#adamant about not letting him drink while hes there. its like. a safe space for him. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ransprang · 3 months

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thank you to anon for your support once more <3

if anyone else wants a personalized fic this is our ko-fi

part 1 here

Adam Taurus x fem! reader - Space AU - part 2

You were dreaming of featherlight touches and magnetic blue eyes when the sharp musical notes of your alarm startled you awake. You cracked an eye open and were rewarded with a sleep-mussed Adam watching you with the softest of smiles. Upon seeing you awake, Adam leaned over to give you a morning kiss, “Nothing better than starting my day off by seeing you.” He muttered, smiling as he played with your hair. You basked in the feeling of contentment for a few sleep-addled moments before realisation hit. “Oh my god!” You said, clambering to your feet.

Adam got up and hugged you from the back. “What’s wrong?”

“How am I going to get back to my room? In this state? Everyone’s gonna know,” you whispered to him. Adam turned you around wrapping his arms tighter, “Just take a shower here? I can get you whatever you need and then we can go get breakfast together.” He gave you one last kiss before he pulled away to start gathering your things. You agreed, and went into the washroom giggling, “Don't keep me waiting in the shower!”

After a few moments you heard the door creak open, Adam stepped inside wearing only his underwear. You eyed him up and down as he took it off in front of you. Watching his cock flop out, you felt your nipples harden. Adam stepped into the shower, placing his hands on your hips pulling you closer. You felt his hard, erect cock between your thighs. The water fell on you two, as you began sharing wet sloppy kisses.

After a while, you nudged him away, “I'll let you have me everywhere on this ship Adam, but not right now. We are getting late.” Adam smirked, “Everywhere? Now that's a challenge I'm willing to accept.” He chuckled, as he began soaping you up, sliding his hands across your body and massaging your shoulders. “Does it hurt anywhere, my love?“ You smiled at overly affectionate behavior. He was treating you as if you were made of glass. You wrapped your arms around him and shook your head. Letting the warm water wash over as you both stood in each other's embrace.

X-0-X

A few days later, the Celestial Voyager was once more ready for its journey. It was decided that the ship would head to the nearby tropical planet of Watelet which had newly started accepting visitors.

You were sharing a drink with Adam on a fine afternoon when the intercom crackled, taking its first breath after the crash. “Attention all,” Cece announced, “We are nearing Planet Watelet. All crew members prepare for landing. We will try to establish friendly communications and replenish supplies once we land.”

The Celestial Voyager's legs extended gracefully, making contact with the planet's surface in a gentle, smooth landing. The crew gathered behind Cece at the entrance of the ship. A crew member chirped from the back, “Atmosphere is within acceptable parameters. Safe to proceed.” Cece nodded curtly. The entrance of the ship hissed open letting in a strong, windy breeze.

As your eyes adjusted to your surroundings you saw humanoid figures with colorful hair, pointed ears, long sweeping tails and fish-scale like skin near the bottom of the ship. Cece and a few others approached them and although you couldn’t hear much of the conversation you could tell from their expressions that it was going well. The locals even put flower garlands on the crew members’ necks.

Cece returned to you all, “Thanks to the charismatic folk in our crew we have been invited to stay on this planet and replenish our supplies. Please refer to them as Wateletians. Luckily, most of them can speak our language and accept our currency. But there's still a lot we don’t know about their customs so remember to be respectful. You are free to explore as you please but the Wateletians would like to dine with us at sunset, so do gather at the town center around that time. That is all, you’re all dismissed.”

You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly and Adam chuckled. You both went inside to change into more comfortable clothing. The crew paired off into different groups while Adam and you waited till the coast was clear before leaving. The island was gorgeous. The planet had beaches filled with pearl coloured sand which kissed the silver waters dancing under the sunlight. Lush palm trees swayed gently along the shore, with emerald-green rainforests sprawling further inland across the planet. You smiled at the locals you passed by as you and Adam made a straight line for the beach.

You dragged Adam into the changing rooms where you purchased traditional Wateletian swimsuits made of vegetation. Choosing a simple design, you left the room to see Adam in a pair of trunks. You took a moment to appreciate his enticing form before yelling, “First one to the sea is a crashed spaceship!” Adam looked confused as you ran past him towards the water giving you a headstart. But he caught up quickly, adamant to beat you. You stepped foot into the silvery waters only moments after he did, but his smug expression made you feel like you had been lightyears away.

You were just catching your breath, when suddenly cold water splashed on your face breaking you out of your thoughts. Adam smiled, “Seems like you crashed, Explorer.” You splashed water back at him, making him take cover behind his arms. After some more play fighting and a couple of swimming races which Adam mostly won, you both decided to take a break on the sand. “Hey, look I think the crewmembers are playing volleyball with the Wateletians. Shall we join them?” Adam asked. You nodded eagerly and approached the group playing together.

The Wateletians explained the rules to you both. It was a slightly different version of volleyball nonetheless you enjoyed it. As you played you felt the back of your neck prickle. It felt like you were being watched. You looked around but couldn’t find anyone suspicious. Shrugging off the feeling you went back to enjoying the day.

X-0-X

As sunset neared, you all slowly began to head towards the Voyager to freshen up before dinner. You changed into a comfortable dress and headed to the grand dome-shaped building at the center of town. Wateletians dressed in stark white uniforms directed you inside where a large banquet hall had been prepared. The room was already buzzing with people as the crewmembers engaged in polite conversations with the locals. You and Adam were seated at one of the many round tables.

You sat down and immediately saw an orange scaley hand extend into your vision. Looking up you saw a Wateletian in a black suit with cotton candy colored hair waiting for you to shake his hand. “I’m D’Takuler the IV. And who are you my lovely?” You cringed slightly at the pet name but shook his hand and replied, “I’m Y/n.” He grinned eerily, displaying rows of pointed teeth, “A beautiful name for a beautiful human girl.”

“Thank you?”

D’Takuler sat down next to you, “Since you’re not from here I should inform you, I am one of the richest Wateletians on the planet,” he boasted. “My riches are so vast that they could fill this dining hall from top to bottom and there would still be more left over.” He looked to you for validation.

“That’s nice?” You replied uncertainly.

Before he could continue talking you turned to Adam instead and struck up a conversation with him and the Wateletian next to him called Krim, who was talking about the history of the planet. You listened in eagerly.

Soon enough all the tables were filled with people and the food was brought out. You had fun trying out the different seafood offered, but it was slightly dampened by D’Takuler who kept regaling you with tales of his bravery and exploits throughout the meal like the time he fought a Bragha, one of the most fearsome Wateletian beasts, with his bare hands. “I mounted its great big tusks above my bed. You should come see it sometime,” he winked at you. Adam did his best to change the topic whenever D’Takuler would begin bragging and flirting but the both of you were getting increasingly annoyed each time the pompous Wateletian opened his mouth.

The dessert arrived and you stared at the candied fish head, confused how to eat it. You poked at it with a fork. “That’s not how you do it, my lovely. Let me help,” D’Takuler said, moving uncomfortably close to you. “No, it’s alright-” you insisted but he wrapped an arm around you, putting his scaly fingers on top of yours trying to direct your movements. You pushed him away and tried to stand up but as you did you felt his hand trail down your spine and squeeze your rear. You gasped at the contact and heard D’Takuler laughing pervertedly, “Come now, don’t get shy, sweetie.”

Before your brain even had a thought, your hand moved to slap his cheek. It hit him with a resounding thwack making him drop his cutlery but instead of looking angry or chastised, the Wateletian began smiling as if he had won something. You looked around confused and met Krim’s eyes who whispered urgently, “Miss, quickly take it back.” The other Wateletians at the table were looking expectantly with mouths hanging open while Adam and the other crewmember just looked confused.

Outraged, you crossed your arms and declared loudly, “Take it back? Absolutely not, this man groped me! I apologise but I refuse to take it back and will do it again if he touches me.” You grew even more confused as D’Takuler began chuckling, “Joyous news indeed, oh Mother will be ecstatic.” The Wateletians in the room gasped and began scurrying around murmuring in their language.

“This is wonderful!” the Wateletian next to D’Takuler squeaked, “We should get started on the wedding preparations immediately. It’ll have to be the grandest occasion of the year!”

“Hang on, what do you mean wedding preparations?” You demanded.

“C’mon baby don’t get all shy now. I’ll be a good husband, promise. I’ll keep you satisfied in many ways,” D’Takuler leered.

Cece, who was at the table next to yours, overheard the conversation and stood, “Hold on, my explorer here is not getting married.”

A wizened Wateletian next to Cece, who you recognised as the Chief spoke up, “I’m afraid it is done. The honourable D’Takuler expressed his wishes of courting when he touched your explorer’s tail or rear end. When she slapped him in response, she accepted the proposal by touching his face.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said, horror pooling in your belly. “I’m not marrying this guy.”

D’Takuler feigned disappointment and smugly said, “Oh, and here I was ready to spend the entire night with my wifey.” D’Takuler took a step towards you making you step back, eager to put as much distance between yourself and him. As you moved you stumbled on something. Adam swooped down from behind you to pick up the utensils D’Takuler had dropped on the floor to prevent you from slipping. As he straightened, another wave of gasps and whispers spread across the dinner table.

“Now what is it?” Cece asked exasperatedly.

The Chief frowned, “It seems the marriage proposal has a contender. The Faunus has challenged D’Takuler to a duel.”

Adam looked at the knife clenched in his hand. “Perfect, I accept.” He replied before you or Cece could protest. He was seething with barely concealed cold rage as he glared at D’Takuler.

“Very well it is decided then,” the Chief concluded and dismissed everyone for the evening.

X-0-X

Both sides were given an hour’s time to gather their thoughts and prepare for the fight. You decided to spend that time with Adam at the beach. You couldn’t help but think it was barbaric, two men fighting over a woman’s hand like cavemen, but you were glad it was Adam. The bull faunus sat next to you on the sand, calmer now, gazing towards the silvery black ocean. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? He did beat a Bragha with his bare hands,” you said lightly.

Adam raised an amused brow, “That little faith in your bodyguard? It’s my job to protect you, Y/n. But I would be lying if I wasn’t looking forward to this fight, after that dinner,” he grimaced.

“Just be careful,” you muttered, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “But also beat him up properly for me. That guy needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Will do,” Adam chuckled. “Don’t worry I won’t let you get married to that creep.”

You both sat together in companionable silence till you spotted D’Takuler the IV walking towards you across the beach accompanied by an entourage of locals who were hooting and cheering. As they neared, you realised they were placing bets on who would win. The crew of the Voyager trailed behind them, shouting their own wagers.

“10 coins on Adam,” someone shouted.

“20,” someone else piped up.

“50 coins,” you added. Adam gave you a questioning look, and you smiled back. “Might as well earn some money,” you replied.

“10,000 coins,” D’Takuler’s obnoxious voice boomed. “It seems your people do not have much faith in you, Taurus,” he taunted. “Betting such a measly sum.”

You frowned, ready to bet a million coins as well as your first born child just to show how much faith you had in Adam but the he placed a hand on your shoulder stopping you.

“Y/n has already bet her hand in marriage on this fight, and you call that a measly sum? Shut up before you embarrass yourself further.”

D’Takuler’s orange skin turned a mottled pink, “Screw you, you’re coming in the way of our happiness, you filthy faunus.”

“Slimy fish-fucker,” Adam retorted.

The crowd formed a small circle, and both Adam and D’Takuler stepped in the center of it. D’Takuler had changed out of his dinner attire into an ornate gold loincloth, and several strings of metal jewellery criss-crossed across his bare orange chest. You were displeased to note his muscular build rivalled that of Adams. The Wateletian Chief stomped his feet, commanding the beginning of the fight while the rest of the Wateletians joined hands and began chanting in a low undertone.

The pair circled each other, building tension, then out of nowhere D’Takuler lunged forward. Adam tried to side-step but was too slow and absorbed the tackle with a grunt. He managed to stay on his feet and pushed the Wateletian onto the sand, retreating a few paces back. D’Takuler sprung to his feet quickly and continued tackling Adam, adding a few well-placed brutal kicks and punches. You winced as you watched. He was targeting Adam’s left side where he was missing an eye. Adam must have noticed the same thing since he began guarding that side more fiercely.

The fight went on for a while and you and the rest of the crew cheered and booed at every blow that landed. You wondered why Adam wasn’t going on the aggressive when you noticed D’Takuler was panting a lot more than Adam, who although bruised was slowly gaining an upper hand. Finally while D’Takuler was catching his breath, Adam launched himself at him, catching him off-guard. “Beat his ass!” you heard Cece shout next to you, foreign relations be damned.

D’Takuler tried to counter the tackle but Adam swung his fist before that and managed to land a sound punch on D’Takuler’s chin. The Wateletian landed heavily and thankfully did not move after that. A roar of cheers ripped through the crowd and you ran to hug Adam, who had sunk to his knees out of exhaustion.

The Chief announced Adam as the winner, declaring the sham engagement broken. The declaration was followed by another deafening roar of cheers from the crew but you barely heard any of that. Instead you looked towards Adam, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes and he gave you a weak but genuine smile. He was leaning heavily against you, his injuries more serious than he had let on. “You’re a free woman again, go celebrate,” he shouted in your ear, straining to be heard over the crowd. “First, we need to get you a doctor,” you yelled back. Adam hesitated but nodded and helped by some Wateletians, you both were taken to the infirmary.

The doctor quickly patched Adam up, smearing some healing ointment on his wounds and bandaging him up. Just as the doctor finished, Cece strode into the small room.

“Well, well how are my little love birds doing?” She asked cheerfully.

You felt your face heat up, “We aren’t-” you began to object.

Cece held up a tentacle, “Sure, sure. Hope your wounds aren’t too bad, Adam. Anyway you both will be happy to know, that little incident didn’t completely ruin our diplomatic relations with the Wateletians.”

You and Adam let out a sigh of relief. “Instead, after seeing that brazen display of passion, they’ve decided to host you in their honeymoon suite as an apology,” Cece announced gleefully.

“Honeymoon suite?” You asked in a strangled voice. “That really won’t be necessary.”

Adam cleared his throat awkwardly beside you.

“Nonsense, you should take it,” Cece said, shaking her head. “After the way that D’Tak-whatever treated you both, you should take the room and steal all the toiletries too. I won’t force you two, but at least have a look at the rooms first. From what I hear they used to be for hosting royalty,’ Cece added with a wink.

Both you and Adam exchanged a glance before reluctantly agreeing, careful not to seem overeager.

“Oh and one more thing before I forget,” Cece said before pulling out a sizeable leather pouch. “Your spoils from the fight for winning the bet,” she grinned, handing you a heavy sack of gold coins. Both you and Adam peered inside and he let out an impressed whistle. “Not enough riches to fill a banquet hall but definitely enough to go for a nice vacation somewhere,” he grinned.

After fussing over Adam’s wounds some more Cece left to join the crew in their celebrations. She invited the both of you to join her but you declined and instead made your way to the honeymoon suite she had mentioned.

You and Adam opened the door, and witnessed the grandeur of a double story, marble suite before your eyes. There was a blue hue to the room and the centre table was adorned with champagne, roses, and shell shaped dark chocolates. Adam poured two glasses of bubbling alcohol, and you both contently clinked them together before taking a sip. You picked up a piece of chocolate, feeding it to Adam sensuously. Feeling a slight buzz from the drink, Adam moved closer to you, and leaned in for a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders bringing him in deeper. Adam then pulled away from your lips, and continued kissing your cheeks, slowly moving down to your neck. He kissed and sucked sloppily, leaving his wet saliva slick against your skin with bright hickeys. With lust and alcohol clouding his eyes, Adam growled, “You are mine. Tonight I will remind you of who you belong to.” He held the back of your neck tightly, his lips moving close to yours, he said again gritting his teeth, “Can't wait to bury my dick inside of you.” He lifted you with your legs wrapped around his waist and began walking.

Your heart pumped fast with anticipation. You sucked on Adam’s earlobe while tangling your hands in his hair. You gently asked “Where are you taking me?” An evil grin covered Adam’s face as he replied, “To wash up, of course.” He set you down in front of the bathroom as you two hastily stripped. You both got into the shower and he turned the faucet on, letting it rain. Adam held your leg up while standing as he positioned his cock, dripping with precum, along your entrance. You wrapped your hand around his thick cock, feeling the bluish green veins throb. His pink tip turned red as you rubbed it to get it harder. He moaned in pleasure as you jerked his shaft.

Adam moved your hand away and inserted his dick in your vagina and began pumping. “You really want to fuck me in the shower, huh?” You snarked in between moans. Adam smirked as he grabbed your bouncing breast, “I never leave anything unfinished,” he said, groaning and thrusting faster. The sound of water splattering echoed with each pump as you two breathed heavily. His cock wet and glistening, covered in fluids and water and your vagina lips red with friction. He thrust deep into you, releasing his semen inside as your G spot felt like an explosion, causing your legs to almost give out.

Adam held onto you tightly to stop you from falling, both of you still breathing fast from the climax. His semen felt thick, still stretching you out as if his cock was still inside. You knew this might happen because of the aphrodisiac. You panted, as your eyes rolled back with pleasure. The effect was not as strong as you remembered, and Adam noticed. He leaned forward to suck on your breasts, using his hands to feel your body. His touch felt like electric jolts shooting up your spine.

You caressed his back, causing him to wince slightly, immediately breaking your trance. You had accidentally brushed over his wound. “Shall we save some for the ship?” You said in a concerned tone. Adam straightened and cupped your cheeks, looking into your eyes he spoke, “Oh you can resist me? Looks like I'll have to fill you up with my cum more often.” Your heart began beating faster with the thought of Adam entering you raw in the future. You could feel the cum ooze out of you even now. You gave him a teasing shove as you two continued showering.

The next morning you two packed up, feeling comfortable with each other as if you had been living together for ages. It truly felt like a real honeymoon. Now that Cece and the crew knew about your relationship, there was an exciting chapter ahead, one without hiding. You felt our heart flutter out of sheer happiness. “Are we ready to leave? Have you got everything?” You heard Adam ask from the door. You snapped out of the day dream and replied “Yeah! I'm coming baby!” And began rushing towards him. Adam gave you a kiss on your forehead as he opened the door for you two to head forward into the future and back to the ship.

#rwby #rwby imagines #rwby x reader #rwby headcanon #Adam Taurus imagine #adam taurus x reader #rwby headcanons #adam taurus #kofi commission #ko fi support #artist on kofi #fanfic commissions #commissions open #open commissions #writing commissions #commissions #commission

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june-of-earth · 1 year

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08May(23)

Hey You,

Its been some time since I last spoke to you, or gave some sense of an update of what’s going on in my life. I’m finally in a safe space to do so.

-While listening to Fred Again & Brian Eno’s Album : Secret Life-

9 or so months ago I was in a weird situation. Months prior I got into a bad wreck (No physical damage) that left me financially stuck. Paying bills that would just roll over into the next bill. While at the same time trying to keeping my composure the only way I know how, by just drinking and just being out. Eventually I got let go from my job that I hadn’t put in a full year in. To only lucky to find work shortly after dong something less than what I would normally do.

Time passed the new job seemed to have its potential. I packed everything up and ventured out into asking a coworker for help. Little did I know I would be couch surfing for the next couple of months instead of securing a place to call my home. The place I stayed at was a run down house turned into units. I didn't have a way to get in sometimes so their were moments I had to break in just to get to the unit I was staying in. Most of the people stayed there were either on one or something more stronger than the common recreational drug. (No judgements). All the while my drinking habits continued to dwindle in the loops they always were. Eventually my coworker/roommate got let go, and my living situation was up in the air. My moral at work was slowly diminishing after I was told I wont advance up, and should just try working at another bar if I wanted to do I what I’m passionate about. By the end of November I was taken off the schedule (Silently let go). After my buddy got let go he stopped paying rent and eventually got an eviction notice. He went to court. Lost the case, and had to be out within a month. All the while its Dec-Jan and I’m looking for work.

I hit up a old colleague to catch up on life, & my situation. He got into solar sales, and was slowly working his way on making a living with it. Told him my situation and he offered to help me out. By this time it’s Jan and we are now staying pass the eviction date. Leaving the place felt like walking on eggs shells on getting caught/told to get out. My buddy got a job and was putting his eggs on a new venture. All the while we’re siphoning power from the apartment main grid.

I finally got prospected for work and said, “enough was enough”. I hit up my friend Thomas and he got me out of there. I didn’t tell Adam bye, and I didn’t have to. We all have our own journey and things to tackle. Mine was getting my life back together and him the same. I got hired at this nice theater in town and got prospected for a bartendering job at a Hotel I had my eyes on for work. I did the interview and got hired on the spot. Full-Time w/benefits.

Started in February and have been working there since. The money turned out to be more than I’ve gotten in a long time. I hadn't felt so comfortable nor financially secured/solid in a long time. Surely but Surely the time staying with my buddy Thomas was coming to an end. By the middle of April I pulled the trigger and said (”Its time to get the fuck out of here and do my own thing now!”) So I found a place about 6 mins of a drive commute to work in a nice part of town near my job which is in the heart of downtown SA. 30mins of a walk commute if I don't wanna Uber home.

As of May 5th I can finally saying I passed the bridge of getting my life together. and since the 30th of April I’ve been sober. My next bridge to cross is keeping sobriety part of my life. May sound simple but in my industry it’s income. So finding new habits, discipline and being productive in new ventures I feel will keep me on the right track. Though this is a new beginning and its can shift one way or another. Call it Destiny, Fate, Luck or Just coincidence everything aligning the way that it did only makes my drive to become more stronger, more sharper, and more better than ever before!

I hope everything is going okay or better for you. Feel free to drop a message anytime.

Your Truly,

Rico a.k.a June-of-Earth

p.s.

So... One night being out a few months after I left that trap house and was settled in at the new job (I wanna say March/April). I went out to the bar that I worked at (free man that I am) to have some late night food and drinks. I ran into the tenant next next door to the unit I was staying in (who also worked at my previous job) who told me that the place burned down. To my surprise I asked “When?” When she told me the date is was two days after I packed up and left. So I asked her, “what caused the fire?” Well it turns out it was an electrical fire, and that the other tenants living there (not only my ex-roommate) were siphoning electricity which lead to the place burning down. (Crazy.)

#self

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ofmermaidstories · 3 years

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U think bakugo ever gets so angry his mouth misses surrender reader’s when he’s trying to have a passionate heated make out session because I do

Katsuki’s home for once, sleeping off the last few days in the darkness of his room, cocooned.

It’s early evening before he remerges. You’re peeling the potatoes for dinner when you hear him shuffling from the room to the bath, keeping track of him by the running of the taps before he closes the door, the sound cutting off — leaving you alone in the quiet of his large apartment, trying to amuse yourself by carving the perfect spiral of a potato peel; petty, silly.

When he wakes up after a marathon sleep it always takes him a while to come back, to return to the here and now; his mind catching up with the rest of his body as it realises it can finally relax, can take these next few hours to pause and breathe. He can be reticent even on good days: after big missions, after a series of demanding patrols, he’s even more silent, staying that way until something annoys him enough that he comes back into himself — or makes him laugh in his startling way.

The city outside is falling into dusk: the windows opened wide to the pink-twilight city glimmer. You hum along to a song on the television, jiggling the rice you’re rinsing and hear the traceable movement of your Pro Hero as he shuffles back into the living room.

“Hi!” You call out behind you cheerily, rinsing your hands and darting between the sink and the fridge. The door rattles as you open it, looking for the cold water bottle you set aside for him, earlier — but then big arms are slipping around you, enveloping you, and there’s the touch of lips against your neck, the feel of Katsuki’s fine hair against your face. The soapy, minty freshness of him, clean from washing up.

You lean back into the weight of him, the warmth, and he pulls you in tighter; breathing in deeply, like he’s still half-asleep. He very well might be — for a moment you stand together in front of the open refrigerator as you trace the veins of his hands, his arms, nosing into the side of his head where its against you.

“Hi,” You say again: softer, against the fine down of hair by his ear. Everything within you is vibrating that he’s here, that you’re together — your very cells rioting, hyperaware of his closeness. The invasion of space that only belongs to him.

The fridge beeps. You try and tug away from his arms to get his drink, to close the door — he pulls you back and kicks the door shut with a grunt. “No,” He says, and it’s ridiculous enough that you laugh. It’s the jiggling of the rice you were rinsing, the weight against the sieve; your body moves against his and he buries his face in your neck, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

You breathe in and settle and eventually he lets you turn in his arms, your hands snaking up between you, his bare chest and going to his face, cupping his cheeks. The lines under his eyes are deeper, now, than they have been since you’ve known him — he looks at you, ruby eyes dark and tired, and your heart tightens.

You thumb the shadows of his face, gently. The feather-light touch of handling something so irredeemably precious. In answer he dips into you, a headbutt with no real force; you’re breathing one another in now, and you let your hands slip from the panes of his face to his shoulders, your fingertips mapping the familiar feel of him.

“You need more sleep,” You whisper to him; the tiny space between you gaining all the sanctity of a Library’s quiet.

Katsuki huffs. It’s light against you. “D’wanna.” He says, annoyed, childish. His hands - hands that have destroyed, that have saved, that are now on you - tighten. You wait, tracing the edges of the scar on his shoulder.

“Missed you ‘n shit.” He says at last, even more annoyed, now.

You droop into him, wilting like a flower; you’ve missed him too. He hasn’t been home in almost a week — it’s not the longest of his stints, not lately, and you knew what you were signing up for, when you fell for him — but it doesn’t make it any easier. When he is home the two of you sleep in shifts, almost: only able to be together, both awake and coherent, for a few stolen hours. It means the need to be near him has gotten so persuasive, lately, that sometimes when you’re here and he’s in bed, sleeping off a battle, you crawl in next to him; carefully and lightly, curling into his warmth and forcing yourself into a midday nap, just to be near him, to share his space. You always awake entangled and overheated, afterwards — Katsuki finding you in his sleep and dragging you close, missing you just as much as you do him, even in his dreams. It’s never comfortable — he runs hot, constantly, and it’s like sleeping with a heater but —

It doesn’t matter. It’s just more proof that he’s there. That he’s with you, alive and home safe.

There’s a light touch of lips at your neck once more; leading, ghost-like tracing, kisses, from the dip of your collarbone to just under your jaw bone as you tilt, giving him more access. Everything within you pulses, tightens — he nips at the soft skin just below your ear and you finally turn your face to his, enough to feel the sharp intake of his breath before his lips meet yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

His mouth is cool and tastes of mint and aniseed from his toothpaste and mouthwash, respectively — you let him spin you, pressing you into the counter. He pulls away, grunting something, leaving you momentarily bemused — before he presses in close again, mouth on yours, his hands hot even through the fabric of your shirt.

You want to claw your way into this man. He tilts you back — like he’s trying to claw into you, too and you break apart only long enough for the both of you to draw in what breath you need, gasping before you are kissing again, sloppily. Hungry for the need to be close.

Behind you, something begins to vibrate — and then Katsuki’s phone is bursting into life with that ridiculous old All Might cartoon theme, sharp and loud in the apartment. You pull away from your hero with a sharp breath, your disappointment tangible — Katsuki rips himself away from you with a hiss, grabbing for his phone angrily, as he answers, “What the fuck do you want?”

You can hear Kaminari clearly. “Yo! Kacchan! Love hearing from you too, dude. A few of us are meeting up tonight — ”

That’s all poor Kaminari gets a chance to say. Katsuki pulls away from his phone, looking at the screen incredulously — and then hangs up, letting it clatter against the counter.

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Did you have to be such an asshole?”

Katsuki grunts, one hand pushing back his hair, irritated. “They all fucking knew I don’t wanna hear shit unless it’s about the case.” His eyes cut to you — in the kitchen lights, they glimmer, and his mouth softens. “They know I don’t get much… free time, or whatever.” To spend with you, he means.

You’re close enough that you can reach out and touch him, easily, so you do; pressing your fingers into his chest before letting your palm slide against him. Underneath it, you can feel the steady comfort of his heartbeat. He’s here. He’s alive and he’s home safe.

Maybe Katsuki is thinking the same thing. In a lot of ways, he remains a constant mystery to you; he covers your hand with his, pressing it further against him. His hand is warm; he’s warm. You trace the outline of your fingers together and then follow the soft lines of him, his collar bone, his adam’s apple — the motion of his neck as he swallows. And then your eyes are meeting his.

This man, you think. It’s awe and it’s love and it’s disbelief that he’s here. That you’re here, with him.

You lean into him; he catches you in a hug, tight and warm, his arms thick around you. Nosing against him, you breathe in his scent, the salty sweetness, and then say, “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” He grunts. You feel his lips in your hair, and then against the shell of your ear, his breath. “Missed you, too.” He headbutts you again, the heavy thunk of his forehead against the top of yours. You snuffle against him, annoyed.

“I have to make dinner,” You say, like you weren’t the one to bury yourself against him.

“Don’t care,” He says, a large hand slipping to the back of your neck — forcing you to look up at him, to meet his gaze, heated and soft. “Don’t want it,” He adds, his thumb stroking the soft skin behind your ear. “M’ — just wanna crawl back into bed with you and get some fuckin’ rest for once.”

“What rest,” You tease, but his hands tighten against you and you know what he means. It’s the same thing that drives you to nap, just to be close to him. To wait while he sleeps off a hard day, just so you’re there to welcome him back to the living. It’s just — it’s just the need to be together, in whatever way you can.

“I love you,” You say out-loud.

Katsuki headbutts you again, harder this time and you make a small squawk of protest — but he’s keeping his forehead against yours, trying to rub his nose against you, affectionate in the fickle way of a cat.

“Love you, too.” He says. You try and bite his cheek in retaliation — he swears, and tries to bite back and you are laughing, shaking like your sieve of rice — Katsuki holding you close, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

#hello anon this is a million years late #and also not what you asked LMAO #but i was inspired what i can say so in return i gib u……… this #im touch-starved i hate it here #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou x y/n #i hate tagging i don’t care anymore this is what you’re getting #surrender-fic #surrender-fic verse? yeah let’s go with that #surrender-fic verse #ofmermaidswrites #well it’s a drabble anyway i guess idk #i finished it to get out of my funk #okay goodbye now #prompts and drabbles and other things

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now. So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together. Is he doing alright? You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people. “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted. “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again. “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger. “I mean, sapphires? Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked. “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too. She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it. "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen. But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard. "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really. I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up. "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

“Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

“I…” you shrug. “No?”

Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

“Yup.”

“Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

“Ok.”

You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.

For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

“I do. Every day.”

Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

Or his lips, for that matter.

The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

“You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

“Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

“Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

“Ouch.”

Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

Him.

“Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

“I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

“Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

“How’re you holding up?”

Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

“I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

“You suck.”

“See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

“Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

He shrugs. “And so am I.”

You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

“Yes!”

Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

I loved her first.

Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

“Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

“We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

“YES.”

You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

“Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

“Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

“How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

“But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

“Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

“Why are you alone?”

Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

“Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

“Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

“No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

“What?”

“That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

“Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

“I don’t see why not.”

With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

“Did the nosy maid get to you?”

Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

“Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

“No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

“Oh, no.”

Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

“I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

“You’re so pretty.”

Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

“You brought food, so now we’re even.”

Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

“Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

“Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

“Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

“Wait!”

Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

“Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

“Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

“I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

“Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

“Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

“So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

“Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

“It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

“How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

“But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

“Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

“Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

“I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

“It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

“Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

“Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

“It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

“Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

“Hmm?”

Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

“I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

“And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

“Woah, back up.”

Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

“You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

“W-we’re staying?”

Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

“I wanna stay.”

“Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

“I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

“What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

“-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

“The little…note?”

“Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

“The note.”

It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

“Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

“Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

“I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

“I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

“When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Why did you tell me that?”

You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

“Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

A falling star.

In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

“You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

“You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

“It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

“You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

“C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

“Mmm.”

It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

We.

Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

“Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

“Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

“I know.” He whispers back.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that!

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224 @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic

#bts x reader #bts fluff #bts dating au #Yoongi x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts friends to lovers au #yoongi friends to lovers au #bts as your best friends #bts imagines #bts fanfic #suga x y/n #yoongi x y/n #armywriterssupport

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saphirered · 3 years

Text

Can We Go Yet

Here it is; another instalment in the Eldritch Knight series and because I can’t keep to a word count it seems there’ll be another part. Enjoy 😘.

Essek swings his heavy cloak over his shoulders, connecting the clasp keeping it in place and rolls his eyes. He knew it was a bad idea letting his brother stay with him during his time in Rosohna instead of just dooming Verin to stay with their mother but when Verin showed up on his doorstep a week before he was expected claiming he had some extra days off and couldn’t do anything but dedicate them to some good old sibling bonding. Verin had showed up the night after he’d ask you out and the next day, today he’d be taking you out on your date.

“Come on, brother. Let’s go out for some drinks, cause some mischief. Someone has to breathe some life into the Firmaments.” Verin clasps a hand over Essek’s shoulder interposing himself between Essek and his path to the door with a grin that said enough about the problems he intended to cause.

“I have other obligations for the day. Besides, you are perfectly capable of pushing the Firmaments into chaos by yourself. I would not wish to get in your way.” Essek tries to brush his brother off and manages to get around the taller drow, the door opening with a wave of his hand, letting the subtile hint show that he will not hesitate to make a fool of his brother in public should he try to stop Essek.

“You and your obligations.” Verin rolls his eyes. “I could simply join-“

“No!” Essek may have spoken a bit quicker and intensely than he intended and he knew for sure he had when he sees the gleam in Verin’s eyes. It takes one to know one and that’s the look of a challenged Thelyss.

“As you are so adamant. Fine. I will behave and I won’t stop you from going wherever you are.” Verin shrugs and Essek doesn’t know wether to be relieved his brother didn’t push further or scared because one thing’s for sure; he’s suspicious. Nevertheless, expression neutral and proper he bids his brother goodbye and leaves. Despite not being a devout follower of anything but his own practices he finds himself sending prayers to who or whatever is watching to be merciful and keep his brother’s antics from ruining today. Any day but today.

Verin watches Essek depart staring him down before he closes the door. Quick as he is he rushes to a window looking around the corner and sees just the tiniest bit of his brother’s facade slip. Essek is relieved. He really shouldn’t be. Verin wouldn’t be a good and loving brother would he not cause his brother a generous level of embarrassment and trouble on his first day back home. From the top of the tower he sees Essek leave and once he’s sure Essek won’t be as alert he takes to snooping around his study. The usual arcane stuff, some paperwork from the Bastion and some notes, no a list. What are you planning Essek? He takes the list and accompanying notes and takes off to follow where Essek went.

The road leads him to a two-story mansion, a tree of green leaves growing out of the tower. Verin doesn’t think he’s ever seen a green tree in Rosohna. Ever. So it doesn’t come as a surprise that whoever would put such an ostentatious beacon on their roof would be affiliated with Essek. He does not, however see why Essek would willingly affiliate himself with them as he prefers not to draw attention. He watches as Essek knocks on the door. In a matter of seconds the door is opened, bell ringing, by a blue tiefling it seems who pulls him inside by the arm with a force and determination he hadn’t expected. The door is slammed closed behind them. Deeming it safe and trusting his skills Verin trails closer and finds a vantage point to spy on whoever these people are and begins to plot and plan what mischief he’ll cause.

“Essek, Essek, Essek!” Jester bounces with excitement as the door slams closed behind him. The tiefling pulls him into the common area where Beau’s lounging on a couch giving him a nod of acknowledgement. Caleb’s seated in a chair bend over the table scribbling notes, undoubtedly amidst transcribing a new spell. The wizard gives him a look of pity at the tiefling hugging his arm and blabbering on about what fun he’s gonna have and how much you’re gonna like everything he does and how romantic he is for taking you on a date and giving him tips on how to be even more romantic until Fjord takes mercy upon him and pries the girl away from him allowing him some space to compose himself.

Essek takes off his cloak revealing the clothes better suited for warmer weather when Yasha offers to take it while he waits for you. Gratefully he hands it to the woman who unceremoniously tosses it over the back of a chair, giving Beau a stern look who was on the brink of making some kind of remark. Jester is getting inpatient and rushes to the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you done yet?!” She shouts up and half of the Nein wince at the sheer volume. The longer he waits the more nervous he gets and the more difficult it becomes to repress that feeling but he’ll wait patiently still.

“Beauty takes time, dear Jester.” Your voice sounds from upstairs and the fine sound of your light steps hitting the floor approaching the stairs reach his ears. Jester getting the first view from her position gasps, fanning herself and this must have been the first time he’s seen the girl at los of words.

And then you come into his view, little by little as you walk down the steps. Essek has trouble putting words to the vision as he much like Jester has lost all ability to speak in that moment. Divine. You look absolutely divine. The fine light fabrics fit in all the right places creating an elegant and complimenting silhouette while still being practical in its cut to allow you complete freedom of movement and not get in the way should a fight ever break out. He couldn’t see them but knows you wouldn’t go without some kind of weapon on your person but has no doubt a dagger or two and some throwing knives are hidden between the folds of the garment. Your hair is elegantly styled in the same practical way you usually have it but small flowers have been pinned and weaved in to bring even more to the ethereal vision you already are and when you look at him, eyes bright and a smile to match, he feels himself unable to breathe.

Caduceus follows behind you, giving you a chance to walk down to Essek while he quickly clears the mess left in the wake of his work. He had claimed he used to do this with his siblings, finding new and creative ways to add flowers to their hair and weave them in by braiding and twisting, tying and simply pinning them in. It had brought him comfort he said, and with the knowledge of your date night he’d offered so you accepted happily. Your feet hit the ground floor and you look at the others, a quick inspection of the room to see they hadn’t been torturing Essek or hounding him for the details of your date you wait for Caduceus to join the others.

“Thank you, Cad.” You give the firbolg a quick side hug as he passes to sit down next to Beau. He’s about to ruffle your hair but quickly decides against it as to not ruin his good work. You walk over to Essek with a smile, the space between you a little closer than he’d have allowed with the others and while normally you’d reach out for his hand you refrain because of the company. Essek notices your eyes fall to his hand and to your surprise he entwines your fingers with his, squeezing softly. Your smile brightens and his matches as you forget about the audience for just a moment.

“How do I look?” You flounce out the fabric letting gravity have its way with the feather light material taking half a step back to allow Essek better view of you.

“Radiant. Like a divine being.” Essek breathes. Words have a difficult time formulating but he collects himself and veers away from the complete mind blank you’ve caused him. Not that he’s mad about it. It’s rather the opposite. It’s not even about the way you look, even though you had truly outdone yourself, he’d still thought you the most gorgeous person in the world in rags or sweaty training clothes. It’s about the confidence you radiate, the warmth like an embrace and the affection in your eyes.

“Oh, such a shame. I thought you didn’t affiliate yourself with deities.” You jest with a chuckle as you step back to where you stood before. Beau makes a gagging sound and you send her a death glare over your shoulder that shuts her up and has Yasha cover the monk’s mouth with her hand to prevent any retaliation to leave her lips.

“I better start now, then.” Essek whispers when you face him once more. He whispered for Beau’s sake and maybe even more so to stop Jester from gushing, the girl having already taken out her sketchbook and writing down everything you say and do for some reason. Then, you’re interrupted by the door to the study slamming open, Nott stepping out, a cloud of smoke dissipating from the room behind her and the smell that accompanies it just absolutely terrible that you reach up to cover your nose and subconsciously take another step closer into Essek’s side as if he can keep it at bay.

“Momma’s got a little gift for you two before you depart.” She proudly holds up two vials of some kind of brown-is dark green liquid sloshing about and it seems that these, more likely the crafting of the contents within are definitely the cause of this smell.

“What the hell is that?” You speak, slightly muffled trying to hold back the urge to gag. Even Essek is struggling at this point with the woman stepping closer and closer, doused in this rancid acidic chemical scent.

“I’m glad you ask!” A gleam in her eye makes you not so glad. “These babies are some proper rhino sex potions. Or they should be and you two can test them out on your little date. Make momma proud.” The goblin grins widely teeth exposed. You watch a blush creep up Essek’s cheeks as Nott in uncertain terms explains exactly what it does and how it’s supposed to work. She also mentions they’re untested but it should be fine. Perfectly safe. Maybe Essek would have preferred just dealing with his brother instead of listening exactly how these rhino sex potions should affect the drinker.

“You don’t bone on the first date, Nott!” Jester exclaims as if she knows best and Nott’s attention falls away from you and Essek turning to the tiefling instead.

“We’re adventurers, Jessie! We do things a little differently.” Nott defends.

“I mean, no. But yes, I’ve had sex on plenty of first dates.” Beau perks up siding with Nott if only to torture Essek further because she’s definitely loving the response she’s getting out of him, even though you’re comforting the man throughout it all. The argument continues, the rest of the Nein also getting into the mix of wether or not you should have sex on the first date weighing in all sorts of variables of your specific situation.

“Let’s go while they’re bickering if you want to make it out alive.” You mutter under your breath, just loud enough to hear and Essek catches on looking between you and the Mighty Nein as you keep your eyes on them pretending you didn’t do or say anything. He decides to take your word for it and doesn’t even bother contemplating the consequences of not saying goodbye to them instead speaking the words to the spell and you’re whisked off to another place far far away from the Xhorhaus and eternal night of Rosohna.

“Wait. Where did they go?” Yasha asks noticing the drow and their friend gone. The argument falls silent and eyes turn to the space where the two of you had been standing mere seconds before.

“They left when you started talking about wether or not their prior outings counted and if they’ve ever slept together afterwards when they had some privacy.” Caleb doesn’t look up from his work and keeps transcribing. When he doesn’t indulge them in the continuation of their argument and it eventually ends he’s on the verge of finishing up his new spell.

“You spoke with Essek yesterday before he left. Spill the beans Widogast.” Beau all but threatens. There’s a clearing of the throat midway up the stairs and while they first expected it to possibly be Dairon but the sound was too heavy and pitch different.

“I think I can help with that.” A drow sharing a striking resemblance to Essek although more muscular and taller holds out some papers. The Nein is on guard immediately ready to attack.

“I think we can be of use to each other.” Still wary it quickly becomes clear they do have a mutual goal and with the Nein’s ability to get into someone else’s business they had it covered. It took them exactly half a second to figure out what the list was; places in Nicodranas. Jester was already gushing on about them and ranking them in order of how romantic they could be.

Essek had taken you to Nicodranas and it just so happens that the Mighty Nein has a friend with a teleportation circle there. Caleb can spare the spell slot so how couldn’t they go for a night exploring the city, say hi to Jester’s mom and Yeza and Luc and better get to know their new friend Verin. It would be their down time while you and Essek went on a date. Or at least that’s their excuse because it’s pretty clear they just need to spy and snoop.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Note

I know you're probably busy with other things you're writing so no pressure to get to this, but when you have time could you possibly write something about Kaz and/or Inej celebrating a birthday?

This was so sweet, I had to write a full-blown fic. Sorry not sorry! :) I may come back to this and edit it a bit more, but here you go -- Kaz and Inej and TWO birthdays. :) Thanks so much for the ask and for reading!

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

A Tough Act To Follow

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word Count: 3,633

Rating: Teen and Up

Inej knew how to pick the lock on Kaz’s window. She didn’t need to know – he always left it unlocked when he knew she was in town. But it was a matter of pride, really. Kaz Brekker could bar himself in with unbreakable locks, and Inej could still find a way in.

And now that knowledge was finally proving useful. Inej crouched on the windowsill in the dark, listening at the glass. The room in The Slat just beyond was pitch black and silent. Dirtyhands was out stalking the streets, unaware that the Wraith was back, and here Inej could finally have her vengeance.

He’d surprised her on her last birthday – and surprised her good. Inej wore a crooked grin on her lips in the dark when she thought of it, as she held lock picks in her teeth. That sly, clever bastard.

She’d get him this time.

When she’d discovered which pick could snake through the window, she artfully jostled the lock until the tumblers gave way with a click. And then Inej shifted the pack slung over her shoulders and slipped into the dark attic of The Slat.

It was always a little surreal, that first step back into The Slat. It was like stepping through a time warp, returning a fixed moment in time. Kaz never changed anything, not his makeshift desk, not his rickety old bed in the corner. Inej used to bother him about it. Didn’t he at least want his own house? Wasn’t he tired of stairs? What was he doing with all of that kruge he wanted to die under, anyway?

No, Always, and There are plans, were always Kaz’s infuriating and vague answers.

Inej couldn’t help grinning to herself again at the memory. That sly, clever bastard.

Well, she could make plans, too.

But first, she had a stage to set. After all, that’s what Kaz had done, and Inej always made a point to learn from the best.

It had been almost six months ago. Her birthday had actually come and gone while she’d been at sea, and so she’d thought nothing of it when her feet were once again on Ketterdam’s streets. She wasn’t expecting anything, really – which, come to think of it, had been her first misstep. Kaz was a work in progress in most relational matters, but gift-giving was not one of them. For better or for worse, Kaz possessed an innate ability to read people – their wants, their fears, their sins. And when he wasn’t using this gift for nightmarish purposes, he was actually quite decent at presents. She should have known he’d have something up his sleeves.

“I have something to show you,” he’d told her. Off-handedly, even, like he’d only just realized it. They were draining the last of their drinks at the Crow Club, waving to Jesper and Wylan as the couple had started their trudge home.

Inej had turned back to Kaz with a raised eyebrow.

“Rumor has it those are the last words your debtors hear in dark alleys,” she teased. And Kaz laughed – a free, easy sound she was still getting used to hearing. The last few years had seen a silent, dark shadow slowly lifting from his shoulders – small changes only the people closest to him could have noticed. His eyes seemed clearer. He was freer with his jokes. There was some color in his cheeks when he smiled.

Like now.

“You can flatter me later,” Kaz grinned, picking up the crow’s head of his cane. He was gesturing for her to follow. So, she slid from her chair to trail behind him as they wove through the gambling tables of the dark club to the overcast streets outside.

It was a warm night, the streets bustling with tourists. Kaz offered her his arm as they strolled along the canal beneath the orange glow of the gas street lamps, his cane tapping against cobblestones. Restaurants and clubs were churning out enticing aromas to lure in hungry patrons – mouth-watering roasted meats, warm, yeasty breads, cinnamon and sugar pastries.

And Inej glanced up Kaz, only a little distracted by the tempting smells in the air. She was still curious about what he could possibly be scheming, even if she was now also a little hungry.

When they came to a well-traveled intersection of cobblestone streets, Inej noticed a brand new door on an old building she’d passed a thousand times. The lights in the windows were lit, though it seemed that the inside was practically empty.

It was there that Kaz stopped them and began fishing through his pockets. Inej heard the jangle of keys.

“What is this?” she asked, in vain, because Kaz only smirked in reply. Inej straightened. That was about as delighted as Kaz would allow himself to get, so whatever this was, it was big.

He fitted a thick skeleton key into the lock, and, with a groan on its hinges, the door opened. Inej followed him inside.

“What do you think?” Kaz’s voice echoed in the space. Inej didn’t know how to answer. What did she think? What was she even looking at?

It was a large, mostly empty space, save for a giant, old hearth and one round table by the lighted window, set with a checkered tablecloth and plates and silver. The pine wood floors were dusty, the old chandelier covered in cobwebs. At the far end of the room stood a bar, and beyond that, presumably a kitchen, where another light source flickered and glowed.

“Is it another club?” Inej ventured, as she turned in circles, taking it in. “Did you buy another club?” This was a stupid guessing game.

“Not exactly.” Kaz pocketed the keys again, his gloved hands fidgeting a moment in his pocket. Was he nervous?

“Good evening, Mr. Brekker. Captain Ghafa.”

Inej nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the new voice. A chef in a white coat appeared from the orange-lit kitchens, two exquisitely plated trays of food in hand. Before she could ask any more questions, Kaz was beside her, a hand at the small of her back, gesturing for the table.

“Let’s have a seat,” he said, not so much a suggestion as another step in a plan.

So, she did. And she unfurled a napkin into her lap as Kaz did the same. The chef set plates of food in front of them while Kaz moved to uncork a bottle of champagne that waited on the table in a silver basin.

“What is going on?” Inej finally pressed once they were alone again. The chef had returned to the kitchen.

A loud pop exploded into the silence of the mostly empty room as Kaz opened the champagne bottle.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are very difficult to buy gifts for?” he asked, beginning to fill a champagne flute in his gloved hand.

Inej shook her head. This intrigue was killing her.

“No one,” she said, accepting the champagne, her fingertips brushing cold leather.

“Then let me be the first to lodge the complaint,” Kaz replied, filling his own glass. “It would be challenging enough if you were only as rich as a queen, but on top of that, you seem to genuinely want nothing at all. Other than justice and care for those who’ve been bought and sold – and that is a very tall order, I must point out.”

Sitting back in her chair with her champagne glass, Inej crossed one leg over the other, cocking her head as she still tried to puzzle out the mystery.

“I like chocolate,” she pointed out with a shrug. At that, Kaz paused with his champagne flute mid-drink to glare at her.

“Shit,” he mumbled into the flute, and set the glass down with a sigh. “That would have been a lot less expensive.”

Inej blurted out a laugh at that, and Kaz couldn’t contain a toothy grin.

“What are you saying?” Inej asked with a chuckle. “Is this a gift? You did buy this place.”

Kaz drew in a long breath. He was nervous. Inej set down her glass, leaning in in fascination.

“I did buy it,” he confirmed. “It’s a new project.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobble over his color. “One I hope that we can work together on.”

Inej blinked.

“That depends,” she said. “Tell me the project.”

Kaz shifted, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

“It was inspired by you, actually,” he said. Inej couldn’t be sure but it looked like the color was rising in his cheeks in the candlelight. “These people that you’re freeing, if they end up back in Ketterdam, they have nothing. Or, like you were, they’re beholden debts that they should never have had in the first place. What they need – what you needed – was some place safe to work, to save money, a roof over their heads while they figure out their way forward. Without it, they end up right back where they started. So…”

Kaz picked up his champagne flute again, giving a gesture with it to the room.

“I know it needs work,” he said. “But the bones are good. The location’s perfect – lots of foot traffic and tourism. I was thinking it could be a restaurant. Or bakery.” He looked to her then, and was he seeing how floor, utterly rivetedshe was? “Whatever you crave when you’re here in Ketterdam. Chef Lukas is on the books now, and he can make anything at all. The rest of the staff will come from you. The people you bring in, the ones who need a fresh start. We own the two floors above it as well, and they have rooms for lodging. What—what are you thinking?” His brow pinched together, trying to read her silence and the hand clapped over her mouth. “Is it too much?”

Too much? It was so much. Inej’s eyes stung with the threat of tears, that’s how much it was. But too much? It wasn’t possible to have too much of this perfection.

Inej had never been sure if she had a favorite flower or a favorite chocolate for a boy to discover, to know that he knew her, as her father had once advised. Sometimes she thought that maybe her heart was too big – that she loved too many things at once, and could she trust that a boy really knew her when her smile came so easily now?

But Kaz did. Now she knew. He absolutely did. He’d found the right combination to her big, bleeding heart.

He loved her.

And all she could do was burble a sort of euphoric giggle behind her hand, her eyes watering.

“You are going to lose so much money,” she gasped, her brow furrowing. “There’s nothing remotely profitable about this.”

Kaz just smirked with a shrug.

“No one turns a profit on gifts,” he said. “So, you like it?”

“Saints, Kaz, I love it,” Inej breathed, a traitorous tear escaping her eye. It was everything. Everything she’d needed ten years ago. Everything these streets needed now. For so many like her, this would mean the difference between hope and despair. Life and death.

That scheming, wonderful bastard.

She stretched her hand across the table, reaching to seize one of Kaz’s gloved hands. He smiled as he curled her fingertips into his.

“Can I kiss you?” she begged, softly, her eyes wet with tears. She felt him stiffen even as he ran the pad of his gloved thumb across her knuckles. And he thought a moment. And gave a little nod.

“I think that would be all right,” he replied, quietly.

They both stood, she perhaps a little more eager than he. It was always difficult the first few days Inej returned from sea. Kaz’s mind might always be a tangled web of past and present, sometimes confusing one with the other. Even after all these years, touching her always seemed easier once they’d had some time to break the ice all over again.

When she stepped to him, Kaz ran his hands down her arms, almost reverent, and he bent his forehead to hers. She lifted herself onto her toes, running her fingers up the lapels of his suit coat, over the hard planes of his chest.

“I can’t believe you’d be willing to lose so much kruge on this,” she whispered, looking up at his closed eyes, the dark lashes splayed against his cheekbones.

“For you,” he murmured, and he lifted his coffee-black gaze. His hands slipped to the curve of her waist, pulling her closer. “Surely you know this by now.”

“Tell me anyway.”

And Kaz lifted her chin, soft leather against her skin.

“I would empty every account for you,” he said. “And if that weren’t enough, I’d rob every bank, break every vault in this damn city. It’s never a loss when it’s for you.”

And he bent his head – Inej held so still. Let him be in control of when their skin touched. Her fingers unconsciously twisted in his lapels, silently begging for his lips.

When he met the slant of her mouth, his soft lips brushed against hers gently, barely a kiss at first. Their noses bumped. Inej held her breath, her eyes falling shut of their own accord. Selfishly praying for more.

And more he had. This time, Kaz bent his head the other direction, apparently emboldened, kissing her fully, breathing in deeply. Inej lifted onto her toes, meeting the kiss with the kind of eagerness she usually reserved for her third or fourth day on land. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and a shiver of warm sensation spread all the way down to the soles of her feet when he pressed his hands into the small of her back. It was dizzying and delicious, being flush with his body, wrapping her fingers into the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck.

It was the sort of kiss, Inej realized, that should come at the end of an evening. It was not meant for the start, not the way they were. How was she supposed to untangle herself now? Now -- when his breathing was growing hot and ragged against her lips. When desire was fluttering through her core, wrapping itself like vines through her limbs as she pulled him to her again and again.

The creaking of the old front door hinges, that’s how.

Kaz and Inej broke apart as Inej gasped in surprise.

“Are you open?” came a tourist’s voice in Ravkan. A couple of figures poked their heads in the door that Kaz had evidently forgotten to lock behind them.

“Clearly we’re not,” Kaz barked back at them in Ravkan, flushed and irritated.

Some muttered Ravkan apologies followed as the door shut once again.

And Inej stifled a laugh into Kaz’s jacket. Hopefully he saw the humor in it, too. The evening didn’t need Dirtyhands making an appearance.

His hands were roaming her back, holding her close, and when she looked up he was smiling again. Though, for now at least, the heated spell between them had broken. For better or for worse, Inej wasn’t sure anymore.

“Happy birthday, Inej,” he said, when he’d cooled, and they returned to their table for the meal that their new chef had prepared.

So, you see, Inej had a tough act to follow.

She didn’t expect to be able to make him cry, although, admittedly, she would not have minded it if she managed it. But she was going to surprise him – surprise him good.

She was setting up his room in the Slat now, lying in wait for her victim. She’d brought rose petals. She’d lit candles. She’d wrapped herself in a black silken robe, unraveling her hair from its braid, leaving it loose and cascading down her back.

He, too, might not have a favorite flower or a favorite sweet. But she knew him.

And she loved him.

And now he would know.

Nerves were starting to prickle her skin while she waited, propped up on his desk, her legs crossed in front of her. It would be a pretty picture when he opened the door – his girl in silk surrounded by candlelight. But what came next was the real trick.

Her heart rammed against her ribs when she heard his keys in the lock, jostling the doorknob. He’d notice the candlelight first, she knew.

And he did. Before he even saw her, he paused in the doorway before even crossing the threshold, the door swinging wide.

The rattle of gunmetal was Inej’s first clue that this might not be going as planned.

Kaz was fishing for the revolver in his pocket.

“Saints, it’s just me!” Inej cried out, and Kaz dropped the gun with a thud. And strode into the room, breathing hard. Slamming the door behind him.

“Are you insane?” he exclaimed, whirling to face her. “I could have shot you!”

And that’s when the full sight finally started to sink in. His eyes were growing wider and wider, flitting around, taking it all in – the candlelight, the rose petals, Inej’s bare legs glimmering in the glow. The shining silk around her slim body.

Inej didn’t think human beings were capable of short-circuiting, but that’s clearly what was happening to Kaz. It was like he couldn’t decide where to look, if he was even allowed to look, or if he was even in the right room to begin with.

“Too much?” She hopped off the desk, suddenly understanding why he’d been fretting that day in their restaurant.

“No no no no,” Kaz was saying, obviously still short-circuiting. “Give me a moment. I just need a moment.”

He was breathing hard, still in the throes of the shock, and Inej was starting to wonder if surprises were a good idea at all. She stretched out a hand, pressing a palm over his racing heart, and after a beat, he pressed his hand over hers, holding her there. And drew in a deep breath, mustering up a smile.

“Hello,” he greeted at last.

“Hi,” she said back with a smile.

“You’re here.” He was still in disbelief. His eyes drifted a moment. “And you’re wearing that.”

“It’s revenge,” Inej clarified, with an apologetic shrug. “For surprising me last time. And for making me cry in front of Chef Lukas.”

“How is this equivalent to making you cry in front of Chef Lukas?”

“Well, it’s not the full surprise. Do you want the full surprise?”

“Yes.”

And, with a coy smirk, Inej withdrew her hand from his chest and began to unwrap the robe.

At that, Kaz pulled back.

“Wait wait.” He looked absolutely mortified. Inej wanted to cackle. Sweet, sweet revenge. She kept unwrapping.

“You do not have to do this,” Kaz was insisting. “You do know you don’t have to do this? There were no expectations, no strings attached with the last gift. I--” And he stopped short. Frowned. Cocked his head. Confused.

Inej was fully clothed beneath the robe.

And hiding a small parcel beneath her vest.

And she was smirking like the dirty little con artist she’d learned from.

“What is this?” Kaz asked, warily, accepting the parcel she pulled from her clothes.

“Open it,” was the only explanation she offered.

Kaz gave her a sidelong look as he slowly began to slide his long fingers into the seams of the parcel.

“That was a dirty trick,” he told her, pulling at the paper.

“You liked that? There’s more where that came from.”

“You’ll pay for that next time,” and he shot her a shark’s grin as he let the paper fall to the ground, looking at what was now in his hands.

Stacks of paper. Some with numbers. Some looked like letters. Some looked official – all looked clearly stolen.

“A side project,” Inej explained to him, crossing her arms in front of herself. “For the days when you’re tired of being a good man.”

“What is all this?” His discerning frown tickled Inej right down to her toes. Befuddling him might become her new favorite hobby.

She was trying, and failing, to hide a pleased grin.

“You’re looking at Pekka Rollins’ bank accounts. His stock activity. Secret correspondence with at least one mistress. The Stadwatch he’s bribing. The politicians he’s funding. All sorts of birthday surprises like that.”

Kaz was all but gaping when he looked up from the papers at her.

“How did you do this?” he breathed.

“I have my ways,” Inej said, with a toss of her hair.

Kaz was grinning like a fool.

“You know me too well,” he said, softly, still browsing the file Inej had spent the better part of six months assembling. His crow-black hair fell softly against his cheekbone, his features warm in the candlelight.

And here it was. Her moment. The words burned in her chest, demanding to be said.

“I love you,” she told him, like an explanation. As if it were obvious.

Kaz’s gaze snapped up from the papers then, losing all interest. He looked like he might drop them right there, just like he’d fumbled his revolver.

“I love you,” he said back. As if he’d been saying it for years, just not so simply.

Inej smiled wide, and Kaz did drop the papers then. And crossed the distance between them in a single step.

Inej had planned on telling him happy birthday at this point – that was what he had done. That was what people did. But as he lifted her back onto the desk, sliding kisses across her lips, burying his fingers into her loose hair… well, she forgot the scheme altogether.

She’d let the rest of the evening be a surprise.

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Tags! I don’t really have a Kanej tag list yet, so let me know if you’d like to be added. @loveyatopluto, @raging-bisexual-alert, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @annejulianneh111, @whosanxiety

#kanej #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #fanfic #soc #fanfiction #one shot #my asks #thanks for the ask!#kanej fluff

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seizethecarpe · 3 years

Text

Know By Hart || Solo

Timing: Current Summary: No matter how practiced he was, Dave had never been good with grief. Triggers: Somehow… none. Contains grief. Author note: Before you read this, I want us all to remember that I’m completely innocent please file your complaints to the local mime ungulate

In 2004, José De Nueves had walked into Dave’s life. He’d had an easy smile and slightly glassy eyes. It had taken a rusalka, a Swedish fortune teller, and three drinks for José to hold up his hair and reveal in true depth the feathery scars that framed his face. He grinned with two teeth missing as he’d explained the tendril like creatures he’d hunted for one night. “Made me the perfect soldier,” He’d said with a laugh as he downed his whiskey glass. “I don’t give a fuck about anything.”

When Dave had followed his scent to a crypt a year later, he’d found a spawn chewing on José’s drained neck, a stark reminder of how the smallest mistakes could make even the routine hunt a death sentence. He’d wondered that night if José had even cared as they’d ripped his guts out in front of them, felt anything at all as they’d dragged it out of him until his intestines had torn all over the cemetery lawn. Or if he’d screamed and begged for his family anyway, right at the end, his soul returning to life only when it was too little, too late.

Unsure which fate was worse, Dave’d raised a glass in the man’s memory, and chose to forget.

——-

In ‘11, there had been Jasmine. Her honey warm skin highlighted the feathery scar that tucked under her jaw. Her bar, her spare room and her bed had all been Dave’s home for a little. But she’d always been clear that when push came to shove, he wasn’t her priority, he wasn’t human enough to risk her life for. All the same, they’d talked for hours under the thick cover of clouds as they waded up mountains to find the monstrous beast contaminating the local springs, they’d talked through her thick cigarette smoke, outside the fading wooden sign of her bar. They had talked more than Dave had spoken to anyone in years. She bared his soul, little by little, and in turn one day she told him about the nest nearby that she sent her friends too when they had lost one thing too many. Dave had listened intently, harder than he’d listened to anything, until the glass in his hand had shattered.

Not too long, she’d warned. You could lose too much of yourself too fast, and end up more ghost than man. The next day Dave had hiked five miles, peering into the edge of a dried out lake, and saw the silvery creatures there, languidly floating through the air with a dozen tentacles. Dave thought of José, all light gone from behind his eyes, and Jasmine whose grief sometimes sounded wrong, like an untrained actor on the stage. Dave turned and left, hungry tendrils chasing after him fir half a mile.

Two years later, Jasmine had insisted she was retired at forty two, but there hadn’t been another slayer for a hundred miles, so she had come when he’d called anyway. Some cruel unnatural winds had extinguished their fires, and when the aipaloovik wrapped its arms around her and pulled her underwater, Dave made just one attempt to get her free before he told himself there was nothing he could do.

The white polyps she’d told him about haunted his thoughts longer than she did. A quiet, gentle what if.

——-

Last year, Dave had met a boy wearing a grin like armour and who considered his enhanced healing another weapon in his arsenal. Dave had saved him from drowning, the kid had saved his life with the penance for the murder of Winn Woods. And then the saving had happened again, over and over, until it became as routine as the wise cracks and eye rolls.

He loved you. It rattled around in his head. When he’d seen the words on his phone in what had obviously been a final goodbye, Dave hadn’t let them ring any more true than the promise that they’d go fishing with beers. Now, the caster’s voice was stuck in his head, sneaking up on him when he was elbow deep in the bowels of his van’s engine, as he garroted a fish to eat in his human form, when he covered his body with slime to slide into his seal pelt. Sixty feet of ocean above him and he still wasn’t safe from Nell Vural’s voice. Thanks for that, Adam.

It was worst in the mundane moments, like folding laundry, because his mind churned while his hands were busy. See, Dave found it easiest to associate with hunters because he always knew they were destined to die. Everyone agreed there were things no one talked about because there was the deep undercurrent of knowing that Dave probably broke most of their codes, but as long as they didn’t know, it could go ignored. It was an emotional barrier that suited everyone just fine. Until now, apparently.

Dave smoothed his fingers over the edge of a shirt that had seen better days, folding it down as tight as he could before putting it away in a drawer that clipped into the wall of his van. His van was a mess, fishing gear scattered across the floor, seaweed drying on a bucket he hadn’t cleaned out, photos hanging skew on the wall. He wasn’t ever perfectly neat because how humans took care to keep their possessions perfectly in line was alien to him (the sea was never tidy), but he damn well knew he could do better than this.

Humans considered it a sign of intimacy to show someone their living spaces. Dave couldn’t remember the last time he’d let anyone in here that he wasn’t giving a ride elsewhere. Adam hadn’t known him, not really. Hadn’t seen the emptiness in Dave’s heart, that the fire that kept him going ran on fumes. Who the hell was he to speak of love, when Dave hadn’t let him deeper than his second skin? That there was so little left in Dave worth loving.

He looked down at the shirt he was folding, the collar pressed down skewed and the sides lined up at angles, and realised at some point he’d picked up the wonkyphoto from the wall, and the cracked, bloody compass Nell had given him that Dave had put on his bedside table and not looked at again. In the photo, three toothy sharp smiles were yellowed with age, teenage boys tussling in the sand. The photographer’s shadow stretched across the sand beside them, and even twenty five years later he could see the impatience behind the boys’ expressions at the doting woman behind the camera. The brass of the compass offered no such warmth, and filled the interior of the van with the scent of the last blood Adam had ever spilled. He flicked it open, and saw it pointing south west again. How could he forget, his home wasn’t a house but an underwater grave.

Fucking ironic, that each grief pointed so sharply to the other, blurring the lines of his most defining pain. Dave didn’t know how long he stared between one and the other before he returned to folding his shirts, and putting them away. He hung the photo back on the wall, and carefully put the compass away along with the rest of his fishing gear, tucked into fabric so that the scrapes it had taken in Adam’s final moments would be its last. When he was done with the laundry, Dave’s mind was set.

His grief had always been a call to action.

--------

In the hours of hiking since Dave had set out, White Crest becoming a distant blip on the horizon, Dave hadn’t changed his mind. More doubts should have crept in, but they hadn’t once, his mind clear of thought and feeling already. Just one step past the other, past the purple heather fields and overflooded lily pad ponds, under canopies drooping with pine needles and summer chirping birds.

White tiny flecks began floating past his face through the trees, which slowly grew as he walked deeper into the heather moors. White floating tendrils extended out, brushing against his clothes and hair. The deeper he walked into the cloud, the more the air felt like water, as if the trees had become kelp forests and he was swimming through clouds of chrinoids. The only thing that made the masses of them different than a mist was that Dave could not feel his way through it. They pulsed around him like Jellyfish, glowing under the setting sun.

In the densest part of the mist, he turned instead to an ethereal white creature at his side, as large as an old TV. Its mass of white tentacles fluttered against Dave’s skin curiously. Shame prickled in his veins, flinching away from those delicate touches. The sick, sinking feeling that this was wrong finally set in, worse than most vices that people leant on for their grief. If Adam could see him- but Adam couldn’t. He wasn’t a single damn person’s role model, and didn’t owe anyone his grief. Not even for a good man whose connection to him had been skin deep and yet reached him to his core. Dave swallowed, and turned back to the town for the first time since he’d made this choice, but all he saw was the clouds of white as he weighed the same thing as so many others had before him.

Grief had always been a call to action. He stepped a little closer, and didn’t flinch as the tendrils brushed against the side of his face, then latched on.

The tendrils were as gentle as a kiss. He’d expected it to be like the time he’d gotten tangled up in an octopus, suckers bruising his skins for days, but if he hadn’t felt the white static encroaching on his mind, this wouldn’t have been unpleasant at all. Tendrils which hadn’t attached traced over the planes of his face, lulling his eyes closed. Peace spread from those pinpricks deeper into his mind, and he could see the appeal of staying here for eternity. Let them clear him out, until there was nothing left except his mission.

Dave sighed quietly as he felt himself become lesser. He pulled away, and the tentacles let him, and Dave couldn’t even feel the absence of whatever they had taken. That was good, feeling the loss would have been too close to more grieving. The flickering tendrils of the hartvlinders trailed after him as he hurried away, through the clouds of gentle creatures until he burst out into the dying of the sunlight.

Dave tested a memory like he might tongue at a broken tooth. Deep in a swamp with the rotting corpse of a giant fish clogging up his nose. Dave gave a countdown before lowering Adam into the cleanest water they could find, working quickly to wash off the last of the acid gunk. Adam had been weak kneed and badly burned after his adventure in the monster’s stomach, but he had shut his eyes dutifully and held his breath as Dave washed the worst of the acid out of his hair with exceeding care. As soon as he was out of the water, he’d cracked a joke filled with post hunt exuberance, one after the other while they waited for their stamina to return, until holding back his grin made his cheeks hurt. They hurt again now, hot tear tracks prickling his face. Dave sagged against a tree, and then down onto his knees. Something was gone, he was sure, but not this. The hartvlinder hadn’t been so goddamn kind as to take away his newest, sharpest grief. Or even what he’d really wanted gone: the regret of words left unsaid, the guilt of outliving another kid, the shame of envying a good man for a life where he’d completed his mission and saved everyone.

Dave would have to learn to wear it until it became another ropey scar on his heart, another line on his death-weighted net.

#para #solo #wickedswriting #adam

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Text

tonight - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

day 15 - single

author’s note: @keybleminded suggested the single bed trope for this prompt and this is what i came up with; sorry that it’s a little less fluffy than i originally intended. i hope you all enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 16+; teeny tiny angst, one bed trope, implied drugging word count: 1.6k based on/prompt: day 15 – single from #28dateswithunitbravo challenge by @wayhavenmonthly summary: the night before a recon mission, farah and regina get into a little bit of trouble and adam keeps regina company through the night.

tonight

farah ran into the room and jumped on to the full-sized bed in the room, which was just big enough to be comfortable for two people, if those two people were willing to get cozy. it was the only decent thing in the very small hotel room, besides the small television, and regina was thankful they only needed to spend one night here. tomorrow morning, they would scout out the supposed rendezvous site and hopefully be back in wayhaven by nightfall.

regina sighed and put her duffel bag on the floor before taking off her coat. “i can’t believe there’s only one bed. didn’t adam fill out the paperwork?”

“why, you wishing he was here instead so you could cozy up on the only bed in the room like in the movies?” farah teased, slipping her shoes off and making herself comfortable.

regina rolled her eyes. “like that would ever happen. you all don’t need to sleep, remember? adam would just say i should take the bed because i need the rest while he stays up and keeps watch ‘for my protection’,” she said, using air quotes to emphasize her point.

“that was a great adam impression! it’s too bad you’re not into me, because i would totally pretend it was really cold and we needed to cuddle to keep warm,” farah winked.

“well it actually is pretty cold, so you wouldn’t have to pretend. and we could still cuddle if you want,” regina offered, chuckling.

farah sighed loudly. “not in the way that i know you want to with adam,” she chuckled at the flush that started creeping up regina’s neck before her gaze fell on a flyer placed carefully on the nightstand.

“can we go to this?”

regina skimmed the flyer that farah handed to her. “we’re supposed to get up early tomorrow. i don’t know if going out tonight is a good idea.”

“but it’s singles night! i’ve never gotten to go to one of these before,” farah pleaded, even as she started rummaging through their duffel bags for a more appropriate outfit.

the pros and cons ran through regina’s mind. on the one hand, it would be a chance to relax a little before the mission and distract herself from thinking about adam for a bit. on the other, they could be putting the mission at risk by potentially not being rested for tomorrow or exposing themselves unintentionally.

“i’ve never seen you wear this,” farah said, holding up a shimmery gold draped halter top with thin straps. “let’s go!”

why had she even packed that for an overnight mission? farah tossed it at her and motioned for her to go get changed.

back at the warehouse

the grandfather clock in the warehouse living room ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet space. the other members of unit bravo were enjoying their brief reprieve from farah’s usual antics. nate was reading on the couch and morgan was silently blowing smoke rings from her usual corner.

on any other night, he would be thoroughly enjoying a quiet evening to catch up on paperwork and otherwise relax. he kept telling himself it was a simple recon mission, the type they executed seamlessly numerous times. farah was the best for this type of mission and he trusted her to get regina out of any dangerous situations.

but for some reason, the quiet of the evening was still too loud for him.

he gripped the pen even tighter until the plastic was just on the edge of cracking, bending against even less than a tenth of his strength.

he missed the hum. there was a palpable energy that seemed to emanate from regina that touched anyone in her vicinity wherever she went. an energy that relaxed as often as it moved and matched the steady hum of her heartbeat.

a sound he sorely missed.

adam froze at the revelation, his body as still as the air, except for the crack of the pen as it snapped in half. the sound was quickly muffled by the harsh ring of his phone, jolting him back to the moment. farah’s name flashed across the tiny screen, fear filling his stomach in a way that was becoming all too familiar.

“i will be right there,” he growled into the phone after less than a minute.

nate looked up from his book. “is everything all right? do you need us?”

“no, i will handle it,” adam said firmly, grabbing his coat on the way out.

* * * * * it didn’t take long for adam to find them. even if he didn’t have regina’s scent and heartbeat memorized even more than farah’s (the fleeting thought made his brow furrow), the ruckus they were causing outside the bar would alert anyone to their location.

he sighed and made his way over to where farah was holding up a very drowsy regina, who could barely stand on her own, which he partially blamed on the impractical heels she was wearing and the icy snow on the ground.

“adam, thanks for coming. i think our detective here is going to need to get to bed,” farah said slyly, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that made adam groan inwardly.

he let his gaze wander up and down regina’s body for a fraction of a second longer than necessary to assess her physical well-being, which he knew would not go unnoticed by farah. he tucked one arm under her knees and let farah place regina’s upper body on his other arm so he could carry her, shifting her head to lean against his shoulder.

they made their way back to the hotel room, with heightened speed, farah quickly getting regina changed and comfortable while adam scanned the perimeter.

“what happened?” he asked quietly, once regina was tucked under the covers.

farah sighed. “we went to a singles night event at the bar and she got a lot of attention. i think someone may have tried to drug her. she didn’t have that much to drink when she started feeling dizzy.”

adam pressed his lips into a thin line in an attempt to keep his stoic mask in place. “is she alright?”

“she’s had a lot of water and should be able to sleep it off,” farah fidgeted with the ends of her scarf. “i’m sorry adam; it was my idea to go out and—”

“this is not your fault, farah. you are not to be blamed for inconsiderate fools who would drug and take advantage of someone,” he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder and farah found only sincerity in adam’s gaze. “at least regina—i mean, the detective, is fine. we can postpone the mission.”

“actually, about that – the site we were going to observe tomorrow is the bar,” farah explained. “it’s definitely a supernatural gathering place and there’s something in the basement. there’s not much more we can uncover without proper surveillance equipment.”

adam nodded. “good work. we’ll report back to agent bishop in the morning then. in the meantime, get some rest. i will keep watch.”

a thoughtful look passed through farah’s face before being replaced by a mischievous one. “actually, i think i will head back to the warehouse and you can keep the detective warm,” she said, zipping around the room and packing up her things before adam could protest.

“the thermostat’s broken and she’s shivering like crazy. you wouldn’t want her to catch cold, would you?” farah teased, hovering by the doorway.

adam opened his mouth to say something before promptly closing it. he glanced over at regina’s form under the duvet, and he could tell that farah was right. she was shivering, her body trying to process and expel whatever the toxin was.

he groaned and rubbed his face before giving a resigned nod, unlacing his combat boots one by one and sitting carefully on the other side of the bed.

“i’m pretty sure whatever is in her system will keep her from remembering anything in the morning, so you can let your guard down a little. i won’t tell anyone,” farah said, giving him a sympathetic smile before disappearing and locking the door behind her.

adam sighed and shifted closer to regina, carefully laying on top of the covers so as not to disturb her and maintain some space between them. he frowned at the sight of her shivering and curled up into a ball, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

it was his duty to keep the detective safe. it was natural that he be concerned for her well-being as a member of his team.

he hovered his hand close to her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her pale skin. she let out an almost inaudible moan, her shoulders shaking against the thick duvet.

he needed to find a way to warm her up. he snaked his arm around her waist, tucking one end of the duvet under her body and rolling her on top of his chest, effectively rolling her up in the covers. her head lay on his heart, and he hoped the sound of his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage loudly wouldn’t wake her up.

she let out a contented sigh that tickled his chin and he brought his other arm to her side, rubbing soothing circles up and down her arm and side to warm up her body. her shivering subsided as he did so, her breathing returning to its normal pace.

he closed his eyes and allowed the flutter in his chest to expand, the scent of her surrounding him fully.

just for tonight, he would relish being this close to her.

and in the morning, he would tell himself it was purely for her well-being and nothing else.

* * * * * permatag: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @fhauvilles; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart;

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groovybaybee · 4 years

Text

In The Club - 1

cw: bit of smut, alcohol consumption, think that’s all, terrible writing but that’s a given

(8.8k i’m so sorry, the other chapters won’t be this long i promise)

masterlist

Fucking your friend is never as problem-free as you convince yourself it will be. Sure, it starts out simply enough; two horny people agreeing to a moment of need-driven desperation. If you are lucky, the sex is terrible and forms the basis of just another inside joke between you. However, if you are truly unfortunate, the sex is fantastic and addictive and so convenient that you convince yourself it is an ideal situation.

“Fuck me,” I groan blissfully as the cool night air smacks against my exposed flesh.

Despite still not falling into the habit, the smoking area of any club quickly becomes my sanctuary on any given night out. Something about the space feels sacred and sinful at once, a free zone of communal naughtiness.

Its more than that. The haze-filled space offers a welcome reprieve, whether that be from thumping beats, one drink too many, or lecherous advances. Standing outside in my sanctuary, breathing in a mixture of second-hand smoke and crisp, late August air; I feel at peace. My eyelids flutter closed and my head rolls back until my chin is parallel with the night sky.

Its cold. We knew it would be before we came out, the idea of a summer in London feeling like some sick joke as we rallied around each other to avoid bringing jackets to avoid wasting time in a queue for the cloakroom. The evening’s chill does not bother me, instead, I appreciate the way it sinks into my skin, chilling the heat being pumped through my veins. The beads of sweat in my hairline begin to dissipate as the soft breeze caresses every piece of bare skin.

“You alright there, babe?” I hear Harry ask, promptly reminding me that I am not alone despite being in my own little world.

A smile pulls across my face, but I take a second to breathe one final inhale of tranquillity before meeting his gaze. He is grinning at me, clearly finding amusement in my cooling down process. If his use of the name ‘babe’ had fallen on deaf ears, the toothy grin and glazed look in his eyes would quickly clear up any confusion as to his state of intoxication.

The sweet boy is pissed.

As he has every right to be. Tonight marks the first night in months he has accepted an invitation to come out. Do not get me wrong, Harry is an inspiration for his dedication to his work and it is obvious that creating music is his path in life, his primary passion, but man have I missed him. The past month has been the worst, almost every offer to spend time together being met with a consolatory ‘Have to work sorry :(‘ text message. Despite knowing that this was the truth, and would only last a little while longer until his newest album was fully wrapped, it still stung not being able to relax after a long week with a bottle of wine, some horrendous film, and one of my best friends. But the album is done, fully mastered and now just awaited final approval before being birthed to the world. Now, I have my boy back.

“I’m so happy you came,” I tell him, wrapping my arms clumsily around his neck.

I feel a breath of laughter against my hair as he pulls me into a tight hug. The two of us sway enthusiastically together, likely encouraged by a mixture of spirits but happy, nonetheless.

Pulling away from him I press a quick kiss to his lips, hands on his cheeks squeezing his face gleefully. This is not the first time I have kissed Harry during our two-year long friendship. The two of us even went through a brief period of kissing each other hello, up until just over a year ago. So, it is little shock to the rest of our friendship group when we share a few giggle-fuelled smooches.

“Get a room,” Deb laughs, stubbing out the butt of her cigarette with an amused eyeroll.

“Some people would pay good money to see this sweet action.” Harry teases, a hand gripping my hip and pulling my body flush against his to prove his point.

I would be lying to myself if I said his body did not feel good against mine, that his lips don’t spread warmth through my chest, but so does gin.

“Tanya’s having afters at her’s, anyone fancy it?” Bri asks, wobbling on weakened ankles as she walks over to us, arms wrapped tightly around her petite frame to fight the cold.

The question is indirectly aimed at Deb, something only Harry and I seem to notice, a smirk shared between the two of us at this realisation. It is the same pattern every time we go out and the night starts to draw to a close. The potential for an end to the evening is too much for them, not wanting to say goodbye to each other, but not having enough courage to specifically ask the other to spend time together. So, the roll of cupid falls on my shoulders once again.

The moment I hear Deb agree to go with Bri, I speak up, “No way am I staying up until five with you two chain-smokers. I’m going home.”

“So boring,” Bri teases, a grateful look in her eyes. I send her a quick wink when Deb is distracted, asking Harry if he will join.

“Nah, think I’ll skip it as well. Make sure this one gets home alright.” He responds, a gentle squeeze to the flesh of my hips.

“Sure,” Deb smirks before turning to Bri.

The two women look at each other for a moment, a soft haze of smoke and stifled attraction surrounding them.

“Have a good time,” I interrupt, snapping them out of their unintentional staring contest. Each gives me a hug, desperate to hide their pinkened cheeks from the other. “Be safe, I love you both.”

“You too!” Bri hollers as they begin to walk away.

“Use protection!” Deb shouts across the crowded area, eliciting embarrassed giggles from Harry and myself as we hide our faces in the other’s neck.

“You staying at mine tonight?” I query as I lift my head from the crook of his neck. “Missed having you round.”

“I’d love that,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “Want to go now?”

I nod and smile as he finishes the last of his drink in one gulp, Adam’s apple bobbing harshly. A large drop spills from the corner of his mouth and he clumsily wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. His hand slips into mine as we cut through the crowd in the same direction as Deb and Bri

A smirk graces my lips as I picture the pair sat in a car together, completely oblivious to their mutual attraction. Since the moment they were introduced at my birthday party a few years back, they have tiptoed around each other, both deeply infatuated but too scared to make the first move. Sometimes I worry that they are too similar for their own good, that they will dance around the subject forever.

“Who do you think will make the first move?” I ask Harry as we walk to find a nearby takeaway, my body on autopilot as Harry leads me through quiet London backstreets.

“Probably me.” Harry says absentmindedly, focussing the majority of his attention on checking the road is clear before we cross.

“Deb or Bri, idiot.” I chuckle, my legs working overtime as I try to keep instep with his long strides.

“Oh, Deb, guaranteed.” Harry posits, holding the door to the almost empty chip shop open for me to step inside.

“I’m not so sure,” I say as we join the queue, the group of girls in front of us swaying, most holding their high heels as they discuss condiments. “At uni, Deb was always too shy to go up to girls, so I had to do it for her, but Bri’s a model you know, confidence kind of comes with the territory.”

“Not necessarily. Bet you a tenner it’s Deb.” He smirks, hand already outstretched to shake mine.

“You’re on,” I shake his hand firmly, the mischievous twinkle in his eye charming me more than I would like to admit. “Want to split some chips?”

* * *

By the time we pile into my flat, the food is almost cold, the two of us quickly chowing down as we collapse on to the sofa. We work like a well-oiled machine, falling into our habits of pouring water, kicking our shoes off, and switching on some late-night television.

“I know I’ve said this a hundred times,” I start softly as my wild eyes attempt to focus on him under the dim light, “But it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you, man.”

“C’mere,” Harry grins, pulling me into a tight squeeze before we settle side by side into the cushions. “Been meaning to tell you, you look great tonight.” Harry smiles cheekily.

“You going to try and snog me again?” I tease through a mouthful of chips.

“You do look irresistible right now.” Harry chimes, wiping a smudge of ketchup from the corner of my mouth before popping his finger in his mouth to clean it.

There is a brief pause, a second or so of silence before Harry speaks again, picking through the box of chips for the perfect one.

“I liked kissing you.”

“Do it again then.” I tease, wondering if he will take the bait or laugh it off.

Turning in his seat until he is facing me, a curious smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. For a second, his lips pucker in thought.

It is all I can do not to let out a little breath of laughter. The situation is bizarre, undoubtedly. Yet, there is a distinct sensation of calm filtering through my body, as though no matter the outcome, I would be satisfied.

“I shouldn’t… Haven’t had sex in months, scared it might stir up something in me.” With that, he turns his attention to the TV, slouching down into the sofa cushions.

“Harry,” I utter softly.

“Hmm?” he asks, my gaze fixed on his jaw as he clenches and releases it absentmindedly.

“Kiss me.”

Turning to face me yet again, this time with an incredibly serious look on his face, his eyes dark and stern. While he observes me, I take a sip of my water. His eyes follow me intensely, watching my lips part before lowering the glass and swallowing, his throat bobbing with mine.

“Are you sure?”

“Beyond sure.” I tell him with enough confidence for the both of us.

Our lips meet somewhere between us, lazily melting together as we sink into the sofa cushions. We move in a blur, arms around each other, hands caressing faces.

Our clothes tangle as we hastily undress ourselves, giggling as the garments collide on their way to the living room floor.

“This is stupid, isn’t it?” Harry grins before connecting our lips over and over.

“Completely.” I smirk between tequila-flavoured kisses.

“Condom?” he asks, voice slightly muffled by the flesh of my shoulder.

“Implant.” I tell him breathlessly, mentally reminding myself of my appointment to get it replaced next week.

Harry just nods into the crook of my neck, a hand reaching down to position himself. The giggles fade away as we become fully connected, slipping naturally into a symbiotic amalgamation of limbs and lips. It is hasty and sweaty, each of our movements oozing with lust. Our bodies work quickly with one another, only personal need driving us until we pull our clothes back on.

“Nice.” I tease, reaching my hand out for a high-five.

“Loser.” Harry laughs, pulling me into his side. A quick kiss is pressed to my temple and we turn back to the television as if nothing had happened.

* * *

The morning after, us having sex has already turned into a private joke. The two of us teasing one another relentlessly as we nurse our hangovers with a fry up.

“Never going to be able to look at you the same way, not after seeing your face when I made you—”

“Made me? I don’t think you could make me do anything.” I interrupt, bumping Harry’s hip with my own as I plate up our late breakfast.

“That so?” he replies, a smirk strongly evident in his voice.

I am about to reply when his hands slip around my waist from behind, gently raising until they cup the underneath of my breasts.

“Do you want to eat or not?” I laugh, motioning to the pan of eggs in one of my hands and the spatula in the other.

“Fine.” He grins, giving my boobs a quick, soft squeeze before moving away.

We sit down on the barstool by the island and I instantly dig in, desperate to eat away the throbbing in my head.

“Bri’s sad because she didn’t make a move on Deb.” Harry tells me as he types a response quickly on his phone.

“Telling her about last night to cheer her up?” I joke. Harry pauses, locking his phone and placing it down on the cool granite surface.

“God, can you imagine how much shit they’d give us if they found out?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I offer a hand for him to shake.

“Deal.” He says quickly, stretching out his own hand to meet mine.

* * *

It isn’t until a few weeks later that I get to see Harry again. Work consumes us both as always. Harry finalises a promotion timeline for his new album while I travel across Sicily, working with temperamental models in the baking summer sun. I spend the first day back at home, lazing on the sofa and doing laundry. Almost immediately upon exiting the plane, I miss the heat. Late summer in London provides to be drizzle-filled and grey for the majority of the time. The only time sunshine rears its head is the day of Harry’s party. Typical, really. That man even has mother nature on his side.

After a sluggish and jetlagged day spent doing laundry and replying to emails, I drink as much caffeine as possible before heading over to Harry’s place. He had wanted tonight to be as intimate as possible. Only family, friends and a few members of the production team received the invitation to his house to hear his new album before the public get their hands on it. The select few of us, after checking our names with the security team at the gatehouse, make our way through the enclosed community, walking right in through his unlocked front door.

Once inside, I cannot help the smirk that tugs at my lips as I imagine Harry organising this party. The house is covered in pink and blue like a fancy gender reveal and all I can picture is a roll of tape between Harry’s teeth as he insisted on hanging streamers himself.

Quickly, I am distracted by the décor when a table filled with flutes of champagne catches my eye. With one in my hand, I turn a corner and see him immediately. He stands in the centre of the lounge while those around him sit dotted around the space, watching as he speaks animatedly. His hands move about wildly as he talks, eliciting laughter from the room as he continues to tell a story I already recognise. Just as he reaches the climax of the tale, his gaze floats towards me. Joy seems to settle around us as everyone cracks up at the punchline of the anecdote, the two of us simply sharing soft smiles by way of a greeting. I raise my glass slightly and he understands, continuing to entertain the room effortlessly as I join the masses, simply observing and enjoying him.

“Alright?” I hear a familiar voice utter groggily. I turn to see Bri clutching an espresso martini tightly, majority already drunk. “Knackered, mate.” She confirms as she presses herself against me in lieu of a hug.

“Know the feeling,” I sympathise, feeling the formidable aches of travelling.

Bri and I swap stories about where we have recently flown in from as we settle amongst the group, finding a small loveseat brought in to accommodate the increased number of occupants.

Collectively, the room falls silent. Harry, charmingly humble as always, utters a few words of thanks to us all for our support during the writing, recording, and production processes, before we relax into the evening as the first track begins to play. Thankfully, Harry has already witnessed my initial reactions to each and every song, including a few which did not make the cut, so I need not worry about emotional outbursts in front of some of his nearest and dearest. Each track reminds me of the nights he would sneak me demos or voice memos of certain lyrics and riffs he was particularly proud of at that moment. Hearing the album again now brings back a serious swell of pride that fills my heart right to its capacity, emotion beginning to fill my eyes as we listen to the stories of his heart. Each sorrowful ballad and upbeat tune breaks and reforms my heart repeatedly and I am once again, completely enamoured with him and his talent.

* * *

“My girl,” Harry calls out happily, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “What did you think of the album?”

“I’ve already heard it.” I laugh, absentmindedly leaning into his warmth, grateful for it in the slight chill of his back garden.

“You weren’t supposed to though.” He whispers, lowering his head as he colludes with me, “This was meant to be the first time anyone outside of production heard it so… shh.”

Impossible to hold back my grin at his ridiculously over the top nature, I just give him a toothy nod before placing my left index finger against my lips.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I say softly.

“Where have I heard that before?” he grins, tapping a finger against his chin as he pretends to search his memory. His gaze trickles over my body, eyebrows pulling together when he notices the giant purple bruise spread across my upper left arm. “How did you do that?”

Gently, he takes my arm in his hand, lifting it softly to take a better look at the yellowish edges.

“Was time to get my implant removed, back to condoms for a few weeks.” I tell him casually, not realising the suggestive nature of my words until he replies.

“Going to miss the way you feel for a few weeks then.” His tone is so casual that it stuns me for a moment, completely unable to think of a witty retort.

I had assumed that our drunken fling was just that. Never had the thought crossed my mind that he might want to do it again. Okay, that’s a lie. I have thought of little else at night than the thought of Harry on top of me again, his hand replacing my own as I bring myself to climax.

However, watching the way he observes my reaction sparks a disgusting greed within me.

“Hang out when everyone leaves?” he asks, seeing the fire behind my eyes and matching it with his own.

It is all I can do to nod and not pull him aside and let my body mould to his.

The evening passes quicker than I had expected, perhaps my slight exhaustion seems to warp my internal clock, making hours feel like minutes. Regardless, before I know it, Harry and I find ourselves on his bed, lips and limbs entangled.

“I’m really proud of you.” I manage to mumble against his lips in a brief interlude in which they are parted from my own.

“That means a lot.” Harry utters back, equally hindered by my lips against his. Neither of us mind though. If anything, these small and restrained interactions seem to encourage us, raising the heat in the room as hands grasp and grip the other. Our bodies flush together, desperately meeting in any way possible as if trying to verbalise what we do not dare talk about.

We move much slower than the last time, savouring each and every touch as we take turns removing the other’s clothes. Contrary from our previous experience, there is nothing greedy about our movements. Instead, a different type of need drives our bodies to intertwine.

I manage to pull myself away from him for long enough to mutter, “Condom?”

Harry stills above me, eyes averted as he thinks deeply before speaking, “Think there’s some in the bathroom, sorry, I’ll be right back.” With a swift kiss to my forehead, he dashes from the room into his en suite.

“Cute bum.” I call after him, enjoying the way his hips wiggle with his quick pace.

“Cheers!” he hollers back, shortly followed by the sound of skin on skin.

The idea of him slapping his own backside leaves a smile on my face which lasts until he returns with a single condom, declaring it to be the last one and making some teasing comment about how lucky I am. His words fall on deaf ears, however, as I feel the energy in the room shift. My eyes glue to his body as he sits beside me, taking both of my hands in his and pulling me to sit up straight. The muscles of his body grow taut under his skin as he moves me to sit between his open legs. My feet lock around his back, his hands mirroring the same position around my waist as our lips meet yet again.

Into each other we sink deeper, chest meeting chest, rising and falling together. A gentle hand lifts to tuck away a lock of my hair before settling against my cheek, softly grazing his fingertips across the tender flesh of my neck. His lips are like runny honey against my body as they trail across my jaw and trickle down the column of my throat, catching my breath between them. The tip of a thumb under my chin keeps my head high as his lips work lower and lower. My own lips are parted as I melt beneath him.

“Harry,” I gasp, unintentionally making him stop dead in his tracks. Panic instantly flooding through my veins, I cast my gaze downwards to check on him. He looks up at me with soft but needy eyes. “What is it?” I ask cautiously, my hand subconsciously clearing the rogue tendrils of hair away from his forehead.

“I like the way you say my name.” he utters lowly, so quiet it almost seems as though he is afraid of my reaction.

Unsure of what words could quell whatever doubts he is battling with; I replace them with a soft kiss to his lips. One side of his face cupped in my hand, I feel him lean into me, eyelids fluttering shut just long enough to savour the feeling but not so long as to make it obvious that it was his aim.

“Harry,” I whisper, just loud enough to catch his attention and bring his eyes back to mine, “I want you to…”

I falter, unsure of the right word to use here. None seem to fit just right, either feeling too blunt and devoid of emotion or too far the other way.

Regardless of semantics, Harry understands and slips his hips away slightly. I watch as his steady hands tear the wrapper open and roll the condom down his shaft. Without another moment’s hesitation, his hands are back on my body, grasping at the flesh at my sides as he pulls me into his lap. With every move he makes, his lips provide accompaniment. Kisses spread across my face and neck, down to my collarbone and breasts, celebrating each and every part they come into contact with.

Desperate to feel every part of him, I raise my hips. Upon realising my intentions, Harry meets my gaze, watching me with awe-filled eyes as I slip our bodies together. I feel him gasp against the bare skin of my chest. For a moment, our actions are slow, adjusting to the overwhelming feeling of one another. Our hips rock gently into each other, soft moans and sharp inhalations fill the otherwise quiet bedroom, bouncing off the walls I have begged him countless times to add more colour to. His hands grip the flesh of my hips, reaching down sporadically to grope at my cheeks. With each squeeze and scratch, I move faster against him, head thrown back in pleasure as we repeatedly hit every delicious spot.

His hands caress every part of me, truly making love to my body as heated gasps slip past my lips. Our bodies work as a chemical reaction of lust and care, eyes locked as we move quicker and more urgently. Everything we need to say we say with a kiss of the neck, a scratch of bare skin, and a bliss-filled moan.

Two hands slip behind me, swiftly but securely lowering me into the pillows of the bed before returning to my hips and waist. His hands grip me tighter as this new position allows him to sink deeper into me, his body slowing temporarily against mine to savour the feeling of being fully complete. His eyes never leave mine, pupils contracting and dilating, telling me everything I need to know.

My gaze flicks down to the point where our bodies meet, watching in lust-filled awe as we connect. I feel Harry do the same as his forehead rests against mine, hands slipping to grasp at my thighs, squeezing and moulding the flesh in his hands. A groan leaves my lips at the sensation of his adoration. At the sound, his hips snap harshly against my own, eliciting louder, wilder moans. Encouraged beyond belief, Harry chases my pleasure, speeding up the movement of his body against my own. His head drops down to my neck, suckling and licking at the skin growing tender under his control.

Lifting his upper body from mine, he pushes gently against one of my legs until it is perpendicular to my body. Instantly, I melt beneath him, this new angle driving me into a state of madness as he hits harder and deeper, watching with animalistic pride as I clutch around desperately for something to cling to. My fingertips tangle in the bedsheets, eager to anchor myself as a hand slips between my legs. His fingers spin soft circles, their contrast to the speed and force of his hips sending me over the edge, body shuddering violently as he eases me back down. Harry utters soft words, gentle coos that bring me back to him and allow my eyes to unscrunch themselves. When I see him, laying atop me, face just inches from mine, the fire is burning brighter than I have ever seen it, something about watching the pleasure he brings me arousing every sense.

“Fuck me,” I beg, my voice cracking from my raw throat but I don’t care. I need him.

He gives me everything in him, using my body to feel good, knowing as well as I do that nothing could compare to the two of us. Even when his face contorts, jaw slack and breathing halted, I feel the care he has for me. His fingertips caress the softness of my skin, gently roaming the expanse of my body as I tether him to the Earth. Collapsing into me, he buries himself in the crook of my neck. My hands come up to encircle him, grazing up and down his back soothingly as he catches his breath.

“You’re unreal.” Harry eventually mumbles against my skin, producing a breathy giggle from deep within my chest. He pulls away, rolling off me and quickly discarding the condom before laying beside me. Propping his head up with his hand, his body follows the contours of my side in order for us to constantly be touching. “I mean it.”

I turn to him, tucking one knee between his and trying not to groan at the ache in my body.

“I dig you too.” I say with a gentle, slightly exhausted smile.

“Never said that,” he teases, earning a half-hearted frown which just makes him grin even harder. Slowly, his face falls serious, his brows pulling together as he contemplates the thought swimming around in his mind.

“Tell me.” I whisper, a hand coming up to rest on the side of his face, thumb automatically caressing the stubble across his cheek.

“Sometimes I think we’ll end up together.” He tells me quietly. My actions still, eyes flitting to his eyes to search for the tell-tale sign that he is just being mischievous. But there is only a hint of worry in those bright eyes.

“Yeah?” I ask, quickly licking my lips to distract myself from the break in my voice, convincing myself that it is simply because my throat is still sore from moments ago.

“Yeah.”

We lay for a while like this, no words spoken, or action taken. I don’t think either of us would know what to do if we wanted to anyway. Instead we lay. His hand comes up to rest on top of mine, keeping me with him until the rise and fall of our chests sync and my eyelids grow heavy.

“Tired?”

“Little, still a bit jetlagged.” I mumble, already half-asleep despite my intentions to stay awake and look at him all night long.

“Go to sleep.” He says softly before pressing a tender kiss to my hand. His lips work as an immediate sleep aid, relaxing every aching muscle and eradicating every stressful thought.

* * *

Three weeks pass by quickly, work overwhelms me yet again and I spend my days and nights at shoots, silently praying that each director I work with will be less of a diva than the last. Unfortunately, my prayers go unanswered. The increased workload begins to drain every last drop of lifeforce from me. My limbs ache with exhaustion, stomach never fully settled due to lack of sufficient sustenance.

“I’m knackered, think I might be getting the flu.” I explain sleepily to Harry over FaceTime, my body slumping back into the heap of pillows in my unmade bed. His camera flips around from the beautifully clear blue sky above him to a concerned, slightly bearded Harry. “Have you shaved since you left?” I ask with a smirk.

“This is my LA stache.” He grins, smudging and finger and thumb across the width of the hair above his top lip.

“I miss you.” I whisper, not meaning the words to leave my subconscious.

“I miss you too,” Harry smiles, his eyes softening as an excited shade of light pink flushes his cheeks. “Hang out when I’m back?”

I nod and agree to dinner next week before yawning and saying goodbye. Wrapping myself up in the cold duvet, the thought of seeing Harry soon stops me from slipping into sleep. My mind relives our last night together, each kiss and caress playing like a film. We should have talked about it before he left but, as per usual, our work-lives consumed us. What would he say about that night? Did he feel the difference in the way we moved? Is he just as freaked out by it?

The next day, all doubts and fears are drained from my body, a care package waiting on my doorstep as I arrive home. Carrying the box inside, my eyes glance around the box in search of some sign to indicate the sender’s identity. I knew he had been the one responsible for it, but the contents just confirmed it. Tins of soup, orange juice, cold and flu medicine, a box of cherry bakewells (my absolute favourite comfort food), and an unbelievably soft pair of fluffy socks.

Snapping a quick picture of the assortment, I send it to Harry with a string of appreciative words, tearing up due to his sweetness and my sickness.

It does not matter what either of us thinks of feels about that night together, because at the end of the day, it is always going to be him and I, whatever form our relationship takes.

* * *

“You look like shit.” Deb greets as she presses a kiss to my cheek before allowing me to sit across from her and Bri. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and glance down at the menu laid across my plate. The majority of the options made my stomach churn, the thought of pushing eggs down my throat enough to make me gag.

“Can’t shake this bug.” I grumble, sipping at my water as our waitress arrives.

“Three mimosas please.” Bri smiles sweetly at her.

“Oh, no, just two.” I correct, starting to break into a slight sweat. The waitress nods and excuses herself to fetch the girls their drinks, leaving them both to look at me with wide eyes and mouths agape. “My stomach has been in bits for weeks, no way I’m drinking and making myself puke again.”

“Never thought this day would come... I mean its brunch, what else are we going to do?” Bri gasps in a dramatically solemn tone.

“Yeah, can’t remember the last time you didn’t drink with us.” Deb frowns, clearly slightly upset at losing one of her drinking buddies. “Except that one time at uni.”

A smirk ghosts over my lips at the memory. Deb and I, still in our first year, sat in the pub with two pints on the table, both untouched as we watched the pregnancy test stashed in my bag slowly reveal just one line.

Slowly, the smile begins to fall from my face, Deb mirroring me as the penny slowly drops for the both of us.

“When was the last time you got your period?” she asks quietly.

“What?” Bri asks in utter confusion, excluded from our moment of telepathy.

“I can’t remember,” I admit in a whisper.

“Jesus Christ.” Deb sighs, the colour draining from her face as her hand comes up to rub at her forehead nervously.

“I had my implant taken out, the doctor said my hormones would be unpredictable so I haven’t really thought about it.” I rush, desperately trying to defend myself for not noticing the absence.

“Oh,” Deb says, instantly perking back up as if nothing had even happened. “To be fair, when was the last time you had sex anyway?”

She speaks as if the question were simple a throwaway comment, a small joke to lighten the mood. Of course, she would think that, the last time I spoke to the girls about my sex life, it was to complain about its lack of existence. I haven’t quite found the right way to tell them that Harry and I are doing whatever it is we are doing.

“About a month ago.” I admit quietly, unlocking my phone to flick through my calendar, mainly to avoid the harsh gaze of two of my best friends.

“What? Who with?” Bri asks giddily, however her excitement is drastically overshadowed by Deb’s probing.

“You used protection though?”

“Of course we did, I’m not an idiot.” I say, feeling myself getting wound up as the blood seems to drain from my body.

There is no way I am. We were safe. There’s no way.

When I look up to meet their gaze, however, both girls look at me with such sympathetic gazes that it takes everything in me not to burst into tears.

“Want to get a test to be sure?” Bri asks gently, somehow instantly caught up and fully aware of the sheer internal panic I am feeling.

I nod and we immediately leave the table. Bri takes my hand and waits with me as Deb quickly pays for the drinks that did not even arrive.

“It’ll be okay,” Bri whispers to me, her thumb soft against the back of my hand.

“Yeah,” I nod, trying to shake of the severe sensation of dread smothering me. Swallowing hard, I manage to meet her eye. “Probably just a scare, right? We’ll laugh about it in an hour.”

She does not reply. No one speaks as we walk to the closest shop, thankfully Deb lives close by and is able to source a test and usher us home before I can overthink too much.

I won’t be. What are the odds? Condoms are 98% effective, I checked in the health aisle as Bri went to pay. 98% is far too high to be stressing out over a few potential symptoms.

The girls sit on the edge of Deb’s bathtub, watching me pee and trying to crack jokes to lighten the mood as I place the test on the side and wash my hands, looking anywhere but the stick.

“These situations make me so glad to be gay.” Deb utters to Bri with a ghost of a smirk.

“Totally.” Bri says with a small giggle.

“Not helping.” I groan, pacing back and forth in the small bathroom, my stomach squeezing tighter and tighter into a knot.

We sit in silence for the remaining few minutes. Until Bri finally breaks the tension in the room.

“Do you want one of us to look?”

“No.” I say quickly, undoubtedly wide-eyed.

With a long inhale and slow exhale, trying to draw out these last few seconds of naivety, I give a small nod before approaching the countertop.

Two lines.

“Maybe its faulty, do another one.” Deb reasons.

“You okay?” Bri asks me gently as our friend digs wildly through the box for the second test stick.

“It’s positive.” I whisper, eyes glazing over slightly as I stare down at the white plastic. “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

“Have you told the dad yet?” Deb asks, her voice crackling through the phoneline as I walk into the hospital’s multi-storey car park.

“No,” I sigh, ready to defend my decision to her for the fourth time since the three of us stood in her bathroom, two positive tests laying across the countertop. “I told you, I wanted to know my options before I tell him. Gather some research, you know?”

“How was it?” she asks as I unlock my car door and slump into the driver’s seat.

I give her a quick run through of my appointment, from taking yet another test, it coming back positive yet again, to discussing the three main paths from here. Abortion, adoption, or parenthood. Repeating all the information the doctor had given me makes me want to be sick, all of the statistics and medical jargon feeling foul in my mouth. This was not supposed to be my life. I was not meant to get knocked up by my friend who, oh yeah, just so happens to be internationally acclaimed musician Harry Styles. Blocking the image of telling him from my mind, I focus back in on Deb’s voice.

“You know I’ll be here through whatever you choose, don’t you? I know you’re scared, and I know this isn’t exactly ideal but you’ll make the right choice and me and Bri will do whatever you need. We’ll hold your hand if the dad won’t.” she tells me, unintentionally causing my eyes to fill with tears.

“Love you Deborah.” I mutter.

“Love you loser.” She grumbles back, eliciting a teary chuckle from my lips.

As the call ends, my head lolls back against the headrest, eyes closing momentarily as I allow myself a few seconds of calm to be grateful for my angelic friends. Both had offered to come with me today, or drive me at the very least, but I had insisted on doing this alone. I could not have dealt with any more eyes on me as I was told ways in which I could deal with my situation. An absentminded guilty hand stretches across my stomach at the thought of my ‘situation’.

Adoption just would not be an option. Unless I somehow managed to avoid Harry for nine months and give birth in secret. Even then I would probably just have to remove myself from his life forever, unable to take the pain of looking at his beautifully unaware face and being stricken with the loathing of giving up the only thing that would ever be just ours. No, that is not an option.

So, my choices become drastically limited. Both life-changing in their own ways. Automatically, my brain begins to form lists of pros and cons as I drive out of the city.

I do want children someday, and people always say that there is no perfect time.

No fucking kidding.

Things would be so much simpler if I was not pregnant. I could live my life and Harry could live his. Surely, he will not want the burden of a family at such a young age. I know all about his hopes and dreams. I know how much music means to him, how incredible he feels after each and every performance. How could I take that away from him?

The thought of not telling him circles around my mind as I sit in the familiar traffic of the route. I could make both of our lives so much simpler if I just made the decision for the both of us. But that is just it, I cannot take that from him. He has to know at the very least.

Anyway, who is to say that he will even want to be involved? Perhaps this has happened before. I have heard the stories of tour. What if he already has an illegitimate child out there and simply does not care? Maybe I have been something to pass the time and the reality of our situation will come crashing down around us and make him want nothing to do with me. Would I keep the baby then?

The possibility of Harry wanting nothing to do with his child leaves my mind almost as quickly as it enters it. This is Harry. He has wanted a family for as long as I have known him, he loves kids. Am I depriving him of a potential future with his partner and legitimate children? Would I be in the background of family photos, not even Harry’s ex, just some woman he got pregnant and has to watch him live happily for the sake of her child’s relationship with their father?

Anger bubbles up inside my ribcage as I pull into the garage attached to the house. With a frustrated sigh, I turn the engine off and step out of the car. How could I let myself be so stupid? No one in their right mind thinks that sleeping with their friend is going to be problem free. Clearly this is a sign, a punishment for being stupid enough to open myself up to the potential of a--

“HEY!” I hear him shout from his front door, quickly dashing out barefoot to come and greet me.

For a split-second when I look at him, I forget why I am here. When he wraps his arms around me and pulls me so tightly against him that I worry I might suffocate, all I feel is his warmth and excitement at seeing my best friend home at last. Until he lets me go, and my stomach sinks to my feet.

“Lets go inside.” My voice is hushed, barely above a whisper when he lets go of me. I pull a smile across my face until he nods and walks bouncily into the house, a half-step ahead of me.

“I’m glad you came over, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Harry says, failing terribly at hiding a grin as we move to his kitchen.

I sit myself on one of his bar stools, gesturing for him to put down the kettle in his hand and sit next to me.

“Me first.” I tell him, my face so solemn and opposite to his that were the circumstances different I may have found it comedic.

“It’s kind of a biggie though.” Harry’s smile is completely unaffected by my tone, so wrapped up in getting out what he wants to say that panic starts to bubble up into my throat at the thought of not being brave enough to just tell him what I need to. “You know that night before I left…”

He looks to me with the most hopeful and kind eyes, making me dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands as the realisation sets in that I am probably about to break his heart and have him hate me.

“I’m pregnant.” I force out, voice cracking halfway.

My heart does not thump in my chest like I had expected it to, nor does my stomach churn as I watch him try to process the weight of my words in the slightest. Inside, I feel a sick sense of calm, potentially relieved, potentially too numb to feel the world disintegrating around me.

“You’re… Sorry, say that again.” His eyes search mine desperately for some sign that this is just a cruel joke. Now the pain resurges, wrapping itself tightly around my lungs and squeezing hard.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper guiltily.

I wait for Harry to speak again, but he doesn’t. He just stares into mid-air, chest heaving up and down as he attempts to make the slightest amount of sense out of this situation.

“About four weeks,” I explain softly, secretly trying to coax him back to me, selfishly desperate to see my friend’s kind eyes. “I saw a doctor today, talked about my options…whether to keep it.”

“Our options.” he whispers, I think mainly to himself before his eyes free themselves from their visual tether and meet my gaze. They are glassy and it takes all I have not to reach out and take his hand and promise him that it will all be okay, because I honestly do not know that it will and I can’t lie to him.

“Our options.” I repeat quietly, ignoring the slight leap of my heart at his sentiment and quickly reminding myself that he has not committed to anything. “I know it’s a lot to process, and you don’t have to say or do anything… but do you have any… strong preferences?”

“Yeah,” he says lowly, “but it’s your decision, isn’t it?”

My heart sinks and throat dries, all moisture heading towards my eyes. With a large, pained swallow, I sit up straight, avoiding his eye.

“Yeah, sorry, I just thought I should tell you.” My voice is quiet, afraid of its own weakness. I stand from the stool, running a hand through my hair out of nervousness.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks quickly, eyes panic-stricken as he stands up in front of me, catching one of my hands in his.

“Going, I didn’t mean to bother you.” I admit, trying my hardest but failing to hide my heart breaking.

“No, no you—I don’t want that.” He says, only now do I notice the texture in his voice, “We don’t leave each other.”

His eyes are every bit as tear-filled as my own, the sight enough to encourage the water in my eyes to slip gently down my face. Standing in Deb’s bathroom, she and Bri had wrapped me in a gentle hug as violent sobs wracked through my body. Now, however, as Harry and I pull each other into an embrace tight enough to keep up anchored to the world, we cry softly.

“We’ll figure it out.” He whispers, resting his chin on top of my head. “Promise.”

* * *

For hours Harry and I sit at his kitchen island, debating our next move. With frustrated sighs and tearful moments, conversation delves into the logistics of each and every possibility at our disposal.

As predicted, Harry is not keen on the prospect of adoption. The notion that his child might discover their father’s identity and potentially make it public, could destroy his image, his career, everything he has worked so hard for. I tell him I understand, that I had thought this would be his fear, and that our options were narrowed down to two.

There is quiet when the topic is first brought up, the eight-letter word stunning him silence.

“It’s your body.” He manages to whisper.

The groan that passes my lips is unavoidable, having heard those exact words from Deb, Bri, the doctor, and now Harry.

“I wish someone could just tell me the right thing to do.” I sigh, holding my head up on the counter, fingers pressing lightly into my eyes to try and relieve the stress headache that has been lingering for the past few days.

“I’m sorry.” Harry utters quietly beside me.

He sits with his hands in his lap, anxiously picking at his cuticles as he watches me with a frown.

“I didn’t mean for…” he doesn’t finish the sentiment, but I understand.

“Me neither,” I admit, softening my gaze and taking one of his hands in mine to stop him from ruining his nailbeds.

He gazes at my hand on his for a moment, afraid of moving and losing the contact. It twists into mine until our palms are touching, squeezing the width of all my fingers with one gentle contraction of his muscles.

Before I let myself get too caught up in the tender comfort of his skin against mine, I speak up, “Fuck it, pros and cons list.”

I stand up from the stool and find a notepad in one of his messier kitchen drawers.

“No judgment.” I tell him, handing him a pen before making a table with my own.

We pause for a moment, and I list something in the negative column.

Everything will change

Harry follows suit and leaves a few words beneath my handwriting.

IMPACT ON CAREERS?

I cannot help but nod my head before we continue to add to the paper, reasoning for and against our little situation.

The process takes longer than I had expected, Harry arguing with some of my cons and suggesting that they are easily fixable or are, in fact, pros.

“Okay, so cons,” I start once we both lay our pens down. “Everything will change, impact on careers, would we be good parents?, don’t want Y/N to have to deal with media, no privacy, custody, would have to co-parent, impact of pregnancy on day to day, this is all a bit mental.”

Harry nods, urging for me to continue to the counterarguments.

“Pros… We both want kids someday and a friendship relationship could create a good support system for the kid… Think the list is pretty clear then.” Looking at him, we both understand logically what we should do.

“Yeah.” Harry says quietly, eyes burrowing deeply into my own before picking up his pen one more time and adding into the left-hand column:

WE’D HAVE A BABY

His eyes seem to take forever to meet mine, flicking down to where my bottom lip is caught tightly between my teeth.

I pick up my own pen and leave my final note, sealing the decision for us.

Its our baby.

Silence fizzes around us, its intensity growing as our eyes meet and have a conversation that we cannot quite pass to our mouths. He looks to me nervously, chewing at his cheek, his eyes holding back the hope building inside him. I want to tell him that I am still scared, that everything about the future is so uncertain. I cannot do it. I cannot deprive him of the joy he is feeling, however shrouded in terror it is.

“So…” he eventually manages to push out, a slight smile creeping on to his lips.

My mouth mirrors him, the muscles in my cheeks aching slightly from the sensation after not being used for the past few days.

“Yeah.” I let out in a shaky breath, eyes watering yet again but this time I welcome it.

“Should we celebrate?” Harry asks quietly, his voice suddenly apprehensive.

“As long as it includes takeaway and a film.” I say, too exhausted to go anywhere or deal with the consequences that come along with being next to Harry in the outside world. Pushing the nagging dread at the thought of people finding out and commenting on us, I pull up Deliveroo on my phone and we settle on the sofa in his living room.

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting?” Harry teases as he flicks through Netflix.

“Too soon.” I reply, smirking down at my phone.

“Sorry,” he says, not at all sorry for getting a positive reaction from me as if our lives would just slip back to how they used to be.

123 notes · View notes

emeto-vibes · 3 years

Text

My stomach hurts (part 1)

Sickie: Ash Caretaker: Vivian Emeto, nausea, belly rubs

Both of them are 21 in this fix.

Pov: Vivian (Ash’ girlfriend) He had called me twice even before I got back from work this afternoon, and even though this was not extremely unusual with his lack of patience this time I wondered if something more might be wrong. In the parking lot I pried the hair tie out of my hair to let lose the ponytail my boss required me to wear during work hours, while with the other hand I texted something to Ash.

Vivian: Hi, I’m just done with work, are you alright?

It took only seconds before I saw the bubbles that indicated that he was typing, I waited for his reply before starting the car.

Ash: My stomach hurts..

Ash: like really bad

I sucked in my lip as I stared at my phone. He never texted me stuff like this, always being more private about everything going on inside of him, emotionally or physically. So this must mean it was really bad. My heart sped up slightly as I texted him back, feeing both nervous and excited to possibly be able to be there for him.

Vivian: Do you want me to come over?

Ash: You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.

He typed a few times again after his message but I didn’t get another reply. Doubting I weighed my options, I could go by and leave if he didn’t want me to be there, but in that case I would have to drive at least an hour extra before I could go home. Or I could go home, leaving him to his own shit hoping he would be fine tomorrow. I didn’t want to fight with him over this, but going home after him reaching out about something felt wrong. I called him, the dial tone sounded three times after which he picked up. His voice hoarse as he spoke. ‘Hi, what’s up?’ I smiled a little, ‘Nothing, just wondering if you really are as fine as you claim to be?’

All I heard was his breathing for a few seconds after which he replied, ‘Yeah, yeah I think I’m good-,’ his sentence cut off only to be followed by something that sounded like a suppressed groan.

‘Ash?’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you please let me come over?’

He groaned again, this time in annoyance rather than discomfort, but I knew I’d already won.

‘Sure, but it’s nothing okay. I’m fine.’

‘Hmm hmm, you’re always fine. I’ll see for myself when I get there. Be there in 20 minutes.’

The road was packed, and I was annoyed, worry gnawed in my gut as I sped through different streets to escape the traffic jams on the main road. The gps was barely able to keep up with my impulsive route decisions. It took me 26 minutes before I reached his apartment, and at this point my nerves were almost unbearable. It was ridiculous for me to be so upset about something so small, but his newfound vulnerability left me a bit insecure about the whole situation. I let myself in the apartment with my own key, shutting the door softly before calling out his name. ‘Ash?!’

He appeared in the hallway, wearing a grey hoodie and black shorts.

‘Hi,’ I whispered, unsure in how to approach him. He looked so delicate, his pale skin even paler than usual, the circles under his eyes an even deeper shade of purple, as he moved I could see how his legs trembled with the effort of standing there. He didn’t say anything back, just stared at me with unfocused eyes. ‘For how long have you been like this?’ I asked as I stepped closer, shoving his dark hair out of his face to feel the skin of his forehead. He leaned into me immediately, moaning softly at the gentle touch.

‘A few hours,’ he replied, shrugging as I concluded he wasn’t feverish.

‘Okay,’ I carefully let go of him again, shrugging off my coat and hanging it before leading him into the living room. The living room was a dark space that connected to the kitchen, a black leather couch stood across of a tv in the living area, on the glass table in front of it was an empty ashtray and a glass of water. Ash walked towards the kitchen, pulling open a cabinet to retrieve another glass. ‘Can I offer you something to drink? Do you want to eat anything? You just came back from work, you must be hungry.’

‘Ash! Stop that. I can take care of myself.’ I blurt out angrily.

He just looked at me, lowering the glass to the countertop and turning to open the fridge. Without looking back to me he retrieved my favorite soda and poured the glass full of the fizzy drink. It was only when he put back the bottle in the fridge that he flinched slightly. His face scrunching up as one of his hands fled to his stomach. I sped towards him, shoving him aside to put the bottle back, and turned to face him. ‘Are you alright?’ He nodded, swallowing thickly.

‘Liar,’ I called out to him.

He frowned and shrunk as again his stomach seemed to be cramping.

‘Do you have a hot water bottle?’ I asked him He shook his head.

‘Okay, let’s at least get you to the couch then.’

He didn’t complain, no verbal or non-verbal disagreement, and I grabbed him by the arm gently to guide him to the couch safely. He slouched down immediately, resting his hands on his stomach.

‘Ok, done with the bullshit now.’ I told him, ‘I need more info out of your big boy mouth, rather than the play-pretend stuff, because I cannot help you if you keep that up and we both know you’re lying so it’s also just really stupid.’

He smirked, eyes suddenly a bit sparkly as he finally really looked at me. ‘Sorry.’ He said, finally sounding like himself again, his voice lower and more secure. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I didn’t eat anything weird that I can think of, but woke up with this horrible stomach ache. It’s only getting worse,”- again his sentence got cut off, but this time he looked away as he burped softly. I stared at his Adams apple as he swallowed a few times before he looked back at me.

“Only a stomach ache?” I asked, gaze flickering to where the fabric of the sweatshirt folded over his stomach.

“Nausea too,” He said, swallowing thickly again. “But in moments. Nothing is coming up anyway.” With a sigh he leaned back even further into the couch, as if everything was too tiring now that he’d been honest with me.

“Can I come sit next to you?” I asked carefully.

He nodded, seeming even paler than minutes before.

“Let me get a bucket first.” I suggested, leaving him alone on the couch for another minute to retrieve the dark-blue plastic bucket from its place by the sink. Filling it with a tiny bit of water and soap before I returned, I placed the bucket on the glass table before nestling next to him.

He moaned in agreement, nuzzling his face against my shoulder, “Could you, maybe, uh?”

“Hm?” I asked, knowing what he was asking for, but amused by his inability to say it.

Instead of answering he just grabbed my hand and placed it on his belly. Groaning immediately at the touch. I smiled and kissed his cheek, “Try to relax, you’re doing good.”

With my hand on his sweatshirt, I carefully rubbed a few circles, testing the waters before slipping up the shirt to get access to his bare skin. It was warm, and surprisingly soft considered its bloated state, with each gently circle I could feel bubbles beneath my palm. Ash at this point was basically curled against me, moaning and hiccupping softly every now and then, but seemingly content. I cupped the underside of his normally very flat belly and put my other hand on top of the bulge, slowly moving on to the sides, using my thumbs to press bubbly spots hoping to maybe pass some gas to release the ache a bit. It brought up a few tiny burps until he suddenly stiffened and pulled back from me, “Bucket!” he exclaimed.

Hastily I grabbed the bucket and put it in his lap. Immediately a longer burp escaped him, echoing into the bucket, he cringed and spat a few times, long threads of drool dripping from his open lips. Gently I tried to get his hair out of his face, it was not quite long enough to get covered in puke, but the strands stuck to his sweaty skin and covered his eyes. With my hair tie I created something to prevent this. “It hurts so bad” He whined, and I shifted to get my hand back on his exposed skin just in time to feel the way his stomach contracted as he retched unsuccessfully. “I got you baby, you’re doing good.” Another empty retch left him panting as he cursed into the bucket. Again I broke loose from him, this time to retrieve the glass of water standing on the table in front of us. “Drink this,” I ordered, taking the bucket from him to hand him the full glass.

“I can’t,” he replied, looking at me with big eyes. Still he took the glass from me and set it to his lips. If he struggled with downing the water, it didn’t show, because in less than twenty seconds the water was gone. His lips curving into a little smile as he handed me the glass and I returned the bucket to him. A long burp rolled out of him, ending in a gag, his tongue sticking out over his lips just slightly as he leaned over the bucket. His stomach cramped again and he cursed as I gently pushed into the soft skin. Carefully he sat back up, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt before inserting two fingers into his mouth. He leaned forward, retching as his fingers reached the back of his tongue. Thrusting deeper his face turned red as another retch tore through him. It worked, watery puke sprayed around his hand into the bucket and onto his legs, he thrusted his hand back again, causing another wave of liquid to hit the bucket. “There you go,” I said, gently rubbing his back and belly.

He nodded, holding the soiled hand over the bucket as he brought up another gush of puke. Thicker this time. Orange, fool smelling vomit pooled into the bucket, leaving him tear eyed.

After that it was done, heavily breathing Ash looked away from the mess. Only spitting into the bucket a few more times after putting it away onto the table. “Done?’ I asked.

“For now.” He replied, leaning back against me as he caught his breath.

“Hmm, okay.” I touched his cheek gently before placing a little kiss on his forehead.

“Sorry,” He spoke suddenly, sitting up a bit again.

“What for?”

“For all of this,” he gestured around the room, gaze once again focused on the floor.

I pulled him closer to me, “You’re sick, no need to say sorry for that.”

“Okay,” He mumbled, “Can we sleep now.”

“Yes we can go to sleep now,” I said, stroking his hair as his breathing slowed.

#Ash #Vivian #ocs #sickfic #emeto sickfix #nausea #belly rub #emeto #stomach ache

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nikkzwrites · 3 years

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(They Long to Be) Close to You | Dark Fix-It Fic Series Part 2 | Chapter 7

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah. This is part two of the series! You can start the full series here!

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence.

Word Count: ~5.0k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Jonas cried over Martha’s body promising that he would set everything right. He looked up hearing the explosion and then ran down into the basement to stay safe.

The older Jonas shot up in bed breathing hard from his nightmare. He must have fallen asleep in his clothes. He turned to look at the letter labeled Jonas on it. He opened it to read,

‘Dear Jonas, you promised to make everything right again. I want you to know that you will do that. You must never lose hope that there is a way out of this maze. A way to save me and you...But we will have to make sacrifices… do unimaginable things...to untie the knot at the end. Each fate in this knot is linked to the next. A thread, blood red, that connects all our actions. In light and in shadow. But the apocalypse must take place. You must let her die, so I can live. We have to let some things go before they find their way back to us. We are perfect for eachother. Never believe anything else.’

Martha cried over Jonas’ dead body clutching Annalise’s necklace in her bloodied hands. She stood and walked away from him still shaking from the shock she just received. Annalise walked out from the door and ran to Martha. She held the girl close in her arms and started to cry for her. Her fingers intertwined within Martha’s hair. Yet, Martha felt close to nothing. This is what she had always wanted, so why does it still feel wrong.

The short haired Martha looked up at the swirling God Particle in their world knowing what must be done now. Her two older selves watched it twist and turn just like their hearts. Their eyes crying from the knowledge each of them had. Mary smiled proudly at her work. She had spent years getting back to this point. Yet, her eyes still cried knowing just as soon as she was going to experience the greatest ecstasy, she was going to experience the pits of despair. Unknowing of her own fate that was just close to happening.

Silija took her rifle and shoved Martha into a cage. She locked the girl in, ignoring her cries of confusion. Adam watched on with a sigh.

The older Jonas took the letter and burned it after reading. He felt disgusted at what she was trying to imply, let Annalise die so that Martha could live as if he could possibly do that. As if he could let that happen.

Annalise and Martha walked back to Martha’s home. It was the day of the apocalypse. As they got inside, Martha started to panic about how dirty and covered with his blood she was.

Annalise took hold of her and said, “Hey, hey… shhhh… It’s okay.” She carefully walked the girl to the sink and washed her up. Her hands were gentle, yet dexterous at getting off the blood. After cleaning her hands and face, Annalise heard someone stirring upstairs so she quickly helped Martha undress and shoved the blooded clothes in the trash.

Magnus hurried downstairs after hearing the door open and close. “Martha,” he breathed relieved at his sister being back home safe. He looked between Annalise and Martha asking, “Where were you? Mom cried all night long.” Noticing that Martha wasn’t her normal self, he turned to Annalise and asked, “Is she okay?”

Annalise shook her head as Martha tried to wipe her tears away. She turned to look at her brother.

“Hey,” He spoke softly. He opened his arms to her which were gladly taken by Martha. He held his sister and asked, “What happened?”

Martha sobbed into Magnus for a second. She held him tighter than she had ever held her brother before. “Bartosz was right,” she whispered. She shook her head and said, “What he said in the woods… about the end of the world.” She started to panic. “The nuclear power plant… Today. Bartosz’s father is trying to cover up an accident. The containers… The world is going to end today.”

Magnus looked at her then to Annalise, who just shrugged and shook her head acting as if she didn’t know anything…

While in truth, she did. Annalise knew exactly what Martha was talking about and it was her job to also get to Bartosz so that way they could all go fix this mess. At least, that’s what Eve told her and her older self told her. There was no reason not to trust them.

Meanwhile in 1986, a younger Mary smiled with a young Noah. She turned to him and said, “We did it! We found the way back! We can get Bartosz and go back home.”

Magnus shook her head at her, “Have you gone crazy? When did you last sleep?” When she tried to yell at him, he shook his head and said, “I haven’t got time for your psycho crap. You can handle this, right Anna?”

Annalise nodded. She shook her head at Martha, “I’m sorry.”

Short haired Martha looked down at Annalise’s necklace and started to cry. She trembled as her fingers traced the tree of life pattern.

“They had to die,” The older Martha explained, “It’s all wrong.” They stood in the old Eris Lux meeting area. “I know what you’re feeling. But you’ll learn to let the feeling go. Everything will run its course. Just as fate determined our world and his.”

In the other world, Martha tried to escape her cage. When Adam appeared to her, she screamed, “why did you lock me up? You promised me there would be a way to change everything.” She started to cry, “So the apocalypse won’t happen. You lied to me, just like my older self lied to me!”

Adam looked down at the sphere in his hands. He spoke, “Sic Mundus. Old Tannhaus. He firmly believed he was creating a paradise where we’d all be free of destiny, and free of our pain. A world outside your world and my world. But I have finally realized what this paradise really is. Unending darkness, in which nothing exists. But for that...the apocalypse must happen. In my world...and in yours.” He turned and walked away from her.

“Jonas,” she roared, “Jonas! Let me out!”

There was only six hours before the apocalypse left and Aleksander was speaking to Obendorf about the containers. He had seen Annalise leave earlier that morning so he knew it would be safe to speak about it.

“Dad,” Bartosz said, walking into the room and surprising Aleksander, “Is everything okay?”

Aleksander nodded, but sadly said, “I know I said I’d stay home today...But something important came up. I’m sorry.”

Bartosz shrugged and grumbled to his dad, “It’s alright”

His father turned and said, “I have to tell you something. Someone is blackmailing me.”

Bartosz’s face turned into confusion, “What?”

Aleksander turned and showed his son, “With this. Something that happened a long time ago. Sometimes we make decisions in our lives that we can never undo.” He sighed and continued, “My name is not Aleksander. It is Boris. Boris Niewald. But it was an accident… You must believe me. I’m not a murderer.”

Bartosz shook his head and asked, “What about Mom? Did Mom know about this?”

“Your mother is the best thing that ever happened in my life,” said the man, “she saved me from all that and I never told her the truth.” He looked at his son, “Bartosz, I’m sorry.”

Bartosz threw the newspaper down and walked away from his father.

Across town, Charlotte walked to Ulrich’s house with the file to let him know what they found on the investigation for Mads resulting in Ulrich leaving quickly and Hannah realizing it was her the entire time.

Annalise sat with Matha. She tried to convince the girl to take a nap, but Martha felt too wired for that.

The girl walked over to her mirror to look at herself. “I hate this,” she sneered at herself. She grabbed the scissors from her things and started to cut.

“Hey,” Annalise said. She walked over to the girl and stopped her, “Let me do that for you. You are going to mess it up.”

“I don’t care,” Martha mumbled, but conceded giving the scissors to Annalise anyway.

Annalise smiled and giggled, “Come on. Let’s cut off all the things weighing you down.”

Martha watched as everything happened through the mirror. She just wanted everything fixed and over with.

Katharina slept on Mikkel’s bed calmly. She awoke to Martha standing over her, “You scared me. Where were you? Did you cut your hair? What happened?” She looked over towards Annalise who stood awkwardly behind her daughter. She looked back to see Martha nearly in tears.

Martha spoke, “Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know,” Katharina admitted watching Annalise walk out to give them some space. She spoke again, “No. I believe that we take our lives into our own hands. That we decide which road we take.”

Eve stared at the older Bartosz with a sigh. She spoke to him motioning towards the hideout and to his child Jonah. Her heart sunk, but she knew this was what was needing to happen. Everything was so so close. She needed everything to continue just as it had before. She knew what this would cause though. She knew what this part would lead. She needed it to happen. This was one of the finally domino effects needed for her plan to see him again.

Katharina shook her head and said, “I’m sure I’m the last person you want to talk to, but...If you do...I’m here.” She took her daughter's hand and held it. The woman spoke again, “Your dad and I… A lot of things maybe different now, but that’s not necessarily bad.”

Martha started to cry. She shook her head and said, “No, I’m sure it’s not.” She held her mother closely. She let go after a moment and explained, “I promised I was going to do something.” Then she walked out.

In the other world, Claudia stared at a picture of the blond boy who had started this all. Her breathing was all that could be heard in the small bunker. She sighed and looked down to open one of the journals letting her know what she was supposed to do as well. It spelled out where the God Particle was and to follow the signals to it. She found herself going to the area in her yellow radiation suit. Inside, she saw only a bright white light. Her heart pounded as she reached out to it.

“Stop,” A man called to her. Claudia turned to see Jonas.

She sighed in relief and said, “Jonas…” She looked surprised. Her voice shook as she spoke again, “You’re alive.”

Back in Eve’s world, the short haired, scarred Martha wrote Jonas a letter. She knew all of it to be absolutely true. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was doing all of this for her own Annalise as well. Something for them to be together just as Mary and Eve were. To raise this child together. She sighed and spoke, “I murdered him. Why is he still alive?”

Mary drew a diagram for the young Martha, “There is a switch point in the loop of time. The moment that causes things to run in one direction or the other. You bring him into your world, or you don’t. A line that starts at one point, then loops onto itself once more. Two possible ways on the outer edge of the line or on the inner edge of the line… yet it is the same line. Two overlapping realities happen in a single moment.” She spoke quieter, more in reflection, “In one, she goes with you… in another she’s kidnapped and trapped until she figures out the puzzle of this.” She shook her head and spoke louder again, “One, he dies...on the other road, he doesn’t.” She pointed and said, “Both realities continue from the point of the sphere’s activation, then collide on itself if it’s in the same reality. Both of your worlds continue from that point and repeat in an endless loop. One triggers the other one to happen. You two are locked in Quantum entanglement.”

Eve interrupted and spoke, “Adam has tried to sever it for 33 years. So that the thing growing inside of you will never be born.”

Mary spoke up again, “But it is impossible now. Your worlds… they can never be disconnected.”

The older Martha took the letter and folded it up to be put into the envelope as Ever spoke, “Every step Jonas takes is guided by us. He cannot escape his fate.”

In Jonas’ world, Claudia stared at the blond and asked, “What is this?”

Jonas spoke while looking at the glowing white orb flowing suspended in the air, “That is what was left over after the catastrophe.”

Claudia breathed heavily and asked, “The God Particle… and this here? What is this?” She pointed to the equipment not too far from them.

Jonas looked at her confused and explained, “I’ve seen where all this goes.” He pointed towards the equipment, “in the future. There is no way back now. The cave was destroyed. There’s nothing there anymore. The passage is completely gone. But this here… If I find out how it works, I’ll be able to go back. Then I can save them. Martha, Mikkel, and Annalise. I can save all of them.” He stared at her. She seemed off. She didn’t seem to support any of this. He spoke to her and asked, “How is it that you found me?” He waited for a moment then asked in a slightly different way, “How did you know I would be here?”

“The apparatus,” Claudia explained, “The matter it needs.”

“The apparatus,” Jonas yelled, “You still have it?! Where is it?”

Claudia reluctantly showed him to where she was keeping the machine. She knew if she didn’t he would only become more aggressive. She watched as he rushed towards it. As he toggled with some of the switches, she spoke, “It doesn’t work. Maybe this is how it had to happen first. For all the things to change for next time.” As he slowly turned towards her, she explained, “The substance in the device. You and I brought it into the passage again. The variables in the equation were changed. There’s a chance it might work next try.”

Jonas yelled, “I can’t wait 33 years to try!” He growled as he walked towards her, “I’m supposed to just hope this won’t happen again? Maybe next time I’m on the other side of the bunker door?!” He sneered, “She didn’t say anything… Your older self. She knew Annalise was going to die. That Martha was also going to die. How they would die.” Tears dripped down his dirty sweaty face, “Why should I trust you now?”

Claudia felt a pain in her chest hearing about Annalise. Yet she pressed on, “The material in the plant. I know what it is. I can assist you. I can help you save them. To save all of them.”

In Eve’s world, there was only three hours left before the apocalypse. Martha stormed to Bartosz’s house with Annalise behind her. She screamed, “BARTOSZ!”

He very quickly went to the glass door as if by instinct. He opened it for her and asked, “Martha?” He looked at her then saw Annalise not far behind her. He bit his lip hoping this wasn’t going to affect them then turned back towards Martha to listen to what she had to say.

“Can we come in,” the short haired girl asked him. She stared up at him pleadingly. It was the least he could do now right? After stealing the girl she loved, the least he could do was let her inside.

“Eh,” Bartosz shifted uneasily. He swallowed and nodded, “Yeah. Come on in.” He moved out of the way for the two girls to rush in.

Martha shakingly explained, “33 years ago there was an accident at the plant. Somehow the accident caused some strange matter to form… and your father helped cover everything up.” She started to breathe heavily. Her eyes flickered between Annalise and him, “And everything we heard in the caves. It’s all the same… The substance… It starts the end. Today. We have to talk to him.”

“Starts what end,” Bartosz spoke calmly.

Martha’s voice shook as she said, “The apocalypse.”

Ulrich stared at Mads body in disbelief. There was no way any of this was happening. He’s heart raced as he realized it had to be. He unlocked the jail cell and stared at Helge. He lifted him up and asked, “The Kid in the bunker. You said it was you who killed him. But you didn’t mean him. You meant Mads. The boy in the bunker looks just like Mads. How did you do it?”

Helge shook and said, “They...They both said that I must do it.”

Ulrich growled, “Who? Do what?”

Helge swallowed and explained, “To help send him to the future. To fill the gaps.”

Ulrich let go of him and took a step back in disbelief. He took the pennies out of his pocket and showed it to the man, “The pennies… What does this mean?”

Helge looked up and said, “I must stop him.”

“Stop who? Who will you stop?”

Helge swallowed and spoke softly, “You.”

Ulrich pulled back and looked down before looking out the door. He said, “You can go now.”

Helge hurried out to go on his own mission to stop the man.

“And this Jonas guy,” Bartosz asked, “He’s dead now? And you killed him there. Well it’s not you… It’s...another you?” He looked at her completely confused. This sounded a lot like how Annalise was trying to describe being in two places at once just the other night. He ran his fingers through his long hair thinking about everything.

Martha nodded and explained, “I was there. In the future. There’s nothing left.” She shook her head. “Nothing.” She sighed and stated, “It all has to do with your father. He can’t be allowed to open those containers.” Watching his thumbs rub together and him look down then back at Annalise, Martha knew he was deep in thought. “Bartosz,” she tried to reach out to his mind to pull him back to her. She pleaded with him, “Please.”

Bartosz reached for his phone and called his father. He didn’t get an answer due to his father looking at all of the sins of his past and what they lead to. Aleksander called Charlotte now knowing what he must do to make amends.

The Unknown looked up at the sphere. He turned it on and watched it descend. The youngest walked in first, then the oldest. The middle one took out the ball and held it in his hand.

In Adam’s world, Silja let Martha out of her cage and at gunpoint led her to where Adam wanted her to go. She explained that all she was here to do was to help fill the gaps for everyone so that everyone could reach salvation.

Adam stared at the swirling mass. He spoke to himself mostly but turned to see the ghost of Annalise standing there with him, “We have waited a long time for this moment.” He turned towards Magnus and Franziska and told them, “you know what to do.” He nodded to them to leave him alone with the ghost of the girl he loved.

Magnus and Franziska swallowed. They shifted and took hold of each other’s hands not sure if they were really ready for the other world yet and to see their long dead best friends.

In Eve’s world, Magnus and Franziska sat at the edge of the pond unknowing of the apocalypse about to hit them in just one hour.

Franziska turned to him and signed, “What do you think it means? The birds? The light? The boy in the bunker?”

Magnus shrugged a bit then signed back while mouthing, “Martha has lost it. She thinks the apocalypse will happen today.”

Franziska shook her head at him. She could tell without words that he was nervous. She smiled a bit to comfort him and slid her hand into his. She signed to him and mouthed, “If we die today, then at least we are together.”

Magnus smiled and signed back, “Together.” He leaned close to her so that they could kiss all his troubles away.

Bartosz and Annalise rode their bikes down to the powerplant. Martha sat behind Bartosz looking up at the boy. They tried to ride as quickly as possible to stop the canisters from being opened by Charlotte and Aleksander.

Helge waddled through the woods muttering to himself the sounds of the clock in his mind. He walked toward the cave knowing exactly what he was going to try to do.

Ulrich called Charlotte trying to get a hold of her to let him know of what was going on as he tried to follow the man.

Adam’s world Magnus and Franziska stood in the road and stared at the group on the bikes. Bartosz and Martha stopped smoothly while Annalise crashed Martha’s bike trying to avoid them.

Martha stood up and walked towards them, “Who are you?”

Magnus chuckled, “You can’t take a few guesses?”

Annalise groaned on the ground causing Bartosz to run towards her side, “Anna!” He looked over her and caressed her face, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Where does it hurt?”

Annalise reached her hand down towards her side. She groaned as he touched it, “Ow...Ow. Ow.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Mary screamed as she walked into her family’s part of the hideout. There her older Bartosz, her husband, held their dead baby in his arms crying. He looked at her pleadingly, “Please, Annalise. Forgive me.”

Mary screamed at him, “What did you do?!”

“I had no other choice, Annalise please.”

Martha stared at the man and whispered, “Magnus?” She gasped as he stared at him, “You’re from the future.”

Magnus nodded, “But not from yours. They lied to you. Your older selves. They want the apocalypse to happen. They’re the ones responsible for it happening in the first place. But there is a way to change everything.”

Annalise struggled out, “Liar! You’re just working for Adam.”

Bartosz cooed at her, “Shhhhh. Anna… Please. You’re hurt. You are only going to keep hurting yourself. Shhhh.”

The older Bartosz looked sadly at his wife, “Please don’t look at me like that. She said I had to or else he’d die anyway.”

Mary rushed at him and started to hit him, “Liar! She would never do this to me.. MARTHA WOULD NEVER!” She stole her dead Jonah from him. She cried over his small body.

Franziska looked from the couple on the side of the road then looked at Martha and said, “But you have to choose our world and trust in him. Jonas.”

Bartosz started to question them as well. Annalise could see it on his face as Martha asked, “Jonas? He’s alive?”

“In our world,” Franziska nodded, “And he knows what the origin is.”

Mary trembled as she realized, no. Eve could, and Eve would. She started to realize everything was just Eve’s fault. She had been using her just as she used Jonas, but to what end. Mary sneered at him and said, “Of course in the end you would choose her. I hope you rot in the hell you both made.” She walked away from him to go to Eve’s office.

Franziska continued, “But before that, you must save Jonas from the apocalypse in his world and bring him into your world.”

Bartosz stood up and growled, “All of you are crazy, you know that?!”

Magnus stepped towards the girl and said, “You can’t stop what’s happening now, but...if you come with us, you can prevent it. Another time.” He took out the orb and held it towards Martha.

Bartosz helped Annalise up and asked, “What is that?”

Martha stared into her other worldly brother’s eyes. She panted as she tried to figure out what to do. What was the best step. Who should she trust? What should she do?

Bartosz’s voice cut through the noise in Martha’s head, “Martha what’s going on here?”

Martha walked towards them and turned towards her two closest friends, “you have to come with us.”

“Come with you where,” Bartosz asked.

Franziska spoke up as Magnus got the orb ready, “They aren’t one of us. They work for the others. She will save them.” Franziska nodded towards Annalise.

Martha looked between the two groups unsure of who to go with or who to trust. She looked at her friends and whispered, “I’m sorry.” She disappeared in a cloud of ashes and ember.

“It’s time,” Eve spoke to her group, “Adam has moved each of his tokens into position. It is time that we do the same.”

Mary burst into the room angry with her Bartosz trailing behind her, “You MONSTER! You LIED TO ME.” She growled and launched herself at Eve.

Eve laughed as everyone else left the room to leave them alone. She shook her head, “I did no such thing. This was all just a test for you, don’t you see that?”

Mary screamed, “You killed my son!? After everything I had done for you! I made your damn machine for you! I traumatised myself for you. I worked years and years for you. Blindly trusting you. You separated me from Bartosz for years to motivate me to make the machine work! I helped convince someone I was an angel with the son you had my husband have after me so that we could have your dad’s brother killed! Who even does that?! Why me?!”

Eve sighed, again, she chose Jonas in the end just like every cycle. Annalise chose Bartosz. As her heart slowly broke, she spoke, “I am so sorry you see it that way, but I want to hear it from you. Say what you are truly feeling deep inside your heart. Tell me.”

The younger Eve took over speaking to the rest of the group, “This knot has given us all life and we are its keepers. In both worlds. He’ll never be able to untie this knot. In all these years, he’s never understood how everything is connected. How it all ends and begins. Not only in our world, but in his as well. We are destiny. We raise the walls of this labyrinth. Each of us shapes the paths and extend their hand. Bartosz, you must help save yourself and Annalise to save our lives. Claudia, you must guide yourself to be our eyes in the other world. Egon, you must create your past to preserve the family tree. Noah, you must bring love and friendship... To start everything anew. Every darkness is followed by light. With every death comes life.” The younger Eve opened the portal for them.

In Adam’s world, Martha pleaded with the scarred man, “You brought me into your world. You promised me we could change this. Why are you doing this?” She struggled against her chains crying. She sobbed and asked him, “Where are the others? Where did you send them?”

Adam’s raspy voice grated in the air, “They are all fulfilling their destinies. Magnus and Franziska. Charlotte and Elisabeth. Silja and Agnes. They’re sustaining the cycle’s life. So that you and I exist here, now.”

“What are you saying,” She shook her head in confusion.

Adam looked at the ghost of Annalise dancing around them and looked back at her, “This is the end we’ve reached. What’s growing inside you, the origin, must die. But it can’t be killed by normal means. It’s born of both worlds and so the energy of both worlds is necessary to destory it. The apocalypse in my world...and the apocalypse in your world. This here is the end. A machine that crosses not only time, but space as well. Which then focuses the energy of both apocalypses on one concentrated point. This spot. Your son only exists because the matter exists. Now, through it, he will die, and all of us with him. None of this will exist anymore. Both worlds will erase one another. Absolute annihilation.”

Martha shook her head. She looked at him with sorrow for him, “You’ve gone insane.”

Adam slowly walked towards her, “There is no hope. No salvation. No paradise.” He took Annalise’s necklace from her, “We were wrong. You and I. In your world, and in mine.” He walked away from her.

“Jonas,” She called out to him, “JONAS! Jonas, please don’t do it. Jonas.”

Adam closed the door to prevent him from still hearing her call his old name. A name he had not associated with himself in a long time. A name when he was still Annalise’s. As she cried, he sighed knowing what he had to do. He turned it on and watched her struggle.

The beginning is the end and the end is the beginning. Every connection in one world must also be closed in the other world. Everything is interconnected. In the light and in shadow.

Slowly, all of Eve’s foot soldiers reached where they were to go. Older Noah to Sylvie and Elizabeth, Helge and Egon back to the past, Claudia to her other self, and Older Bartosz to Annalise and his younger self. Ulrich going into the past to stop Mads from dying. Older Jonas creating the machine while young Eve went to place the note. The Unknown going to help create the end.

Mary screamed, “ADAM WAS RIGHT. There is no salvation! You are the monster and this should end. All of this should end. There is no paradise! There is only pain!”

Just as a gunshot rang out deep in the cavern walls, The Unknown all yelled out desperately, “MOM!”

#(they long to be) close to you fanfic #yesterday once more fanfic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #dark (netflix)#close to you fanfic

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thetorturerwrites · 4 years

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Sleep: A Sackler One-Shot

Summary: You’re not sleeping. Adam wants to help. The only way he knows how.

A/N: 18+ only. It’s Adam Sackler – that’s the warning. Ha! (Smut. I’m saying its smut.)

Word Count: 4500+

Days. It had been days since you had slept. Everything was starting to blur together because your mind just wouldn’t shut off.

It started, of course, with the slightly manic, sugar-coated Saturday that was your group of friends. None of you were the clubbing kind. So, you would routinely be found in someone’s living room, basement, bedroom drinking together, eating together, creating together. When you all came together like that, it was magic. And Saturday night had been magic. The gathering had been at your place this time. It was you, all of your friends, and Adam. Tall, dark, sex on a stick Adam.

Adam had moved in about three months ago. The place he lived in before was bought out and all the residents purged so the building could be torn down. He said that he’d used it as an excuse to get a bit away from the heart of the city, and he’d moved in with you after Ray mentioned he knew you and you were looking for a roommate. When asked about why he was looking for a new place, you’d gotten the watered-down gist. Something something Hannah. Something something Jessa. Something something drama. You’d damn near said no because of the something something drama, but he looked earnest when he said he was done with it and wanted to find a calm space. You had calm space to offer; and so, in he moved.

You caught him watching you a lot that night as you flitted from friend to friend in your shared home. He brought you a drink once or twice when you’d been carrying around an empty glass without noticing, but you were too high on the vibe, the magic, to notice the way his honey-brown eyes always followed you wherever you went or the way he made sure he knew where you were.

Once, he caught you in a quiet moment in the kitchen and moved to stand opposite you, filling your glass with water this time just to take a break from the booze. You smiled your thanks at him, happy for the moment of silence and stillness, but pushed off the counter when you heard your name again. But he wasn’t going to let the moment go by and moved to cage you there, arms on either side of you, large body bent slightly to look you in the eye. His eyes dipped to your lips where he could smell the whiskey and then up to your colored cheeks.

“You’re a pretty drunk, you know that?”

You were about to say something, you were certain of it. You were willing your brain to fire up and get ready to hit him with something witty and sexy and adult. But your name was shouted again, and the bubble burst. That was Saturday.

And so, it wasn’t surprising to you that Sunday was an up day, a productive day, a great, shining day because you were still flying so fucking high. But you fully expected to crash Sunday night after the house was clean, the laundry done, lunch with your best girl, dinner with your parents, two dog walks, and a flurry of this, that, and the other in between. Your body should have been done. And yet, Monday came with maybe an hour of sleep under your belt.

It was now Friday.

The first day, you’d been annoyed, but this wasn’t your first rodeo, and you knew it was only a matter of time. The second day, annoyance turned to irritation; and the third day, you were fucking angry. What the fuck was happening. Thursday was a blur of exhaustion and emotion because you always got emotional when you were tired and it had been DAYS at this point. Never more than two hours of sleep at a time and just fucking awake for no reason. So, you’d begun going through your insomnia arsenal.

Friday found you called off from work, wrapped in too many blankets on the couch, and the heels of your hands pressed as far into your eye sockets as they could go to stop the tears that were forming. You sat going over the list of things you’d tried to get to sleep AGAIN to try to figure out the right configuration that would work. You’d tried (in no particular order)…

-Hot shower -Tea -Tylenol PM -Masturbation -Hot shower + tea -Tea + Tylenol PM x 4 (nobody fucking takes only one) -Hot shower + masturbation -All of the above in one night

None of it had worked, and here you were practically weeping on your couch because you were so utterly exhausted when Adam crashed through the door, loud and cursing like he usually was. You curled in on yourself just a little bit more hoping he wouldn’t notice you and would just go away.

“What’s up, kid?” He greeted while dumping himself onto the couch by you. When you didn’t reply immediately, he reached over and nudged you. “Hey… ” he said, nudging you again. Two more pokes to your shoulder had you snarling and unbundling your head from the mini fort.

“WHAT ADAM. WHAT DO YOU WANT.”

Your outburst didn’t seem to rattle him, and he gave your shoulder one more nudge with an up tilt of his mouth.

“Y'ok there? You look like death.”

Heaving what probably liked like a dramatic sigh, but was actually just Herculean effort to not burst into tears again, you dropped your head in your hands once more and muttered…

“I haven’t slept all week, I’m exhausted, and I can’t banter with you today, ok?” Because normally, the banter was fun. He made you think with his quips and humor. And you loved making him laugh because it seemed like he didn’t do it enough. But today was a leave-me-the-fuck-alone day. Adam, however, did not get the memo.

“Have you tried…”

“NO,” you nearly shouted, “DO NOT ASK ME if I tried tea or a shower or what the fuck ever. Because I did. More than once and I sincerely doubt that you’ve got any new ideas to cure insomnia.”

He smirked at you but didn’t say anything else. You watched as he leaned forward to unlace his boots. Canting your head slightly, you let your gaze trail to the strong arms, biceps working, and the black t-shirt that sat tight across his chest. But for you, it was two things in particular - his height and his hands. You always had a thing for hands because a good-sized hand could do so many things – Lift, hold, squeeze, choke. All yummy and delectable things. You also had a thing for tall people because on one hand, it made you feel safe; and on the other, being able to reach literally anything in the world was attractive. You weren’t extremely short, but tall came with bonus points in your book. So, there you were daydreaming about Adam and his tallness and hands when he finally spoke and shook you from your reverie.

“You know…they say sex is good for insomnia.” He was the one watching you now having shucked shoes and socks and leant back into the couch. His gaze roamed you over, and you shrank further into your fort because, though you did shower and brush your teeth, you were certain that you did not paint a pretty picture.

“I’m not having sex with you, Adam. Besides…” You could not have helped the snort that came from your face for all the money in the world, and it came with a side of snarky eye roll, too. “I’ve already tried it.”

His brow quirked, but he didn’t look away. Rather, he let his gaze rove down the bare shoulder, the only bit of you he could see, for a moment before speaking again.

“You haven’t had anybody here in weeks. And you’ve been wearing that same sweater since Tuesday.” Fuck. It was true, but you didn’t think he paid much attention to your comings and goings. AND ALSO, you definitely didn’t think he paid attention to what you wore. Apparently, he did.

“No, but I did try to get off, and it’s the same thing. And it didn’t work and so here I am being badgered by you about the state of my sex life.” With the grumpiest face you could muster, you flopped against the side of the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

“Just go away, Adam. Leave me to my insomnia and insanity in peace. I promise I will bequeath the apartment to you when I expire.” And the Oscar for best actress goes to….

But your dramatics were cut short when you felt your entire fort being lifted from the couch, and the squeak that broke from your throat was decidedly less than composed, and you bristled at the noise. Who the fuck squeaks.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Just as quickly, you were deposited on the end of your bed and shot to your feet with a glower.

“Come on, kid. I don’t like seeing you like this because its literally fucking pathetic. So, let me help you. I swear I will keep all of my clothes on, and I will not fuck you. Well…" he paused and let his gaze trail from your head to your toes and back again before finishing, “mostly.”

“You…,” granted, your brain was sleep deprived and fuzzy, but this was something out of a porn movie, wasn’t it? “You…want to help me sleep…by sort of fucking me?” What. What was even happening. Was this real life? And then, he laughed. He fucking laughed. Hand on the stomach, head tilted back laughed. That was it. Murdering him was your only option now.

“I want to help you sleep by helping you get off. Orgasms you have to give yourself are still work. Just let me give this to you.”

Apparently, you’d already begun this bizarre experiment because he reached up to pull the clip from your hair and toss it over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in the room. Your mouth opened to chastise him, but he plowed forward before you could formulate the words.

“I told you. I’m gonna stay just like this, and you’re gonna feel better.” You were still contemplating - because sleepless brain = slow as fuck - when he pulled the heavy white sweater over your head and off your arms.

“I’m going to burn this sweater, by the way.”

He balled it into a rumpled mess and threw it clean out of the door and into the hallway. He was serious about that sweater. Again, you opened your mouth to object, but he was now working on your leggings. He nudged your feet to get you to lift one and then the other, and they, too, were tossed over his shoulder. In the span of minutes, you had been rooted from your fort, undressed, and were now standing in front of your dangerously handsome roommate in nothing but your favorite blue tank top and black boy-short panties.

“I’ve been wondering what you kept under those ugly, baggy sweaters,” he murmured while not being shy at all about the way his gaze traveled you over.

“Look. Adam.” Reaching up again, you pressed your fingers into your eyes and just took a breath because this was stupid, right? Adam was manipulating you by weaponizing your exhaustion, and you weren’t going to stand for it. You were hardly going to stand for standing.

“This is a bad idea, ok? This isn’t going to work, and I think you sh–” Christ on a cracker what was that? He had cut off your objections by sliding all ten digits into your hair and against your scalp. The large fingers attached to those very large, very strong hands splayed out all around your head. And THEN, he started to rub and scratch at your scalp.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” The curse-groan that came from you was definitely unladylike but sweet Jesus did that feel good. Your head dropped forward against his chest, and you felt the reverberation of his soft chuckle against your forehead. Instinctively, both of your hands came up to rest on his hips because he was messing with your equilibrium but god did you hope he wasn’t going to stop.

“Better?“, he asked with his voice a bit softer than before, and you nodded against his chest again without saying anything just in case your voice would break the spell. Your pity party began to puddle away – no, that was YOU turning into a puddle under that heavenly scalp massage. He was looking down at you now, where you rested your head against him, and he cleared his throat as quietly as he could.

You tried to lift your head to retort, but he shushed you and just kept right on going with those magic fingers. Each drag of his nails against your scalp elicited a happy groan or moan that made his fingers tighten or flex momentarily, every noise provoking a physical response. His hands moved down from your scalp to wrap around your shoulders and start kneading, and you moaned. Loud. No fucks given.

“Jesus Christ, Adam, please do not stop doing that.”

Adam’s large, wonderful, dexterous hands massaged your shoulders first, then deltoids, then upper back, then rib cage, and you wobbled and teetered depending on where his hands were. You were pliant under his ministrations, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath. Finally, you tipped your head back from his chest and unscrewed one shut eye to look at him.

“Hi,” you said. That was it. That was the best your brain could do. He smirked down at you, tilting his head back in amusement.

“Hey, kid. Get up on the bed before you fall over.” He laughed. He was laughing at you. Again.

You contemplated it for a moment while staring up at him and his long eyelashes. Was he always this attractive, you wondered. Yes, yes he was. But now what? So far, he’d been true to his word, but you couldn’t be sure that he would in the long run. Maybe you were relaxed enough now. Maybe the massage was enough. Maybe you didn’t have to potentially wreck your roommate relationship by whatever it was he was planning to do. But he could, apparently, read it on your face that your brain had started whirring again because he lifted you once more and unceremoniously threw you on the bed. You hadn’t even finished yelping from the surprise of it when he was crawling up in the bed beside you and arranging you on your back. He slid your now very-relaxed arms upwards so they crooked on either side of your head.

“Trust me, ok? Try.”

You didn’t trust him. It hadn’t been long enough, but you were so, so tired. Your brow furrowed again, and you bit into the plump of your bottom lip. He nudged the side of your chin with his nose, and you knew the anxiety crossing your face was clear, you just knew it. Your brain was kicking up again. Fast, fast, too fast. Sliding up beside you, Adam nudged one of his knees in between your legs, and you jumped.

“Adam, I…”

He hushed you yet again, but still gently, and dropped a hand on your stomach, fingers sliding to the side and down until it curled over your hip. His face found the space between ear and shoulder, and those full lips found purchase there. He murmured something against your flushing skin, but you had no clue what it was because that spot, right there, was fantastic. His lips trailed up to the lobe of your ear and then back down again, raising goose flesh in their wake. You sighed against him, a satisfied, almost eager sigh. You tilted your head slightly to the side to give him more room to explore that valley, and he took the invitation raining kisses on the skin that soon gave way to his tongue and finally teeth. You hiccuped at the feel of teeth on skin. You knew he was a fan of marking and bruising - his calling card to the world. “Adam was here.” It almost made you laugh.

Finally, Jesus Christ, finally, you began to relax against him. The stiffness from your aching arms and legs began to recede, and tears sprang to your eyes at how fucking amazing it felt to not have that tightness in your shoulders, your back. Both hands dropped down from where he’d set them to fall on Adam’s shoulders, hips shifted against him and tilted - a decidedly languid undulation matched with a contented sound through parted lips. He glanced up at you then, eyes raking over your flushing skin, watching your lashes flutter open at his pause. The slight dig of your nails into his shoulders drew a thrust from his stuttering hips before he could reign it in. He could not, however, stop the things coming out of his mouth.

“You’re doing so fucking good, kid. Doesn’t that feel better? Told you I was going to take care of you.” All you could do was nod. Yes, it does feel better. Yes, he was taking care of you. But your brow furrowed again because the ache was shifting from arms and legs into your center. The core of you began to throb in time with your heartbeat, and that ache was torturous.

“Adam…” You breathed it out, something of a plea, and he lifted his head to look at you, groaning softly at the look of wanting found there.

“I know. Just let me…” His voice trailed off, and he began to scoot around you – propping himself up on this side, coming up to his knees for balance, both legs caging one of yours to keep it apart from the other. When he had you just the way he wanted, he leaned forward - the bulk of his weight up on the arm so he could look down at you, your face, the length of your body. And look he did. You watched him, through your lashes, as he stared down at you. Canting his head to one side so he could look all the way to your toes.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured - more to himself but loud enough for you to hear. And then, he began to move again, heaving a satisfied hum that you could feel vibrate through his chest.

“Ah sshhhit!” The surprised cry broke from you as two large fingers slid up and down against your labia, the friction from your panties just enough to drag. Instinctively, your uncaged knee drew up slightly, the ball of your foot finding ground in the blanket to give you a bit of leverage to lift your hip - granting more access to the lower parts of you and eliciting an appreciative sound from the looming figure above you. A few passes in, that enticingly long middle finger slipped between the two labia to rub from the tight bundle of nerves hidden there to the slick entrance of your core. When you began to lift your hips to meet his strokes, he cursed.

“These need to go right fucking now,” he muttered and sat up on his knees to peel away the offending panties and toss them away. He turned back to you and just stared. In another life, you’d have shied away from his gaze because there you were naked under him, your breasts swollen high and tight from arousal with pebbled nipples straining the fabric of your shirt, bare legs parted, swelling cunt all on display, and all of you heaving with breath coming in short bursts. In this life, however, you were too lust-rattled and tired to think about how you might look. With no shame whatsoever, he reached into his pants to adjust himself, and you held your breath. He smirked that asshole smirk of his holding your gaze steady as he did it. Adam Sackler was a devious beast, you decided, but you couldn’t help yourself from licking your lips at the thought of it.

In a second, Adam dropped back down over you and buried his face into the crook of your neck again hiding whatever tortured faces he might be making. You didn’t have time to dwell on that notion, however, when you felt the pads of his fingers find the fount of your slick again. Your own self control wavered. With a gasp, your hips jolted forward against him again, and you began to rock upwards and down with each press and pass of his fingers. The sounds spilling out of you were uncontrolled, frenzied - particularly when he abandoned the long passes for short, tight circles on your clitoris. Your fingers curled into fists in his shirt, clutching the fabric as though it would help. When your hips began to buck and your head pressed back into the pillow, he lifted his head from the valley of your throat to watch you.

“Come on, kid. Quick and dirty this time. Cum for me.”

You nodded your head blindly, agreeing with him that fucking yes, you wanted to. It was right there and he was charging towards it for you. Bless this dirty, dirty man. Every part of you was clenched tightly, terribly tightly - eyes, fingers, toes, knees, hips, core. And then fucking yes, there it was. As the tightness in you exploded outwards, you came with a series of shouts that had him planting his free hand on your chest so he could feel them. He started to talk to you again, punctuated with his own arousal now, riding you through the orgasm the only way he could in this arrangement - with that filthy mouth.

“Look how fucking good you look.” He huffed, heaving a breath against you. “Bet you taste like candy.” You felt the vibration of his low, hungry groan. “Shit, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” He pressed his hand down into your chest just a bit more until your eyes opened and looked up at him. “Time for take two, yeah? Wanna make sure you sleep. Let me taste you.”

The delirium in your head made you question if he was saying those things out loud, and you certainly weren’t sure if that was you nodding your head, but his weight was gone from you so fast there was little doubt that it was definitely you who had agreed, and it was definitely him pushing your thighs apart wider.

Laying himself along the end of your bed, he traced the outline of your labia again with his finger. You looked down to see him gazing into your pussy, pearlescent from your arousal and orgasm. He treated himself first to the taste of your thighs, licking away the sweat and slick that was spotting the flesh and applying a trail of hungry bites to your center. When he finally - FUCKING FINALLY - lowered his mouth to your taste, he groaned loud. The reverberation of it against your already sensitive sex sent a shudder up your spine. Hungrily, he tasted all of you - labia, clit, slit outside and in - and you were never so grateful for a debauched man. His tongue circled and he sucked on your clit until you squirmed. He scooped up all of the slick collecting at your entrance and sucked it down like ice cream with a lascivious moan.

But then you moved, and that drew his eyes open and up along all of the curves of your body. He watched you as you shifted a bit, scooting your hips down closer to him. Both of your hands came down to thread into his hair, and you began to move his mouth against you, and Adam lost his fucking mind. He growled and moaned, digging fingertips into the flesh of your thigh as you brazenly showed him what you liked. You moved him, then, up and down, side to side, and he hummed hungrily with each thrust of your hips as you worked yourself on his mouth.

You were almost there. It was right fucking there, but your brow knit with frustration because you were chasing something that seemed elusive. A pained whimper broke loose from your chest, and you threw your head back against the pillow. Watching Adam devour your pussy should have been enough because, good god, he was beautiful between your thighs. And the hungry look he gave you when you began to manipulate him made your insides pool that much hotter. But still you chased, frustrated, until finally, one of those large hands came to push one leg higher up. On the heels of that came two long fingers sliding into your heat, and your chest shot up off of the bed like you had been electrocuted. A shouted curse broke loose from you as those fingers began to move, pumping in and out, curling to drag against the spongy spot inside. Your trembling fingers curled harder into his hair, and your hips began to dance against him again. Rocking, rocking, rocking…

“Fuck, Adam!” Your chest arched upwards until the only parts of you touching the bed were head, shoulders, and hips – your pelvis punched down low and open for his thrusting fingers. That coil began to tighten again, and you trembled right at the edge of it. Teetering. Keening. Still chasing.

“Goddammit! Say something!”

And oh, thankfuckinggod, he moaned into your cunt, and the vibration of it ricocheted through you and shot you like a slingshot. The force of your orgasm shook your legs, your hips rolled and bucked, and you cried out hoarsely. The new surge of hot and wet that met his lips had Adam reeling a series of hungry, sloppy moans alongside yours. He chased every drop, every taste of it until you’d rode him through the high and had begun to collapse against the bed.

Happy, contented sounds rumbled through your body and you patted his head affectionately - that was the only thing you were capable of currently.

With a chuckle, he crawled up the bed beside you and settled himself gingerly by your side. You watched him move, and your brow furrowed slightly. Did he hurt himself? Was it that bad? What the fuck, man! But before you could think of too many more scenarios, he captured your chin in his fingers and kissed you once, light but enough to impart his enjoyment of you. The tang of you now on your lips had you smacking them blissfully. Man wasn’t wrong. Tasted like candy.

“Don’t think. You’ve got me hard, painfully. Sleep.”

As he talked, he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you close, settling your back against his chest so that he could bury his face in your hair. Pulling up the blanket around you both, he wrapped himself all around you and whispered into the back of your neck.

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

Because it had worked. And here you were – sweaty, sticky, sated. And fast, fast asleep.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam driver #here we go #adam sackler x you #adam sackler/reader #adam sackler/you #adam sackler smut #girls fanfiction #adam driver fanfiction

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feralrosie · 3 years

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Fairy Lights

Hewwo @damagecontroldumortain happy (late) valentine’s day! I’m sorry it took so long, but here’s your @loveinwayhaven gift ♥ hope you like it!

The Wayhaven Chronicles Adam/Janey (F!Detective) Words: 2600 Rating: G Tags: Fluff, lots of fluff; Valentine’s day Read on AO3

On second thought, maybe she was the one delivering spring to that place.

It took them a little over one hour to arrive at the botanical garden just outside Wayhaven, although Detective Kingston insisted that they could have done it in less time, if it was not for Adam’s careful driving. Of course, he was very confident in his own skills, but it was the reckless attitudes of humans on the road that could endanger this trip—mission. That could endanger this mission.

“You know that I’m going to drive on the way back, right?” Janey joked as soon as they parked by the gates of the garden, where vines intertwined along the fences, chipping the white paint to expose the coppery colour of the metal underneath.

“I am far more qualified to drive. I have better reflexes, sight and training.” His tone was as stiff as his muscles, button-down shirt marking every line of his chest as he turned off the Agency’s SUV. “And besides, a vehicle this size is too big for you. You wouldn’t reach the pedals.”

“How dare—”

“Let’s get going.” A hint of a smile formed on his lips as he pushed his aviators up the curve of his nose and got out of the car. Was fast enough to walk around it and open the door for the woman, offering a hand for support as she jumped out of it. “Mind your step,” he mumbled, but her attention was already focused on the garden ahead.

Despite the ancient appearance of its entrance, the place itself was impeccable. A path of cobblestone, with no signs of moss, guided the guests among thousands of trees, contouring an icy lake in the middle of the park. The woods, dark and imposing, also had trails of its own, winding through in irregular shapes. In a bright late afternoon such as this one, the scene was idyllic. The sun leaked through the canopies, trying to deliver life to the garden, but meeting the silent landscape of dormant bushes and leafless trunks covered in glittering snow instead. Only the pine trees tried their best to add some colour with strokes of dark green reaching the clear blue sky.

Must have been a gift for the garden to welcome the deep red of Janey’s hair among them. Adam noticed, as she led the way in front of him, how contrasting she was to the scenery, bursting with life and colour. Even the soft breeze that danced around them and waved her locks seemed to agree that whatever beauty nature had was no match for her.

“Alright,” Janey clapped her hands while turning on her heels to face the Agent, pulling him back from his thoughts in a startle. “What are we looking for, exactly? What do we need for this mission?”

Ah, yes, the mission. It was more like a simple task, really. Recently, a lesser kingdom of fairies took residence in Wayhaven, attracted by the Detective’s powerful presence, but even a small town like that could overwhelm such tiny creatures, and so the Agency needed to find another place for them.

“The Firefly Fairies will need a place safe from humans,” Adam stated, wrapping his coat around his torso and crossing his arms. “But it must also be a place safe from this weather. Perhaps somewhere distant from the pathway.”

She agreed with a simple nod, and in no time they were walking side by side into the woods. If it was just her body heat or something else, Adam could not tell, but the cold was not so harsh next to her. Maybe this was the reason for the fairy kingdom being drawn to her in the first place; she felt comfortable and welcoming to everyone with her charm and friendly personality. It was impossible to not let yourself be engulfed by someone like her, and Adam wasn’t the only one who felt like that… Right?

“I must apologise, Detective.” He broke the silence between them after a few minutes, not because it made him uneasy, but quite the opposite. Janey aimed a puzzled look at him, waiting for him to proceed. “Surely I impeded other plans you must have had for today.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is Valentine’s Day, is it not?” The words almost got stuck in the back of his throat, suddenly dry. “I believe many consider this to be a special date.”

“Oh.” The sound escaped from her lips, and Adam couldn’t help but to look at her for just a moment. Her heart was beating a little faster, which explained the rosy colour forming on her cheeks—delicate and unexpected, but not slightly fragile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans.”

“Hard to believe—”

“And even if I had,” she bursted, shoving her hands inside the pockets of her jacket. Their gaze met for such a brief moment that he thought he imagined it when those light brown eyes faced the path ahead once more. “I would rather spend the afternoon with you, anyway.”

He came to a halt, as if the words had taken him off balance. The idea of inviting her to spend a couple hours with him, not for a mission but for leisure, was not new, and crossed his mind multiple times (it was, what, the third time that week?), but the implications that Janey might actually have accepted if he asked sent a wave of electricity down this chest. Could it be that she also noticed the date on the calendar and agreed to come along in this foolish mission because of him?

True that her presence was everything Adam had in mind when preparing for it. He was hoping that she would accompany him to this botanical garden, under the excuse that she, as a Wayhaven citizen, had been there before and could guide them better. But he was an agent and had a job to do. No matter how much she instilled wonderful and alarming new sensations in him, he should focus on the task ahead.

“How about this place?” Janey was a few meters away, and Adam didn’t have to force his feet to reach her. She was pointing at a lonely oak tree, large enough to accommodate a house for humans. A kingdom of fairies would fit there just as well, except…

“This tree is in a clearing,” he said, resting his hands on his hips and taking a look around the place. “They would prefer a denser area, with more flowers.”

“What about that one?”

Adam’s gaze followed where she was pointing, taking its time to also notice that she was not wearing any gloves. Felt an urge to hold her hands, take them closer to his lips and blow gently a warm breath to provide her just a glimpse of the comfort she brought him.

“Adam?” He might have taken too long admiring her fingers, and when Janey called again, the icy green eyes finally landed on their next destination.

A greenhouse on the other side of the park.

“Worth assessing the place. Lead the way.”

Janey’s subtle frown, followed by an amused smile also did not pass unnoticed. Adam knew she was studying him, from the way he talked to how close he was to her—that’s how Janey was, always attentive to people, always curious—and should probably have figured out he was acting different. His mind was not where it should be, and it was showing.

So much so that Adam couldn’t even describe the landscape on their way to the greenhouse. As they crossed the garden, only the sound of Janey’s voice asking questions about the fairies would take shape in his memory. Her voice, and the feeling of their elbows touching here and there occasionally, fluttering the rhythm of their breaths.

The last rays of sunlight had sunken down behind the trees by the time they arrived at the greenhouse. The place was enormous, made entirely of glass and decorated with an iron structure painted in white in art nouveau style. The rounded edges and curvaceous geometry felt organic, as if the building was a living part of the garden, housing an astonishing amount of plants like a nursery. Adam had to take off his aviators to take a proper look at the explosion of colours and shapes of every single bloom, realising in a second that Janey didn’t have the same advantage.

“Well, it’s dark here.” She pointed out, pursing her lips while looking up as if to check for the lightbulbs. “Weird that there’s no one here. I was expecting some couples, or at least the scientists that work here.”

I’m glad there is no one else here, Adam wished to say, but instead he followed the obvious, most logical response, “It is already late to be so far away from the city. Everyone must have left a few hours ago.”

He searched for the switch, a small thing hidden behind a bush by the front doors, and turned the lights on. Expected to see the usual fluorescent white from the Facility, but watched as hundreds of tiny yellowish spots popped to life all around them, bathing the greenhouse in warmth. Strings of fairy lights followed a design like the canvas of a tent from the external walls to the central piece: a weeping willow tree, so tall that its canopy filled the space of one of the three glass domes on the roof.

Upon reaching the tree, the lights seemed to transform into vines, embracing the branches and falling along the dangling leaves like a waterfall. There was no magic in the entire botanical garden, but the look in Janey’s eyes as she admired the images around said otherwise, as if Adam had just brought her spring itself as a gift. He might just have, if such a thing was possible.

“Will this be enough for them?” Janey asked, voice low and smooth, lost in the glittering lights.

“For whom?” Adam returned, lost in the shine of her eyes.

“The fairies, of course.” And she giggled while approaching him, suddenly locking her gaze on his. “What else do they need?”

“Well, they have enough water and flowers here,” his feet moved by an unconscious desire, “There is shelter from the external weather and…” he swallowed hard, unsure if he should continue but, eventually, he did, "A lot of space for partying."

“Partying?”

“They are known for hosting week-long dances. Love to drink and to waltz.”

“I never really learned how to waltz.” Janey’s voice was only a whisper, eyes drifting away from Adam’s and reflecting the hundreds of lights around. He, however, was not paying attention to anything else but her and the way her lips curled up, almost in slow motion, overflowing with warmth. On second thought, maybe she was the one delivering spring to that place. “Must be wonderful to see.”

“Truly beautiful.” Not even Adam could conceal what he meant. He had no interest in the practices and lifestyle of fairies or of any other creature, and despite being an admirer of arts, it was clear that something else was marvelling him. Someone else. His breath of confession drew her back to him, and disarmed by hypnosis, he bursted, “Would you like to try?”

“What?” She took another step closer, graceful as a ballerina.

“Waltz.” Words seemed to tangle on each other before leaving his lips. “With me.”

From the moment he suggested going on that mission, Adam had done nothing but improvise. All the control he kept for over nine hundred years was slipping through his fingers, he could not think strategically anymore, and it was infuriating how he could not—simply could not—keep himself away from the detective. She was a fire burning inside of him and he should be turning to ashes by now. And yet there he was, surrounded by light and that warmth that was not coming just from her body heat.

He waited for an answer, pursing his lips in a thin line, questioning his careless attitudes, feeling like his chest was about to set alight, and—

“Yes. I would love to.”

A sigh of relief came from both parts, tension crumbling like a sand castle. If Adam was going to be that reckless, then so be it.

He ventured forth, right hand falling featherlight on Janey’s waist. She held his other hand, resting her palm on his and falling into his arms completely. Not once they took their gazes out of each other, eyes heavy-lidded when Adam began to lead them in circles carefully, slowly, like she was made of crystal. Terrified of breaking her.

It was nothing close to the waltz of the royal palaces of Vienna during the New Years, and much less to the Russian ballet, but still nothing felt wrong. Janey was tiny compared to him, his large hand spread almost entirely over her upper back, but it was her delicate fingers pressing into his shoulder that made him feel safe. The way she would not shy away from him, how she would spin on her axis every time he stretched out his arms just to pull her back closer and closer, was like magic of its own. Perhaps he was enchanted. She could have bewitched him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was something else. Something he was afraid of saying out loud, of letting it take form, but undeniably something he could not, would not, control.

Their feet moved together with remarkable precision, as if the spring of the greenhouse itself choreographed their movements, and even the floor felt softer. Janey slipped her fingers up to his neck, brushing his skin and leaving a tingling sensation before resting on his nape. A shiver ran up his spine, sharp enough for her to feel the dark blond hairs rising.

Their dance concluded slowly when Adam bowed down, holding her firmly in his arms as if laying her gently on a mattress of clouds. Janey held on to him, trusting him entirely, and didn’t let go afterwards. With no one to witness, their world felt silent, existing only in each other’s embrace. Adam saw when her lips parted just enough, hesitant, getting closer, increasing the thundering sound, trying to tear open her chest like a war drum so powerful that it could make him dizzy.

“Do you hear my heartbeat?” she whispered, eyes locked on his.

“Yes.”

“Can I listen to yours, too?”

“Yes...”

Janey wrapped both arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest, nose tip carefully fondling his sternum. Only then, with her cheek pressed against his white shirt, Adam realised that the drumming of hearts was a duet. His own perfectly synchronised to hers, still dancing, and he couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around her as well. In a garden of blooms, they formed a bud—secret, beautiful and new. He wished to stay in spring, with her, forever.

Alas, they were both ripped apart from dreaming when a too-loud bzzt bzzt emerged from the agent’s pocket. Distracted by each other, both rushed to untangle themselves quicker than their blood could colour their faces. Adam turned on his heels, reaching for the damn phone and answering the call.

“Commanding Agent du Mortain.”

“Adam, it's Nate. I’ve been trying to call for a while, is everything ok?”

A deep sigh left his lungs, “Yes, Nate. Everything is fine.”

“Are you still with Janey? Did you find a good place?”

He looked over his shoulder, gaze meeting Janey’s again. A shy grin on her rosy cheeks invited him to smile too, and so he did.

“Yes, Nate. I believe we found the perfect place.”

#the wayhaven chronicles #adam du mortain #janey kingston #love in wayhaven #my writing #valentine's day #gift exchange #i must say i love Janey #I hope she's not too ooc #had a lot of fun writing it #💖💖

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halfhappyhooligan · 4 years

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a voltron au? in 2020? it’s more likely than you think

look. LOOK. i know that voltron is stupid and we hate it but lets be honest: everything up until season 3 was pretty good and had lots of potential !!

today i was rewatching voltron and a thought struck me: what if, instead of shiro being cloned, he was chipped and turned to the side of the galra?

so here it is, i did not blink since i thought of this

(warning, i have not seen voltron in a while and this is just knowledge i have stored in my moss brain and stuff i know from rewatching the first season)

au where shiro goes evil bc of what happens @ end of season one instead of the clone thing bc 1) haggar rly could not have made thousands of shiros after bumping into team voltron like what twice? its hella improbable and 2) just… weird

so instead they insert a chip in him that helps them spy and control him just like kuron (the clone) did minus the unlikely storytelling

eventually after the convo with sendak when he was in the pod trying to temp shirp, he does have thoughts about helping zarkon

(“im already infiltrated with the arm, i could just speed up the process by leaving now. save the team the trouble of investing in a leader that’s doomed to fail from the strart.”)

shiro ends up leaving team voltron in season 2 after zarkon goes crazy w the black lion n stuff

^^ this adds to Keith’s reasoning of joining the Blade of Marmora (shiro is his main stability and one of the main reasons he even stuck around with team voltron, so with shiro gone and keith questioning his place as the leader and paladin of the black lion, he decides the BoM is just.. what’s best for him)

obviously lance isn’t happy with this (“you just told me that i’m a valuable member, now you don’t think YOU are? what logic is that?”)

ofc keith goes anyways

lance becomes paladin of the black lion

allura takes on the red lion

who has blue lion? ...idk this isn’t that thought out (maybe matt after pidge finds her family) (which will happen earlier in the plot since we can forget about the miniplot of black no longer responding to shiro)

enter lotor only this time he has a sidekick and what omg its shiro wow

shiro has that bigger version of his arm that was once offered to him

he’s stronger and scary, but his eyes aren’t the same, he has the strength of a galra but lacks the passion

in the fight between lotor and zarkon, (and after, of course lots of self doubt and questioning) shiro comes between them and convinces lotor NOT to kill zarkon

then zarkon kills lotor

everyones like oh shit bc surely someone who’s life was just spared wouldn’t kill the person who seems to have the most power

but he did. bc he’s zarkon. and he’s fckn crazy.

shiro doesn’t go back to team voltron bc its too much too easily

instead he takes the place of lotor in the group of gals

he convinces them all to rebel against the galra

eventually they teach him all about quintessence and all the shit lotor had planned that they can’t do anymore

(lotor wasn’t harvesting alteans in this universe bc what the heck even was that subplot that had little to no relevance to the main storyline?

instead he was trying to find a way to technologically bring back alteans (kinda like how allure’s dad was originally preserved in s1)

i know nothing about How Stuff Works and i dont remember much about quintessence n shit but the basic idea is that when tying in some of a persons artifacts with technology stuff and some quintessence then boom. a weird route from astral projection land to the team is created and ppl can come back or smth idfk

but lotor was never able to get the comet so shiro decides he and the gals will get that comet and try to bring back as many alteans as they can

^ all this while infiltrating as many galra fleets as possible + saving planets under galra empire

they personally visit every planet that lotor was in charge of and release them from galra control

they are able to bring back an altean (its romelle) and she talks abt her friend who lives on the balmera and they go to the balmera and its revealed that it was shay’s great grandmother so romelle asks where shay is and shay’s family is like with team voltron of course

they take her

obviously team voltron, the BoM and the Rebels r very hesitant to make contact but they decide to try it out

keith refuses to meet, instead he’s on the team that stands guard

reunions !!

romelle and shay hit it off and hunk makes a dinner much like roselle’s past (allura and coran also hang out and they all vibe)

lance talks to shiro abt everything to do with keith and shiro is like dude do u??? like him?

and lance is like what? no ofc not—oh shit.

and keith ✨overhears ✨

pidge matt and shiro catch up n shit

meanwhile keith is like Hey Lance Uhhhhhh What The Fuck

they end up being like hey since we’re all here and we hate zarkon what if we make a plan to end the galra’s reign Right Now

so they do

and y’all.. it’s hella baller plan

except something is going wrong and in the middle of an attack zarkon is able to get the upper hand

due to haggar’s magic and lance’s mental and emotional instability, zarkon is able to get in his head

everyone is trying to talk him down but they’re all under a lot of pressure

allura is also conflicted bc she wanted to be black lion bc she wanted to rub it in to zarkon’s face that she was stronger than he and that she could beat him at his own game

but the negativity and instability feeds into zarkon’s power and makes him and haggar stronger as they pull in voltron to finally take over the team and regain their status as the most powerful alien race

hunk realizes this and is like okay can y’all stop being negative? its clearly affecting them in a good way and it makes us an easier target

and pidge is like im literally a child pls i don’t wanna die i just got my family back it can’t end like this

shiro realizes what’s going on and he goes to save them

he uses all his energy, pulling in the positive memories (everything: first learning about space, becoming a teacher, meeting adam, meeting keith, first making team voltron, his friends and family--all of it) to push back zarkon and haggar’s powers and battle once more in the astral realm

in defeating zarkon, shiro loses his life

afterwards keith enters the ship in a hurry and is like where the fuck is shiro where’s my brother what did you do what happened

and team voltron is like hey man.. we are so so sorry

and keith cries because the last thing he ever said to shiro was mean

lance feels like its all his fault since he was supposed to be a good leader

they talk about separately while hunk pidge and allura discuss

krolia is like keith we, ur family, are here for u

and axca is there and shes like um?? hey?? sry for trying to kill u bro

and he’s like i absolutely do not wanna talk i just lost my closest friend

they talk about it later

axca tells keith abt shiro finishing lotor’s work and abt bringing people back and well..

they use the methods to help keith visit shiro in the astral realm

shiro is like oh uh hey i was just having a drink w adam we r happy

and keith is like shiro u fuckhead why would u sacrifice urself

shiro sighs bc cmon keith you KNOW why “remember what i always said? we can’t focus on what went wrong..”

“we’ve got to figure out how to make it right” keith finishes

keith breaks tf down crying and screams apologizing

“i love u shiro. ur a like a big brother to me.”

and shiro is like yeah i know and ilyt but hey. everyone’s safe and happy. im safe and happy. & you deserve to be too. you don’t need me anymore.

so the galra rule is over and everyone goes to their respected planets

romelle and the other alteans as well as some galra babes hang in earth

romelle and shay r in an apartment together and have a garden

allura realizes she may not have been the strongest leader for voltron, and couldn’t stop zarkon on her own but that physical strength doesn’t define her as a whole

her heart is strong enough to care for everyone, so thats what she does

allura starts running an inn for alteans filled with painted sceneries like altea in case anyone ever needs a reminder of home

when lance reunites with his family its a real tearjerker

rachel finally gets her jacket back and veronica is like So.. Axca 👀

the McClain’s host a huge party for everyone and it’s filled with lots of hugs and loud music and even tho lance was way too tired, he danced all night

he wouldn’t trade his family for the world—genetic and chosen

when hunk reunites with his parents they don’t let him out the house for hours, he tells them all about his new best friend shay as well as hundreds of his favorites stories from space

they are so, so proud of him

hunk spends the next days playing minecraft and animal crossing with pidge, giving their brains a rest from being on hyperdrive for 3 yrs straight

when pidge gets home she finally gets grounded by her mom, only being allowed to leave the house to see her old teammates

(same for matt and her dad)

(her mother cries so hard when they opened the door to the home)

the holt family holds movie nights filled with popcorn, cuddles, and tears

keith moves in with the holt family, and finally accepts that he has a home as well as a family

he often goes on trips with the BoM but mostly just stays on earth

after a Team Voltron sleepover in the altea inn keith and lance decide to get an apartment together and live their lives in love and in peace

everyone gets together once a year in celebration of shiro and the sacrifice he made for them

they use the ship to visit Astral Shiro and once they even met adam

everyone laughs and catches up and just... live their lives

everyone is happy

pls ignore any and all errors lmao

again, just a thought !! maybe i’ll write a fic abt it idk for sure but yeah

feel free to add anything <3

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