that?”

“I spoiled myself with a new perfume today.” She chuckled, sliding her fingers over my forearm before wrapping them around my wrist. “It’s by Chloe.”

“It smells delightful.” I ducked my head down, brushing my nose over her skin. “Like roses.”

“I think it’s called Roses De Chloe, if I’m not mistaken.” She let out a shuddery breath when I kissed over the skin of her neck. “You’re dangerous, Harry Styles.”

“You have no idea.” I chuckled, lifting my head up. “C’mon, I need to shower before dinner.”

“And I need to be present?” She lifted her brows up as I settled on my knees.

“I would prefer that you’re present.” I chuckled, reaching for my water bottle. “I want to hear about your day.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” She sighed, raising her upper half with her palms behind her on the mat.

“And maybe, I can sneak in a couple more kisses before tonight.” I watched her drop her head back, laughing until a little snort slipped out. “Just when I think you can’t get any cuter, you do something like that.”

“Oh, yes, the snort is so cute.” She rolled her head forward, sending me a blank stare. “Let’s go, casanova, you do need a shower.”

“Rude.”

🐟🐟🐟🐟

Bea’s POV

“I almost got a haircut today.” I scrolled on my phone, curling my feet under my legs as Harry continued to shower. “I mean, that’s not that interesting seeing as I didn’t, but I thought about it.”

“I think you would look cute with short hair.” Harry called over the spray of the shower. “I just don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have something to pull into a ponytail when you’re-”

“Don’t say it.” I glanced over my phone, watching him smile at me through the steamed glass of the shower.

“C’mon, you know you’d miss that feeling.” He chuckled, sliding his abnormally large hands over his head as he tilted it back towards the spray of the shower.

“I’ve only given you one blowjob, sir.” I tilted my chin up. “I don’t know that I would miss it.”

“Giving me blowjobs or having me pull your hair?” He asked. “We can test both of those theories out right now if you want.”

“Maybe later, darling.” I rolled my eyes, glancing back at my phone. “Are you excited for tonight?”

“I am.” He said. “I’m so thrilled to get this tour over with, honestly. I love every single moment of it, don’t get me wrong, but I need some time off.”

“You’ve been a busy boy.” I nodded. “You never really took a serious break between the band and your solo stuff, squid.”

“I didn’t want to.” He said casually. “I need to be working, Beatrice. I literally don’t think I could ever stop.”

“I know what you mean.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I mean, I’m not necessarily pulling the hours that you are, but I am a workaholic like you.”

“That’s not good.” He turned the shower off, talking through a soft chuckle as he pulled the door open. “If we’re both workaholics, who’s going to take time off to visit the other.”

“You.” I pointed at him with my phone, offering him a smile. “You’re the one on break, aren’t ya?”

“Touche.” He stepped out of the shower, reaching for the towel on the hook next to the sink with furrowed brows. “Why are you on the floor?”

“It’s comfier than sitting on the sink.” I shrugged, looking up at him. “You smell delectable.”

“Thanks.” He leaned down, stealing a kiss. “Want a taste?”

I rolled my lips in, looking into his eyes as he toweled his hair off.

“Yeah, actually.” I mumbled, dropping my phone to the floor on top of my shoes. “I might want a taste.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to mine as I rolled onto my knees, pressing my palms to his damp thighs.

“Fuck.” He whispered. “I didn’t actually think… you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” I dug my nails into his thighs, smirking when he hissed out. “Lean against the sink for me? I don’t want you to fall.”

“Okay.” He shuffled back a few steps, pressing his bum to the edge of the sink as I moved closer to him.

Harry’s eyes were glued to me as I kissed over the small tattoos on his legs.

They were mostly silly little words, but I found them adorable.

I let my right hand move from the tiger tattoo on his thigh to the base of his cock, my fingertips trailing over a vein in his shaft. I watched his cock twitch, a small drop of precum bubbling from the red tip. I was curious to know more about Harry’s body, and the things that I could do to it. He was only the second guy that I had seen naked like this, but I was proud to say that he was my favorite. I liked his cock, and I loved how it reacted to the smallest of touches from me.

“You have a very pretty cock.” I mumbled, glancing up at him as he gripped the edge of the sink with white knuckles. “It seems to like attention, huh?”

“Just yours.” He cleared his throat, shifting his hips around. “Please, angel.”

“Be patient.” I whispered, sliding my forefinger over his tip. “I’m admiring it.”

It was slowly growing harder with each second that I stared at it, my fingertips still lightly tracing over the shaft. Harry was breathing heavily above me, his chest heaving and his grip tight on the porcelain behind him. I loved watching his thighs and his tummy tense when I leaned closer, my breath brushing over the sensitive area ever so slightly. I had him wrapped already, and I couldn’t wait to test just how much willpower he had.

Part of me wanted him to tangle his fingers in my hair before pulling my mouth onto his cock. I wanted him to groan and growl out filthy words while I gasped for air. I wanted to be everything he wanted me to be while I was on my knees in front of him. I knew that he had a bit of a dominant streak in him, just like I had a submissive one in me, but we weren’t quite there yet.

“What are you waiting for?” I glanced up at him. “I thought we were testing out if I’d miss having your hands in my hair while I sucked you off?”

“You are trouble.” He lifted a hand from the sink, cupping my chin gently. “I see it in your eyes, you know? I know what you want me to do, but I won’t do it unless you beg.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I said sweetly.

“Don’t play coy, angel.” He brushed his thumb over my lower lip as he mumbled, causing me to smirk up at him. “You want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?”

“Sounds pleasant, I suppose.” I shrugged my shoulders

Harry’s lips curved into a smirk that reminded me of the cheshire cat.

“You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?” He tilted my chin up higher, watching my face as I tried to contain my smile. “Sweet Beatrice, you are treading on very thin ice.”

“Am I?” I asked softly. “I feel like I’m being such a good girl.”

“You know that you’re not.”

I moan when I felt his thumb slip past my lips, brushing over my tongue before he pulled it right back out. I leaned forward, pulling it back into my mouth as Harry’s eyes turned from light to dark. I could see the intense look burning behind the soft Jade color of his irises.

“You’re teasing me again.” He let out a shuddery sigh, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when I get you home.”

I pulled back from his thumb with a pop, smiling up at him as his hand gripped the base of his cock. I watched him stroke over the shaft twice, holding back soft whimpers as he did.

“Open your mouth.” He said it sternly, but I could see the hint of softness left in him.

He wanted to make sure that I was okay.

I stuck my tongue out, settling my palms on my thighs as I waited for him to finally give me what I wanted. He rested the head of his cock on my tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixed with a hint of his body wash. I closed my mouth around the head, lapping my tongue over the slit of his cock as he hissed. Seconds later, his right hand was digging into the roots of my hair.

“Your fucking mouth, angel.” He dropped his head back, letting out a high pitched whine. “Feels so good wrapped around me, Beatrice.”

I hummed softly, moving as far as I could go on his shaft.

He was thick, but not overly so, and the length of his cock was perfect for my mouth.

I could hardly make it to the base of his cock, but I was happy with making it halfway at least. I pulled back, suckling harshly when I made it to the tip. Harry’s hips jutted forward in response, causing his cock to slip right back into my mouth. I moaned around him, closing my eyes as I dug my nails into his thighs. I moved my head slowly, trying to figure out the perfect pace.

I hadn’t had much practice, but this was my third blowjob, so I liked to think I had the basics down. Harry seemed to think so too, his fingers pulling my roots tighter as he moved his hips gently in and out of my mouth. He was nowhere near my throat, and I was thankful for that. I wasn’t quite ready to test out that area of pleasure when it came to blowjobs. I didn’t know how I would handle having someone literally pushing into my throat just yet.

“I’m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Open your eyes, Beatrice.”

I did as I was told, looking up at him.

“Use your hands and…” He inhaled sharply when I suckled on the head of his cock again before moving my lips down. “Please just play with my-”

I knew what he was trying to ask, my fingers already finding their way to his balls.

I brushed my thumb over the skin at first, testing out the waters before I started to really massage them between my fingers. Harry’s hips stuttered forward as he cursed loudly, dropping his head forward as I stared up at him. The second his glazed over eyes locked with mine, it was all over. He lowered his left hand to my head, sliding his fingers through the roots as he held himself in my mouth, his cum coating the center of my tongue as he cried out.

When he was done, he pulled himself out, and I swallowed with a scrunched up nose.

“You didn’t have to swallow.” He chuckled, reaching down to brush his thumb under my lips. “I would have moved for you.”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Your face said otherwise.” He laughed a little harder. “Thank you, honey, that was really nice.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I rolled my eyes, holding my hands up towards him. “Help me up, my knees are sore.”

“Sorry.” he grabbed my hands, pulling me up to my feet. “Give me a kiss.”

“You want to kiss me?” I asked him, pulling my head back as he leaned forward. “Don’t you want me to like, brush my teeth first?”

“No.” His brows furrowed. “I want your lips.”

“But...I thought guys didn’t like…” I paused, tilting my head. “Nevermind.”

“No, finish that sentence.” he said. “You thought guys didn’t like what?”

“Kissing someone after they’ve...you know?” I felt my cheeks heat up as Harry stared back at me.

“Is that what the guy before me said? The guy that you tried this out on a while ago?” He asked softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand in soft circles.

“Yeah.” I mumbled. “He also kind of didn’t give me a choice on the whole spit or swallow thing.”

“He sounds like a fucking prick.” Harry’s jaw tensed as he inhaled sharply, shaking his head with a stern expression. “Don’t ever let a man treat you like that again, do you hear me? I don’t ever want you to do something because you think I’ll like it. We both have to enjoy it if this is going to work.”

“I wanted that with you.” I brushed my palms over his pecs, sliding them up to his neck. “I just...I didn’t know.”

“Well, you do now.” He leaned forward, brushing his nose against mine. “I’m a lucky bastard for being able to have your mouth like that, the least I can do is kiss you after and call you a good girl.”

“Don’t call me a good girl.” I closed my eyes, pressing my thighs together.

“S’that turn you on?” He laughed, sliding his hands to my lower back. “But you were so good for me, angel. After you were a total brat, of course.”

“That’s my favorite part.” I opened my eyes, offering him a smile. “I like being a brat.”

Harry let out a soft sigh, his lips pressed together as he tried not to smile.

“We’re going to have so much fun.” He whispered, leaning closer to my lips with his own. “I’m going to wreck you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I snorted out a laugh, but Harry cut it off with a kiss. “You really are the type to kiss someone in the middle of-”

His lips pressed into mine again, and I melted.

🍆🍆🍆🍆

Harry’s POV

Beatrice and Claire were a force to be reckoned with.

Three tequila shots and a watermelon margarita later, and they were both ready to party. I watched Bea toss the tequila shots back like water, reaching for the lime as her nose scrunched up ever so slightly. I tried to hide the proud smile I was wearing, but it was hard to do that when my girlfriend was crushing my favorite liquor like it was water. Gemma wasn’t quiet about catching my smile either, her elbow digging into my side.

“You’re in love.” She sang out. “Look at her, like another version of you.”

“In my younger days.” I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can’t party like that anymore.”

“Yes you can.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “You’re dramatic.”

“Eh, just a little.” I smiled over at her. “Have you two been getting along?”

“We’ve talked some, yeah.” Gemma nodded, digging her spoon into a mountain of mashed potatoes. “She reminds me a lot of you in certain ways, but there’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on.”

“Something that you don’t like or?” I waited for her response as she let out a soft noise of uncertainty. “What?”

“I just think that she’s one of those people that puts her own needs aside to please everyone else, you know?” Gemma sighed. “It's not a bad thing, but it can be harmful.”

“I’ve noticed that too.” I scratched at my jaw. “But it doesn’t make me want her any less.”

“Oh, I know.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “When you fixate on someone, you’re like a fucking dog with their new favorite toy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I bumped her shoulder with my own. “I get it, you think I’ll forget about my favorite sister.”

“You did when you were with Hannah...and Madison...and Samantha-”

“Got it.” I said sharply, glaring at her. “Gemma, I know that I’ve been a proper dick about relationships in the past, but I just...I want someone to love. Is that such a bad thing?”

“It is when you put everyone else aside and focus on someone toxic.” She was such a smart ass sometimes, and I hated it. “But I don’t think Bea is toxic. I just think she’s a little innocent.”

I snorted, but I quickly wiped my hand over my mouth.

“You’re disgusting.” Gemma narrowed her eyes at me. “I meant in worldly matters, not in the bedroom.”

“She’s pretty innocent in the bedroom too.” Claire’s voice made me jump, my hand pressing to my chest as Gemma turned her head back. “She’s still a virgin...right, Harry?”

“Oh my god.” I felt my face heat up as Claire plopped into the seat beside Gemma. “Can I see your spoon, Gem? I would like to scoop my eyes out now.”

“So many things that I didn’t need to know.” Gemma mumbled, glancing at Claire. “You’re insane, I like that.”

“Good.” Claire smiled at Gemma, reaching over to steal a green bean off of her plate. “I think you’re pretty fucking awesome too.”

Gemma laughed, shaking her head at Claire as she reached for a water bottle.

“In all honesty, she is pretty innocent, but she’s also pretty smart.” Claire said. “Even though she’s most definitely losing it with Sarah over there.”

I turned my head around, watching Sarah and Beatrice lean into each other as they both laughed. I raised my brows, looking back at Claire who just shrugged her shoulders.

“They both had an emo phase, and to them, that’s hysterical.” Claire sipped at her water. “I didn’t know Mitch’s birthday was yesterday, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “We did a pre-party for him, it was fun.”

“I feel bad for stealing his birthday thunder.” Claire pouted her bottom lip out. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have soaked up being in the spotlight light last night.”

“I’m sure Mitch enjoyed it.” Gemma said. “He’s not one for being the center of attention.”

“Very odd, isn’t it.” Claire hummed. “For both of us to be cancers, but to be so different.”

“Natal chart.” Gemma pointed her spoon towards Claire. “It makes a world of difference.”

“On that note, I’m leaving.” I stood up from my chair, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Gemma’s head before I nodded at Claire. “I’m keeping my eyes on you two tonight, you seem dangerous.”

“Wait until she starts trying to take her clothes off.” Claire moved her eyebrows, biting her tongue between her teeth.

“Oh fuck me.” I groaned, dropping my head back before I walked around the long table, heading in the direction of Sarah and Bea.

“You two look like you’re having a good laugh.” I looked between them with raised brows.

“Sarah showed me a picture of her hair in highschool.” Bea pressed her palm over her mouth, her eyes watering as Sarah laughed harder next to her.

“Oh my goodness.” I chuckled, sitting down next to them. “I haven’t seen that, let me see.”

“No, for Bea’s eyes only.” Sarah wheezed, snatching her phone against her chest. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re stealing my friends.” I glanced back at Beatrice as she silently laughed, hunching over as I let out a breathy laugh through my nose. “Is this the tequila, or do I need to get you an inhaler, honey?”

“I’m fine.” She waved her hand about, taking a deep breath before she wiped under her eyes to collect the fallen tears. “I just haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

“I’m glad my hair was amusing.” Sarah giggled, patting Beatrice’s thigh. “I’ve got to go find my boyfriend, I haven’t shown him this picture yet.”

“So everyone gets to see it but me?” I watched Sarah nod as she stood up. “Rude, Sarah Jones.”

“I love you, Harry Styles.” She dropped her hand to my head, ruffling my hair. “But, no.”

Beatrice let out another round of giggles at that, and I turned my eyes towards her.

“I’ll get you for this later.” I reached over, tickling her side before she squeaked out. “You seriously can’t get any cuter.”

“Stop.” She groaned, swatting my hand away as she pouted. “I’m ticklish.”

“Good.” I chuckled. “I’ve been away far too long, where is my kiss?”

“Needy man.” She leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine. “I’m excited for the show to start, I can’t wait to see you dancing around like a fool on stage. What was it that you said earlier? You were going to have me dripping down my legs?”

I inhaled sharply as she tilted her head, kissing the soft spot below my ear.

“Claire warned me that tequila made you horny.” I brushed my palm up her thigh. “Easy there, honey.”

“Oops.” She pulled back, her cheeks practically glowing red. “I forgot about the other people in the room.”

“S’alright.” I lifted my hand, brushing my thumb over her chin. “Just don’t want to get worked up before I have to sit in the hair and makeup chair.”

“Oh, makeup!” She exclaimed. “I still have to get ready.”

“You can get ready with me.” I said. “We’ll sit side by side.”

“How cute.” She pouted again, tilting her head to the side like she’d just seen a cute puppy dog walking down the street. “You’re sweet.”

“And you’re tipsy.” I laughed. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

She shook her head. “I was waiting for you.”

“C’mon, let’s grab a plate or two and figure out what we want.” I reached for her hand, standing up before she followed suit. “One more kiss?”

“Okay.” She pressed up on her toes, kissing my cheek. “Oh, I wonder if you have fries around here somewhere. You know the old saying, fries before guys.”

“Excuse me.” I followed behind her as she giggled, shaking my head. “No, it’s guys before fries here.”

I was going to have my hands full with this one.

🍟 🍟 🍟🍟

Bea’s POV

When I walked out of the bathroom, pulling my faux leather jacket on, my jaw nearly hit the ground. I stopped in my tracks, looking at Harry with parted lips and wide eyes as he turned around and held his arms out for Lambert. I watched him shrug his jacket on, shimmying his shoulders until it rested comfortably on his frame. Harry looked up at me, shooting me a grin that made me knees feel wobbly. I cleared my throat, adjusting my own jacket before I walked closer to him with sweaty palms and a frog in my throat.

“You look gorgeous.” He leaned forward, holding my elbow with his massive hand before he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Have you put on the lacy thing for me?”

“Yeah, I have.” I sucked in a breath as he lifted the lapel of my jacket, his eyes burning when they landed on the bodysuit. “Better in person?”

“Much.” He mumbled, glancing up at me with a lopsided grin, his dimple just barely visible. “If there weren’t other people in this room, I’d kiss the breath right out of your lungs.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back a groan as his voice dropped.

“Sadly, there are plenty of people!” Lambert interrupted. “And I refuse to see this shirt ruined by that gorgeous red lipstick you’ve got on, Beatrice. What is that?”

“Um, Revlon.” I said softly. “I think the shade is Black Cherry or something like that.”

“Revlon.” Lambert muttered. “You wear it well, darling.”

“Thank you.” I felt my cheeks heat up as Harry smiled at me, almost as if he was proud of my ability to impress his friends.

“Now, you two are off to watch Kacey’s set, but please be careful with the jacket.” Lambert brushed his hands over Harry’s arms. “We don’t want too many sequins gone before your set.”

“I’ll try to keep the dancing to a minimum.” Harry laughed, shaking his head at Lambert. “Thanks for being such a wonderful addition to the team, mate. I don’t know what the fuck I would done without you.”

“Probably would have worn those dreadful black skinny jeans on stage for the entire tour.” I tried to hold back my laugh, slapping my palm over my hand at Lambert's words. “And those chelsea boots, the tan ones? I’m getting nauseous thinking about it.”

“Oi, I was fit!” Harry exclaimed. “I pulled it off well, didn’t I Bea?”

“There was a reason Niall was my favorite.” I shrugged.

“Excuse me?” He blinked at me, his face blank. “Niall looked like a fucking frat boy-”

“You had a phase.” I pointed out. “You all went through a frat boy phase with your snapbacks and your cut off shirts.”

“But I was the only one who pulled it off well.” He held his finger up, waving it about. “Niall was nowhere near as attractive as I in the snapback.”

“You fucker!”

Harry and I snapped our heads around at the new voice in the room.

The second I lay my eyes on the dirty blonde Irishman, I felt like my heart was going to fall out of my ass. Niall stood there in the doorway with his hands held up, a look of mock offense on his face. I turned to Harry, my jaw practically on the floor as he stared at his old mate.

“Niall!” Harry said. “You made it, lucky charms!”

“I heard what you said, Styles.” Horan pointed his finger, putting on a fake angry expression before his eyes darted towards me. “Is she alright?”

Harry looked back at me, his brows raised as I looked between him and Niall, my finger weakly pointing at my childhood crush.

“That’s Niall Horan.” I said softly as Harry walked up to me. “That’s Niall Horan.”

“Okay, let’s breathe.” Harry chuckled, brushing his hands over my biceps, holding me in place as I tried to peer around him. “I’m offended that you weren’t this shell shocked when we met.”

“You aren’t Niall Horan.” I said, looking up at him. “That’s….I had such a huge crush on him.”

Harry ducked his head down, his breath tickling my ear.

“Do I need to take you into the bathroom and remind you who you’re here for?”

I felt my eyes flutter shut, a soft whine catching in my throat as Harry nipped at my earlobe before pressing a quick kiss to my pulse point. I almost felt dizzy when he lifted his head up with that dazzling smirk on his lips. I cleared my throat, shifting on my feet.

“Answer me.” He said. “Do you need that?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“Oh, angel, you look flustered.” He cooed, brushing his knuckles over my cheek.

“I’m good.” I cleared my throat, willing my voice to go back to normal. “I was just a little shocked, that’s all.”

“Gimme a kiss.” He puckered his lips out dramatically, and I let out a breathy laugh. “There she is.”

I pressed up on my toes, kissing his cheek.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I just...he just popped up out of nowhere. I need a warning for these kind of things.”

“Next time I’ll sing a good ol’ pub song while I’m walking down the hall so you know I’m coming for you, love.” Niall laughed at himself, and I couldn’t help but laugh along as Harry turned around with an unamused expression. “You gonna introduce us, Styles?”

“This is my girlfriend, Bea.” Harry slipped his hand over my back. “Beatrice, this is Niall.”

“Hi.” I held my hand out, but Niall swatted it away before opening his arms.

“I like hugs.”

“She’s not hugging you.” Harry held me back, scowling at Niall.

I turned my head back to look at Harry, my lips pressed together and my brows raised as if to say ‘oh, really?’ to his comment. I could hug whoever I wanted, and right now, I wanted to make Harry jealous by hugging Niall fucking Horan.

“I’m hugging him.” I said, moving closer to Niall. “Don’t be sour.”

“He is a bit of a sour patch kid, isn’t he?” Niall laughed as I wrapped my arms around his middle, giggling when he tossed his arms around my shoulders. “I can’t believe Harry’s got himself a decent girl.”

“You just met me, you don’t know that I’m decent yet.” I pulled back with a laugh, retreating to my spot next to Harry. “But I’ll take the compliment all the same.”

“Thatta girl.” Niall winked at me before stuffing his hands in his pockets, turning towards Harry with a bright smile. “I’m excited to see your show tonight.”

“It’s gonna be weird, knowing that you’re out in the crowd watching instead of performing with me.” Harry blew out a nervous breath, shaking his head. “And it doesn’t help that you’re not the only one here. Liam is coming tonight, fucking Kendall will be here...I’m pretty sure a few other people will be here tonight too.”

“Well, Kendall is fucking tone deaf, so I don’t think she’ll notice if you fuck up.” Niall cackled, tossing his head back. “And I doubt you’ll fuck up at all, you’re a star mate.”

“So are you, Horan.” Harry reached out, tapping Niall’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too.” Niall’s voice was softer, a happy smile still on his face. “Can’t believe it’s already been two years apart.”

“I’m gonna cry.” I whispered, waving my hand in front of my eyes as they started to water. “I’m having flashbacks of the History music video, I don’t need this today.”

“You got yourself a fan.” Niall asked, his brows shooting up towards his hairline. “Is that why she was so wigged out a second ago?”

“Yeah.” I spoke up. “You were my favorite.”

“I was?” Niall asked, his head tilting to the side. “Am I not anymore.”

“I mean…” I turned towards Harry, sliding my arm around his waist before I looked back at Niall with a small giggle. “Look at this one, mate! He’s so dreamy and he’s romantic.”

“I can be romantic.” Niall exclaimed.

Harry snorted, turning his head to spit out a fake cough to save himself.

“What was that for?” Niall said. “I can be romantic!”

“Sure, mate.” Harry reached out, patting Niall’s shoulder again as a knock sounded at his dressing room door. “Oh look, more people.”

I turned my head to the doorway, suddenly intimidated by the three women walking in.

Claire, Kendall, and Hannah (Harry's most recent ex) walked in together.

I automatically felt inferior to them, and not just because I was much shorter.

Even my own best friend fit in better with that group than I did, her perfect brown skin and long legs practically identical to the other two women. Harry clearly had a type for summer goddesses with a knack for modeling, and it made me wonder why he didn’t pick Claire over me. They would have made such a beautiful couple.

“I want you to meet Kenny.” Harry squeezed my side. “She’s a good friend of mine.”

“Sure.” I gave him a tight smile, swallowing my nerves as I felt my palms sweat.

I didn’t know a lot about Kendall or her family, but I never heard anything good.

I also didn’t know how to talk to someone of her status.

“Ken!” Harry said her name so casually, like he was used to calling it out. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

Fuck.

She set her eyes on me, scanning me from head to toe before plastering on a smile and strutting over in her mega high heels. I owned a pair similar to hers, but mine came from Walmart, and hers were probably from Dior. She stopped in front of us, affectionately touching Harry’s bicep with a soft hell before she turned to look down at me.

“Hi.” She said. “I’m Kendall.”

“Beatrice.” I stuck my hand out to her nervously, but she just looked at it. I had a feeling that she wasn’t a hugger like Niall. “Um, you can call me Bea though.”

“Bea.” She nodded as I pulled my hand back. “Where did you two meet?”

“At a bar last night.” Harry laughed softly, squeezing my side as he shot me a wink. It eased my nerves just a little. “Swept her right off of her feet.”

“So that is how we’re telling the story?” I chuckled, turning my attention towards him instead of the nerve wracking situation in front of me. “I suppose you’re not entirely wrong.”

“I never am.” He sighed dramatically, pursing his lips before he leaned in for a quick kiss. “So, Ken, where’s your man tonight?”

Oh, thank god.

“He’s just talking shit with Jeff, I think.” She turned her head, scanning the dressing room before she rolled her eyes. “I honestly don’t want to see his face tonight, he’s being annoying.”

“Oh no.” Harry laughed softly. “What have you done?”

“Me, I did nothing?” She pressed her fingers to her collarbone, scoffing playfully. “I merely said we should vacation in Mykonos with my family-”

“There it is.” Harry interrupted.

“What’s wrong with vacationing with my family?” Kendall asked, tilting her head to the side with a frown. “Everyone loves it!”

“No, they don’t.” Harry shook his head. “I remember your Mum made us-”

He stopped, shifting on his feet as he looked at me.

“Don’t mind me.” I said. “You can keep talking, I can go find Claire or-”

“That would be great-”

“Don’t go-”

Harry and Kendall spoke at the same time, and I rolled my lips into my mouth as they both looked at each other in shock.

“Um, well,” I stuttered, slowly pulling myself from Harry’s arm. “You clearly need a moment, so I’m just gonna go somewhere that isn’t right here.”

I turned, walking towards Claire and Niall like there was a fire under my ass.

“Oh my god.” I whispered, grabbing Claire’s arm. “I feel like I was just met the fucking queen or something! I mean, the way she looked at me, Claire-”

“She’s not very nice.” Claire laughed, sliding her arm around my shoulder. “It’s alright though, I’m a much better model than her and I plan on dragging her ass down the runway one day.”

“Thank you.” I squeaked out, letting out a laugh as Niall chuckled in front of us. “Sorry, I know you’re probably friends with her too, I just-”

“Not friends.” Niall said, shaking his head. “Never have been, never will be.”

“Fair.” I sighed, taking a few deep breaths. “Oh, Claire, it’s Niall!”

“Yeah, we’ve been chatting for a minute over here babe.” She laughed. “He introduced himself.”

“Right.” I laughed nervously. “There’s a lot happening.”

“You need a break?” Niall asked. “Because the three of us can sneak off for a drink, I doubt anyone will notice we’re gone.”

I turned my head, looking at Harry as he laughed with Kendall and Hannah.

It hurt just a tiny bit to see him so chummy with his exes, but who was I to judge.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” I turned back to Niall with a fake smile. “Let’s go.”

Harry’s POV

“So, what’s the deal with this new girl?” Kendall asked. “She’s...different.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.” I said slowly, my brows pulling together. “Why did you say it like that?”

“She just, doesn’t seem like your type.” She shrugged, brushing it off as if it was no big deal. “I haven’t seen you with someone like her before.”

“Kenny has a point.” Hanna interrupted, looking at me with raised brows. “You don’t typically go for her type.”

“Okay, you’re both being vague and annoying.” I let out a frustrated huff. “What are you getting at?”

“She’s not stepping on the cover of Vogue anytime soon.” Kendall shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Because-” I waited for them to speak, but they both glanced at each other.

“Well, she’s bigger than what you normally go for, and she’s a little plain.” Hannah said. “It’s not really like you to downgrade.”

“Right.” I let out a bitter laugh, lifting my hand to scratch at my jaw as I felt anger boiling up from my chest to my throat. “Fuck you...both of you. I don’t know where you get off insulting someone you don’t even know, but that shit doesn’t matter to everyone. Beatrice could put a paper bag over her head, and it wouldn’t make me want her any less. Do you know why?”

They both stared at me as I waited for an answer.

“Because she has a fucking heart, and a beautiful mind.” I snapped. “You two are a bunch of gossiping trust fund babies with no morals.”

I turned around, stalking towards the door of my dressing room without second thought.

I slammed it behind me before I turned down the hall, walking straight for catering.

When I walked into the room, Beatrice was sitting between Niall and Claire sipping on a watermelon margarita with pink cheeks and a bright smile. I felt my anger dissipate in my chest, her laughter distracting me from the cruel words replaying in my head. I let out a sigh, feeling my shoulders slump before I walked towards the cheerful group.

“Hey.” I said, dropping into the seat next to Bea’s. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” She asked me, squinting playfully with pursed lips. “You seemed like you were having fun.”

“It was dreadful, believe me.” I leaned closer, stealing a kiss from her. “Are you having fun?”

“So much.” She smiled, kissing me once more. “I can’t wait to get out there though. I think Kacey is on in ten minutes.”

“Sounds right.” I let out a breath, pressing my palm to Beatrice’s thigh. “Finish up your drink, honey. I’ll have Larissa make us more before Jeff takes us to the side stage.”

“Okay.” She gave me a bright smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked, tilting my head to the side curiously.

“For being so sweet.” She mumbled. “I adore you.”

My heart practically screamed in my chest, the hairs raising up on the back of my neck as I felt my lips pull into a huge smile. I let out a giggle, ducking my head down as my cheeks warmed.

Beatrice brushed her fingers over the back of my neck as I moved closer to her, wrapping my arms around her the best that I could from my chair.

“I adore you, too.”

#honeybee #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles series #harry styles multi-chapter fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #harry smut #harry angst #tw: kendall jenner #tw: bullying

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de-profundis-ad-astra · 3 years

Text

One, Two Punch

Pairing: Ben Miller x Reader, kinda. Flirtationship more than a relationship Rating: Somewhere between T and M? Summary: After knowing Ben for barely two months, you’re invited to attend one of his fights. Length: ~2k words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, vague descriptions of legally sanctioned violence, vague mentions of masturbation. Taglist: @firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @living-reminder @beatriz-silva-00 @pascalz @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @the-bird-suit @mapache-lector @skylyknightly (let me know if you want to be +/-) Note: For the anon from yesterday. If you see this, I love you and if you want me to keep posting old fics, please let me know.

The day you’re invited to watch one of Ben Miller’s fights, it feels like a rite of passage.

The boys go quiet when he drops the question. So quiet, in fact, you wonder if you mistook the invitation for a marriage proposal. Suddenly extremely interested in their respective drinks, they sneak glances in your direction in the moments following. Ben’s eyes, clear and bright and… have they always been that blue? They root you to the spot, pinning you without him needing to lift a finger.

“Sure,” you say, shrugging off the odd looks and your own uncertainty. “Sounds fun.”

The fight isn’t for another three weeks, but Will practically has to drag Ben out of the bar by the collar whilst claiming that prep starts now. Once the door is soundly closed behind the Millers, Santiago and Frankie take turns explaining that Ben has never invited anyone to his fights. Well, not for a while, at least. They run you through what you’re sure is an abbreviated version of their last experience with this.

Long story short: he invited one of his previous flings to a fight, she left before the match ended with nothing more than a text letting him know that she didn’t think it would work, and they never heard from her again.

You swipe a finger down the glass–it’s started sweating condensation since they started talking. You rub the moisture between your fingertips, then take a sip, welcoming the burn as the tequila warms its way down your throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s a big deal,” Santiago says. “A big fucking deal.”

You get it, they’re more than friends to Ben. They’re his teammates, the people he trusts more than anyone in the world to watch his back. You suppose that’s precisely what they’re doing, now. You suspect that if you were to bail out like the previous girl did, they wouldn’t let you off so easy.

Not that you would. It’s just… a lot to take in.

“I get it,” you say with a smile. “I break his heart, you break my neck, right?”

Frankie lifts his glass in a toast. “I knew you were a fast learner.”

–

The following Tuesday evening finds you knocking on Ben’s door for your usual burger run. It’s probably too early to call it a tradition, but you’re relationship with Ben, thus far, is comprised primarily of spontaneous adventures such as this. Every Tuesday for the past three weeks you’ve gotten together to eat greasy foods and talk and laugh together. So it’s worth a shot, right?

Except when Will opens the door.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says cordially, if not a bit bewildered.

“Y/N!” you hear Ben’s unmistakable voice call from further within. “Come in!”

Will steps aside, vacating enough space for you to pass. You step over the threshold, your eyes immediately landing on the small dining table to your right. And the… grain bowl he’s eating?

“I see you’ve already got dinner taken care of,” you note with a small laugh. You’re more entertained by the sight than you are upset by the fact that burger night will have to wait.

Ben’s face falls, and his fork clatters to the table. “Shit,” he scrambles to pull his phone from his pocket. “Shit.” He unlocks it, hits a few buttons, then slides it back into his jeans.

A few seconds later, your own phone’s screen lights up with an unread text. You open it and read:

have 2 take a rain check on burgers 2nite. wills got me on this ‘clean eating’ diet before the fight.

You hold up the phone for him to see, “Got it.”

Ben says a bit sheepishly, “Forgot to send it. Selective memory. Sorry.”

As much as you want to be sad that your night out has been postponed, you’re more touched by the fact that of all the things on his mind, that was one of them.

“He needs to get into work mode,” Will fills the silence as Ben shovels a heap of quinoa and chicken into his mouth and makes a show of gagging on it. “Gotta keep him focused on eating better and training.”

You think about the pack of beers you’d bought and stored in your fridge. “I take it that means no alcohol, either.”

“Nope,” the brothers answer in unison–Ben with notably more disdain than Will.

“I was winning fights before you put me on this diet, you know,” Ben grumbles around his food.

“Doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t be taking care of yourself when your putting that much wear and tear on your body.” Will points at his younger brother. “Eat.”

“You’re worse than mom.”

“Eat.”

Ben groans and heaps some more food into his mouth. “I’m not worried,” he says half to himself.

You see it then. In his eyes, he’s focused and somewhere that isn’t quite here. You look at the hard lines around his mouth and suddenly wish you could take your thumb and run it across his lower lip, card your fingers through the unruly hair he dutifully keeps under the protection of his hat. One look at his face, and you know his mind has wandered somewhere similar.

Want, need, desire, call it what you will. All that and more churns in your gut.

Will clears his throat, pulling you two back from where you teeter on the edge of the gutter and back to the present. “We’ll worry about it when it’s time to worry about it. There’s nothing we can do right now except prepare. It’ll turn out how it turns out. And if Ben does what he’s supposed to, it’ll turn out well.”

“Win that fight, Benjamin,” you tease, turning back towards the door. “And we’ll get those burgers.”

You feel his eyes burning into your back long after the door shuts behind you.

–

You don’t feel ashamed of the moment you and Ben shared. That nagging in your chest is a far cry from shame. You’d outgrown that long ago. The look you’d shared, the thoughts you had and knew he had were mild in comparison to what you knew you wanted.

You knew the look in his eyes, that unspoken promise for something more–something you completely, unabashedly craved–and your carefully placed tethers would fray and fray and fray until there was nothing to hold you back. He didn’t need distractions right now, you wanted to respect that.

That didn’t make it any less miserable.

It only takes three days before it grows so unbearable that you take matters into your own hands.

Overheated and nearly frantic, you toss and turn in bed that night until your tank top and short clink and chafe against your slightly sweaty body. You try counting the minutes until sleep takes you. But minutes turn to hours with no sign of relief.

Need crawls over you, slithering under your skin. It doesn’t take much to imagine his face, that it’s his hands on your skin, inside–

But that release only leaves you hollow–unsatisfied.

You make a point to keep your distance for the remainder of that week. Until the day of the fight, actually. By then, the tether is pulled so tight that you fear it might snap at one wrong move.

Later, you remind yourself. That unfinished business will come later.

–

The air is thick with the mingled scents of liquor, body odor, and several variants of cheap cologne. And it’s so hot. People move around you in groups, and the floor beneath your feet is sticky from some spilled drink that hadn’t been properly cleaned. The heavy beat of a rock song slam against your chest, and as you look around you think you see more tattoos than skin, more leather than jeans, and more filled cups than empty hands.

You’re not scared. Far from it, actually. The energy of the crowd feeds your own, the music heightening your excitement as you follow Frankie and Santiago through the crowd and squeeze yourselves into an open spot right in front of the cage. One of them, you can’t tell who, shoves a drink into your hand and tells you its on them.

You hold the beverage, but don’t partake as the referee begins to announce the next fighter. The first thing you see is a flash of red shorts.

Perhaps it’s for show, watching Ben make his way from the door to the cage, swaying his shoulders with each step, his eyes locked on it and nothing else as heavy metal blasts around you. You don’t exist to him. Not right now. Regardless, heat pools in your stomach.

He takes is sweet time peeling off his shirt and stretching his shoulders. He turns away from you so Will can help him into his gloves, allowing you a full view of that gloriously muscled back. You admire each line of muscle, each movement he makes as he turns and enters the ring. To hell with all the people around you. You want that. You want that over you, under you, all around you. You could touch him everywhere at once and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you–

His eyes find you in the crowd, and he winks.

If it was socially acceptable to swoon, you might have.

Maybe you did, anyway.

–

The fight itself doesn’t last long. At one point you set your untouched drink down, then promptly kick it over when you leap to your feet to cheer.

Even then, you can’t help but clinch every time someone lands a hit, skin reddening and bruising, breathing labored and shallow until a hand is being lifted in the air in victory. It’s Ben’s.

–

You wait outside the lockers with the guys. Santiago is weaving a tale from his days in Brazil that you’re only half paying attention to. You remain standing off to the side, sipping a lukewarm water, watching.

It takes a while for Ben to come out. The blood has been cleaned from his face and, remarkably, the only lasting mark is a purple-blue bruise above his cheekbone. But he’s grinning ear to ear, and he pulls first Santiago, then Frankie into a bear of a hug. You see his face over their shoulders, how hie eyes still veritably glow with the same energy you’d seen in the ring.

You push yourself from the wall you’re leaning against, and step up to them. Ben’s eyes meet yours as if by gravitational pull.

You’d felt drawn to him since the day you’d met. But this is like meeting him for the first time. A dim hallway. The crowd slowly draining out from the gymnasium. You, holding a cup of piss-poor excuse for water, and him.

The boys quietly let Ben know that they’ll catch up with him later, and melt into the meandering crowd.

The shift in his expression makes it achingly clear what Ben wants. His gaze lingers, now. His shoulders seem broader as he steps towards you, his gym bag over one shoulder, his other arm extended for you.

“Let’s go.” His voice is different in the aftermath of the fight. You can see the adrenaline still pumping in the way his eyes lock on you.

You find your way to his body, and let him guide you outside. His hand sneaks around your waist and under your shirt, his fingers digging into the skin above your hipbone. He guides your steps with a fierceness, and as soon as you make it back to his car, his hand wanders lower, lower.

He tosses his bag into his car, refusing to let you go. Another swift motion has you pinned between the heat of his body and the side of the car.

He’s in front of you, caging you in, his fingers lingering at the waistband of your leggings, his shirt damp from the shower he just took, hair dangling over his forehead. You clamp your hands down on his biceps, digging your fingers into skin and muscle and him.

You barely have time to register it all before his lips crash into yours, and the empire of your longing comes crashing down.

Yes, you could stand to be with this for a little longer.

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #ben miller #benny miller #ben miller x reader #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fanfiction

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

Note

Could you please do a valentines day with miguel post 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Loosely inspired by my own never-ending singleness

16 years. 832 Friday nights. 2 Homecoming dances. And going on 16 Valentine’s Days. Single. Seriously, you couldn’t figure out what you were doing wrong! Sure, you weren’t the most beautiful girl in the world, but you were nice, smart, funny, and hygienic. Which is more than most of the boys at your school could say. So why were you having so much trouble getting someone to take you out on a date?

Valentine’s Day was on a weekend this year, but the whole week leading up to it was still something you had to endure. And in an American public high school, no less. Couples. Couples everywhere. Kissing, holding hands, exchanging gifts, and let’s not talk about what went on in the bathroom stalls between classes… Some girls even got roses delivered to them in the middle of your homeroom on Tuesday. Being single was something you could mostly tolerate during the rest of the year, but V-Day was always rough.

It was only Thursday, but there was no way you were going to be in a relationship by Sunday. Another one bites the dust.

You stood at your locker shoveling books in before class, subtly rolling your eyes at the girls making out right next to you. Why is it that literally everyone had someone? The first bell rang and the girls walked away, but you were prepared to take your sweet time getting to class so maybe you could spare your eyes some torture. Wow. You really have gotten bitter.

You shut your locker door and turned around to walk to class, when you were met with Miguel, the quiet (kinda cute) new boy in your biology class. He was standing there fidgeting, and seemed to be at a loss for words, so you decided to break the silence.

“Hey. Miguel, right?” Play it cool.

“Uhh, yeah! Yeah. You know my name?” he seemed surprised.

“Of course! You sit behind me in biology,” you nodded proudly.

He smiled widely at this, then cleared his throat.

“That’s me. What’s up?”

“Not much. Just on my way to homeroom. Did you need something? Am I in your way?” You questioned nervously.

“No uh, Y/N, I was wondering… well, do you.. Are you maybe... “ he stopped to laugh awkwardly and run his fingers through his hair.

“Would you, wanna… go on a date?.. With me?” he finally got out.

“A date?” Your eyes widened at this. Was this some kind of sick joke? Is he just doing this to get in with the popular kids? He looked sincere, but you were what the kids call paranoid.

“Why do you wanna go on a date?” You asked hesitantly.

“Because I like you?” Miguel seemed caught off guard by your question. “I mean, I don’t know you very well, but I know you’re pretty, and smart, and seem really nice. You don’t have a boyfriend do you? Or a girlfriend?” Now he was panicking. You were gonna say no! He braced himself for the rejection.

You decided to take the jump. Worst case scenario, you’d be humiliated and alone on Valentine’s day, which was the way things were looking anyways.

“Ok.”

“Wait, really?” The boy was clearly shocked. But then the wheels started turning and the excitement kicked in. “Cool! I was thinking Valentine’s Day, but if you have other plans, we can pick a different day.”

“No! Valentine’s Day is on Sunday, right? I think I’m free.” Of course you knew when V-Day was but you can’t seem desperate. Even though that’s exactly what you were.

“Ok, great! Should I pick you up at, say, 7?” Aww, his excitement was pretty cute. Maybe this would be fun.

“See you at 7,” you smiled, and after a pause, said “Bye Miguel,” you waved and turned to walk away.

“See ya,” he said, dazed and in awe. He could not believe that the girl he had a crush on actually agreed to go on a date with him. Sensei Lawrence told him to strike first, to ask you out before someone else did, and Miguel couldn’t wait to rush to the dojo and share the news! Oh shit. Where was he gonna take you? He really didn’t plan this far ahead.

__________________________________________________________________

Sunday night. 6:54. You were a wreck. It took you 2 hours to find an outfit, you burnt yourself with a curling iron, and you couldn’t decide if you should eat or not beforehand since you didn’t know what you guys were doing. He’s probably not gonna show up. He probably forgot. He’s probably gonna wait until 9 pm and then send you the “ur gonna hate me” “something came up with the boys” text.

Ding Dong

Oh god. You weren’t ready! Grabbing your bag, you rushed to the front door before your parents could get it. You opened it to find Miguel standing there with a big cheesy smile, fidgeting again, smelling like a new car and holding a big bouquet of pink roses. Oh wow.

“Miguel! You’re here. Hi.” Smooth.

“Hey Y/N. Wow, you look… wow.” His eyes raked your figure before ending back at your eyes. Then there was an awkward pause. Neither of you knew how dates worked, let’s be honest.

“Are those… for me?” You questioned, motioning towards the flowers.

“Of course!. Who else would they be for?” He laughed as he handed them over to you. You took them, smiling, before he offered you his arm and said “Shall we?”

You put your hand around his arm, and as you guys walked away from your house, you asked him what you guys were going to do.

“Well, I was thinking we could go to this burger place for dinner, maybe get some milkshakes to-go, and then go to this arcade slash mini golf place that’s kinda fun. But if you don’t wanna do that, we can do something else. I have a couple back up plans…” Oof, he’s a rambler. But you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t adorable.

“Burgers and golf sound amazing. Oh, and I almost forgot! I got you something, too,” you remembered, reaching into your bag. You pulled out a small plush dragon, brushed off it’s head, and handed it to him.

At this, he seemed genuinely confused. “You got me something? Why?”

“I’ve always thought bringing gifts on dates should go both ways. You got me flowers, I got you this,” you didn’t say that you got him a dragon because you saw him and his friends playing D and D at lunch one day, and you didn’t want him to know that you had been secretly staring at him.

“Oh my God, that’s the cutest little dragon I’ve ever seen in my entire life!” He all but squealed. “Thank you! I love him. What’s his name?” He smiled at you.

“Hmm, I didn’t give him a name yet. How about… Hulio? Ferdinand? Jeffrey?” None of these seemed like the right fit. You thought for a second. “Dominic?”

“Dominic! That’s literally perfect. He’s such a Dominic,” Miguel laughed as he played with the dragon’s little hands. You guys reached the car and Miguel opened the passenger’s side door. “Your highness,” he giggled as he gestured for you to get in. You sat down in the seat as Miguel closed your door and jogged around to the other side.

You smiled to yourself as you watched him. This was going to be a good night.

#cobra kai #miguel x reader #miguel diaz #hawk #karate kid #robby keene #imagine #xolo mariduena

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fandom-obessesive · 4 years

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I Never Told you

Paul lahote x reader

A/n: this is my first imagine, y/g means your gender(if you have one, if not that’s cool too) any criticism are welcome, please let me know if there are any spelling errors, something doesn’t sound right, is unclear, or doesn’t make sense, other than that, this is part 1 and I hope you enjoy:)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

warning: none

Word count: 1292

You and Paul had been best friends since middle school, having been paired up to do a project and slowly growing closer as time went on. In the blink of an eye, you were in highschool and the pair of you were thick as thieves. Every Saturday you spent the day together, ordered food, and did anything under the sun. Never being able to pinpoint when exactly it happened, you realized that your feelings for the goof you called your best friend, weren’t feelings you typically had for someone who held that title, or you wanted to hold that title for that matter. You didn’t say anything though, never thinking he would feel the same. Those feelings got locked down deep inside you, but could never be forgotten. From protecting you from admirers who couldn’t take a hint, to cheering you up with candy and bad movies, to spontaneous adventures at 3 in the morning, how could you not fall for him. He was absolutely everything you could ever want in someone to spend forever with. He was all you ever needed or wanted, even if that meant just being friends. He was there, so you were content and all was well.

Until, he wasn’t.

It wasn’t abnormal for him to skip school every once in awhile, or take a bit to respond to texts, so when Monday rolled around and he wasn't there, there weren’t really any alarms going off in your head; you figured he slept in, or went on another one of his little adventures and forgot his phone, or maybe his charger, so you just got his homework and the notes and headed over to his. Paul lived alone for the most part, his dad away on business trips and his mom having disappeared when he was little, so when no one answered, you once again thought nothing of it. Simply went in with the spare key and left the papers where you knew he would see when he got back with a note telling him to message you when he could.

The next few days he still hadn’t responded and yes, of course you worried but considering none of the papers you dropped off were touched when you went over, you naively assumed he was still out on a little adventure.

Only when passing by two girls gossiping in the hall about having spotted him with the infamous Sam Uley in some cut off shorts, a matching tattoo, and looking much more bulky than he had been a few days prior, did the alarms start going off.

Speeding down the road and making it to his house in record time, you didn’t spend more than a minute waiting for a response before storming in. The house remained vacant, and unlived in. Leaving with no proof to confirm or deny the rumors or your assumptions, you started to drive back home. Paul continued to be missing and unresponsive the rest of the week, with the rumors getting worse, some accusing the two of starting a cult, others of drug abuse, some both, the bottom line was that he wasn’t there and you were reaching your breaking point.

Saturday, you and Paul never missed your Saturday hangouts unless it was an absolute emergency. Saturday he would either fix this or you knew the rumors, even partly, were true. If he just came back to you, everything would be okay, and you would forget this entire week ever happened.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

Friday night, you did not sleep. All night, you waited for a call or text. You sat in a chair by the door and waited for him to show up, you even drove over to his house to bang on his door a few times.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, another Saturday, and Sunday. Still missing, still unresponsive, and still you were alone. Having almost become a shell of a person after two weeks of radio silence, seeing him walk in that next Monday morning almost had you crying tears of joy. Until he walked right by you, ignored you the entire day, blocked your number and anything else he could, and you returned home to find everything you had either given him, made him, or left at his house on your front porch with a note asking you to do the same. Then they were tears of heartbreak. What had you done to deserve this. You wracked your brain a million times trying to think of anything you had done or said to warrant this behavior. You didn’t return his stuff like asked but thought if he wanted it bad enough he would come get it himself, maybe then you’d get an explanation.

Missing the next few days of school not knowing how to cope with what had happened, a few friends messaged you asking if you were alright, and to give you the homework, notes, and all sorts of updates about things going on. They mostly only got one word replies and thank yous. You ended up going back to school Thursday. Not really speaking to anyone, you kept to yourself most of the day, and ignored the eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere you went. When lunch rolled around you sat with a few of your friends, mostly distracted with funny tumblr memes and avoiding the eyes that seemed to be burning holes into you the entire time. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that you looked up. Chase Westin. Someone that Paul did not like one bit, you never really understood why, he was a pretty okay guy. He motioned to the chair next to you asking to sit.

‘This oughta be interesting’ you thought as he sat down.

“What’s going on” you asked, shutting your phone off.

Rubbing his neck “Just wanted to see how you were doing, I heard what happened with Paul, figured you could use a friend” he said cringing at himself.

The grimace on your face didn’t go unnoticed at the mention of your former long time friend.

“Shit happens, one moment everything’s fine, and the next your best friend goes missing for two weeks, joins a cult, starts doing drugs, and wants nothing to do with you…that’s just life for you I guess” you chuckled humorlessly.

“Well….if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know” he quickly pulled out his phone, trying to seem nonchalant about it. ”why don’t I get your number so you can text me...ya know, if you wanted to” You thought about it for a second before grabbing his phone and creating a new contact for yourself.

“Would you actually want to hang out this Saturday, I’m kind of sick of spending it alone” the thought of being alone again on Saturday almost made you sick to your stomach. His face lit up, excited at getting to spend more time with you. You started to get up, only having a few minutes until the bell rang

“Yea-“ the sound of a chair screeching back and slamming into something resulting in a few yells of surprise and most of the eyes in the cafe, you turned around to see a seething Paul Lahote, looking like he was about to maul a confused and slightly terrified Chase. He only stopped trembling when he looked at you, seemingly in a trance of some sort, before snapping out of it and storming out of the cafe.

“Weirdo” Chase muttered under his breath, as the bell rang and all the students started leaving for their next class as well, but all you could do was stare after him wondering what the actual hell just happened.

———————————————————————

A/n: hope you guys enjoyed if you would like to be on the tag list, simply leave a 👋 down bellow, and part 4 will be up 7/9/20. Have a great day!

#paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #twilight imagine #twilight #wolfpack #imagine #twilight x reader #sam uley #paul lahote oneshot #paul #seth clearwater #la push #jacob black #paul lahote fanfiction

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jamie-leah · 3 years

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War of Wolves (15)

Season 1

Episode 15 - Chit Chat

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2499

Warnings: Swearing, aggression, violence, fluff, you know the drill - it’s a mob story!

A/N: I am trying to post a part every week. I posted the last one on Tuesday I think but I may not get time tomorrow so here is the next part now! I think there is a little bit for everyone to enjoy here! My brain isn’t working enough to think of a more clever episode title haha!

<---Previous Episode. Next Episode--->

WoW Masterlist. Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

It didn’t take long to get to one of Isaac’s estates. It was much smaller than Bucky’s but bigger than a regular house. When the car pulls up outside you want to scream at them. You want to shout that you’re not getting out the car.

What you really want is to shoot Isaac, the hatred burning under your skin, but you do none of it as you get out without fuss. You trail behind Isaac as the two men stay behind you.

The house is old looking and mostly made of wood. Isaac leads you down a hallway and then another before arriving at a set of double wooden doors. He pushes them over to reveal a small library with comfortable seats. Two singles and a double. He makes his way over to them saying, “take a seat”.

You purposefully go over to one of the single seats, and sit on the edge, ready to bolt out of there the moment you could. The doors close, leaving just you and Isaac sitting opposite each other.

He stares at you and you shift feeling uncomfortable, praying that Bucky would come to get you quickly. Isaac gestures to the library, “do you like it?”.

“Bucky has a bigger one”, your voice comes out dull.

He shakes his head, “I don’t know why you’ve decided that you don’t like me Y/N”.

You scoff, “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you stabbing people in the back”.

He smiles, “in the back? I don’t think so; the front is more fun”.

“Ah that’s right, you just like to get other people to do it instead”, you couldn’t help yourself and the malice that creeped into your voice.

Isaac tilts his head and narrows his eyes slightly, studying you. When he speaks next, you know that he knows that you know about what he did to Bucky’s drugs and your men, “do you know a man called Gabriel Reynolds?”.

He asks it casually. You decide to downplay just how much you know him, “I met him at Frank Black’s party, but he was a creep and I walked away which is when you stopped me”.

Isaac smiles at the memory, “word on the street is someone took him out. I was just wondering if you knew anything about that?”.

Being able to detect lies helped in telling them yourself as you say, “no, I haven’t”. You think your lie is good, but he gives nothing away with his carefully blank face.

He changes the topic suddenly, “you know, I did some research on you. I saw that you were in a nasty car crash a few years back”.

It caught you off guard. You find yourself just staring at him as memories of the crash come back. He stares at you like he’s waiting for a reaction. It’s a while before you can speak, “what’s your point?”.

He shrugs, “I find it interesting. I’m a medical professional and I was wondering just how nasty it was. My research told me that someone else died in the crash, so it must have been bad”.

You could feel your anxiety rising as you try to not think about it, “this isn’t something I want to talk about”.

He carries on like he never heard you, “is that how you became homeless? Medical bills too much?”.

The hatred you feel for him only becomes stronger, “why the fuck does it matter?”.

He studies you, “I’m just curious”.

That was the first lie you detected from him. You perk up at it, “you’re lying, there’s something else you want to know about it”.

He tilts his head again like he’s trying to work something out, “do you remember much about the crash?”.

You space out as you go through the memories again as the truck ploughs into the side of the car. You remember spinning and then nothing. You remember waking up feeling pain everywhere and look over to see your mum not moving. You come back to the room as he asks another question, “what kind of head injuries did you have?”.

Your chest feels tight as your palms sweat. You spring to your feet, “stop asking me about it”.

He gets up too, coming closer in case you do bolt. Its what you want to do, but you don’t know where you would go. He keeps going though, “have you ever driven since then? Because you were the one driving that day, right?”.

You hear a faint bang and shouts, but it barely registers as you shout, “shut up! I don’t want to talk about it!”.

That’s when you hear him. Bucky yells, “Y/N?!”.

You go to bolt from the room, but Isaac grabs your arm and swings you back around, “you don’t remember do you?”. He whispers it as you hear more shouting, this time closer to the door.

Isaac lets you go just before the doors burst open, sending a loud crack throughout the room as they crash into the walls. You turn around to see Bucky flanked by Steve and Sam and a few more men behind them.

Your legs work of there own accord as they run to Bucky. You fling yourself into his body as your arms wrap around his neck. His arms come around you quickly as they squish you more into him. You can hear him breathe you in as you do the same, his scent calming you.

He pulls you back to cup your face as his eyes search your face. His thumb swipes across your cheekbone, “are you okay?”. He sounds slightly panicked and desperate.

You just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. That’s when Isaac speaks, “we were just having a little chat. She came willingly after all”.

You watch Bucky’s face harden as he looks over to Isaac. Bucky gently pushes you behind him and you don’t mind. You’d do anything to get away from Isaac right now.

You don’t even notice that you’re shaking until Sam wraps his arm around your shoulder and murmurs, “we’re here now”.

You look over to Bucky as he says, “I’ll kill you”.

Isaac smirks, “I’d like to see you get out alive if you did”.

Bucky steps closer, “it won’t be today. But I promise you that I will one day. I’ll kill you”.

Isaac stares at him unflinching, “likewise Mr Barnes, likewise”.

You can see the self-control in Bucky’s movements as he starts to walk away. Isaac just couldn’t help himself, “oh, send my condolences to the families of Alex, Charlie, Brian, and Josh. I heard about it, such a shame”.

Bucky moved quicker than lightning as his fist strikes Isaac’s face. Bucky strikes him again as Isaac falls to the floor. You hear commotion behind you but as soon as Steve takes out a gun and points it into that direction it stops. Steve looks back to Bucky who punches Isaac again, “Boss”.

Bucky doesn’t even pause at Steve’s voice as he gives another blow to Isaac’s body. Steve tries again but to no avail. You hear the commotion start up again and you had this feeling that things were going to get out of hand.

“Bucky”, your voice seems like its barely above a whisper, but he hears it and stops. Bucky grabs Isaac by the collar and spits the words, “I’m coming for you”, into his face before letting him go roughly.

You watch Isaac spit blood on the floor as he watches you leave, pure hatred naked on his face. Bucky’s arm wraps around your waist as he brings you into his side.

He steers you gently out the house and to the car, opening your side of the car and helping you in. He sits in the seat next to you as Steve drives and Sam sits in the passenger seat.

It wasn’t until the car started and you drove out of the estate that you could feel your anxiety rising again. The rumble of the car sparking memories that were at the forefront thanks to Isaac.

Your chest starts feeling tighter as it gets harder to breathe. You lean forward and put your head between your knees and close your eyes. You try and focus on calming your heartbeat as you vaguely hear Bucky unclick his belt and slide across the seat.

You feel the warmth of him as his thigh rests against yours and his hand strokes patterns onto your back soothingly. He leans forward as well to murmur into your ear, “you’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m here now. I got you Doll, I’ve got you”.

You focus on his voice, low and calm and you feel your heart respond. Soon, it becomes easier to breathe and you sit up again. You lean into Bucky and lay your head on his shoulder without a word. You put your hand on his thigh and he covers it with his as he kisses the side of your head.

You stare into space for the entire journey after that. You feel drained thinking about the crash. Images and emotions you buried in order to keep going with life starting to overwhelm you again. You were aware of Steve looking at you in the mirror and then glancing to Bucky.

When you got back home your body relaxed a little. When the car stops Bucky kisses your head again before slipping out of the car. You know you need to open the door, but you can’t seem summon the will to do it.

You hear the mumble of the boys talking before Bucky opens your door. He gives you a soft smile as he pulls you out the car and into his arms. You feel the rumble of him speaking, “come on baby, let’s get you inside”.

He takes you straight to your shared room and sets you down on the edge of the bed. He disappears for a few moments into the bathroom and you hear water starting to run.

He emerges along with a thin trail of steam as he makes his way over to you. He helps you remove your clothes. It was nothing sexual, it was just caring.

You eventually sit on the edge of the bed naked as he stands and goes back into the bathroom. You hear him moving around and then the water stops. He emerges shirtless as he picks you back up and takes you to the bath.

He lowers you slowly into the hot bath. You close your eyes at the comforting hug of water around your body. You open your eyes and look at Bucky’s. There was such concern and love there that your eyes filled with tears.

One falls down your face and into the water as Bucky wipes away the other one that starts to fall. He speaks softly, “speak to me sweetheart”.

You manage to talk around the lump in your throat, “its my fault Buck. Its my fault that I crashed that day. I didn’t see the truck coming. I killed my mum”.

Tears fall hard and fast as Bucky hugs you to him until you calm again. He pulls back keeping your face between his hands, “it wasn’t your fault Y/N. I saw some low-quality footage from a CCTV camera when you first came to work for me. I was curious about you. I watched that footage and the truck came out of nowhere. It wasn’t your fault”.

You stare at his eyes. His tone and expression hold so much conviction that you nearly believe him. You turn your head and kiss one of his palms and whisper, “thank you”.

He lets your face go and gets comfy at the side of the bath. He watches you stare into space again for a few moments before he speaks again, “you remember that time you came into my office with the cupcakes you made?”.

You slowly turn your gaze to his as you nod. He continues, “I remember thinking to myself that I was going to tell you to stay out of the kitchen and you would just listen to me. I was so surprised when you told me no. I almost burst out laughing when you called me ‘wolfy’”.

He chuckles at the word now and you feel the corners of your mouth turn up involuntarily. He carries on, “I wasn’t expecting those cupcakes to taste so damn good. You have no idea how hard it was not to moan at the taste”.

You smile as you think back to him keeping a straight face while eating that cupcake. He continues, encouraged by your smiling, “I also remember that time I caught you dancing in the kitchen. You were dancing like no one was watching and even when you saw me you didn’t stop”.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “are you just trying to tell me to cook you more cupcakes Wolfy?”.

He bursts out laughing and you feel a genuine smile spread across your face at the sight. When his laughter dies down he stands and picks you out of the bath dripping wet. You instantly hold on to him as you exclaim, “what are you doing?”.

He smirks at you, “I told you that if you ever called me wolfy again I would put you in the kennels”. He starts to walk out the room.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you squirm, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Put me back in the bath, its freezing!”.

He chuckles as he sets you back in the water, but your back to him. He picks up the shampoo and starts to work the shampoo into your hair as his tone becomes soft, “I also remember when you came into the gym when I was working out my anger on a punching bag”.

You close your eyes at his hands in your hair as you listen to his quiet voice, “I remember being so rude to you. Telling you to go away as I punched this bag and you just walk in and stayed. You didn’t seem afraid of me or care that I just told you to go away. You stayed. That’s when I knew. That’s when I really knew you were different and that I wanted to keep you around”.

He finishes your hair and helps you wash it out as you both work on your body. Again, it was nothing sexual. You wash all the soap off and Bucky lifts you out of the bath and stands you up. He then grabs a towel and wraps it around your body along with his arms.

Your face rests against his bare chest and you listen to his steady heart for a few moments before whispering, “thank you”.

He kisses your forehead, “any time sweetheart, any time”.

You place a kiss over where you think his heart would be, “I love you”.

His arms tighten around you as he looks down at you, “I love you too”.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @asapkyndall @yaszx @amoredashley @aveatquevale- @putinovertime @melimelbean @voltage-my2dlove @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @sensationalistsblog

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader.#bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fucking barnes #bucky fandom #bucky fluff #bucky series #mob!au #mob!bucky

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thirstyforoc · 3 years

Text

🎂

I know his birthday was a couple days ago but my brain doesn't work that well and I'm always early for everything else, I can be late for this.

Here's something to read that's probably not great and wordy and rambly and really only relevant to my own interests. I had to hammer this out because I just had to and it took longer than I expected because I can't shut the fuck up. Read it if you feel like it or don't, I'll still love you either way.

Using real names so don't keep going if that bothers you. I didn't post the picture but I make a reference to that one pic of him at Medieval Times, you know the one, at least I hope you do. Enjoy.

Idk, I just like picturing every single birthday Dustin and Jim have spent together since they became friends. Sue me. I have too much time on my hands and like to think about their relationship so I have to get this out. Here. Take it.

It's early in their friendship, a few years in. They're in Philly for a show and Dustin knows it's almost Jim's birthday, he's aware it's coming up but he forgot what day it fell on and that it was so soon until Jim brings it up. He's never super sober or super clear on what day of the week it is, that's just how he lives. If anyone has a problem with it that's on them. Jim never seems to take issue with it though. Maybe that's why their friends?

It's the Friday before his birthday. They're hanging out at Dustin's place before heading to the show and Jim reminds Dustin when his birthday is. "Tuesday? Your fucking birthday is on a Tuesday this year? Gross. Jim Day on a Tuesday. Lame."

Jim laughs a little, the soft laugh he always gives Dustin when he's being a certain kind of ridiculous or obnoxious, like he can't believe he's saying what he's saying. "You know I don't get to pick what day my birthday falls on, right? Tell me you know that. I need to hear you say you know that."

"I mean, yuck. What's there to do on a Tuesday?"

"I dunno. I don't really have any plans this year." Truth be told Jim's not all that concerned with how he's going to spend his actual birthday. Perhaps he'll do something with friends or family back in Jersey? Maybe he won't. It's not a big, special, milestone birthday or anything. No reason to go all out.

Dustin absolutely, positively will not shut up about it. No matter how many times Jim grunts or rolls his eyes Dustin just keeps talking and babbling about how it's a crime for someone's birthday to fall on a Tuesday. Jim's on the verge of asking Dustin exactly what is wrong with Tuesdays anyway when Dustin pauses to look right at him. "We should just start now."

"Huh?"

"Today."

"Today?"

"Yeah. Like, spend the whole weekend partying. Today is your birthday. Tomorrow is your birthday. Keep the Jim Day train on the tracks through Sunday, Monday, your actual birthday. You said you didn't have plans, right? Just stay. You'll stay and it'll be like...like one long birthday instead of a fucking boring ass birthday on a Tuesday of all days. Yeah, you'll stay and...and you'll stay and we'll find things to do every day. So, you'll stay." It's never a question. It's already been decided that Jim's going to agree. Dustin never sounds uncertain, says it with such confidence. He's not fearful even for one second Jim might say he isn't down.

Dustin wants him to stay so Jim does. Sure, he's got things he could be doing at home, was planning on staying maybe through Saturday and heading back Sunday morning, Sunday evening at the latest but he could stay. Yeah, he will stay. Dustin wants him to stay so he's staying.

Work will go on without him. He'll call his family and tell them something came up. If his parents or siblings are upset they can find a way to celebrate his birthday once he's home and recovered from what's bound to be a bender if he knows anything at all about Dustin. Dustin wants him to stay. He'll stay.

Man, go home where he's made no plans, where there's no party, and most of all no Dustin or have the time of his life all weekend with one of his best friends? Wow, that's a hard choice. Dustin really seems to want him to stay so he's staying.

Friday night they head to the nearest bar after the show is over, close down the damn thing and stay up laughing and talking on Dustin's couch for three hours once they get back. They're not even paying attention to the time, neither one cares. Drinking and partying with all their wrestling friends was fun but at the end of the night it's nice that it's just the two of them. It's nice.

The next morning is a bit rough. Ok, they aren't conscious until afternoon but 2pm counts as morning when it's Dustin and Jim you're talking about. Saturday-it's Saturday, right?-is pretty much the same only the drinking begins much earlier, like pretty much as soon as they're both showered and get some food in their stomachs. Day drinking is a lot of fun, so much fun that a short nap is necessary before they head out to meet their friends again. Actually, they kind of passed out together on the couch watching tv, it was completely unintentional and unplanned. They probably would have slept the rest of the day away if not for Dustin being startled awake by Jim's loud snoring. "Thank god we don't live together." Dustin thinks for a moment while watching Jim sleep. Well, maybe that wouldn't be all bad. Whatever, can't think about it too long, they have to get up.

Saturday night is even wilder than Friday night. They drink too much. Way too much. They're tanked. Bombed. Blitzed. Completely fucked. Dustin kept buying them shots and when their bar tab got a little too high he simply shifted to telling everyone who would listen it was Jim's birthday, coaxed a bunch of other drunks into buying them more shots.

Sunday is the worst. They're suffering when they finally roll out of bed and off the couch for good and both agree easily, immediately they should take it easy today. There's a shitty, cheap diner close to Dustin's place so they stop there to eat dinner, share a huge plate of greasy diner food that Dustin pays for. Friends keep asking if they're coming to the bar again but both of them are in rocky shape from the night before. They sit Sunday night out, convalesce on Dustin's couch quietly, chug water and make small talk while they recover.

Monday evening Dustin takes Jim to Medieval Times because the little guy has talked about it so many times since they first met, drops hints constantly about how he wants to go-not this weekend but Dustin remembers him mentioning it-so Dustin figures now would be good. It's the little hunk's birthday after all.

On the drive there they swear they're going to take it easy, agree to have a couple glasses of wine with dinner and call it good. What a crock of shit. After cracking open their third bottle of the night Jim insists he's going to sit on that throne because he'll look badass so Dustin follows. He follows his little drunk blond friend everywhere, why wouldn't he? Gotta keep tabs on him, make sure he's safe, keep eyes on him. Jim doesn't ask but Dustin takes several pictures of him on that throne, laughs the entire time because Jim is hilarious and fun and cute, really fucking cute, especially with almost two bottles of wine in him.

"Ooh. C'mon." Jim grabs Dustin's wrist so fast he damn near drops his phone, leads him towards the photo booth in the lobby. The little shit is lucky Dustin has some cash on him, Dustin can tell from the look on his face he isn't going to take no for an answer. Jim shoves Dustin in first and almost crashes down on his lap, drunk on wine and apparently really fucking excited about them taking pictures together.

The booth is tiny. The seat is narrow. Jim's a compact little guy but Dustin's certainly not. To say they're crammed in there would be an understatement but they manage. Dustin forgets to look where he's supposed to look, far too preoccupied with staring at the little blond planted on his lap. "King for a day." Jim laughs, flashes Dustin a huge, vibrant smile as he points to the novelty crown on his head.

Maybe Dustin's going soft? Maybe he had more wine than he thought? Maybe they've spent a little too much time together the last few days? Maybe. Maybe not. All Dustin knows is it's easier for him to blame the urge to kiss Jim right in this photo booth on one of those things instead of being honest with himself and admitting he has feelings for the guy.

"Maybe Jim shouldn't have such pretty pink lips if I can't kiss him." Definitely can't say that out loud. Hold on. Rewind. Go back to the beginning. Jim's drunk and smiling and the booth is still snapping pictures of them. "Say something that doesn't involve his lips, you moron!"

Easier said than done. Dustin's brain makes it sound so simple. The truth is it's really difficult, borderline impossible to stop thinking about his pretty mouth. Jim's still looking at him so Dustin smiles back, reaches over and brushes his fingertips across Jim's cheek. "You're always a king to me, baby." Why the fuck did he say that? He would have been better off just kissing Jim. Jim just laughs, a huge, easy laugh that goes on until the little voice in the booth tells them to wait outside for their pictures to process. Jim climbs off his lap and the moment is over, gone, finished just as quickly as it came. Oh well. Maybe next time. It's not like Dustin's going to forget he wants to kiss him anytime soon.

They're so drunk at the conclusion of their night at Medieval Times they need to leave Dustin's car there and catch a cab home. Whatever. He'll have someone drive him back so he can pick it up in the morning. They had fun. No harm done. A friend gives them both a lift to pick up Dustin's shitty old car and they're already out so they kick off Tuesday by going out for brunch. It's a lot pricier than the greasy spoon diner by Dustin's place and they'll both be broke by the time they're done celebrating but that doesn't really matter does it? Birthdays only come once a year and today is literally Jim's birthday. It's Jim day.

They're full of delicious food by the time they're through and stop at a liquor store to buy supplies for mimosas to drink at home because they both agreed it'd be the cheaper route. They're not trying to get hammered, just sip throughout the day and maintain a nice buzz until it's time to head to the bar. It's Tuesday. Fuck, when did they start this again? Who cares. It's Tuesday. It's Jim Day. It's not until almost midnight on Tuesday that Dustin realizes neither one of them has bothered to talk to a single girl all weekend. Huh. Weird.

Shortly after midnight they toast with a couple shots of whiskey. They call it a night before last call and pick up the most unhealthy food they can find on the way back to Dustin's place, devour it while relaxing on his couch. That's where they fall asleep too, Jim slumped over in a heap on Dustin's shoulder, Dustin simply smiling before putting an arm around the little guy and drifting off shortly after.

Wednesday is pretty chill. Jim's actual birthday has passed and they've been going pretty hard for the last few days. Dustin's suggestion to hit up the grocery store and make dinner at his place is half because they're almost broke and half because they're both sorta worn out. Jim agrees, seems happy about it if Dustin's being honest and that's a relief. He's not much of a cook but for Jim he'll make an exception. It is his birthday, or was his birthday. It may never end, may never stop being his birthday.

They leave the dirty dishes in the sink and waste the rest of the night playing video games, stay up damn near long enough to see the sunrise before they remember it'd be a good idea to get some sleep. It's strange watching Jim curl up on the couch that final time. Dustin knows he's got to go home at some point. The guy doesn't live in Philly, doesn't live here. He's got a life to go back to. He can't just spend all his time hanging out, that's ridiculous. Dustin knows it's completely, utterly ridiculous but he wants Jim to stay. He can't stay.

When they finally wake up on Thursday Dustin is oddly nervous, uneasy. They've never spent such a long stretch together, this is easily the most he's seen of Jim, the most time they've shared since they became friends. It's difficult to admit to himself but Dustin liked it. He liked having Jim around. He liked what he saw. Yeah, they were already friends, best friends but it seems different now and Dustin isn't sure what to do with that knowledge, that feeling.

Time for Jim to leave comes quickly. Before Dustin's had an opportunity to process everything that transpired from the time Jim got to his place Friday afternoon to now Jim's ready to make the trip home. It sucks. There's got to be another excuse, another reason to ask Jim to stay, right? No. He can't do that. He won't do that. Jim can't stay. His birthday has passed. Back to normal, regular life. He'll see Jim in a couple weeks for the next show anyway. He can't stay.

Dustin's not expecting Jim to hug him goodbye. Normal people, friends hug goodbye all the time, he's not sure why it comes as a surprise when Jim's hands are on the back of his neck and the little guy is mumbling something about how much fun he had, thanking Dustin. "You're welcome. Happy birthday." Dustin barely manages to say. Fuck, he's such an idiot. He's not even hugging Jim back. He really should do that.

He does hug Jim back after a few awkward moments, squeezes him a bit too tight judging by that little noise Jim just made. Why else would he make a sound like that? Dustin eases up, lets go of his waist and looks down at his little blond friend. Yeah, this sucks. What, like he's supposed to spend almost six full days with a guy like Jim and not be bothered when it's time for him to leave? He can't stay.

He can't stay but Dustin's not about to let Jim escape without joking around with him one last time. "So, same thing next year? Holy shit, your birthday is gonna fall on a Wednesday next year! Lame. A birthday on a Wednesday is even worse than one on a Tuesday. Gross, dude."

"Shut up. Your birthday rolls around first, remember? Let's plan for that first."

"Deal."

#I swear this was supposed to be short #I just think they're neat #I'm going back into my hole now don't look at me

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beauregard-s · 4 years

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Cherry Vodka [Part I] | Richie T. + Eddie K.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak (21+)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: language, nsfw material but no explicit sex (yet), alcohol, polyamory mention, kind of a modern au too

Anon said: “ okay so based off that art you reblogged of the richie x bev x eddie, what about like a reader x richie x eddie fluffy smut based off that (i hope that makes sense bahahha)”

A/n: Yeah, I had to split it in two parts because 7k words... I’m sorry it took me so long to post it, dear anon, if you’re still outta there. I rewrote and changed the plot of this one three times and it’s inspired by this post and by the song Sleep Apnea by Beach Fossils, by the way.

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“Richie…” “What, doll?” You felt his hand trailing down the small of your back, slowly and treacherously.

You rolled your eyes from your book to meet Richie’s little smirk. He had his black wayfarers on, even though the sun was down in the horizon now, and behind those you knew his eyes have been glazing all over you. He was all careless laying on his side right next to you on the towel, unruly wind-dried curly hair, head up resting on a hand, the other free one teasing you because he just couldn’t help it when you’d put on that black high-cut swimsuit of yours. Eddie shared the curly-haired boy thoughts but, on the other hand, he laid peacefully flat on his back by your right side. Arms resting under his head, eyes closed, but here and there he’d peek at your and Richie’s constant bickering. You, laying on your stomach in between them, were still in your swimsuit from earlier. After lunch, it was Richie’s idea to go to this lake nearby by his parents' vacation house. It was also Richie’s idea to spend spring break there. Usually, your break trips would include their other friends, who ended up being your friends too over time, but that was being a harsh semester for quite everyone. With Bill and Stan stuck with their academic duties, the best idea was to drive to the Tozier’s vacation house in a small town in Pennsylvania. It was a simple, untouched, two-floor house. Richie told in the car his parents bought it when he was a teenager so they could travel and spend some time there, but ended up not doing that as much as they intended on once it was too far from his city. “For fuck’s sake, Richie!” Laughing was not what you intended, but you did it and you heard Eddie giggling behind you. Richie’s hand had finally made its way to your hips now, while he leaned closer. “Come on, toots. Just one kiss…” He whispered in his best charming tone, but you pushed him away, playing cool although you felt your cheeks burning, the known hots already hitting you like a truck. “No! Fuck off… I already told you we should stop doing this,” you muttered. “You always say that,” it was Eddie who reasoned, and you turned for him, eyes threatening him with no words while he shrugged. “Yeah, and I’m sticking to it,” you retorted. Indeed. It had been over a month since you last… Did what you did. “Plus I think Stan has been suspicious…” Richie snorted, “yeah, like lil old he would give a single fuck about it, y/n.” You breathed out, closing the book because now your concentration was ruined. Richie, Eddie, and you met at the creative writing class, 8 am on Tuesdays, your first semester of college. You remembered as it was today how you found them “lost” less than 10 feet away from the lecture hall but arguing like an old couple without realizing that. You helped them find the right way, and Richie flirted with you as you walked into the class, while Eddie scoffed at him for making them get lost and almost late. You knew those boys had been friends their entire life, but from that moment on the three of you became inseparable. If someone needed to find one of you on the campus, the other two would probably be found at the same place. The pureness of your friendship didn’t last long. It only lasted until the first party you went to together, when you lost to Richie at a snooker game and he claimed a kiss as his prize, the smooth motherfucker he was. You kissed him and only that, but ten minutes later you were making out in the bathroom. You made him swear he wouldn’t make things complicated between you two and he had been keeping his promise ever since. Eddie was a whole out of the curve story though. After what happened at said party, you noticed how fidgety he got about the matter of you and Richie been together once, although he did a great job hiding it. Took a while for him to leave it alone, but you didn’t. Something pestering inside wouldn’t let you. You were at his dorm, studying for a complicated final exam while the sky fell apart in rain outside when you asked him why he got upset. He denied to his death he had jealousy of you and Richie running through his veins, but you knew he was lying when his eyes started to avoid yours, saying ‘Richie’s a better ladies' man, anyway’. You shoot your shot without really thinking about it, told him ‘he was just as desirable as Richie’ and it seemed to light a spark between you two. You were the one who leaned closer but he closed the gap, nervously, pulling you into his lap as soon as you kissed him back, building up his confidence. Just like when Richie and you had your thing, you felt no need to hide from him what happened between you and Eddie. It was an embarrassing talk, but it worked. The three of you quickly and naturally warmed up to the facts: you were friends with benefits with both of them and there was nothing complicated about that for you. But you wanted to keep it low because casually making out with your best friends regularly here and there over time whenever you all desired to was none of people business. Eddie rolled over to lay on his stomach, just like you were, shoulder to shoulder. After a couple days constantly under the sun, you noticed he had more freckles than usual over his nose and cheeks, a few on his shoulders. “You’re being more uptight about it all than me, and everyone knows that being more uptight than me is a big deal...” His self depreciative statement made you flash a half-smile, but didn't stop you from leering at his soft lips because you remembered how he tasted like mint whenever you’d kiss. And it had been a long time since you did for the last time. “I’m just being cautious, Spagheddie.” He smiled at the silly nickname, just when you freed yourself from Richie’s grip, grabbed your book and got up, leaving them on the grass while you walked towards the backdoor. “Where ya’ goin’?” Richie called, but you didn’t look back. “Taking a shower!” You shouted. ‘I fucking need to cool down,’ you thought to yourself. In your silly head, about a year ago, this whole situation was a great idea. Now you found yourself utterly screwed. There was pining going on since the very first beginning in between you and them. You always knew it was there, you just didn’t expect it to escalate like it did. You thought once you had tasted from Richie and Eddie, you’d be done. Checked them out of your possibilities, life goes on, but now you were bonded to them in a way you never intended on. You fell for them. For both of them. And that was making you act up. Since your high school years you understood you were an afraid-of-commitment kind of person. No big deal, no attachments, no pain, so you weren’t ready to fall for a single person alone. Falling for two at the same time made your brain short circuit. You had debated the matter with yourself multiple times before. Since you became aware of it happening, you weren’t able to choose between them, you didn’t even know someone was capable of splitting their feelings like that. Your only solution was to stop it somehow. You couldn’t just leave them completely, so you decided to break the colorful side of that mess of a friendship. It wasn’t easy because it was not just about physical bonds. They were everywhere around you. Eddie would buy you coffee on the test mornings he knew you were tired after studying the whole night and hand it to you kissing your forehead. Richie would always hold your hand, keep you close and protect you somehow, doing that thing where he’d distractedly run his thumb over your knuckles. You knew that maybe you were not just an arousal let-out for them too and that made things even worse. You ruminated the facts the whole time you were under the cold water upstairs, and when you came down later, all damp hair and sleep clothes, you found them both in the kitchen, struggling with dinner although it was just frozen lasagna for three. Beach Fossils played from Richie’s phone, open vodka bottle on the wood table in the middle of the small kitchen. Richie was the one who first noticed you there, smiling over his shoulder. “Gonna leave you watching Eds so he doesn’t implode the house while I take a shower, doll. Help the poor man.” he said, walking past by you and running upstairs. “You’re talking like you weren’t the one struggling to turn on the oven!” Eddie shouted at him. You laughed just like Richie did at distance, joining Eddie by the stove. “Do you want a hand there?” “Never mind,” he said, closing the oven door with a proud grin, “it will be ready in twenty, I guess.” “Talented boys you two are!” you scoffed. “Oh shut up!” He faked a disgusted face at you. Your eyes laid over the cherries you bought the day you arrived, placed in a fruit basket on the counter and, while Eddie sat down at the table you grabbed a glass, the vodka, and a handful of cherries. He didn’t ask you what you were doing, but your peripheral sight allowed you to know he was keeping full attention on you while you fumbled around. You mashed the fruits in the glass until they were a reddish pasta, collecting the seeds and pouring alcohol over what lasted in there. As you swayed everything together, you remembered drinking it once, but not quite where was it. You gulped it turning around to finally face Eddie, and he was splayed in a chair, a ghost of a smile on. “The hell you doin’?” he asked lowly and you shrugged. “I don’t know… But it worked.” He raised his brows, getting up and walking towards you. “Yeah? Is it good?” You hummed in response, feeling it burn down your throat. In the deep of your mind, watching Eddie coming closer and closer, you knew what was about to happen, but you didn’t act fast enough against it. “Let me taste it” And he did. Not from the cup but straight from your lips. Eddie leaned in and kissed you softly, an arm around your waist while his free hand went for the back of your neck. And you ease in melting into him was embarrassing, leaving the cup onto the sink as soon as he pressed you against it before the glass ended up shattered on the floor. His tongue slid over yours, hands going to grab your hips, lifting your shirt a bit in the process. You instantly wished he took it off, already built up after spending that time alone in the middle of nowhere and with that aching tension all over the place. You had sex with Richie twice already over time, one of them a bit drunkenly, the other completely sober and thirsty for it, but you had never done it with Eddie. And you wanted it bad. Been wanting for a long time now, since that fucking rainy day in his dorm. But you knew you couldn’t, not when you shouldn’t even be kissing him like that after managing to stick up to your chastity for over a month now. So your hands palmed his chest and gently pulled him away. “Holy fuck…” Richie’s whispered voice made both you and Eddie startle. He was right there, at the kitchen entrance with a towel around his waist, mouth agape looking at both of you and you had no idea of how much time was standing there now. But he for sure saw shit happening. “That was the fucking fastest shower ever,” Eddie said, so casually it disturbed you. “N-no… I just came back to grab my phone.” Richie muttered. You froze, having no idea of how to move or what to say now. Yes, they were pretty aware you messed around with both of them, but one never saw the other in the act. Never, nor even a peck, and now Richie just witnessed a goddamn show. You were ready to tell him how you were sorry because you had just denied him a kiss when you were sunbathing outside and you have been constantly denying him for weeks now, but he didn’t give you the chance. Richie grabbed his phone over the table and stopped the music. You had the hint that maybe he wasn’t upset once he had that little mischievous smirk of his while he made his way out of there and upstairs again. Of course you didn’t talk about the matter over dinner, but Richie acted like nothing happened and Eddie just followed the lead completely unbothered. You tried to go on as naturally as they did, but something about Richie’s furtive looks over you made you think he was definitely not cool about catching you and Eddie together in the kitchen. You just couldn’t tell if either he was jealous or whatever was that and it pinched you from the inside the rest of the night while you watched old TV shows reprising until it was past one in the morning. That was when Eddie started yawning and decided to go upstairs, to the room that’d be Richie’s formerly, kissing your forehead and smiling nonchalantly before shoving Richie’s shoulder. So it was Richie, you and silence in the living room lighten up by TV flashes here and there. He was already sleepy, laying on the couch he had been sleeping since he insisted on leaving his parents’ bedroom for you, claiming he'd be a terrible host if he had you or Eddie without a bed. You, curled in the armchair, hated unsolved matters and worse than that, you hated when said unsolved matters had to do with Richie because you knew how he internalized everything he felt if it was slightly messed up. So you went straight to the point to avoid any evasions from him. “Did you get jealous of me and Eddie?” You asked right away, eyeing at him from your safe place. He looked at you, dead in the eye, no single sign of emotion perpassing his face. “Not at all, sweet thing,” he said, shrugging. “Why would I be?” You didn’t explain it, because you knew he knew where you were trying to get at, so your raised eyebrow was enough. But Richie raised his back and you had to get up because the lack of words from him, the one who’d never shut up, was bothering you beyond belief. You walked over the couch, passing a leg over his, straddling the Tozier boy for his slight astonishment, his reddish lips curving in a half-smile. Richie also had freckles, darker and more numerous ones than Eddie’s, all over his nose and cheeks, some across the rest of his face and none on the rest of his body. When he sat up with you still in his lap, you could smell that cologne you didn’t know exactly which was, but that you loved. Loved how its scent would stay ghostly on your clothes after you made out in his truck like a mark of his, just like the hickeys he’d give you sometimes, on hidden places so only you could see them. “Don’t fucking play dumb with me,” you whispered now, “I’m sorry, okay?” Richie snorted. “I’m not lying to you, y/n/n. I’m definitely not mad at you nor at Eddie. You’re making up things in your pretty head, doll” His hands drifted up your thighs. “I miss you, that's true. But it doesn’t make me jealous of that hell of a scene I saw earlier.” You noticed how he swallowed dry. “So you trying to convince me you’re not utterly disgusted and hurt?” Richie snorted once more at your tease and the light air of his relieving a lot of pressure from your chest. “Far from that, y/n/n...” The way his voice slowed down and his eyes drifted away from yours to his restless fingers on your skin...You finally understood where the problem laid on. And you wouldn’t even need the light pink shade of his cheeks to assure that. “Oh God, you liked it…” You whispered in disbelief and Richie laughed, hands on your hips now, pulling you closer. “What if I did, doll?” He didn’t let you answer, lips on yours before you recovered from your shock. He kissed slowly and passionately, it was always like that, kisses that after a few seconds already got you wanting to rip his clothes off. He was warm against you, bare chest pressed against still clothed yours. As earlier with the Kaspbrak boy, you had the urge of pulling away from him for your own sake, but you couldn’t this time. Richie peppered kisses all the way from your mouth to your jawline, kissing the spot that got your underwear ruined every time, earning himself a low whimper from your lips. You felt dizzy. “Eds is my best friend, toots,” he whispered against your skin, “there’s no one I’d be more glad to let spend time with you, touch you...” His hands ran up your sides underneath your shirt and your nails dig into his shoulders. “Kiss you.” He sucked a hickey on the crook of your neck that finally had you moaning out loud. “Richie-” His name. You could feel him smiling at that. “Or have you.” “For fuck’s sake, Richie…” You knew how to read in between his lines and in his darkened eyes when he pulled away to look into yours, glasses off. You knew he couldn’t see you quite well, but you could see him. If Richie was implying what you thought he was… “I told you I’d never lie to you, and I’m sticking to it.” Richie didn’t smile this time. “And believe me when I say I wish Eddie had taken you right on that counter.” You were the one dry swallowing now, thoughts running a mile a second. “For you to watch?” You scoffed, trying to hide how flustered you were. Richie remained serious when he laid down again. His moves underneath you let you feel him hardened under you. “No. I’d for sure join.” You read him again, tried to find whatever proved you he was just teasing. But he wasn’t. And that left you speechless, made him smile, tapping your hips gently. “But go to bed, toots. We can talk about it any other day. When you're ready and the cat doesn’t get your tongue.”

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boxoftheskyking · 3 years

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Pick Up Every Piece, Part Four

Ugh this took forevvvvver

I know that the MDZS map is like based on actual China, so my apologies to whatever Yiling is based on. I need a shithole for this story, and Yiling’s it.

In which Lan Zhan follows A Story

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

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Early November 2000

Lan Zhan is headed back to Moling. It’s not a trip that he particularly enjoys, anymore. He takes the train these days, since he got rid of his car.

He used to drive the 45 minutes there twice a week when he and Liu Shirong were first dating, before they moved in together in Caiyi. There used to be a sense of anticipation, enjoyment, each landmark and familiar turning a step closer to someone he wanted to see. An arm across his back, a kiss to his jaw, Shirong reaching up on tiptoe to greet him. He’d pick up Shirong at school and they’d wave out the window at the little kids in the schoolyard. Bye, Teacher Liu! Moling was an escape, an innocent place, somewhere far away from the darkness and dirt he spent his days sifting through.

Dear Shirong. He’s a good man. Short, kind, a silly gasping laugh. Desperate for children. He has two now, and a husband. Lan Zhan has lunch with him occasionally.

Now that he thinks about it, their last lunch was over a year ago. He supposes that doesn’t count as “occasionally” anymore. He could reach out first, if he wanted to. But he’s never been the type to reach out. Shirong has a life, a family, all the things he always wanted. All the things Lan Zhan couldn’t give him.

“I cannot imagine myself with a child,” he’d said when they broke up. He hadn’t intended for it to actually be a breakup—he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. But Shirong had visited an actual agency the day before and handed him a brochure, and Lan Zhan had left the apartment and driven into the mountains in a blind panic. He’d ended up stopped outside someone’s cabin, all the way up their driveway, and parked outside this stranger’s house until he’d gotten his breathing under control. That’s one of the reasons he’d sold the car. He’d never done that before, taken off like that, trespassed on private property, so getting rid of the car was the safest option.

Precept 45 of the Lan Clan: Do not act impulsively.

Precept 213: Be strict with yourself.

Precept 341: When faced with temptation away from the righteous path, remove the source of temptation.

His brother finds his interest in the old clan rules an amusing idiosyncrasy. Even his uncle, strict as he is, finds the rules nothing more than an heirloom, evidence of some kind of hereditary virtue but nothing relevant to the modern day.

It’s not that he follows them. He just likes to know them, to turn them over in his mind. As options. When faced with a decision, there’s a comfort in turning to generations of dead Lans for guidance. Some people like astrology.

There are a lot of Lans, these days, enough that he’s never met a good number of cousins. There’s plenty of Lans he’s barely related to at all, at this point, but the name still has a good reputation. It’s the opposite of what the Wens have to deal with, those who weren’t involved in the insurrection. Everyone knows the old clans are ancient history and you can’t judge someone on their family name. But still, no one named Wen is going to find work in Lanling anytime soon.

The point is, the Lans have survived and multiplied, so whatever kept them going in the old days can’t be completely useless.

His original interest in the rules was mostly as a journalist, which he’d hoped his uncle might understand. Every rule implies a story. A reason. Thousands of them mean you can triangulate an entire context. Who were we? How did we get here? What did we lose, and how?

Precept 9: Do not speak dishonestly.

Precept 77: Do not make promises that you cannot honor.

“I cannot imagine myself with a child,” he’d said.

Don’t worry, Lan Zhan, we’ll figure it out together. “I’m not sure I want to imagine myself with a child.” It will be different when it’s ours. You’ll see. “The more you talk about it, the less sure I am.” That’s okay, Lan Zhan, I can be sure enough for the both of us.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want this with you.”

Precept 424: Do not be needlessly cruel.

Lan Zhan had killed men during the war. Cultivation was useful for long-range attacks, but he still found himself in the situation of killing up close, of watching the light leave an enemy’s eyes.

He saw the light leave Liu Shirong’s eyes. For a moment his instincts had jolted, shocking through his nervous system. You’ve killed him. You activated your core, by accident, and you’ve killed him.

But it wasn’t the end of Liu Shirong’s life, of course, just the end of his love for Lan Zhan, the end of their life together, the end of whatever future he’d imagined for them. Lan Zhan had meant to release him gently, like a small rabbit with a newly-healed leg, back out into the world he came from. But he’d crushed him instead, under his clumsy feet.

Do not be needlessly cruel.

There are pools of guilt around Moling. Every place that he recognizes, everywhere they went together, even if the memories themselves are good. The guilt gathers on his clothes, soaks through to the skin, makes him cold.

It’s not that he misses Shirong. Perhaps he should miss him more than he does. It’s been nearly three years since they split up. It should perhaps hurt more than it does. It’s embarrassing that it took longer for him to get over Wei Ying—a relationship that never happened.

The worst part of the breakup didn’t even have to do with Shirong himself. He hadn’t made a special call after Shirong left, or even after he officially moved out a week later, but he had mentioned it when Lan Huan called him as usual on the second Tuesday of the month.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didi,” Lan Huan had said. “I know you did love him, in your own way.”

In your own way.

Is he not— Did he not—

Had he never—

He is nearly to Moling. The train track curves here, about fifteen minutes out, and the rails were laid in crooked. It’s a jolt, every time. It’s easy to see who the regular commuters are, whose coffee sloshes over, who widens their stance in time, who looks suddenly out the window, worried. Sabotage on the tracks, maybe, or someone under the cars. The younger people don’t look worried, only bored.

The landscape is odd, he realizes suddenly. He’s been staring vaguely out the window, letting his mind wander, but where he’s used to a few farms, a man-made lake, and mostly open country there is torn up ground, heavy machinery, and miles of chain-link fence. Did he not notice this on his last trip? Had he been reading?

Out the window he sees a large sign on the fence announcing, “Future home of Jin Industries Moling Satellite Campus.” Typical.

In your own way.

He never asked what Lan Huan meant by that. Lan Zhan has won multiple awards for his reporting, for his ability to encourage others to talk. The right facial expression at the right time. A direct, polite question with just the right emphasis. Merciless is what they say about him, sometimes. He’s like a swordsman in an old movie, Nie Mingue used to say, in a way that sounded like a compliment. He moves so quick and so sharp, you don’t even know he’s cut you until you’re around the corner and your head falls off.

He’s poking at it like a sore tooth, needlessly. His golden core makes itself known, just a little sense, a small awakening. It’s always ready to defend him, even so many years later. He does nothing with the awareness, of course. No cultivation is authorized outside of combat. But his core was never removed, never shut down. Can’t put the hot sauce back in that bottle, Jiang Cheng had said once.

The train slows, stops.

“Moling station. Depart here—” The pleasant voice is cut off by a beeping. Lan Zhan stands and shoulders his bag.

“Attention passengers,” a crackled voice comes over the loudspeaker, far less pleasant than the recording. “Due to a security concern all passengers must depart the train at car fourteen. Doors will not open except for car fourteen. Departing passengers, please make your way to car fourteen.”

Lan Zhan looks around the car, then sees a “3” on the far wall. He sighs and follows the few people who are struggling with the connecting door to car four. The chimes that gently demand Get off the damn train are going. He has to speedwalk down the aisle, which is undignified, and everyone looks up at him with that poor bastard expression reserved for torn grocery bags and flat tires.

He makes it off the train a second before the door closes and it pulls away.

“Close one!” an old man grins at him, more humor than teeth.

The police have roped off most of the platform, everyone standing around looking at each other. A few are smoking. Lan Zhan goes over to the rope, coming up next to a kid with one of those handheld electronic games. The kid’s staring around at the cops while his game beeps vaguely in a lonely sort of way.

“What’s happened?” Lan Zhan asks him.

The kid answers without looking at him. “Abandoned bag. Nothing’s happening.” He sounds disappointed.

“Hm.” Sure enough, there’s a nondescript green backpack slumped on a bench.

“They always say it might blow up, but it never does.”

“Not so much these days,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“Like, if it was gonna blow up they wouldn’t be smoking near it, right?”

Lan Zhan smiles despite himself. “Good eye,” he says. His golden core is settled within him, curling beneath his breastbone like a sleeping cat, uninterested and unconcerned. No danger.

There had been a certain amount of withdrawal, after the war. And grief, and nightmares, and a limp for a while. But the end of regular cultivation, of relying on his golden core as a seventh sense, a second consciousness, a second self, the end of healing himself from the inside, of Wangji at his back and power at his fingertips . . .

It’s not entirely the government’s fault, if he’s being fair. Governments have always thrown away veterans, no matter who is in power. Always have, always will. Use you up and spit you out with maybe some benefits and the number of some overtaxed and underpaid case worker. And cultivation, being both new and more ancient than anything, was an unknown since the beginning. There are no peer-reviewed studies on the long-term effects of using a golden core. If Jin Guangyao hadn’t been doing his own research with the Wens for all those years, only to defect back to his father’s side when the tide began to turn, there wouldn’t have been a cultivator corps at all. So Lan Zhan can’t put the responsibility on any one person’s shoulders.

But it still claws at him, sometimes. His core wants out, wants to stretch, to strike, to light something up. It’s like wrapping his head in blankets, sometimes, stifling and muffled and hard to breathe.

Jin Zixuan likes to talk about it, how it feels. Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng do not.

He checks his watch and picks up his pace, passing by another building down the block under renovation with a Jin Industries sign. The logo is close enough to the Sunshot flag that the government connection is implied, but different enough for plausible deniability.

Lan Qiaolian is leaning on her car a few blocks away, exactly where she said she’d be. Lan Zhan appreciates it—they’ve met only once, and he doesn’t trust his ability to pick her out in a crowd. She’s a short woman, but solidly built. Doesn’t look like a Lan, is what his uncle would say.

“Lan Zhan!” she waves to him and drops her cigarette on the pavement. “Thanks for coming.”

He nods and takes his place in the passenger seat. The drive to the Moling Children’s Center is quiet for a while. The Center is near Yilong’s old gym; he remembers the road.

“You had a meeting with the detective?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“Yeah. Still stonewalling me. Everything’s fucking confidential. They say they’ve canvassed the neighborhood, everywhere between the school and the bus stop and home. But it’s like everyone saw him walking home with his cousin, his cousin turns around for a minute to chase a damn neighborhood cat up a tree, and Sizhui is just . . . gone. How does a kid just disappear like that?”

“But this lead?”

“The administrator I talked to at the Center said they might have something, some record of where he was born. Maybe someone from his birth family has been looking for him, would take him? There’s just— Even if the records do exist, if they weren’t destroyed, I don’t know who has access. And he’s just a kid, you know? I’m not special. We’re not special. So I can’t think of anything but the worst. You know what happens to kids, especially if they take them West, I know they sell—”

“You don’t know,” Lan Zhan cuts her off, gently. “No one knows. No reason to go down that road unless the evidence points there.”

Lan Qiaolian rubs her face. “I just don’t know what the evidence is.”

“We’ll find something. I have a hunch.”

He does not have a hunch. He doesn’t believe in hunches. Or, rather, he didn’t before he started cultivating. Now he believes in the extra-sensory perception of his golden core, which he has been ordered—and signed pages of documents agreeing—to never use it again.

Either way, he’s learned that the general public like hunches. It’s comforting, apparently, someone taking the lead off of no information. It doesn’t make much sense, but most reassuring things don’t.

“I can’t help thinking—” Lan Qiaolian trails off, tapping her thumb on the steering wheel. “Maybe he left because of me.”

This is not a comfortable situation. Lan Zhan should respond with Of course not, don’t think like that. But for all he knows it could be true. He doesn’t really know Lan Qiaolian, and he certainly doesn’t know Lan Sizhui.

All he knows are the facts. Lan Qiaolian began fostering Lan Sizhui a year ago, when he was eight. It was just the two of them until a few weeks ago when Lan Sizhui went missing. It’s not his job to find missing children, but they are technically family, and if there’s some kidnapping or a dangerous part of Moling where children are falling into holes in the ground, that’s a story.

“Why would you think that?” It’s not as gentle, maybe, but it’s useful.

“I got laid off a few years ago. A lot of us did, mass layoffs.”

“Construction?”

“Yeah. Everyone from site managers to the detailers to— well, everyone. One whole firm shut down. So I thought, you know, I’d be home for a while, I got some unemployment, so maybe it would be a good time to finally start fostering. You know? I could stay home until he got adjusted, then when he started school I’d have found something new.”

“And he was happy?”

Lan Qiaolian smiles. “He’s always happy. He’s a real happy kid. Whatever he went through when he was little, he doesn’t seem to remember. Makes friends easily, fine by himself. He’s a dream. But maybe he was just good at showing me what I wanted to see. You know? Coming from a traumatic background like that, being in the system. You know, kids learn how to survive.”

“If he seemed happy, I’m sure he was.”

She sighs. “I just— The work never came back. The last six, seven months I’ve been calling everywhere I can think of. Even considered moving. Nothing. And so it’s been tight, even though it’s just the two of us. I figured with my husband’s life insurance we’d be fine until I found something, but I didn’t anticipate it taking this long. I’ve got some unemployment, but the support payments from fostering messed with my benefits. And so it’s been tight. And maybe he— You know, the secondhand clothes, no takeout, no games. Not getting to go on the school trips because I can’t pay the— I can’t help thinking, maybe all that time in the system, he must’ve been dreaming about a home, you know, what it would be like. And then when it wasn’t—”

“That’s a lot of conjecture.”

She laughs. “True. I just— The brain, it spins. You know?”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan looks out the window at the familiar neighborhood, then startles a bit. “Did they tear down the market?”

Qiaolian glances over. “Oh, yeah. Couple months ago. No more independent groceries in this part of town anymore. Not that most people could afford it at the end. They tried to stick it out, but the big chains moved in after the war, got those tax breaks.”

“Ah. ‘Economic revitalization.’”

She laughs again.

“So, if I can ask,” he starts, glancing out of the corner of his eye to gauge her response. “On the train I noticed building sites. Jin Industries?”

Her jaw clenches. “They’re not hiring.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“We’ve all tried. They’ve bought up half of Moling, and whoever’s running the construction’s not hiring local. Union’s totally shut out.”

“Really?”

“I’ve tried, okay? I’ve called so many—” she cuts off with a frustrated noise.

“Forgive me. It wasn’t a criticism. I’m just curious.”

She nods curtly. “We’re here.”

The administrator who has agreed to meet with them has black toner smudged up the inside of her left forearm and a framed picture of a cat on her desk. She offers Lan Zhan room temperature water in a cracked coffee mug.

“So you’re my eleven o’clock, right? Okay, right.”

“That’s an old flag,” Lan Zhan says, nodding up at the wall behind her. “I haven’t seen that design for a while.”

For the most part, it’s a standard Sunshot, but in addition to the golden hand and red sun, thin black lines reach up the palm like branches.

The administrator looks surprised, turning around to it. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, I don’t have time to keep up with all that. We have to pay for our own, you know. We’re required to hang a flag in every room but the bathroom, but it comes out of our general operating budget. The official ones aren’t cheap.”

Lan Qiaolian chuckles. “My cousin got it tattooed right after he got discharged. He was pissed when they got rid of the black squiggles in the update. I told him, that’s why you gotta think for more than a week before you make a permanent decision, you know?”

The administrator smiles politely. “Anyway. Let me see here.” She starts digging through her pile of folders. “Lai, Lai—”

“Lan,” Lan Zhan corrects.

“Sorry?”

“The name, it’s Lan.”

“Right! Right, okay, Lan. Lan . . . Here we go. Lan . . . Qiaolian. Foster mother. Yes?”

Qiaolian nods.

“And you are?”

“Family,” Lan Zhan says.

“Right. Okay, let’s see. Lan Sizhui, age nine.”

Lan Zhan leans forward. “Anything you can tell us about where he came from, his life before Lan Qiaolian met him?”

She clicks her tongue and runs a finger down the page. “War orphan, typical story. Moved around, a bit once he got to Gusu. No injuries or disabilities. Hearing and sight all good, average height. Slightly underweight, but that’s not unusual.”

“When did he arrive here?”

“At our facility? Looks like ‘98.”

“So he wasn’t here long before you got him,” Lan Zhan looks to Lan Qiaolian.

“Yeah, I guess. We don’t really talk about his past. That’s what the counselors recommend. You’re supposed to wait until they volunteer, you know? You don’t ask first.”

“Any idea where he came from? Birth family?”

The administrator clicks her tongue again, flips a few pages. Lan Zhan catches a sight of a grainy printed photograph, a kid looking around six, big chubby cheeks and shaggy long hair.

“Came in through law enforcement. No note of any charges or juvenile detention, so likely if he had surviving family they lost custody due to a criminal conviction. Looks like the child didn’t offer any details to counselors or placement. Um, looks like Sizhui was the name he got here.”

Lan Qiaolian frowns. “You named him? That’s not his birth name?”

“Common practice, especially if we have multiple kids with the same given name. He never gave a family name—Likely he either didn’t know his parents or forgot after being in the system for a while. A-Yuan is what he was called when he got here.”

“Yuan,” Lan Zhan turns it over in his mouth. “Something Yuan. Any record of where he was born?”

“Mmm, can’t be sure. But he entered the system in Yiling.”

“Yiling?”

“Yep. First registered into care in Yiling, 1995.”

Lan Zhan looks back up at the flag. The others must be thinking the same thing. Yiling in 1995, the Sunshot Massacre. But that’s a ridiculous thought—there were no survivors then, and plenty of other battles, bombings, one-off murders in the area at the end of the war.

“No family names though?” Lan Qiaolian asks. “Any record of someone who might be looking for him, might want him back?”

The administrator suddenly yawns hugely, covering her mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry. No, no siblings, no recorded birth family. I’m so sorry, I haven’t been sleeping.”

“It’s all right,” Qiaolian says.

“I live over on the East side. They’re building some new damn complex, pounding in pilings at all hours of the night.”

“At night?” Qiaolian asks. “Why?”

The woman sighs. “I don’t know. Lights coming in the windows at one in the morning. I had to dig out my old curtains, thank goodness I still have them. Wake up in the middle of the night thinking the bombing’s started up again, ha, the banging and the lights. We’ve been complaining, but the company offered all the neighbors a settlement stop reporting it. Two months’ rent, we couldn’t turn it down.”

“Lots of construction,” Lan Zhan says, carefully. “Unusual construction.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the administrator shrugs. “I just hope they finish up quickly. My cats are getting stressed to death.”

“Have you noticed— Never mind.” Qiaolian chews her lip.

“Noticed what?”

“The site over by me, there’s a lot of trailers.”

“Like trailers you live in?”

“They look similar—usually there’s a double-wide or two for an on-site office, break area, you know. The site by us there’s a dozen at least. I just find that odd.”

“I haven’t noticed. Maybe. I don’t know, I try to ignore it. Whatever office complex or hotel or whatever it is, I don’t need it.”

The administrator flips through the file again. “I’m afraid that’s about all I can give you. Yiling might have more information—I think the children’s home there moved a couple years ago so files might have been lost, but it’s worth an ask. Signature on the transfer form looks like a Xie Ling. It’s not a huge town, anyway, could be someone remembers the kid, or the family. Local police or courts maybe, if they keep decent records.”

Lan Zhan and Lan Qiaolian exchange a glance.

“Sounds like I’m going to Yiling,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, then hands his card to the administrator. “If you think of anything, or hear anything.”

She takes it. “Gusu Herald? You’re not going to mention the flag thing, right? We’re compliant with everything, this one’s just a mistake.”

“I doubt you’ll even be mentioned. I’m just following the story.”

She looks doubtful. “Okay. We’re compliant, though.”

“I work for a newspaper, not the government.”

She snorts. “Yeah. Okay. ”

It twists a little in his stomach, but he nods at her politely as they leave.

The hallway takes them past a large window showing some kind of playroom. Three adults huddle around a low table, arguing in hushed tones, while a child who looks around four plays by himself with a few scratched up toy cars. The child has a cast on one arm, rolling one car at a time solemnly around on the carpet. He looks up as they pass him and tracks them all the way down the hallway. Lan Zhan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck even as they go out into the sunshine.

“Did Sizhui talk about anybody here?” Lan Zhan asks as they get back in the car. “Any friends at the group home, or children he knew when he was younger?”

“Not really. I was worried he’d have a hard time making friends, because he always seemed so content playing by himself. It’s why I was so glad he had Jingyi, his cousin. He’s the same age. He’s the one who was with—” Qiaolian breaks off, blinking hard. “Sorry. Long day.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says. He should say something else like It’s okay. It will be fine. We will find him. But he doesn’t, because that would probably be a lie. His silence rises like water in the car, over his mouth, his nose, stifling.

Do not be needlessly cruel.

“Yiling,” Lan Zhan says, to fill the space.

“Fucking Yiling,” Qiaolian agrees.

“I’ll go this weekend.”

“What? You can’t just take off across the country.”

“I haven’t taken vacation in three years. I can go.”

“Lan Zhan—”

“I will go. I’m not saying I will find him, but I will go.”

Lan Qiaolian doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride. When she drops him at the station, she just nods, lips pressed tight together.

“I will call you,” he says. She nods again and he gets out.

He stops by the payphone on the way in to the station to call the office.

“Can I talk to Lan Shu? Yes, thank you.” He waits while the call is transferred down to the basement. “Hi, Lan Shu. Have we got anything from Yiling? Anything we’ve covered. Is there a local paper there? I haven’t—”

Lan Shu snaps her gum on the other end of the line. He pulls the receiver away from his ear, wincing. It’s a very wet sound. “Yeah, I got some. I’ll check our clippings, but they’ve got some shitty local rag. A weekly, I think.”

“Please pull that for me. I’m looking for 1995, don’t know what month.”

“Eh, looks like it’s only been running a couple years. First edition I have is April ‘98.”

Lan Zhan taps his finger, thinking. “I’ll take everything you’ve got. Any of our coverage from ‘95.”

“So, Sunshot.”

“And anything else we covered.”

Lan Shu laughs around her gum, “What else is there? No one gave a shit about Yiling before Sunshot, and nobody’s given a shit since.”

Lan Zhan sighs. “Just pull what you can find. Please. I’ll be by in an hour and a half.”

He hangs up before she can snap her gum again. It gives him a headache, the wet sound.

He grabs a copy of the Herald for the train ride back. Instead of reading, he flips through the entire paper looking for one word: Yiling. He finds three mentions: once as the birthplace of a soccer player (a rags-to-riches story), once as the site of a hailstorm in the weather section, and once, as expected, in reference to the Sunshot Massacre.

He hasn’t thought about it much before. He’s never been to Yiling, but there’s never really been a reason. Even before the war it was a small, poor, middle of nowhere town with low property values, high crime rates, and the worst literacy numbers in the country. It was shitty, but not in an interesting way. Qinghe was always shitty but exciting—drug kingpins and porn producers and a famous red light district. It’s become more respectable since the war, though it’s kept some of it’s sleazy veneer. Lan Huan likes to visit, says there’s a good arts scene, but Lan Zhan has never been tempted. He traveled a lot during the war, but since returning home he’s never really felt the urge. For a while it was justified. Recovery. But five years? Maybe he’s more than comfortable, now. Maybe he’s stagnating.

Lan Shu gives him two-and-a-half years of weekly papers in a brown paper bag and slim folder of photocopied clipping from the Herald’s own files. He hauls it all home on the bus piles them neatly by year on the coffee table, then settles in with a cup of tea to read. There are empty gum wrappers in the bottom of the bag.

The Yiling Observer is a quick read, only eight pages in its first edition. There are no bylines, oddly, no editors listed, no photographs, just one phone number and a street address in the masthead. The stories are . . . not quite what he expected. No gruesome crimes or depressing statistics. Just coverage of a local amateur basketball tournament, a car accident that took out a storefront, an interview with a grandmother about her vegetable garden. Small stories, almost defiantly local, but clearly and concisely written. Professional. A recipe for xiao long bao attributed to a Mrs. Yi.

He flips to the back page, under the fold. Whatever it says in bold.

This is your humble author’s own column, where our fearless and frightening editor has given me these few inches to write whatever I like. Hence the name, Whatever. Today we’re going to talk about the Sunshot Flag, or as I like to call it, “Hey, let’s slap reminders of a war crime up on every building in the country, that’s a great idea.”

Lan Zhan snorts. Whoever the writer is, they’re not wrong. He gets up to heat more water and adds to his list of things to do on the kitchen counter. Read all of the newspapers. Call the HR department and schedule a few days of vacation, maybe a week. Wait until his uncle sees it on the out of office calendar and calls him in a huff to explain the story. Book a train ticket to Yiling. Make an appointment at children’s services. Find a hotel. Ask Lan Huan to water his plants. Do laundry.

He feels better with a list, like all of the static of potential responsibilities has focused into a clearly intelligible sound inside his skull.

He goes back to the paper.

And before you complain—and I know some of you will—you’re the one reading my paper. Maybe someday you’ll have better options and can use this only for lining your bird cages, but for now I’m the best you got. That’s Yiling, baby.

Part Five

#assorted writings #pick up every piece #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #postwar journalist au #i hate plot

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mystilotls · 3 years

Text

Tokyo Soul AU: Chapter one

Song: Cabinet Man

Tw: Implied gore, implied death, violence, shipping

This is for the peeps who don’t watch TS, these chapters are for the plot of this au.

also PLEASEEEEEEE send me asks ( @ask-mystis-aus ) im opening an “ask the characters event with drawn reactions so-

Enjoy, (no grammar check, we fail like men)

Long ago in a dimension where time doesn’t exist, where every up is a down, Where space is irrelevant, and when Cthulhu ruled with his army of demons, inflicting terror and darkness to all.

However, there was one soldier in the army that seemed more powerful than the rest.

This demon went by many names but to mere mortals, he was referred to as Necro.

Necro could manipulate all, even the dead, Necro could summon anyone or anything at will, Necro possesses all knowledge of any dimension he sets foot in, and most importantly, it is dangerous to make a deal with him. For if you shake his hand, the consequences could be dire.

Demons found Necro’s powers to be too catastrophic and after a long war between them, Necro, and Cthulhu, the demons of the realms were victorious.

Cthulhu was banished to R’lyeh where he built up the once fallen empire he had.

As for Necro?

Necro was trapped in a spellbook, and to add insult to injury, his prison was labeled as the “Necronomicon”. The Necronomicon was banished to a far void, where it was rare for anyone to even find it.

Even when the Necronomicon was found, He is forced to share his wisdom of the dimensions he has traveled to and or harmed. He watches as wars break and mass genocide all from trying to obtain him.

He loves watching but he vows, one day, someone will free him and he will return.

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

“That’s the book we need!” a voice had exclaimed, it seemed to have belonged to a young man with an accent that is different from his colleagues

Necro had gotten up from the corner he normally sat in, at first spending unbearable moments with nothing but dribbling fools constantly grabbing your cell and splattering blood of their former friends on you can get irritating, but since there was nobody to bother him, he often learned to meditate and ignore his surroundings.

Until now.

However, these mortals seem like a change of pace for once. Necro crawled over to where the seeing eye is and looks out to see a bag of flesh grabbing his cover, he tries to remember what lifeform this was and had come to the conclusion that these were creatures from the Earth dimension. Necro never was able to take over this world but he heard stories that the smartest creatures...humans were just as if not more as primitive than the other idiots he had slaughtered like the sacks of meat they are.

These humans seemed like no exception.

Necro looked back and thought this was too easy, none of these fools know what the Necronomicon truly is. All the easy to watch as they destroy themselves. Just a simple compliment or a simple suggestion and he already knows there is going to be delicious anarchy everywhere.

Necro watched as he was being held by the obvious animal hybrid of a human and a long-eared rat humans call rabbits. Necro could easily tell behind the dirty rabbit beanie this mortal calls a disguise.

“It called the Necronomicon” “good eye, genius” Necro mumbled hearing the echo of the freak holding his book and wonders Since he looks like a freak in his dimension, would he be an easy pawn and not clash with his army. He eventually got his attention drawn to the young man from before.

“Oh no, no! No, I’m out” Necro watches from the seeing eye and grins wickedly. This human is smart enough to know his left from his right yet dumb enough to fall for all types of manipulation

He is perfect.

~ Necro groaned listening to them babble on about nothing that interests him. He then chuckled when his “friends” started to insult him. This is just too easy. He had been talking to the rabbit hybrid but his insults were to no avail. Meanwhile the blond, the rabbit had broken him so much that a simple insult or a compliment could make him all his.

“As ugly as a wart too,” Necro said, loud enough for all of them to hear and he got the blond’s attention. Great, now to add gas to this unstable fire.

He tries to hide his grin as the rabbit hands over the Necronomicon to the blond. This pawn seemed easier to control since the rabbit is too broken and too wrapped up in his own fantasies, it would just be a waste of time.

Necro was grabbed out of his thoughts when he was spat on by the blond.

“Well that was a bit unnecessary” Necro mumbled

“This is too boring and such a waste of time to try and get out of this damn book,” Necro thought as he just laid in the void. If only he had his actual body, then he could just watch as Cthulhu’s armies could mow down all these useless souls. Watching as they beg for mercy but then vaporate mid-sentence, at least then it would be a little fun.

He got up and floated around in a sitting position. He thought it was time to try something different

“Take out the nurse. End him” Necro whispered in the blond’s ear. He saw the rabbit’s ears perk up and walk to the other young male.

“The Necronomicon wants us to kill Dr. Nurse, dude!”

“And you want to listen to a TALKING BOOk”

Necro sucked air through his teeth, he may not listen to him now but he soon will. He looked through the seeing eye and saw

Cthulhu, in the body of some sort of walking creature that apparently lives in their water, all he knows is that this animal shouldn’t be walking on land.

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

Grian held the Necronomicon during his date with Silly. It was more of a peer pressure date (he liked Silly in a sisterly way) but he was confused. He thought he was with Taurtis.

Taurtis comes to his bed every night for cuddles and Tuesdays are a day when they can be all alone, but was Taurtis just using him to relieve tension, just his constant play toy for him to use while he goes dating other girls?

Taurtis keeps claiming that he is just taking the girl out for a date so she can help him “get his hair back” but the half-shaved head works for Taurtis. However, he is growing his hair back and that’s all that matters.

Suddenly, this cursed book ripped him away from his thoughts. The Necronomicon had been whispering to Sam yet Grian was the one to have to listen. While Sam went to go get Jorje from Mr. Chupa, Grian looked and saw many shadows of arms grab for Grian’s. They wrapped around him before reaching for his face, cupping his cheek before grabbing for his throat. His eyes went white as he gasped for air.

Grian screamed before tripping and falling to the floor, panting heavily. Silly had rushed to help him up. He looked at his hands to see the shadows gone and all of the students and Mr. Chupa stare at him in confusion.

“Grian, are you oka-?” Silly’s gentle question of worry was interrupted when Grian got up and ran upstairs, Silly could see him with eyes of fear and worry.

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

Grian ran into a bathroom stall before slamming the door. He threw the Necronomicon and opened it to see the undecipherable font which is on every page. He growled before ripping the pages right out of the book, ignoring all the pained grunts from the disembodied voice. Using the sound of torn paper to encourage him.

“Why do you do this, why do you put up with what you do. Cthulhu told me you wanted to go home, that’s not what you really want. I may be a book but I can read you like an open one. You just want respect, You just want to be loved, You want to be wan-”

“SHUT UP!” Grian screamed as he threw the damaged book on the floor, huffing as he glared into the seeing eye which he couldn’t tell if it winked or blinked.

“I’m not just a book you know” Grian gasped as he heard a whisper right in his ear, nobody was behind him but he could feel a weight on his shoulders as if someone was trying to be comforting. It sent shivers through him as he shook it off.

“I can give you respect, I can make people listen to you, I can help you get all the power you deserve” Grian pushed against the door. His eyes wide as he tries to get his bearings straight. This isn’t the weirdest thing by a longshot but something about this made him uneasy. He looked down to the seeing eye and saw red.

“All you need to do is-”

SMASH

Grian stomped on the eye of the book and kept stepping on the cover. He heard a chuckle and soon laughter

“Well, thats all I need, Thanks for the invite~”

A dark mass appeared from the seeing eye before it rushed into Grian’s lungs. He fell and hit his head on the bathroom floor, passing out.

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

Taurtis was starting to be concerned about Grian, he just stopped talking for the rest of the day, he wouldn’t even look at them or let go of the Necronomicon. Taurtis waited for Grian to come out of the bathroom so they could cuddle, he sleeps better on a bed than a mat but he feels more comfortable with another human next to him

Meanwhile, Grian looked at his hands before looking in the mirror, seeing his reflection gaining red pupils and sharp, dagger teeth

“Ah, It feels great to have a body again” Grian chuckled before hearing the bathroom door knock.

#original post #original au #Tokyo Soul #yandere high school #yandere highschool #ts #yhs #samgladiator #taurtis #taurian #grian #yhs grian #ts grian #yhs taurtis #ts taurtis #Tokyo Soul au book series

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prettybuckybaby · 3 years

Text

we lay here for years or for hours, so long we become the flowers; chapter four

the avengers babysit, part two

part seven of single parent peter parker

masterlist

read on ao3 here

“Hey, you wanna ditch this thing tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, babe. You’re telling me you don’t wanna attend a lecture from one of NYU’s most prestigious lecturers on the dramatic structure of Macbeth? Sounds like a real hoot to me,”

“You’re such a dick. Are we ditching or not?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

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

Most of the avengers are in the common area. Tony and Pepper are in a meeting and it’s Tuesday, so Natasha and Leia are having their secret dance lesson, but the rest of them are sprawled in various positions across the room. Peter is sitting on the floor in front of the table, attention split between the chemistry homework in front of him and his phone.

“Hey, Mr Barton?” He asks when he puts his phone down and picks his pen back up.

“Are we ever going to graduate to first names?” The archer asks him, frown on his face. “Nat lets you call her ‘Tasha’, and I’m still ‘Mr Barton’. I mean, even robo-cop gets ‘Buck’ every now and then,”

“May raised me to be respectful, Mr Barton. I’m just respecting my elders,” Peter grins up at him, eyes sparkling. “Plus, I called Tasha ‘Miss Romanoff’ once and I have never felt fear like it before,”

“And Barnes?”

“He asked me to call him Bucky,” Peter explains with a small shrug.

“Will you call me Clint?”

“Sure thing,” Peter smiles at him. Clint smiles back, thinking he’s gotten his way. “Hey, Mr Clint,”

“Oh my God,” Sam snorts from across the room, where he, Steve, and Bucky are throwing a ball between themselves. “You are the worst. You are my least favourite child. You should let Keener know that he’s overtaken you,”

“That’s rude, Mr Clint,” Peter pouts up at him. “I’m just respecting you. Let me respect you, Mr Clint,”

“For the love of all things holy, Peter, shut the hell up,” Clint glares at him. Peter tries his best to look innocent, but he can’t stop his lip from twitching. “What do you want?”

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He narrows his eyes at the teen.

“Why?”

“Well, Harley and I have got this lecture thing on at school. And it’s like, a mixed school event thing, and it’s an all-day thing. If it was just an hour or something, I’d take her with me, but it’s all day and I don’t want her to get bored, you know? Anyway, it’s Wednesday, and Leia doesn’t go to group on Wednesdays, so I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with her?” He asks, words rushing out of his mouth. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I can ask someone else, but she hasn’t seen you for a while and-”

“I’d love to see her,” Clint cuts him off, grinning brightly. “The whole day? Absolutely not an issue.”

“Thanks,” Peter smiles, before it falls into a small frown. “Please do not let her touch your arrows again. If there is any sign of blood on her, you’re never seeing her again.” The teen threatens.

“I’m not irresponsible, Parker,” Clint scowls as he defends himself. “How was I meant to know she could reach them? They were on the countertop. She’s tiny,”

“She’s three,” Peter says slowly, as if this explains everything. “Three-year-olds do that. Didn’t your kids do that when they were growing up?”

“Well,” Clint shifts. “Laura was abundantly clear that I was not allowed arrows around the house when they were in their grabbing stages. Or any time after that. So, no. They never managed to reach a quiver of arrows that were on a countertop taller than them and cut their hand.”

“Yeah,” Peter rolls his eyes, turning back to his chemistry work with a small smile on his face. “You should implement Mrs Barton’s philosophies everywhere that there are children running around. She’s really onto something, you know?”

“Yeah, alright, smartarse,” Clint rolls his eyes, throwing a ball of paper at Peter’s head without looking up. The teen bats it away without looking up. “What time are you dropping her off at?”

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

Peter’s at the tower at seven the next morning, just as Clint is waking up. He stumbles into the kitchen and is immediately tackled by a toddler.

“Ugh,” Clint groans as the little body crashes into his legs. One of his hands rest on the top of her head. “Where do you get your energy from. I’m still asleep,”

“The sun’s awake, Clint,” Leia smiles up at him, eyes bright. “So ‘m I,”

“Uh huh,” The archer mumbles, ignoring the small laugh coming from Peter.

“Am I okay to leave her with you?” The teen asks, handing Clint a cup of coffee, voice filled with amusement. “Should I-”

“I’m awake,” He insists, downing the entire cup before almost slamming it down on the counter. Peter raises his eyebrow at him. “I am. Aren’t you meant to be in school?”

“I’m waiting for Harley,” The teen tells him, taking his phone out when a text tone goes off. “He’s downstairs.” He puts his phone back away and bends down in front of his daughter. “Hey, you’ll be good for Mr Clint, yeah?”

“Uh huh, Daddy,”

“Good,” He kisses her cheek, ruffling her hair as he stands up. “I’ll be back around three?”

“Okay, kid,” Clint smiles as Leia comes back over to him, hugging his leg. “Have fun at your lecture…thing,”

“Oh, it’s going to be a blast,” Peter rolls his eyes as he walks over to the lift. “See you later. I love you!”

“Love you, Daddy,”

“Love you, Pete!” The teen steps into the open lift, sticking his finger up at the archer. “Wow. What happened to the respect, Parker?”

“Goodbye, Mr Hawkeye-Barton, Sir.” He calls as the doors shut, smirking lightly. “No arrows!”

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

Clint starts by himself breakfast, eating it while he lets Leia watch one of her shows. He asks Leia if she wants anything, but she tells him that she had breakfast with her father back in Queens, so he just hands her a pouch of juice while he eats. A few of the others come through the kitchen while they’re in there, all of them smiling and sitting down with Leia, asking her about the show that she’s watching.

“Right then,” He grins at Leia once she’s come to the end of an episode and he’s finished eating and clearing up. “Shall we get started?”

“What we doin’, Clint?” Leia asks, looking up at him with a smile.

“Well,” He starts as he stands them both up, walking towards the lift. “Daddy said no arrows because he’s boring. But also, Daddy’s quite smart, and I quite like hanging out with you. So, I got you something, so we can still play with arrows,”

“Will Daddy be mad?” She asks as the lift starts moving down towards the training room Clint has set up for them.

“No,” Clint comforts her easily, grinning down at her. “Because we’re going to use special arrows, ones that can’t hurt anyone,” The doors open straight into the training room, and Clint leads Leia over to the corner where his arrows are kept. He sits down next to them, grabbing one of his quivers and a smaller one. “Okay,” He takes an arrow out of each of them. “These are the arrows I normally use, yeah? See this tip?” He pokes the top of the arrow, moving it away when Leia goes to copy the movement.

“Sharp?”

“Very sharp.” He nods and puts the arrow away. He takes one out of the smaller quiver. “These are special arrows. See, instead of a point, they’ve got a flat end,” He holds this arrow out to her, letting her touch the end. He laughs lightly when she frowns.

“How’s it stick?” She asks, poking the arrow again.

“Watch this.” Clint tells her. He licks the sucker on the end of the arrow, making sure Leia’s eyes are on him, and then slams the arrow onto his forehead. It sticks when he moves his hand away.

“You look like a un’corn,” Leia giggles at him, lifting a hand to bat at the arrow. It sways until Clint pulls it off.

“Yeah,” Clint chuckles. “So, as well as using special arrows, we’ve got a special board to aim at,” He points over to the archery targets on the other side of the room, where there’s a smaller, plastic target along with the many full-sized ones. He stands up, picking up the quiver and a small bow, and takes one of Leia’s hands in his empty one. They stop when they’re standing opposite the small target, where he hands the bow to Leia. “Okay, so. First, put your left hand here,” He points to the grip. “And your other hand pulls the string back,” He kneels down behind her, putting his hands over hers after her loads an arrow onto the string. He moves their hands as he speaks. “And then we pull back, and we’re trying to hit that yellow circle in the middle.”

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

By the time that Clint decides they should have lunch, Leia is at a stage where she can get an arrow on the target every time she shoots. A few of them end up in the centre of the target, but most of them land closer to the edge. Clint high fives her.

After they have lunch, where Steve and Sam join them, Clint takes her to his and Nat’s floor, away from the others.

“What’re we doin’ now, Clint?” Leia asks him when they sit down in their living area. Clint grins at her.

“I thought we could go on an adventure!”

“A’venture?” She asks, eyes going wide. Clint laughs as he nods.

“Yeah! But first, we need supplies.” He brings out Leia’s bag that Peter left with them this morning, and then moves towards the kitchen area. He comes back into the living room with a small box in his arms. “Okay. You need to pick some snacks and a couple of drinks, just in case you need a nibble,” Leia nods as she picks out a couple of pouches of her juice, along with a small bag of cookies and a banana. “Okay. You put them in your bag with this,” He reaches onto the couch and picks up a Leia-sized blanket.

“Okay, Clint,” She grins as she stuffs everything into the backpack and pulls the zips shut. “Can Bearbear come?”

“Of course he can,” The archer smiles. “Okay, last thing. Do you know what this is?” He asks as he pulls a roll of paper out of his back pocket and spreads it out over the floor.

“Um,” Leia thinks for a moment before peering up at the man. “Treasure map?”

“Yeah! Sort of,” He grins again. “But, there isn’t really any treasure, so it’s really just a map. You know what it’s a map for?” Leia frowns as she looks over the map before shaking her head. “Well, you know sometimes I go into the ceiling?” He laughs when her whole face lights up.

“We’re goin’ into the ceilin’?” She nearly bounces where she’s sat with excitement, making Clint laugh again.

“Yeah. We’re going to explore the whole tower. This is a map of all of the vents. See how they’re all connected?” She nods her head as he runs his finger along the printout before his finger stops. “We’re going to start here, which is right over there,” He points to the vent that is situated above the cupboards in their kitchen area. Leia giggles as Clint picks her and her backpack up, making sure she’s holding onto Bearbear and stands her up on the counter. He pushes himself up as well and lifts her up to the vent cover. “Okay, push up on that, and then move it forwards.”

“Wow,” Leia gasps as she climbs into the tunnel. She crawls forward, giving Clint enough space to climb in as well and put the cover back over the vent.

“Let’s go this way, first.” Clint tells her, pointing down the tunnel.

They explore the vents for about an hour before Leia starts to yawn, and they get another half hour before she’s slowing down her crawling and her eyes are drooping shut.

“Hey,” Clint pokes her side gently, voice nearing a whisper. “You ready for a nap?” Leia opens her mouth to answer, but the only thing that comes out is a yawn. Clint laughs softly. “Yeah, I think so. Let’s get you comfy, sweetie pie,” He takes the blanket out of the bag on his shoulder and spreads it out over her, before pulling his jumper off his body. He rolls it up and tucks it under her head. He smiles softly when her eyes flutter shut. “Have a nice nap, precious.”

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

Peter and Harley arrive back at the tower at ten past three and go up to the common room. Everyone is there, apart from Tony, Pepper, Clint, and Leia.

“Hey,” Bruce smiles at them as they come into the room, both of them laughing at something. Everyone else offers their welcome when they notice the teens.

“Hi, Dr Banner,” Peter smiles at him as he takes a seat on the only seat left, groaning when Harley forces himself next to him. “Jesus, Harley,”

“You’re the one who’s taking over the whole chair,”

“How was your lecture?” Steve asks them, interrupting their bickering. He laughs when Peter groans. “That bad, huh?”

“She talked about Shakespeare for six hours.” Harley tells them, scowling slightly. “I mean, who cares about Shakespeare that much to listen to some old woman talk about him for six. Hours.”

“You slept through most of it,” Harley scoffs when Peter shoves against him. “You missed the exciting stuff. I, personally, had a wonderful day,”

“Absolute bull-”

“Where’s Clint?” Peter asks, cutting Harley off and ignoring him. He frowns when most of them shrug.

“Steve and I saw them at lunch, but we haven’t seen them since,” Sam tells him.

“I haven’t seen them since breakfast,” Bruce says.

“Bucky and I haven’t been in the tower,” Natasha frowns. “He said something about exploring somewhere, though, last night,”

“Oh.” Peter frowns as he pulls his phone out and clicking on Clint’s contact. The phone barely rings before he answers.

“Good afternoon, Parker,” Clint answers, grin clear through his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Where are you?”

“What?” Clint scoffs loudly. “No ‘Hello, Clint. Thanks ever so for babysitting for me today. You’re a real lifesaver. I hope you had fun!’?”

“I don’t sound like that. Where’s my kid?” Peter asks, scowling. He elbows Harley when he hears him snort out a ‘you definitely sound like that’ at Clint’s impression. “I’d quite like to know that she’s still alive.”

“She’s napping, at the moment,”

“Yeah, I figured. Stop avoiding the question. Where are you? I want to see her,” He frowns when he hears the hesitation.

“In my defence, I thought I had more time before she needed a nap. I lost track of time,” Peter sits up straight.

“Mr Barton, buddy, where are you?” His eyes narrow when he hears shifting above him. “Are you joking? Tell me you’re joking, please,” He ignores the way everyone in the room looks at him with concerned looks on their faces.

“Well, here’s the thing-”

“Why the hell did you let her fall asleep in the fucking vents?”

“She’s got a blanket and she’s got Bearbear. Everything is good, Peter,” The archer tries to sooth the teenager, but it doesn’t work.

“Everything is not ‘good’.” He almost growls down the line. “How long has she been asleep?”

“About-oh, hang on a second, she’s waking up.” Peter hears as Clint moves the phone away from his face. “Hey, sweetheart. You alright?”

“Where’s Daddy?” Peter smiles when he hears his daughter’s voice, heavy with sleep.

“Daddy’s downstairs. You wanna go and see him? Okay. We’ll be down in a second, Pete. Adios.” Peter rolls his eyes, forcing down a smile when Clint hangs up.

#peter parker #harley keener #clint barton #tony stark #single parent peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #irondad

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