#anyway i distinctly remember having my arms wrapped around his chest (same from other dream of him like that goodgod) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dumbass-mha-simp · 3 years

Text

Elliott x GN!Reader

Your New Playlist

Kinda sad? Ig angst but not actually like, bad angst yk.

1k words

Stardew Valley

Warnings: crying, mentally beating yourself over a crush, self-sacrificing but not in a death kinda way, cussing (I think like one f word), Elliott is a theater kid you can't convince me otherwise,

I wanna do a part two, would anyone be interested? I know how much us Elliott simps want fanfiction. I'm probably gonna start on it anyway lol.

Yes I actually made this playlist smh ikik, you don't have to listen to it ofc but his aesthetic really fits my music taste, at least I feel so. I write my fanfiction as gender neutral as I can but if you ever spot any mistakes I'd love to fix it!!

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

Elliott's POV

My feet took me across the path leading to Leah's house. The gentle cotton clouds stretching their wisps across the blue sky, bright enough to blind me as though it were the sun that it surrounds. The gentle new Spring breeze froze my cheeks lightly as my eyes closed to avoid the same chill from the past winter.

Fresh Spring flowers and hidden vegetables encircled her yard as I made my way to knock against the dark wood door that always seemed thunderingly loud.

Leah peaked through the window by her door before I can see her face light up and reach for the door.

"Hey, c'mon in!" She opens the door wider to let me pass through. "How are you doing?"

"If I'm honest, a little troubled." I sigh looking forlornly to the floor.

"Come sit." Leah pulls me to her table and sits in the accompanying seat. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Leah, what does it feel like to you before you admit you fancy someone?" I look up into her listening eyes before her face changes into slight shock.

"Hmmm." She brings her hand up to her chin as she ponders. "Well, you miss being around them when they're gone. You constantly find ways to connect anything back to them, like `oh they'd love this`, or `I should check up on them.` You care about their opinion more than others and you want to learn about them, even if it's the uninteresting things."

I slide my arms down onto the table, placing my head on top of them. That sounded exactly like what's happening. I had read about it a million times, falling gently in love with a close friend. Perhaps that interest to become friends was always attraction.

"I can't get enough of Y/N." I muffled through my folded arms sighing once again as I turned my head to finally look back up at Leah, the light stinging my eyes.

"Well maybe I could help you with getting more of them?" Leah smirked as she grabbed her phone from her pocket.

I lifted my head slightly panicked. "What are you doing?" I rushed out.

"Relax, I'm not telling Y/N. But they shared something with me. They have a wide music taste yes?"

I had heard some of their music. While they made us lunch, while they partake in their hobbies, when they hum near silently late at night on the beach. I nodded back thinking of how they never seemed to be signing along to a song similar to the others. Unpredictable, and absolutely captivating.

"Well one of their tastes in music is very folk-y and they mentioned how those songs reminded them of you. So they made a playlist of songs that remind themselves of you." Leah said looking down and scrolling through her phone.

They made a playlist about me. They actively want to remember and listen to things that remind themselves of me. I feel I might faint. Was this something that was common among friends? Was this nothing more than an act of kindness? Or something they decided to do on a whim?

"Here give me your phone I'll send it to you." She holds her hand out expectantly.

I quickly go to pull out the hardly used device. I had never had much use for it but if it could bring me any step closer to Y/N I wouldn't hesitate to learn.

Leah downloaded a music app, laughing at how I had no applications. Before leaving it opened on the playlist. "The Lonely, Ocean-Accompanied, Writer." It read. I reread it a couple times to convince myself it was real. A lovely name, but is that how they see me?

"Chill out, Romeo." Leah giggled. "I can practically see you overthinking everything. Just relax and listen to the songs, maybe they'll tell you something."

I wrapped my arms around her neck, hugging her closely before leaving to listen to the playlist.

~~~

As I shut the door behind me I pressed my back against it. I've never felt so scattered before. I looked for the volume button, turning it up before hitting play.

The songs, quiet but emotional. As though you had just lie down on the grass to cry or relieve tension or reminisce. They felt like a memory I had trouble recalling.

The songs seemed to renew me, before I heard one I distinctly remembered hearing before. From high-school theater club, a time in my life that was fond to me. I do remember Y/N telling me they loved musicals, hearing them hum along to Heathers while I wrote.

A song unlike most others on this list.

"When He Sees Me" from Waitress.

~~~

Y/N's POV

"Oh, Yoba. What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door, And I can't close it?" I belted out the lyrics as loud as I wanted, the tears streaming down my face unwavering.

The good side to owning your own farm is you could scream along to your songs without people to complain. You had been replaying this part of the song for awhile now. He was all you could seem to think about.

Your head was swarmed with thoughts of Elliott. Some where he reciprocated your feelings and others where he shut you out. Every time you built a daydream where he loved you unconditionally you trampled it with the thoughts of his rejection.

You brought your knees up to your chest, resting your head between them as you cried.

~~~

Elliott's POV

We had had conversations about musicals, perhaps that's why they chose this song? Maybe they thought since my school had a play of Waitress that it'd fit. But I know they liked other Waitress songs, why weren't those added? Only this one.

After that song came another, "I Hear A Symphony" one I've never heard. As the song started all I could see was Y/N. I could hear them singing along, their smile, their eyes averting to mine for the thousandth time.

Y/N was my symphony.

The powerful, breathtaking ocean couldn't compare to the awkward farmer that ran across town just to give me their best sweet pea flowers and be the first thing I saw as I left my quaint cabin.

They brought the motivation and inspiration for 8 hour writing sessions, they brought me food when they knew I'd forgotten to eat between writing the book and planning on what to write next.

They were something I could never dream of losing. I wished to live the rest of my life with their support.

If telling them my feelings means I'd lose them, then I couldn't dream of making such a selfish decision.

~~~

Y/N's POV

I trudged my way into town. After last night's crying session my eyes still felt a bit dry, if I'm honest I cried when I woke up as well. The loneliness felt suffocating in such a lonely little house. But I needed some new seeds. The stone path drawing all my attention as I walked.

As I walked into Pierre's it wasn't hard to tell that people could see something was off. After buying my seeds I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning around to find Elliott.

"Y/N are you feeling alright? You look as though you've been distressed lately." You motion to him to follow you and walks out of the store behind you.

You take a deep breath as you start to tear up a bit more. He reaches for your face as he lifts it up, looking at the pooling tears.

So many things, the things you could have said. But they didn't come up. Instead a vision of his face of discomfort at your confession. You couldn't bear it. You couldn't tell him.

"I've just been stressed. I'm sorry for worrying you, Elliott." You sigh, attempting to put up a fake smile as you wipe your eyes. He retracts his hand as he looks guilty. Fuck does he feel like it's his fault?

"Well I'm willing to listen to your troubles if you ever need." He also puts on a strained smile as you both part ways.

"This is for the best." They both whisper as they leave.

166 notes · View notes

the-only-ace · 3 years

Note

can you please write something about taem's enlistment? honestly feel awful i feel like he's lowkey sad about it i just wanna give baby cheese a hug :(

haiii i love this request since it is really well... timely (?). i have been planning to finish this request before taemin's enlistment but yeah, here we are... things been busy. so i hope this one is not that late and may this be some sort of comfort for everyone as we wait for our baby cheese's return.

serve well and always take care, taem! we will be just here and wait for your return with bright smiles on our faces.

taemin scenario: looking forward

pairing: taemin x reader

word count: 2.7k

summary: it is taemin's last few hours before his military enlistment and reader tries their best to ease his worries. both are making sure that they have spent the remaining time together to the fullest.

warning: semi-nudity, implied sexual activity (no smut thought)

send in your requests here!

your eyelids slowly fluttered open and soft rays of sunlight greeted your still adjusting eyes. you attempted to rub the sleepiness away from your eyes before slowly sitting up. your raised both of your arms above your head and stretched with a small grunt. the sheets fell down and exposed your naked torso to the cool breeze from the air conditioner. you looked at your side and smiled gently. you rested your cheek on your bended knee and gazed at the sleeping figure beside you.

taemin was sleeping soundly on his chest and the blanket was comfortably wrapped around his hips while his broad bare shoulders were displayed to you. his head was tilted to the side, facing your direction. his eyes were closed with a hint of dark circles visible underneath them--a sign of his hard work within the last few months. his lips were slightly parted and you can hear his soft breaths. his hair that used to be unruly as they got ruffled by the pillows was now cut short. you can't help but reach out and touch them with your cold fingers.

there he was, the love of your life. it may sound cheesy and a bit cliche but it was true. he was your first boyfriend and you were more than pleased that you're still together given how young you both were when you met years ago. you went through a lot of ups and downs like every other relationship out there. it was also challenging at first especially with the nature of his work since he can not fully dedicate his time to you. you eventually got over it mainly because you knew how important and passionate he was with his career. every after his performances, you can see his eyes lit up and his lips stretched into a big bright smile. it was then you knew you have to support this man. you have to be his rock when things got shaky and unstable.

you two actually hit a big milestone in your relationship quite recently. you were living with him for more than a year already and both of you were still amazed how no media outlet has sniffed it out yet. also considering the number of times taemin recorded a live video around the apartment, you're just thankful there were still no accidental reveals.

your train of thought was cut short when taemin suddenly stirred on his position. "sorry, did i wake you?" you asked softly as you retracted your hand away from his hair.

he shook his head before dragging himself towards you. his arms found their way around your waist and his head rested contently on your lap. you smiled at his behavior and then proceeded to stroke his hair again. both of you stayed like that for a bit and soaked into each other's presence while waiting for the drowsiness to pass.

"is it weird?" his muffled voice broke the silence after a few minutes.

"what is?" you inquired back.

"my hair." he rolled to his back and looked up at you.

"it's... new." of course it was, just a few days ago you were happily playing with his hair and extensions. he always allowed you put it up into a bun whenever he came back home. now, you can barely grip them with your fingers. "it's not weird, just new. it actually made you look younger in my opinion." you reassured him with a small giggle.

he frowned and groaned, clearly displeased on your response. he thought you were just lying to make him feel better. he won't believe you anyway even you deny it so you decided to ignore his sulking. you then began drawing lazy shapes across his skin while he started to hum one of his songs. your fingers eventually linger around his tattoos and you can't help but admire them.

"should i get one?" you muttered more to yourself actually but taemin heard it very distinctly. it made him shot up from the bed and beamed at you widely.

"you should!" he exclaimed excitedly. '"i mean if you really want to. we can even go to my artist and get one together."

"okay, calm down, mister." you chuckled since was almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "where should i place it though?"

"well... it would look nice here." he reached out and touch your rib area. his eyes soon landed on the red mark beside his index finger and a playful smirk slowly made its way to his lips. "or here..." he continued and moved his pointer on your collar bone, on another one of his marks. "here would be good too..." he went on and on while pointing out all of his work while his grin grew bigger and naughtier.

"stop..." you rolled your eyes and push his hand away. "i know what you're doing. someone went overboard last night." you can't help but narrow your eyes at him. it would be a pain to hide later when you go to work.

"i'm sorry, i just thought they would be a great parting gift." he shrugged before leaning closer. "so did you like it?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"eh... it's alright, i guess." you teased with a joking scowl.

"well, that can be fixed easily." he tackled and pinned you down in the bed, making you let out a high-pitch scream. he wasted no time on littering quick kisses all over your neck. you writhed under him as you attempted to escape him since you were feeling ticklish from his soft lips.

a blaring alarm noise interrupted your noises and movements. taemin pushed himself up and looked at the clock on your bedside table. he took a deep heavy sigh before dismissing the alarm. you immediately felt the change in his mood as he got up from the bed.

"i'll go brew us some coffee," he announced and got out of the bedroom.

it was now your turn to sigh. you already tried your best to ease his worries yesterday but just like you have predicted he was still troubled. you can't blame him though, after doing only one thing ever since he was only 12 years old, you get why he was anxious about this upcoming change. not to mention that he will be going through this alone in a way. his other members enlisted at the same time so the thought of someone experiencing the same helped them get through it much easier.

you got up and walked towards the chair near the bed and snatched taemin's shirt that was carelessly hanging from its backrest. you pulled it down your head and you can't help but smell his scent; it was his favorite shirt after all. god, you were going to miss him so bad.

you followed taemin towards the kitchen and the aroma of the coffee greeted you. he looked at you from head to toe and it made him smirk. he knew how much you love stealing his shirts. it was quite comforting to know that at least his clothes will be used even though he was away.

preparing breakfast was peaceful and intimate. taemin was hugging you from behind while you cook your meal; outrightly ignoring your protests since it was not really easy to move around with him clinging to you. in a few minutes, both of you are sitting down at the dining table and quietly enjoying the hot food in front of you.

it felt like a normal lazy morning. days like these were common after his promotions. it was when he has some time to rest and replenish his energy. those were the days you always anticipate since you were able to see him more often and spend more quality time together. if he didn't have a buzz cut, it was easy to fool yourself that this day was one of those.

"do you think, i'll do well?" he suddenly asked when he placed his chopsticks down.

"of course," you quickly replied without missing a beat. no matter how many times you convinced him already, you will never get tired of doing it if that will give him peace of mind.

"what makes you say so?" he looked up and met your unwavering eyes. "what if i'm not fit for it?"

"and what if you are?" you challenged. "look, we'll never know something unless we try it but trust me, knowing you, you'll do just fine. they used to criticize your singing career back then and look where you are now. you don't let external factors affect you and you always work hard to achieve your goals. so what makes this different? i know once you set your heart to something, you'll be able to do it. you just have to trust yourself as well."

"always saying the right words," he sighed and rested his head on his hand. "what will i be without you?"

"still probably as great as you are now." you knew that taemin achieved his success on his own. all those late-night practices and sacrificing a normal life as a teen, it was all him. you were only his supporter who hopefully made the process a bit easier. "besides, you crushed the obstacle course in dream team last time so i believe the drills will be manageable for you." you cheekily added.

"wow, you still remember that? i'm no minho though." he shook his head while chuckling.

"no one's like that competitive monster." you scoffed.

"yeah..." he trailed off, obviously being concern about another matter again. "i hope our fans won't forget me."

"don't be stupid." you frowned and kicked him lightly under the table. "of course they would wait for you especially after being their comfort when the other members were serving their time. i'm sure that they would be counting the days for your return and they would be delighted to see you again. although, no one would be more thrilled than me so... don't forget me as well."

"how can i forget you if i will be thinking of you every single day?" he stood up and gave you a kiss on the forehead. "thank you."

"for what?" you inquired.

"for always being there especially when i need it the most." his tone was warm and heartfelt. "i should probably take a shower now."

you nodded and listened to his footsteps disappear into the bathroom. as soon as you heard the water running, you stood up as well and placed the plates on the sink. you then went back to your shared bedroom and doubled check the contents of his black backpack, making sure that he did not forget anything important. knowing him, there was a huge chance that he does. you also added a few extra clothes and toiletries just in case he did something stupid and end up breaking or losing some of his stuff.

it felt wholesome to pack his things for him. as if you were his wife helping him prepare for his upcoming trip. if only the trip wasn't going to be 18 months long.

the time flew by quickly after taemin's shower and suddenly you were by the doorway, watching him wear the straps of his backpack. you handed him his black baseball cap before fixing the strings of his black hoodie.

"you all set?" you asked trying hard not to make your voice crack. it was finally sinking in for you and you didn't want him to know that.

"yeah," he nodded as he fixed his cap.

both of you stood there, not really knowing what to do or say next. you should probably wish him luck and send him off but you don't want to. not yet, you keep on repeating to yourself. sensing your dejection, taemin suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the tightest hugs he has ever given. your hands quickly wrapped around him and you buried your face on his chest, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize it--even though you already do.

"i'm going to miss you," he whispered tenderly. "so much."

"i will miss you too." you finally let out the sob you were holding back. thinking that it was impossible, his embrace tightened even more around your shaking frame.

he kissed the top of your head and murmured how much he loves you again and again. right then and there, you wanted to be selfish and don't let him go, and as if on cue his phone started to ring. he answered it and their conversation was less than a minute but you know exactly what it was about.

"they're downstairs already," he stated as he let go of you.

"you should not keep them waiting then." you clumsily wipe away the tears in your eyes.

you both bid your goodbyes before sharing one last kiss. he then got out of the apartment and closed the door behind him.

and just like that, you were left there in complete silence. you blankly stare at the closed door and you never felt more alone in your life.

you were about to turn around when the door burst open without warning. standing there was taemin who unmistakably ran back considering his heavy pants.

"taemin?!" you exclaimed from the shock. "what, did you forget something?"

"yes, i forgot to ask you something." he exhaled. "i forgot to ask you to marry me," he said in full seriousness while staring straight into your eyes.

"y-you... what? huh?" you fumbled with your words as your brain tried to process whatever he just said. "w-what did you say? i don't--" you attempted to ask again.

"when i get discharged, will you marry me?" he repeated as he moved closer towards you. you just gaped at him without saying a word and that made the nervousness slowly crept into him. "sorry, i was not able to get a ring since this was... well, spontaneous. but um... here, will this do?" you watched him remove the ring he was always wearing on his right hand. he unceremoniously raised it in front of you and waited for your reply.

you were beyond stunned. sure, you both talked about getting married someday but you didn't think he would propose today. you always knew that when he planned for the special day, you will easily catch on. he was not really the best planner and secret keeper after all. nothing has prepared you for this moment.

"y/n?" he cautiously called out, getting a little concern from your lack of response.

you looked away from the ring and moved your eyes to meet his uneasy ones. he was undoubtedly waiting for your answer.

"yes," you barely managed to blurt out. "yes, of course, i do!" you repeated, this time firmer.

you have practically seen the weight off his back after hearing your response. he broke into a tiny celebration dance before composing himself again and sliding the ring into your finger.

"okay... i didn't think about that part." the ring was big for you which was not surprising. "sorry, i'll just get you a new one soon." he embarrassingly rubbed the back of his neck.

"it's alright, it's perfect." you can now feel another urge to cry but this time it is out of happiness.

"i love you," his expression soften and one eyebrow raised up, a habit of his whenever he says something genuine. he titled your chin up and captured your lips for a passionate kiss. you stand on your tiptoes in your attempt to deepen the kiss which made him smile. his other hand moved to your lower back and pulled you closer to him while you ran your fingers through his hair. it felt right, both of you know exactly that this is where you two belong--with each other.

however, your little heaven was interrupted once again by the ringing of his phone.

"okay, you should definitely go now." you ultimately let go of your hold around him.

he nodded. he knew he cannot delay his departure any longer. "goodbye."

"goodbye," you echoed. "just for now."

he waved his hand before going out and shutting the door. this time though, he did not come back running. you knew he was on his way to his enlistment and you would be alone in the apartment for months but right now, you did not feel that lonely anymore.

you looked down and adored the ring around your finger. 18 months would indeed move slowly but it will be bearable because this time, both of you have something to look forward to.

#shinee #taemin #lee taemin #taemin x reader #shinee requests #shinee scenarios #shinee request #shinee scenario #taemin enlistment #taemin proposal #taemin tattoo #shinee world #shinee x reader #shinee x you #taemin x you

125 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Life on Stage - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Life On Stage

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 1,139 words

Warning(s): mentions of John Winchester

Summary: (Pre-Show) Sam wanted to be normal, so he decided to audition for a play at one of the many high schools he went to. Through that, he found someone to help him... truly help him.

Author's Note: I remember this distinctly because why did they just casually mention that Sam was a part of theatre and then just never talk about it again? I like to think it was his attempt to rebel and live a "normal life" before he could actually leave his dad.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

I took a deep breath before walking over to Sam, the boy who had been cast opposite me in Our Town. He seemed sweet, a little closed off, but sweet nonetheless.

"Umm, hi," I said awkwardly.

Yeah, 16, not a great age for my self-esteem so it's not easy for me to talk to someone that I perceived as cute.

"Hi," he smiled at me, making my heart beat out of my chest.

"I just... Sorry... I thought I'd properly introduce myself since we're gonna be seeing each other a lot," I explained. "Plus, I know you're new so it'd probably be nice to have a friend... or just someone to talk to, y'know?"

"Yeah, thanks," he replied. "Well, I'm Sam."

"(Y/n)," I grinned, shaking his hand. "So, I don't know if you're busy or not but there's this diner that a lot of kids hang out at. Do you wanna go? We can talk about the school or the show or... anything?"

Jesus Christ, I'm an absolute mess. He probably was scared of me.

"Sure," he nodded. "That sounds great."

"Cool," I said. It was a Friday, so that's why I was offering it. "Umm... wanna go now?"

"I was hoping," he replied.

"Right, right, duh," I chuckled. I turned around, leading him out of the auditorium and through the halls. I felt like an absolute idiot.

We walked through the front door. There was an impala waiting there, rock music blaring from its speakers. I looked over when I heard Sam sigh.

"My brother," he explained quickly. "Just... Give a second and then we can go."

He jogged over to the car, leaning into the passenger window to talk to his brother. After a minute, he took a few steps back and his brother drove off.

"Sorry, had to tell him he didn't need to drive me home," he said. I nodded, saying that it was okay. "Where's your car?"

"Oh, I don't drive to school," I shrugged. "Everything is pretty close by."

Sam nodded.

"Come on," I said before starting the walk to the diner.

We spent the afternoon in a booth together. We ate and talked. He told me about how his family moved around a lot, how his brother and dad weren't excited about his role in the play, and how his mom died when he was just a baby.

I shared my family's story with him. The same small town my whole life, my dream to pursue acting, and always feeling the need to be the top in class so I could live up to my parents' standards.

After our afternoon together, Sam offered to walk me home.

As we walked down the road, still talking about anything and everything, I slowly reached over and brushed my hand against his. When he didn't pull away, I intertwined our fingers completely.

We looked at each other before both blushing and looking away.

We got to my gate and I went to walk inside, saying a quick goodbye. I stopped a few steps from my gate. He hadn't gotten far.

"Sam," I called, walking back over.

He looked back at me, meeting me at the gate.

I leaned up and pressed my lips to his gently. He slowly kissed me back, touching my waist gently. It was like he was scared I would break. Like he was scared he was going to break me.

I pulled away after a minute and basically whispered against his lips, "Break a leg at rehearsal tomorrow."

Sam chuckled, looking away and blushing, "You too."

I walked away again, turning back to wave at him before I went inside. I looked out my living room window, chuckling at the sight of Sam silently celebrating outside my gate.

--time skip--

"I don't think they're gonna come," Sam muttered.

Over the rest of rehearsals, Sam and I had a classic high school romance. Innocent and sweet and a dream come true. I tried to encourage him, slowly getting him to open up to me and tried to tell him that his dad and brother might come to the show.

I wanted to believe that they'd care about something Sam thought was important. Dean seemed to care so much for his brother, I was sure he'd care.

"It's okay," I wrapped my arms around him. "I'll treat you to dinner after the show, okay? Somewhere nice. My parents have a reservation and are already set on meeting you anyway."

"Okay," Sam nodded. He kissed my head. "We need to get ready."

I nodded, kissing his cheek, "Break a leg."

"Break a leg," he replied.

After the show, Sam was about to go get as cleaned up as possible. Stage make-up was impossible to get off on the first night but he was gonna try.

"(Y/n)," he said, causing me to stop before I went to change. He pointed at the bouquet sitting on his table. "You didn't have to do that."

I looked at them. It wasn't a super small bouquet but they didn't look store-bought. They looked like the flowers were from someone's garden and then tied together with string. I smiled.

"Sam, those aren't the ones I bought," I said. "I bought some. My parents were gonna give them to you. Those aren't them."

"What," he asked.

I walked over, there was a slip of paper in the string, "Sam."

He grabbed the note, "Good job tonight, Sammy. Probably will get you an Oscar. - Dean."

I wrapped my arms around him. He looked so happy knowing that his brother had been there for him.

"I told you he'd show," I mumbled. He chuckled. I looked up, seeing tears in his eyes. "Sam?"

"I... I didn't think he cared," he said. "It's just... It's nice to know that there are other things on his mind than the family business."

I leaned up, kissing his cheek, "Maybe if you can find him, we can drag him to dinner with my parents."

"I'll... I'll try."

"Okay."

I finished getting changed and cleaned up. I walked out to see my parents waiting for me. I saw Sam in the corner, holding the flowers his brother had gotten. His brother was standing in front of him.

Finally, I saw both of them start walking back. I happily waved at Sam.

"So, is your brother joining us," my mom asked Sam.

"If you'll let me," Dean replied. My parents nodded.

"Thank you," Sam said to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean tried to shrug off the whole event, but you could the genuine smile on his face.

He was happy that Sam was happy... even if their dad didn't have the nerve to be there.

In a matter of minutes, I grew to admire Dean's protectiveness over his brother... and he seemed to admire my commitment to his brother.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

42 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Home

Four times Tim just wanted to go home, and one time he’s actually there.

( @animemangasoul I think you’ll like this one)

(I was listening to Home by Machine Gun Kelly X Ambassadors & Bebe Rexha while I wrote this. Might have cried a little. I regret nothing)

----.----

His mom is holding his hand, a rare occurrence. Were he in a more… stable state, he’d squeeze the moment for all it’s worth.

But the coldness of fear had his heart in a ice-like grip, and the scenery around them did little to appease him. Nothing, not even the warmth of being held, could keep him from shaking.

-I want to go home -he whispers in his mother’s ear when she picks him up in her arms. Safe against her body, he thinks he can feel his heart melting a bit around the edges where panic had frozen him over.

Mom tightened her hold, eyes leaving the crying kid and his dead parents for the first time in a long time. He feels how one of her hands drops its place under his leg to pat his back, more comforting than he ever thought she capable of.

-Yes, we are leaving now. Jack? Bring the car over, we’ll wait here.

She doesn’t lower him until they are back at the manor. Then, his parents retire to their rooms, both to rest and prepare for their trip to the Bahamas the following morning.

Tim shivers all night long, yearning for the warmth he was too distracted to appreciate a few hours ago, back at the circus.

This wasn't what he meant, when he asked to go home. He just wanted to feel safe.

----.----

This… wasn’t what he expected. To being caught, that is. Specially by his hero.

Jason (Robin, call him Robin, don’t you dare slip up, he can’t know you know!) is looking down at him, hands on his hips. He’s doing his best to look stern, but the short shorts, pixie boots and unconscious thug at his back ruin the effect of his glare.

Tim, camera held tightly as it’s been for the last couple of minute since the man came out of the shadows to try and steal it from him, distractedly thinks Batman should get on that, teach Robin his famous loom. He’s feeling starstruck, more than fearful.

-It’s too late for a squirt like you to be out. Streets are dangerous, no’ne told you? Specially ‘is parts o’the city -the young vigilante drawled, accent thicker than Tim recalled from back at the gala when their parents introduced them in passing. Not that Jason would remember.

-I… I’m not a squirt, I’m ten -he finally blurts out, wishing he could smack himself the second the words leave his mouth.

-Children should be on bed at this time.

He does his best to calm his erratic heart, and canalizes all the sass on his pint sized body to arch an eyebrow- Hypocrite much?

Robin growls, but Tim can tell he’s doing his best to hide a smile.

-I can leave you here, you know.

He knows Jason is bluffing, looking for a reaction, but the mere idea still makes his barely calming heart kick into overdrive again. The scare of a few minutes ago was too fresh on his mind. He already knows he won’t be going out again soon, not until he could plan a new route to photograph his idols while traveling only by rooftop, to best avoid the scum of the city.

-No, wait… please -he moves forward, hand taking a handful of cape, as if that could stop the vigilante if he actually was planning to leave.

Jason took the chance to wrap him on it like a little blanket, picking him up in his arms like a baby.

-Don’t worry, shortstack. I’m taking you home so I can be sure y’er actually following your bedtime.

Feeling a little braver in his hero’s arms, he fired back- Don’t have any.

-Whatever, you lil liar.

-It’s true. You can ask my parents… that’s it, if you’re willing to go into my house for a chat. Masks are in bad taste though, you’ll have to take yours off.

Truthfully, both his parents are away on business. Not that he needed to know about the bluff.

This time, he didn’t bother to hide his amusement, letting his barking laughter come out.

-You little shit. I’m not giving you my secret that easy.

Tim just shrugs, painting his most innocent smile. It’s difficult to keep it in place when Jason asks for directions, and then drops him at his bedroom’s window.

The giddiness of meeting his hero can’t quench his disappointment when he watches Jason’s back as he leaves.

A little, childish part of himself had believed, hoped (with all the innocence his heart had left), that when Jason said ‘take you home’, he was talking about his own.

----.----

He’s training as hard as possible. His body, shaped by the multiple teachers he hired through the years, hurts in a way he never thought possible, and has been like that ever since he first went to the training mats to face Bruce.

He knows the pain is necessary, what he learns there could be the difference between life or death (his eyes never fail to go to Jason’s suit, his altar, where he, as his whorshipper, would always go ask for strength and courage), but it's hard to remember his purpose for being there when he goes to bed each night with aching limbs.

Still, he endures.

This last week has been both harder than any other, and the best he’s ever had. The first, because a full on out gang war had forced him, Dick and Bruce to work overtime, going out every night for twice their usual hours (thank god for spring break). The second, because to save time and strength, he’d been allowed to stay the night at the manor with them.

He can’t believe how nice it is to have breakfast with someone. Sure, they have it at like three pm, but still. The pained body was so, so worth this.

When they caught their last perps, all tied up and pretty for the GCPD, Tim was simultaneously absolutely beat and the happiest he’s been.

Batman puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, saying ‘let’s go home, Robin’, and he thinks for a moment he’s dreaming again.

He actually sleeps a bit, on the Batmobile trip. Beyond tired, feels his body being raised and then lowered again in a soft surface, something warm over his chest, and then lights out again.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s at Drake Manor. The breakfast table is empty, the hallways colder than he remembered, and he wishes last night had actually been a dream. It would hurt less, if it had been all in his imagination; instead, he has to live with the knowledge of being so close, yet so far.

Not for the first time, he wishes ‘home’ were a different place.

----.----

He sighs, dropping his suitcase uncaringly. Anything important is on his phone anyway, who gives a fuck. Certainly not an overworked seventeen year old kid who’s just getting back after a long day.

The place was clean, spacious and with a modern decoration style he kinda likes. The mechanic fishes certainly give it a nice touch, and the underground nerd cave he built for himself is the cherry on top- bottom, whatever.

It’s a nice house. A place he made for himself, to come back to. With scanners that automatically alert him if some sneaky ninja plants a bug, or a snoopy family member was sniffing around for his toys. He knows everything that happens here, in this little kingdom he built from scratch.

Of course, there are some itty bitty problems with it. Not the layout itself, that one was a dream came true, and no security issue either: all of Ra’s thwarted attempts at having his people breaking in confirmed how tight it was.

But, for some reason, the thermostat didn’t seem to work. It was always way too cold.

The soundproof walls were good at keeping his secrets under wraps, but they also made it seem so unnaturally quiet, it gave him the creeps.

No table in sight. Not that he needed one, he shrugs. Lunch he eats outside, at the office. Dinner is a quick thing, a sandwich while he gets ready for patrol or some other snack while he types away at his computer. Breakfast… he doesn’t know why, but he never feels right when eating it, so he skips it more often than not.

Sighing again, he falls face first into his absurdly pricey couch. Blindly patting the coffee table until he finds the blanket he always keeps there, he thinks about taking a lil nap. He didn’t sleep last night (or the one before that), so it feels like he’s earned this break.

Decision made, Tim takes his phone out of the secret pocket in his coat and selects the app that makes background noise. He always sleeps better with it.

Yeah. This is a nice, comfortable place.

Too bad it’s not home.

-I just want to go home -he whispers to himself before letting unconsciousness claim him.

If asked, he’d said the break in his voice was a yawn and not a sob.

----.----

When he wakes up, it’s to noise all around him. That alone puts him on guard so fast he would have pulled a muscle, if he were anyone else. As a Bat-trained vigilante though, he just tensed before opening his eyes to analyze his surroundings.

This… wasn’t his place, where he distinctly remembers falling asleep, face down on his couch.

This was Titans Tower. Was he losing track of time? Had he been on a fight and got hit on the head?

-Hey, you’re awake -Kon’s head poked out of the kitchen area, smiling as he floated all the way to where Tim was lying, on the living room’s couch.

The sight of his friend was enough to loosen his muscles. Still unsure but immediately comfortable he sat up straight and looked around. He could hear Bart and Cassie bickering on the background, probably the kitchen, Greta’s laughter coming to him from the same place, and those were Anita’s shoes and Cissie’s backpack near the elevator.

The first two and Kon, he could get. They were all Titans. But the three girls? They were retired, so what…

-Hey, boy wonder, let your brain take a break. I can hear you thinking from here and it’s giving me a headache -the super joked, landing by Tim’s side and poking his forehead lightly.

-That’s because you never think, you aren’t used to it -he fires back automatically. Then, a slow blink- What are the girls doing here? What am I doing here? Last thing I remember I was… at the Perch. Sleeping.

-Yeah, and what a deep sleep that was. Been pulling all nighters, haven’t you? -his best friend shook his head, beyond giving Tim a disappointed look. They knew each other way too much to be surprised by their respective bad habits- you didn’t even flinch when I wrapped you up in TTK and flew you here. And about the girls, I told Cassie and Bart I was gonna pick you up, and they decided to make a thing out of this and went to bring them here, just to hang out. Like back in the days, you know?

The mention of their Young Justice times never failed to give Tim a heartache, but this time it just made him feel warm.

He tried to look stern, but the smile he could feel growing on his lips against his will probably ruined it.

-But why did you? Bring me here, I mean.

Kon tilted his head, visibly confused.

-What do you mean? I heard you. You said you wanted to go home.

Something deep and frozen inside him abruptly melted, like it was hit by a flamethrower. The intensity brought tears to his eyes, body shaking uncontrollably as he bent over himself, hands clutching the opposite arm tightly, as if trying to hold himself in one piece.

Kon’s arms were around him in an instant, worried shouts piercing his ears as he plastered the smaller vigilante to his chest, unthinkingly helping him keep his broken pieces together. The warmth from his best friend’s body served as a welder, and Tim could finally breathe without the fear of breaking apart.

-Tim? Fuck, what’s wrong? Are you okay?! Here, dude, I got you.

-Kon? What is i- fuck, what did you do? Hey, Tim!

-Rob? Oh my god he’s crying, why is he crying!

The voices came closer, surrounding him from all directions as multiple hands touched him in an attempt to comfort.

It was too much, too warm, too bright.

He hoped it’d never end.

-I just…

Everyone stopped talking. His voice was broken by sobs, but he sounded happier than they had ever heard him.

-I’m just happy I’m finally home.

#Tim Drake #Young Justice #batfamily #my writting #kon el kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #Greta Hayes #Cissie King-Jones #Anita #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason todd #NO EDIT #I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING I FEEL LIKE I WAS POSSESED YOU GUYS

101 notes · View notes

midnight0stars · 3 years

Text

Ahhh I was so excited to write this! Thank you again for your interest and the Ko-fi! I didn’t limit myself on the length, so we got a decent sized chapter out of it! I hope you enjoy!

If you’d like to read the entirety of Someday, you can find it HERE

**Someday Ch3 ~ Aqua x M!Reader NSFW**

Words: 4059

———————————————-

The soft glow of the moon illuminated the dark bedroom through the glistening glass of the tall window. Stars speckled across the night sky outside, sparkling as you gazed at them from the bed. Aqua’s fingertips grazed along your chest, causing faint shivers to course through you. She hummed, her head resting along your shoulder as she lay next to you, her eyes closed. Your bodies were intertwined, her bare legs wrapped around yours.

“I should get going soon.” You whispered, breaking through the comforting silence between you.

She nuzzled further into you, shaking her head. “Stay here…” She murmured, gently kissing your skin. “You can leave when the sun rises.”

“I wish I could.” You sighed, looking down at her and brushing her hair out of her face with the back of your hand, before caressing her cheek. She leaned into your touch, fluttering her tired eyes open to meet with your gaze. “I’m on watch duty in a few minutes.”

She blinked, her exhaustion clouding her thoughts, before she suddenly sat up and pulled the sheets up to cover her bare chest. “Watch duty?” She repeated, her voice a harsh whisper. “You’re going to be up the entire night. Why did you come here with me if you knew that?”

You sheepishly grinned with a shrug, sitting up when she didn’t return the smile. “I wasn’t about to say no to a night with you.” You told her, running her hand up her arm as you brought your lips to hers. “Can you blame me?” You whispered, your lips brushing against hers.

“I suppose not,” she admitted, kissing you back. Pulling back with a sigh, she added. “I just wish I had known. I wouldn’t have asked you to… well, you know.”

You chuckled, lightly kissing her jawline. “You didn’t have to ask, I already had it on my mind anyway.” You hummed against her skin as you felt her shudder from your words.

One of her hands released the sheet, running up your arm to the back of your neck, her fingertips toying with your hair. Her lips parted with a faint gasp as you kissed along her neck. “Y-You…” she stammered, swallowing before gently pushing your back. “You should probably get going then…” Averting her gaze as a warmth crept to her cheeks, she muttered under her breath, “Otherwise I won’t let you leave and I’ll make you take me again.”

You smirked, feeling the familiar shivers running through you at the thought. Grabbing her hand from your neck, you brought it to your lips, planting a sweet kiss to her knuckles before climbing out of the bed. Her eyes were on you as you stretched with a yawn, dancing over your completely naked body with a growing lust in her gaze. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to look towards the window. You chuckled, tempted to cimb on top of her and give her what you honestly both were wanting. The same thing you both had just hours before.

“Where did you throw my clothes?” You asked, looking over her arm chair and bedside table.

“Me?” She asked with a breathy laugh. “I distinctly remember you being the one to toss them away.”

“Details,” you waved her off, getting a laugh in response. “Aha, here we go.”

She watched you with a warm smile, the sheets still pulled up over her chest as you found the strewn articles of clothing and pulled them back on. Your eyes met as you pulled up your pants, both of you smiling at the other.

“What?” You asked with a soft laugh.

“I just… really love you.” Her smile grew, but there was a tint of sadness in her eyes.

“I love you, too.” You grinned, going to her and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.” She muttered, her hand running up your arm.

“Yeah, me too.” You agreed, meeting your lips with hers. “Someday I won’t have to.”

She hummed, her eyes closing as she repeated what had become your mantra. “Someday.”

You kissed her forehead, fighting the urge to forgo all of your responsibilities and stay with her. Letting out a breath, you stood from the bed, her hand sliding down your arm to your fingers. She kissed your hand, the feeling making your heart ache for more. You strained a smile when her eyes met with yours, and you turned to leave.

You closed the door to her room behind you, leaning against it as you let out a long breath. The still, dark halls of the castle you lived in seemed to echo your own breath, making you feel an immense emptiness compared to the warmth just inside the room behind you.

“There you are.” Terra’s voice made your jump. Looking over, you saw him walking towards you, his arms crossed as he came to a stop in front of you. “Wanted to take watch a bit earlier tonight, huh?”

Your lips pursed as you slowly nodded, “Y-Yeah, that’s exactly it. Sorry I didn’t let you know.” You cleared your throat, pushing yourself off the door, “You can head back to bed. I’ll take it from here.”

He quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. You smiled, nodding in return and waited for him to move, yet neither of you did. The silence grew between you, Terra’s eyes never leaving yours and you started to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Well, goodnight.” You strained a smile, turning around to walk away.

“You’re going to have to get a lot better at lying if you’re wanting to hide what’s going on between you two.” He spoke nonchalantly, but directly, making you freeze.

You stopped walking, your heart jumping to your throat. Terra was silent again, patiently awaiting your response. “…What do you mean?” You asked, wishing you could have hidden the way your voice ever so slightly shook.

“What are you doing at Aqua’s room in the middle of the night?” He asked, the accusation in his voice struck your knotting gut.

“I… already told you,” you scrambled for an answer. You had rehearsed this sort of situation in your head dozens of times, yet in the moment, your mind was spinning.

Terra sighed heavily, walking forward until he was in front of you. Your eyes met with his as he looked at you unconvinced.

You couldn’t keep the contact and diverted your gaze, slipping your eyes shut with a soft groan. “How did you know…?” You asked, knowing the gig was up.

“You two aren’t exactly as secretive as you think you are.” He told you, “But, I think I caught on quicker since I know you both so well.”

“That’s a relief at least.” You sighed, opening your eyes.

“But seriously, you both need to work on your lying skills.” He added with amusement obvious in his voice.

“Noted,” you looked back to him, trying to force a smile, but the knot in your gut just made you feel nauseous.

He placed his hand on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m happy for you two. I think we both know I’ve never really agreed with Master’s rule about forbidding anything romantic. Just make sure to be careful.”

You swallowed, nodding. “…I will.” You took in a breath, chuckling, “You don’t always have to be the one looking out for me, you know.”

“Someone has to,” he laughed softly, pushing on your shoulder. “Step back for one second and you and Aqua fall for each other.”

A flush crept to your cheeks from the mention of her name. Someone knew of your shared secret with her and it both thrilled and terrified you. Pushing away the feeling, you smirked, “Yeah, we’re hopeless.”

“You going to be alright pulling an all nighter?” He asked.

“I’ll manage,” you waved him off. “It’s worth it.”

He chuckled, “Whatever you say. I’m off to bed then.” He tried to rustle your hair, but your smacked him away, both of you laughing. “See you tomorrow.” He waved, still laughing as he turned and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, you were left with a heaviness that wrapped tightly around your heart. You looked over to Aqua’s closed door, your eyes softening. “We’ll be alright…” you murmured, walking past so you could begin making your rounds.

The following morning took forever to arrive and by the time the sun was rising, your eyes were heavy with exhaustion. You stood outside of the castle, leaning against the wall as you watched the sky illuminate. A soft touch to your arm caught your attention and looking over, you saw Aqua standing beside you with a tired smile. Your exhaustion and irritable attitude melted away as you grinned and met your lips with hers.

“What are you doing up?” You asked, already trailing your lips along her jawline and cheeks.

She giggled, her eyes slipping shut. “Thought I would come keep you company until everyone else gets up.” Placing her hands along your chest, she pushed your back. “But we should be careful.” She kissed you shortly, before looking around. “I don’t know when everyone else will get up.

Your grin faltered, the stress from Terra’s talk with you the night before flooding back into your mind. “Yeah, you’re right.” You stood back up straight, resigning to simply holding her hand. She situated herself beside your, her head leaned against your shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

She hummed, squeezing your hand. “Yes, I had wonderful dreams.”

A warmth filled your heart, but was quickly washed away as Terra’s words of caution kept forcing its way back into your head. You swallowed hard, leaning your head back against the wall and stared up at the pastel sky.

“Y/N,” Aqua softly spoke.

“Hmm?” You asked, without looking over at her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, kissing your arm.

You took in a deep breath. “Last night… when I was leaving your room… Terra saw me.”

Her body froze. “Oh no…”

“Yeah… He knows.” You sighed, before adding, “But, he says he’s happy for us. He’s apparently known for a while now.”

“Of course,” she leaned her forehead against your shoulder. “If anyone was going to find out, I’m glad it was him.”

“Me too,” you agreed, darting your eyes to her when she released your hand.

“Maybe… we need to be more careful.” She walked to be in front of you, her hands clasped over her heart. Looking away, she gazed at the rising sun. “I don’t want anything to come between us. It’s already difficult enough as it is.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking down at your empty hand, your heart lurching at the missing warmth. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, her eyes meeting with yours.

“Don’t be,” you shook your head, straining a smile.

You looked around to check and then took a step towards her, but she stepped away. Your heart sank, the knot in your gut tightening. Her eyes showed her pain, probably just as much as yours were showing to her. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to nod and smile.

Despite the new distance, she stayed outside with you and kept you company as the sun rose. Your conversation eventually turned more lighthearted, even getting a few laughs out of the other, but never touching.

Ventus was first out of the castle, joining in on your conversation with an energetic excitement that greatly lightened the mood. He had grand tales about his dreams and gushed that he couldn’t wait to start training that day. You laughed along with him, desperately trying to distract yourself. Terra wasn’t out much later, bringing a calm to Ventus as all of you talked. You felt a throbbing headache in the back of your mind, a combination from lack of sleep and stress. You struggled to pay attention to what everyone was talking about, but you kept a smile on your face.

It wasn’t long until Master Eraqus was interrupting the discussion and had orders for all of you to prepare for training. You each bowed respectfully, heading over to the outside arena to spar. Terra was paired with you, Aqua with Ventus. You summoned your blade, struggling to stay focused as Terra summoned his on the other side of the arena from you.

He rushed towards you and you parried without a second thought, falling back on your muscle memory. You held your own against him, summoning a spell to send him back. Both of you went back and forth, occasionally overpowering the other until they were able to repel. Master Eraqus walked between both sparring teams, giving out instructions and observing.

You managed to get a direct hit on Terra with a spell, giving you a moment to take a breath. Aqua’s voice caught your attention and you looked over to see her blocking an attack from Ventus. She dodged another attack, spinning and summoning a spiral of ice around her. Your heart fluttered, she was so beautiful when she fought. She flowed like a dancer, so graceful and delicate, but also deadly. Her weapon was merely an extension of herself and her unwavering spirit. As you watched, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling for her all over again.

Master Eraqus called your name, rushing you back to reality as you looked forward to see Terra barreling towards you. Your blade raised, barely blocking him in time, but the weight of his attack caused you to stumble back. He went in for another attack, fully expecting you to be able to parry as you usually did, but your exhaustion fogged your actions and you were thrown to the ground. You hissed as you hit the dirt, small rocks cutting into your skin. Your shoulder and the side of your face throbbed with pain and you could already feel the bruises forming.

“Y/N!” Terra shouted as he skid to his knees beside you. “I really thought you were—”

“Don’t—” you cut him off, coughing, “Don’t worry about it, Terra.” You closed your eyes, the headache in the back of your mind growing into a migraine. “That was my fault.”

“Is he alright!?” You could hear Aqua’s panicked voice as she ran over, but Master Eraqus stopped her, assuring her that your were fine and that she could return to her training.

“Come on,” Terra grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The day was spent getting you cleaned up and you attempting to heal your wounds with healing magic, but you had to admit that you weren’t as well versed in life magic. As a result, you were left with the bruises and headache that pulsed in your head. Master Eraqus came and gave you a lecture, wanting to know why you hadn’t been paying attention, why you had let your guard down. You managed to sway his suspicion enough to leave you be, but not enough without the consequences of being the first on watch that night.

You walked through the halls of the castle, wondering why Master Eraqus insisted you take turns on watch when there hadn’t been a single enemy to ever show up since you had become a student. Reaching a window, you leaned against the frame, gazing out at the night sky as you let out a long breath. A pair of soft footsteps echoed through the halls, causing you to look over your shoulder. Your lips tipped into a smile as you saw Aqua approaching you.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smirk, wincing at the way it reacted with the bruises on your cheek.

She smiled back until she saw the bruise. “Oh no,” she whispered, looking you over. “You didn’t heal everything?”

“I’m-uh,” you glanced away, “not as good at healing magic as you are.”

Your eyes slid shut as her cool hand cupped your cheek. A glow emanated from her palm, seeping into your skin. You could feel it travelling through you, the pain melting away and replaced with a pleasant tingling sensation. A hum escaped you when she was done and you brought your hand over hers before she could pull away, kissing her palm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, opening your eyes to look back at her.

“Of course,” she smiled back, before falling back to a frown. “I’m…sorry about today.”

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have kept you up last night.” She lamented, sighing and pacing away.

“Aqua,” you followed her, “I got distracted during the fight, that’s all.”

“By what?” She asked, turning towards you.

You cleared your throat, “It’s not important.”

She sighed, “I saw you watching me fight.”

“Oh,” you realized, running your hand along the back of your neck. “Then yeah, I got distracted by watching you.”

She stared back at you, at first her gaze seemed just a bit irritable, but seeing your reaction and the way your face warmed, she bubbled into a giggle. “I’m that distracting?”

You chuckled with a shrug, “Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not,” she smiled, stepping closer to you. “I get distracted by you sometimes, too.”

You raised an eyebrow, brushing the back of your fingers along her cheek. “Oh yeah?”

She leaned into your touch, “Yeah.”

Opening her eyes, she smiled sweetly before turning away and walking further down the wall. You grinned, quickly following after her, grabbing her hand once you were beside her. She hummed when your hands met, giving your hand a squeeze.

“I thought you wanted to be more careful.” You pointed out with a whisper.

“Only when other people might be around.” She clarified. “Right now,” she squeezed your hand again. “It’s just us. I can’t be expected to keep myself from you all the time.”

You smirked, running your thumb along her hand. “Well then….”

As you turned the corner into a tighter hallway, you tugged on her hand and pressed her against the wall. She gasped, her eyes on yours in surprise, but also delight, as you brought your lips together. Her hands snaked around the back of your neck, pulling you closer as your hands ran up and down the sides of her waist.

“Oh Aqua,” you murmured her name against her lips, pulling away to trail your lips to her neck. “I love you.”

She sighed wistfully, her fingertips grazing through your hair. “I love you, too.”

“It’s getting so hard to hide the way I feel about you.” You confessed, suckling a part of her neck, a whimper escaping her.

“I-I know,” she agreed, breathless, her eyes slipping shut. She took in a sharp breath as your tongue lapped over the mark you made on her neck.

“I want you, Aqua.” You spoke against her skin, feeling the way she shivered under you.

“Then take me.” She breathed out, her head slung back against the wall.

You froze, your heart skipping at the implications of her words. Pulling back, you gazed at her, unable to look for long as she brought your lips together. “A-Are you sure?” You asked, breaking your lip lock.

She kissed you again, sighing in your mouth. “Do it before I realize what a horrible idea it is.”

You chuckled, kissing her again, running your tongue over her lips. Your hands went up her waist, grabbing her breasts. She gasped, melting into a moan as you kneaded them in your grasp. Her hands went to your belt buckle, undoing it completely and unzipping your pants with practiced ease. You moaned as her hand grazed your shaft through your boxers and your hand went to her shorts, meeting your fingers between her legs.

She broke the kiss, her head leaning back against the wall with a sharp gasp. She bit her lip, struggling to keep her voice as silent as possible and it drove you insane with pleasure. You continued circling your fingers between her legs, suckling her neck and kissing over her shirt to her breasts. Her hands raked over your back harder than usual, as if they were making up for her being unable to moan as loud as she pleased.

Grabbing the sides of her shorts you pulled them down, along with her panties, kneeling and taking a moment to meet your tongue with her folds. A mew of a moan escaped her as her legs trembled, barely able to keep her up. You brought your eyes to her half-lidded ones, suckling her, watching her clench at her own body to keep herself from bursting.

“P-please,” she begged with a soft whimper, her eyes still locked with yours.

You hummed, pulling away and standing back up to meet your lips with hers. She sucked on your tongue, tasting her pleasure as both of your hands were pulling at your boxers to strip them off. The moment the fabric was on the floor, you ran your hands over her backside, to her thighs, hoisting her off the ground. Her back was hard against the wall, her legs wound around you. She pulled away from the kiss, your eyes locked as you slid yourself inside of her.

Her lips parted, her eyes slipping shut. She buried her face into the crook of your neck, unable to keep back the moan in her throat. You groaned, keeping your grasp around her legs as you pulsed in and out of her. No matter how many times you had her, she felt like heaven around you. Everything around you faded, as it always did. Nothing mattered. Nothing except the two of you.

You kissed her neck, collar bone, shoulders, everywhere your lips could reach as your hips rolled into her. Her legs tightened around you, one of her hands interlaced in your hair, the other sliding down your chest. Her cool hand met between your bodies, her fingers circling in her folds as you pounded inside of her.

“Aqua,” you breathed out her name, the feeling of her hand touching herself sent you reeling. You sucked on her neck, wanting to mark her for your own for everyone to see. In that moment, you didn’t care if anyone else saw. You wanted her to be yours for eternity.

She whined, biting her lip painfully hard to keep her voice down. Both of your movements were becoming erratic, passionate, as you both teetered on the edge. Her breath was in your ear, the tiniest sound of her voice vibrated through your entire body. She whimpered and moaned, whispering your name and begging you to make her come.

Your body tensed, everything igniting at once as you were thrown over the edge. You gasped for air, your face buried in her neck as her name poured from your lips. She whimpered out your name, rolling her hips against you and her fingers, until she slammed her hand against her mouth, crying out with a moan. Her hand did little to muffle her voice, but you didn’t care as you continued to push into her until you both fell back into reality.

Her body went limp against yours, her breathing heavy with contented hums slipping through every few seconds. Your legs trembled and you slid both of you carefully to the floor, keeping her in your arms.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” She whispered, pulling back to look at you.

“Me neither.” You kissed her, both of you humming. “But I don’t regret it.”

She smiled, kissing you again. “Neither do I.”

The creak of a door opening and closing made both of your eyes widen. You both scrambled to your feet, pulling on your clothes in a mad frenzy. Ventus’ tired voice echoed through the halls, timidly saying your name.

“U-Um, Y/N?” He called out, a few halls down. “Are you there? I-I thought I heard something.”

Your eyes met with Aqua, a warmth flushed on both of your faces. She wanted to say something to you about it, but instead straightened out her clothes, giving you a kiss on the cheek before walking past. You watched her leave, your smile growing when she glanced over her shoulder at you. Once she was out of sight, you took in a deep breath and went to go calm Ventus down about the noises he heard.

#Aqua #Aqua x M!Reader #Kingdom Hearts Smut

2 notes · View notes

tirednotflirting · 4 years

Text

french press on the kitchen counter - a.i.

i recognize the severity of all that is going on in the world and i encourage all of you to please stay home and away from the humans you don’t already interact with on a day to day basis. my late night wine-tipsy fluff should not in any way encourage you to seek out additional company during these quarantined times.

I wrote most of this on sunday/monday and actually posted for about five min mon night and then ash put out that video and we were all concerned and i felt eh about putting out content then but now that we have a video of him dancing with a puppy in his lap i feel better so-

tagging @aspiringwildfire bc i actually started this before falling asleep after we talked fic and yelled about the guys for a bit the other night. thnx for the late night writing party <3

stay healthy and happy. xx

wc: ~ 1.4k

as she let her eyes blink open from sleep, she found herself asking a silent question that had become a standard to most mornings: was that the sound of rain pattering against the wall of windows in the living room or drum sticks against a practice pad once again left on the coffee table?

she closed her eyes and focused on the noise. while it mostly sounded like the white noise of a spring rain, there was something distinctly rhythmic behind it that led her to believe it might be a rare morning when she got both. she sat up slowly against her pillows in the room darkened by black out curtains, the ones she had begged ashton to buy for the guest room since she had been finding herself often falling asleep at the drummer’s house after parties and nights out since they had met some several months earlier.

their friendship had been an easy one. a friend of a friend had invited her to a house party just a few weeks after she had moved to the city, insisting this was the best crew in la to spend time with. upon meeting the hazel-eyed host of the party, the two of them found miles of common ground and spent the whole night chatting about her new master’s program and their shared adoration for the city she had recently moved from. she was added to all of the group texts before the night was over and as the weeks went on, she often found herself on ashton’s living room floor, leaning against the couch with a beer in hand, teaching her favorite party games to this glittery, talented crew of artists that had adopted her into their circle.

given the near ever-present place they had in each other’s lives during the first few months of 2020, it wasn’t all that surprising to her when she received a call from ashton inviting her to quarantine in his home rather than all on her own after hearing that her on-campus studies were to be put on hold for the rest of the semester. they spent enough time around one another that it made sense and the thought of spending at least the next month or so alone in her studio apartment did sound pretty lonely. so she sent him a confirmation text, packed up a bag, and soon found herself sitting shotgun in frankie cruising down the interstate to her new-ish best friend’s quiet home.

that was 8 days ago. since then they had been working their way through dozens of movies and books, taking turns on who cooked and who queued up music on Spotify while sipping on topo chico (sometimes spiked with tito’s and lime). there were nightly facetimes with the band, the two of them squeezing together into the frame to see what everyone else had been up to during the days stuck inside. when he got antsy, she would leave whatever book she was annotating for class to help him rig up a camera to record another drum cover. it was a fine way of living, she supposed, with all of the pain going on in the world beyond his four walls.

she was reflecting on the state of the world (and reminding herself to do her daily news check on her New York Times app) as she padded out to the living room to check if her ears had proved her right today. she turned the corner to find ashton beating away at a dark red practice pad as he faced away from her and towards the windows that were being beat with raindrops by the angry storm clouds above their sunshine city. so she was right.

she didn’t want to scare the man yielding the fast moving sticks so she moved around the far end of the long couch to take a seat beside him. when his eyes landed on her as she rounded the back of the black sofa, noting to himself how small and homey she looked in a tshirt of his she must have stolen to sleep in, he finished the lick he was on and moved the pad from where it had rested on his lap to the coffee table in front of them.

a lazy grin stretched across his scruffy face as he watched her pick up the coffee mug he had filled for her only about ten minutes earlier. after 8 days in the same house, they were starting to learn each other’s routines. setting down his sticks, he lifted the French press he had brought out from the kitchen to top off his own mug before bringing it to his lips and lifted his other arm to allow her to rest comfortably against his chest.

“hope i didn’t wake you, love,” he mumbled, his first words out loud of the day coming out groggier than he anticipated.

he felt her hum against his chest after she took another sip of the hot, pleasantly bitter brew. “nah, my body could feel the rain and knew it was time to see the world.”

“not much to see beyond my backyard, unfortunately,” he replied, his head falling to rest against the top of her own.

he felt her smile against his chest through the fabric of the old, worn tshirt he had thrown on after rising that morning. “ah, well,” she mused, “who needs anything beyond that anyway.”

they both remained quiet for a few moments, not quite sure where to go from there. his calloused fingers drew shapes against the skin on her arm that his fingers could reach as he sipped from his mug. she sat up some and his arm fell from around her shoulders to her waist as she tossed her sock clad feet over his lap. “tell me about paris today?”

this had become another regular activity in their days shacked up together. she would think of a big, beautiful city she had always dreamed of traveling to and, after remembering that he had gone on a few world tours and had probably been to most of them, she would get him to tune into his nostalgic side to tell her stories of his travels with his brothers.

he squeezed her hip before moving to stand. he grabbed the French press and both of their (now cool and nearly empty) mugs. “paris will need more coffee,” he nodded his head toward the kitchen. “come on.”

in the kitchen she jumped up onto the island and let her legs swing back and forth as she watched him refill the kettle and exchange the old coffee grounds for new as he started his stories. he told her about andy convincing all of them to take cheesy pictures with roses in front of the eiffel tower in the night time and about what he tried at the different bakeries and cafes he had discovered in their few trips there. he recalled on a fashion show they had all attended at one point and smiled with his eyes as he spoke fondly of their first trip to the louvre.

she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes after he finished the story of how they all tricked luke into eating snails during their first trip to the city of love as he stepped between her legs to hand her a fresh mug of coffee. neither thought anything of it as he stayed at that spot and gently set his own mug beside her bare thigh on the counter to wrap his arms lazily around her waist. the counter has leveled the playing field on their height difference so after taking a big sip from the mug, she mirrored his actions except letting her arms lay across his shoulders. “once this is all over and done with, we should take a trip,” she hummed, her fingers playing with the soft hair at the back of his neck.

“to paris?” he teased.

she pouted at him, her eyes rolling some. “no, silly, just somewhere.”

“why do you wanna go somewhere with me?” he was fishing, he knew that. but as he allowed himself to wrap his arms more fully around his still somewhat new friend’s waist, he couldn’t help but wonder if all of this time together had her feeling the same way that he did.

she looked into his hazel eyes with a content look to her own. “you tell the best stories,” she responded easily. “best people to go through life with are ones that know how to tell you a good story.”

and as a smile spread slowly across the drummer’s face, he couldn’t help but look forward to all the stories he would get to write with her.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin blurbs #5sos #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #will i ever learn how to use tags for their intended purpose?#also sorry i suck at titles i swear it'll get better one day

49 notes · View notes

the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

Text

A Strange Convergence

Mitch walked past the alley as he had all the others, at first believing it to be empty. He would have continued on in that belief if he had no also struck a match at that very moment, to light a fresh cigarette between his lips. There, deep in the alley, he noticed a slice of pale flesh. The match burned itself down to his fingertips as he stared. Mitch dropped it to the damp ground with a hiss of pain, but his eyes never left that strange, still form. It took him longer than it should to recognize the waifish figure, iridescent moonlight catching on his slender limbs.

Deep shadows cast the alley in darkness. Mitch could hardly make out anything around the boy, that single point of light. There was nothing to see, and yet Mitch found himself stopping to watch. He leaned against the nearest wall so that he would not make too obvious a spectator, backlit by the streetlamps behind. Silver smoke filtered past his lips when he exhaled.

As Mitch watched, he noticed the oddest thing. Stiles’ shadow began to move behind him, a long, twisted thing, writhing as if in unspeakable agony. Yet the boy stood still, his face upturned in supplication. Mitch could not see his eyes, but somehow, he knew that if he could, they would be distant. Like the glass-eyed taxidermy in his uncle’s estate.

Shadows pulled away from the wall, moving with the same fluidity as the move Mitch exhaled. His eyes struggled to focus on the rippling darkness. That liquid absence of light that dew everything in; a starving, ceaseless hunger, consuming all it touched.

Mitch stood frozen with his mountain horror, watching as the shadows reached out to Stiles. It was an impossible sight, there was nothing there, nothing to cast such a sinister image, and yet it was happening right before his eyes. And undeniable, grotesque vision. Stiles’ mouth fell open in a soundless scream and Mitch was helpless to watch as they spooling darkness poured itself into him.

The cigarette burned to nothing between his fingers, the only measure of human time that existed in that alley, suddenly filled with the endless, eternal expanse of void.

Then, just as soon as the shadows had warped, they twisted themselves back into order. A reversal of the entropy surrounding Stiles, filling him, devouring him. Like a marionette with its strings cut the boy collapsed. His limbs fell in a loose tangle, and the spell was broken. Mitch rushed to him.

Already Mitch decided it was some kind of illusion, a trick played by his exhausted mind. Grief over his uncle’s death must have reached deeper than he realized, for his eyes to twist things into such horror. Still, he checked for a pulse, and was relieved to find it sluggishly breathing beneath Stiles’ ivory skin.

***

November 26, 1923

My nightly walks have continued to trouble me. I feel as though I am searching for something, although I do not know what that may be. I find myself walking a strangely familiar path each night, but I am certain I have never walked it before. I haven’t seen these streets since I was a boy; they are as foreign to me as the would be the crowded streets of London.

I feel I am not as along during this excursion as the oft-empty streets would have me believe. There is a… malevolence to the shadows. My own silhouette is alien to me. It responds to my every movement as it should, and yet it is not me. Perhaps it is that my shadow lags behind a second too slow; almost like it must consciously decide to copy me.

Sentient shadows. Not a subject I care to entertain. There is enough occupying my mind as it is. I’ll sound like Hurley before long, and I have no desire to follow his path.

It all comes back to pathways. Those trails we follow through life, forged for us by braver souls. Few seeks to blaze their own way. Fewer still find others to follow in their wake.

For some reason, my path seems to converge with Stiles’ time and again. I find myself inexplicably drawn to him. He has made several appearances of late, although I rarely confront him. Half a dozen times I’ve wanted to shake him and demand an answer: id he him following me, haunting my nights like a specter? Or do I follow him, ignorant of where he leads? Either way, I know not where we are going, only that we seem to be heading there together.

I am… troubled by him.

***

“Such a strange thing.” Mitch traced his fingers over the jagged clay figure, messily sculpted and poorly finished. It was certainly done by a novice; the clay was rough and scratched, not worn smooth by practiced hands. More than that, the geometry was senseless and odd; it made his head hurt to look for too long.

“Do you like it?”

“Christ!” Mitch almost dropped the heavy figure—thought it might be better if he had, to destroy the thing before it could cause him anymore sleepless nights—as he whirled around. Standing just outside the doorway was Stiles, with his big round eyes and his lips downturned into their perpetual moue of discontentment. Mitch set the figure back on its pedestal. As soon as it clicked into place Stiles stepped forward, and Mitch was struck by the sudden impulse to retreat, keep the heavy oak desk between them. He didn’t.

“I made it.” Stiles brushed his finger down one of the arching curves. “Do you know what it is?”

“No.”

“Me neither. It came to me in a dream.” Stiles shuddered and wrapped his arms around himselves, spindly fingers covering the jut of his elbows. “Do you ever have dreams?”

“Sometimes.” Mitch didn’t tell Stiles how more and more, he featured in them. He wondered if Stiles somehow knew anyway.

“Are they good dreams?”

His mind was forced to turn to Stiles; a strange, twisting creature, writhing in his sheets. From fear or pleasure or both, Mitch could never tell. The shadows were too severe over his features to ever fully make out the expression on his face.

“Sometimes,” Mitch answered again, because some of those dreams left him to wake panting and sticky and unable to feel the shame curdling in his belly when desire still ran so hot through his veins. More than one page in his journal was taken with frantic sketches done in the middle of the night, a hollow attempt to commit to paper what Stiles looked like in his dreams. The delicate curve of his breastbone, the rapturous arch of his spine. The open, welcome line of his legs and the soft, plush shape of his lips, always bitten red. Mitch didn’t know what possessed him to immortalize his indiscretions; perhaps if he could not see Stiles in the flesh, he could at least have this crude rendering.

Stiles pulled Mitch out of his mind just as swiftly as he had dredged up those awful imaginings he kept locked away, only to be examined in the dead of night. Mitch realized he was staring too long at Stiles’ lips when he saw them curve into a small, secretive smile. A rare thing.

“My dreams are nightmares,” Stiles said, possible—probably—for the second or third time. “They’re filled with monstrous creatures. They haunt me.” As he spoke Stiles approached, gliding over the floor, until they were almost chest to chest. Only the pedestal crowned with the crude statuette stood between them, little enough distance that Mitch could feel Stiles’ breath ghost against his jaw, second after it left his lungs. Strangely cold. Maybe he should have put the desk between them after all. “Your uncle was very interested in my dreams. He has me tell him about each one, recording them into his little wax cylinders, taking his notes. My draws as well, and my sculptures. Are you interested in them, too, doctor?”

“Yes,” Mitch breathed. There was nothing else for him to say. Anything else would stop Stiles from speaking to him, break this strangely intimate moment between them.

“Maybe I’ll tell you of them, then. Mr. Hurley always wanted to hear about them straight away. While they were fresh in my mind, he said. He even let me stay here for a time, while he conducted his research, holding vigil outside my bedroom at night.” Stiles leaned in a little closer and looked up through his long eyelashes, moistened his lips with his tongue. “Truth be told, I think he would watch me as I slept. Only to note down anything I said, of course. Things I wouldn’t remember come morning. I think that’s would he would have said if I ever caught him.”

“If you thought he was watching you, why did you let him?”

“I liked it,” Stiles said simply. Mischief sparked in his golden eyes, at offs with his deceptive, innocent demeanor. “Knowing he was watching over me made me feel safe. I haven’t been able to sleep since he died; I still feel like something is watching me. Do you think you could help me, doctor?”

Mitch stumbled over nothing. Mistakenly, he tried to catch himself on the thin pedestal and instead overbalanced it. Stiles sculpture crashed onto the ground and broke; too blunt and heavy to shatter, although the delicate, wispy pieces on the edges splintered away. Thich crevasses cleaved apart the heavy core.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Mitch leant down to pick up the pieces, but the damage was done.

“it’s alright.” Stiles tilted his head consideringly. “Looks better this way. More right.” Stiles left without another word, leaving Mitch to stare after him in bewilderment.

“What the hell was that?” Mitch asked the now-empty room. He picked up the largest pieces of the statuette and tried to fit them together again, to see if they could be salvaged. Mitch couldn’t figure out how to align the pieces. Somehow, the hardened clay was distinctly twisted into a new shape, no longer fitting against itself.

Mitch resolved to throw it away and think of it no more.

#cookie writes #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #stitch #vaguely Lovecraftian AU #inspired by Call of Cthulu #but also there is Void Stiles #I was up all night writing in a fevered haze plz validate me #Mitch has no idea what's going on he just wants to go home to New York #Rhode Island is too fkn weird for him #Hurley was his crazy old uncle obsessed with the occuly #Mitch is a man of Science and Logic and Doesn't Have Time for that #he is a DoctorTM #I was originally gonna make him a lawyer but tbh #I could do some wonderful things with doctor Mitch #wonderful naughty things

18 notes · View notes

evrthefanatic · 4 years

Text

soulmark part 1 | Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Pairings: Tyler x OC, Matt x Elena

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence

Word Count: 3,873

Read on AO3, FF.net, Qoutev, Wattpad

A/N: Hello there! If there’s anyone there! So I made a fic and I’ve been consistently updating it so far, I thought I’d share it here! I hope you guys like it!

Ever since she could remember, the strange lettering was engraved into her wrist, pale enough for no one to notice, but rough enough in the edges to be traced. It wasn't until the tragic accident of their parents did Alyssandra begin to uncover the secrets behind the runes.

What would happen in the show if two human doppelgangers were running around?

PROLOGUE | Drowning

It was dark out. Cassie's 'Me & U' blared out loud from Tyler's stereo. From where she stood, Aly saw some of her friends motionless on the grass, either too drunk or fast asleep. Aly glanced to her side. "How's this for a party?" Tyler smirked.

"Pretty good," she answered. The lake offered them a cool breeze, and it carried along with the chatter from the other party-goers. "Pretty tame," she added in afterthought.

"Well that's for next week," he smirked, grabbing her by the waist. "For when we win the championship."

Aly giggled and playfully pushed him away. " If you win the championship." she teased.

"Come to my house this Sat then." he shrugged, "It'll be way more fun than this one. Maybe I can convince you how good of a player I am."

Aly snorted, rolling her eyes. "I can't." she tells him, "It's game night. Mom and Dad are coming home from this huge Medical Convention from Seattle,- and Dad's leaving again next week so I can't really miss it."

Tyler frowned. "How will we have some fun time then?" he whispered to her ear, kissing her there. Aly felt herself flush- her breathing instantly laboring as he nibbled and sucked.

"Next week?" she answered weakly. "They'll be gone anyway."

Ty kissed her, pulling her body flush against his and Alyssandra finds her hands going through his hair. He bit down her bottom lip and she gasped. "We can have some fun time now," he said suggestively.

Whatever reply Aly had in mind was disrupted as Caroline's voice filled the air. "Lockwood!" she whined, "stop manhandling my best friend in front of all of us!"

Aly flushed even more, but she smirked at the looks everyone else gave them. She pushed Tyler away, grinning upon seeing his clearly frustrated face. A chorus of laughter filled the campsite.

"I gotta go anyway." she gave him an apologetic smile, kissing him by the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Instantly as she got away, Caroline hooked her arm around hers, bursting into giggles. "Have you seen Elena?" Aly asked her.

Caroline ignored her question. "That was so hot. He looked like he was about to eat you. I wish I had a boyfriend like that."

"He's not my boyfriend." Aly denied, rolling her eyes. "Yet."

"Ugh." Caroline flipped her hair. "I just want to have sex. Hot and scandalous. Is he as good as they say he is? I want all the details."

Alyssandra couldn't help but laugh at her comment. "Pretty good," she answered, not at all intimidated by her comment. Caroline shot her a look. "Sometimes aggressive-" she adds, "Takes what he wants, kind of guy."

"Damn." Caroline wistfully sighed. "I want one."

"You'll get one," she reassured her. "Have you seen Elena? I haven't seen her since earlier"

"She's probably knocked out somewhere," Caroline muttered. "You know, with Prince Charming Matt."

Aly giggled at her comment.

"Bonnie already went home, by the way."

"I didn't see," she replied. "Wanna carpool home?"

"Fine by me." Caroline shrugged. "I guess it's just me tonight." she sighed once more. The two girls ceased their walk upon hearing a familiar sniffle and sob a little deeper within the woods. They gave each other identical looks of worry as they followed the sound. "Is that-?"

Elena's face formed immediately to a familiar pout upon seeing them. She threw herself between the two girls, instantly wrapping her arms into a hug. "I broke up with Matt!" she cried.

And that's how they spent the night at the Forbes residence.

Water. Endless water. She was drowning. Her lungs screamed at her, and she desperately clawed her throat. She couldn't breathe, every breath she took burned her. Her heart rattled against her chest. Each second feeling more like her last. Her arms reach out to her father, who struggled against the hold of the belt on of their car before her world faded into black.

But not for long.

She coughed out, crying in hysteria as soon as her eyes opened. Distinctly, she heard sirens fast approaching. Aly quickly sat up, head looking around like a lost dear, to her side she sees that she's just near Wickery Bridge and-

The sweet smell of pancakes and honey awoke her. She blearily opened her eyes, taking a sharp intake of breath. Her heart refused to calm down, and she couldn't help but trail her finger along the familiar mark on her left wrist, welcoming the comfort that usually came along with it. Aly distinctly looked around her surroundings, feeling slightly relieved upon seeing the familiar walls of Caroline's room. Outside, she hears some chatter and plates being moved.

Alyssandra grimaced upon seeing herself in the mirror. Her curly hair was a wreck, it's normal to loose curls had bunched up in her sleep. The signature headband she always wore had grazed her neck, leaving a mark. They must have gotten even more hammered last night, especially with the news of Elena and Matt breaking up. She sighed, choosing instead to tie her hair into a bun, not bothering to fix it until she had come home. By the time she had reached the kitchen, her dream had been long forgotten.

"Morning sleepyhead." Her twin sister, Elena, greeted her. The duo looked exactly alike- completely identical in features, looks, and height. Their differences lied on how they dressed and presented themselves. Aly was more preppy in style, and Elena was more laid back. The biggest difference was how they chose to style their hair, with Elena getting it straightened every other month and Alyssandra just letting it be.

"You look disgusting," Caroline stated. Aly grimaced, whole-heartedly agreeing with her. "Are you okay?" the blonde immediately followed up. "You kept trashing and muttering last night."

Aly blinked, taking the cup of coffee Elena offered her. "I had a bad dream." she shrugged. Caroline wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"The good kind of bad?"

"The wrong kind of bad." she corrected. Though, now that she thought of it, Aly could hardly remember the nightmare at all. Aly switched her attention to her sister, who still looked disheartened and depressed from the breakup. Which was odd, since SHE was the one who broke up with Matt. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

Elena gave her a small smile. "I'll hold," she answered. In truth, Aly knew that her sister was going to break up with the jock sometime soon. She knew exactly why. Elena had known Matt since they were children. Their relationship lacked the excitement, the thrill, often seen in newly formed couples. It was because they were never 'new' at all. If Aly was gonna be honest with herself, she would say the same about her and Tyler.

"Bonnie's asking if she should come over." Caroline's voice broke Aly's musings. "I told her we can meet up at your place later tonight."

"Sounds fine by me." Elena gave her another, albeit timid, smile.

Glancing at the time through her phone, Aly ate one big pancake before dragging her and Elena out. "We'll see you later Care!" she called out, fully intent on getting home and fixing herself up first before heading to school.

The news of the breakup had apparently shaken the whole campus. People sent Elena looks as they walked through the hallways, and her sister maneuvered their walk to make sure they avoided any jock-looking guy that might say the word 'Matt' as they passed. The odd looks were mostly ignored, bar the pouty look that Elena had permanently etched to her face. It seemed to be enough to ward off any advances, cheerleaders, or otherwise.

The two sisters soon separated as they got to their respective classes. Although both girls were intelligent and hard-working, both wanting to go to the same college together, it was Aly who took the extra mile to her studies and extra-curricular. Never wanting to have a dull moment in her schedule- she had signed up in multiple clubs and participated a lot in the Founding Families activities, even going as far as volunteering every now and then along with Caroline.

Her classes passed by smoothly, or as smooth as they can be. Once again she had aggravated her history teacher, Mr. Tanner, before remembering that the man can very well destroy all of her hopes and dreams with a single B. She had wisely shut up, thinking that AP History in her Juniors next semester would be worth the shame of being 'outsmarted' by the man. Someday, she idly sneered in her mind, he'd get his ass rightfully kicked.

In the cafeteria, she finally opened her phone that kept on buzzing in her pocket, and she couldn't help but laugh a little at Ty's rants about Matt and Elena- and how it was ruining his mood. She sent him a bunch of emojis in return- snickering at his attitude.

"Are we gonna hear another break up from you, too?" Bonnie asked as she sat beside her. Bonnie Bennett completed their little circle of friends. A beautiful black brunette who was fiercely loyal to her friends. Oftentimes it was Bonnie who'll get them out of trouble when it arose and she never failed to speak her mind when she wanted to.

"Ty and I are just friends," she said in sing-song.

"Can you like, explain to me how that works?" Caroline demanded, taking a seat as well. "I never pegged you as friends with benefits type."

Aly put her phone away. "It just happened." she said, "We didn't have a label and it-well- I guess it's gonna keep on happening?"

"You have a way with words." Elena mocked, taking a seat as well. She looked remarkably better than she did in the morning. "You should run to the hills. We've known Tyler our whole life and he's not exactly boyfriend material."

"Agreed." Bonnie sagely nodded, pointing her fork up and down. "You'll find better. You never know, you might find a handsome, daring, hot, and chiseled man just around a corner." Aly snorted, giving Bonnie a look.

"Oh you bet." she giggled. "Just not right now."

"I need a boyfriend," Caroline whined. "Maybe I shouldn't have broken it off with Dustin a couple of months ago."

"Gross," Elena complained. But Care nudged her, blonde hair bouncing as she pointed her head to a bunch of red-varsity jackets wearing guys approaching. As if in by cue, Elena's face morphed into an epitome of sadness. Matt led the campaign, and Aly and Ty's eyes met- she looked away immediately, focusing instead on her food before she burst out laughing.

The cafeteria sobered, spectating the debacle about to happen. Bonnie consolingly held Elena's hand- who stared at her food, lower lip wobbling.

"Elena," Matt started.

"She doesn't want to talk to you!" Caroline quickly ended.

Matt ignored her. "We can talk about this," he continued. "Come on, babe."

To Alyssandra's complete surprise, Elena actually faced him. "We can't, Matt," she said, meeting his eyes. "It's over."

The silence seemed to have fallen all over the cafeteria. "This Saturday." he mustered up, fighting the monstrous awkward silence. "Tyler's throwing a party-"

Ty raised his hands in an instant, giving Matt a look that said 'don't bring me into this'. Matt ignored this too.

"- and maybe we can go together? Just this one last time," he said, practically begging. "Please, 'Lena."

Her sister took a deep breath, giving him a small smile. "I'll think about it," she answered. That seemed to be enough, as the flock of jocks immediately went away after that. As soon as they did, chatter once again began in the cafeteria.

"Damn." said Caroline, "I kinda feel sorry for him."

Aly snorted, she quickly covered it up when Elena glared at her. Elena wasn't actually going to the party, she mused. Tyler's party overlapped with their family's game night. "Yeah," Aly tried to agree, "Poor Matt."

Bonnie giggled.

Except Elena didn't seem to be in with the laughs, there was this guilty expression on her face. One that Aly knew all too well. "Come on-"

"I'll talk to him," she said firmly. "The entire thing's my fault, anyway."

"How is it your fault?" Caroline argued. "You should be able to break up with a guy whenever you want!"

"Totally!" Bonnie agreed, "But why do you want to talk to him, anyway? I thought you already had last night."

"I didn't." Elena finally admitted. "I kinda just ended things off." she shook her head, sighing. "I just can't be with him anymore, you guys. I just don't feel like things are going right. Don't get me wrong, Matt's amazing. It's just- it's just not right."

Caroline gasped. "O my god! He totally scared you off!"

Alyssandra laughed at that, remembering Matt's promises of a future filled with mini Mattlenas. "He totally did. 'Lena has a point though. We're only in high school."

"He deserves an explanation." Her sister continued, moving a stray strand of hair from her face. "It'll just suck if I dump him for no reason. I'm not that kind of girl."

"Fine, talk to him," said Alyssandra. "But you gotta remember that we have game night this Sat. You better not miss it."

"I'm not going to." her sister answered. But Aly was quick to realize that she was lying, Elena always wore the same pinched expression every time she lied. Alyssandra still hoped that she'll change her mind, so she didn't push it.

In another life, Aly might've stopped Elena from sneaking to Tyler's party before game night. In this one, she ignored her sister sneaking out of her room through the window after she had lied to their parents about being sick. Completely avoiding game night altogether.

Instead, Aly focused on her four very-present family members as they meticulously played an aggressive version of UNO. Jeremy was currently winning, and Aly felt herself giggle hard over their mom's angry glare. Miranda and Grayson Gilbert were both Doctors at the local Mystic Falls hospital. It wasn't unusual for them to leave their kids alone, sometimes for weeks, trusting that the three siblings together would have enough brain cells to keep the house and themselves together.

Their trust is well placed.

Or at least Aly has convinced herself that it was.

The trio wasn't the type to cause trouble, especially Jeremy. Their brother was as relaxed as they come. Often he'd stay out to hang with his friends, either playing baseball or painting out. Aly and Elena were often out as well. Before, the two sisters would take turns in cooking, and the trio would rotate with the chores. It stayed that way until Elena had almost accidentally burned the house down while using the oven, their parents had then left cooking to Aly's hands whenever they left.

A resounding 'ding' broke the concentration the four held. Miranda was quick to stand up to retrieve the freshly made pizza. Aly felt her stomach grumble in delight as the aroma flowed into the living room. Making sure to carry her cards with her, Alyssandra followed her mother. Fully intent on helping her out. (and maybe grab some bites as well)

"Do you know where Elena went, Alice?"

The question caused her to scowl. Their mother didn't seem to be all too-bothered with Elena skipping game night (it wasn't the first time). She watched Miranda cut the pizza into pieces, immediately grabbing one when she finished.

"She went to Ty's," she answered, taking a bite. "Matt didn't take the break up well. So she decided to apologize- or something."

"Or something." their mother echoed, a light smile on her face. Aly really thought that she was too lax. Her mind wondered if she'll be the same once she had children on her own but she instantly grimaced, burying the thought deep in her mind. She was only 17 after all. Her entire life was still waiting before she could ever begin to settle.

Alyssandra helped her mom bring the food to the tense living room. Grayson's stormy blue eyes were locked against Jeremy's brown ones. Both held their cards against their chest. The tension broke when Grayson grinned, putting a +4 card down in triumph.

Jeremy groaned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Her brother sent their dad a dirty glare, grabbing four new cards from the deck. Aly threw their dad a grin, plopping herself down next to Jeremy, not so discreetly looking at his new cards as she went by- earning a yell from the youngest Gilbert.

It was Miranda that won the game by the end. The four had watched a movie before effectively calling it a night. She begrudgingly sent a message to her sister, telling her that lights had gone out and she was free to go home. She was fast asleep before she could read Elena's reply.

Aly choked, eyes wide. Grayson tried to reach out to her. She couldn't stop herself from gasping even if she wanted too. A pang of familiarity resonated within her, and with it came fear. She tried to reach out, finding it harder and harder to breathe- her lungs burned. Her windpipe felt crushed. The last thing she saw was her father's struggle against the seatbelt before her world faded into black.

Her mind kept telling her that it was a dream. That she should just wake up. But she can't. Aly gasped awake, shooting herself up- coughing. Where was she? Wickery bridge? Another bubble of uncontrollable fear buzzed through her, making her cry in hysteria. What-

Aly was violently pushed awake, without even realizing, she was dragged up. In the back of her mind, she hears a voice cry out.

"Aly wake up!"

She groaned in response, hastily pushing her brother away, glaring. "I'm awake!" she snapped, holding a hand up her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart. Her hand shook, and it took her a moment to realize that her entire body was shaking as well.

Alyssandra groaned once more, pushing her younger brother away with a glare. "Yeah," she murmured, sitting up. She blatantly ignores her racing heart. However, it seems like life has other plans. Jeremy immediately pulls her up.

"Get dressed," Jeremy said, breaking Aly out of her haze. He says, he has this wild look in his eyes. He looked scared. "we have to go."

That's when she noticed the sirens blaring outside her house. All of a sudden, the dream she just had gone to the forefront of her mind, waking her up. The events of her dream were still fresh on her mind, and it overwhelmed her. Aly stood there in her room, frozen.

"Hurry up!" Jeremy frantically pushed her. "Mom, Dad, and Elena are in the hospital,"

Alyssandra moved without thinking, her body suddenly going in auto-pilot. Jeremy rushed her on, but his voice barely registered in her head. She didn't even bother to completely change her set of clothes, settling into an oversized jacket and hair tie. Outside their home stood Deputy Forbes, Caroline's mother, and there was a pained expression on her face.

The officer offered them a tight, sympathetic smile and didn't reach her eyes. Aly fought the urge to scream. "Let's get you two to the hospital."

She could barely recognize the streets as they quickly drove by. Alyssandra's mind had gone to an override, jumping to her dream to the hospital. In the background, she could hear Jeremy and Liz talking.

What had just happened? How could it happen?

Words like accident, lucky, and Elena echoed in the car. Their sister, her twin, survived. But both Grayson and Miranda were dead.

Their parents were dead.

How could things change so quickly?

They were just having game night a few hours ago.

They were at the hospital before she even knew it. Jeremy got out of the car first, rushing in. She saw Aunt Jenna immediately embrace him to her arms, letting him cry and sob. She followed behind- her throat felt so tight. Liz gave her arm a comforting squeeze, leading her inside. Oddly enough, Aly didn't run to her aunt's arms, letting Jeremy have his comfort. Instead, she swallowed the bile that had lodged itself in her throat.

"Elena?"

The first thing that Aly noticed was the crying.

Throughout their entire lives, she was used to the sound of Elena crying. Her sister had always been the more sensitive one out of the two, and it didn't take a lot for waterworks to come. But never in her life had she heard her sister sob this hard. It was agony, deeper than any emotional cut that came before it.

Elena was barely covered with a towel, bawling into her hands, she was absolutely soaked from head to toe. And every cry from her throat shook her entire lithe frame.

Aly felt her heart wrench painfully. For a moment, she felt like she was still dreaming, there was no way this was actually happening. Their parents couldn't actually be dead. Right? It had to be a joke.

In a second, her arms had wrapped itself around her twin. Holding her tight, ignoring the tremor that seemed to overcome both of their bodies. "It's okay." It's not. But the words were out before they even registered in her head. "We'll be okay," she tells her, firmly this time. Her head felt unbearably light, and she jumped when another set of arms had settled in their embrace.

She couldn't breathe.

The sounds of her family crying seemed to echo in her mind. And Aly's arms fell loose to the sides, another person grabbed her arm- Liz Forbes again. She didn't smile this time. Guiding her body into a chair instead, Aly fell to the seat immediately. Blank. Her mind has gone blank. She stared at the image of her family ( what's left of it ) holding each other in a tight embrace. Aly shook herself, taking a harsh deep breath.

Like a shadow, Aly followed the Deputy out of the room, and she can see the concerned glances of everyone present. Mystic Falls was a pretty small town after all, and the hospital was where her parents had worked in. Their Doctor, her parent's co-workers, idly explained to her what happened. And Alyssandra found herself nodding along, signing this- signing that. I'm so sorry, he had said. But really, she couldn't see what he was sorry about, it's not like he drove them off the bridge. It was an accident. Accidents happen all the time.

They gave her a heavy piece of paper. At the top right corner, it said ' Mystic Falls Memorial '. It was a fill-up form.

"You don't have to do this right now, Aly." Liz again. In the back of her mind, Aly can hear the annoyed voice of Caroline, angry for her mother always going about her business.

"It's alright Ms. Forbes," she answered. Jenna was still consoling her siblings. "I can do this now."

The adults around her gave her a set of tight smiles and as she walked away, she could hear the words poor girl, the responsible one, and such a tragedy.

Next Chapter

6 notes · View notes

7team7 · 5 years

Text

I'm twenty when I'm with you: chapter five

Chapter title: Roommates

Summary: Soulmate AU: Living together is easy, like breathing. What would they do without each other?

Rating: T

chapter one / two / three / four / six

Someone had to be testing her.

Sakura liked to believe she wasn’t terribly unlucky. She normally managed to catch the bus before it drove away and she had yet to trip on the stairs up to their apartment. The universe seemed to like to crush this notion into a million pieces when the moving company was unable to deliver her bed and the couch to her new apartment until one whole month after the start of school due to a major stock mix up.

Her apartment, nevermind that she was sharing with Sasuke, was supposed to be a cozy affair, but how could she relax at all when there was a severe lack of a sectional in the living area?

As for a good night’s sleep, Sakura dragged out her blankets out of their boxes and laid them down on the floor. It would have to do for now.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Sasuke—her roommate—spoke from the doorway. He was just about finished unpacking and was ready to wish Sakura goodnight.

“Yeah, as much as I would like that, I’m not sleeping on our kitchen table, Naruto already suggested that. Just sucks that my bed won’t be here for a while.”

Sakura noticed the stiffness in Sasuke’s posture as he stood in the doorway, but now he just looked confused. Was something bothering him?

“No,” he began slowly, “you can sleep in my bed.”

“I couldn’t do that to you! I would feel so bad making you sleep on the floor.”

“Sakura. You would sleep in my bed, but I would sleep with you. Because it’s my bed. We would both sleep there.”

Oh.

“Are you..sure?” Sakura began hesitantly. What if she snored? He scoffed and Sakura got the message: why would he offer if he wasn’t sure? Sasuke was not the type to inconvenience himself just to be nice.

He smirked at her, “besides, it’s not the first time we’ve shared a bed.” Sakura covered her face with her hands, blushing, “I didn’t think you remembered that.”

He shrugged as he turned to lead her back to his room, right next door. “Of course I remember.” Best sleep of his life, how could he forget?

Sakura gingerly untucked her side of the bed (when did it already become her side?) as Sasuke slipped under the covers. It was so like Sasuke to have already made his bed when they had just moved in. She felt bad for coming in and messing it up, but his bed was awfully big. It would need some breaking in and she had a feeling he could use some company. He once mentioned he had nightmares.

Sasuke got himself settled under the covers, wondering how close was too close to lay next to her. Her warmth next to him was comforting. He hoped he didn’t have one of his more disruptive nightmares. What if he smelled bad? He wasn’t sure why he was so worried about impressing her, when it was just Sakura. Right, just Sakura, he told himself.

They both eventually stopped shifting around, laying flat on their backs with their hands folded on their respective stomachs, staring at the ceiling. “Um,” Sakura started.

Sasuke turned to face her, picking out the glow of her eyes even in the dark. She seemed awfully small in this giant bed. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, her head back to face the ceiling.

“Okay.”

“Yup.”

“Goodnight.”

The sound of their breathing was obvious, but not uncomfortable. Sakura didn’t know what it was, the exhaustion from unpacking, maybe, but she felt herself curling into her usual sleeping position, back to Sasuke. He had a feeling she was going to steal all the blankets at some point in the night, so after her breathing deepened and he stopped worrying about waking her up, he loosely wrapped his body around hers. For warmth, of course.

When they woke up, they said nothing, cheeks pink as they prepared breakfast. Perhaps the strangest part of it all was that it felt natural and comfortable.

So comfortable that they slept in the same bed every night, waking each morning without a word as if they weren’t tangled up together just moments before. When Sakura’s bed finally arrived, she made a big fuss about how uncomfortable it was and how cold the weather had turned just a month after they started school. Sasuke didn’t say anything when she crawled into his bed every night.

A gentle kiss to his cheek and he felt like he was burning. Her hand was placed on his chest to steady her, but it singed his skin. She laid her head on his shoulder, sighing in contentment. He was on edge, and he willed his body to relax, to melt into her like she had melted into him.

What was this?

He felt like he was watching himself from outside his body as his hand, his dream hand, came up to stroke pink hair. Only one person had pink hair and he would only dream of one person.

She looked up at him, smiling that smile, his smile , “Sasuke, I love—”

Sasuke awoke with a start, heart pounding wildly. What was going on? When Sakura first started burrowing down in his bed each night, he experienced wonderful, dreamless sleep. His waking thoughts were already filled with cotton candy hair and jade eyes and a feeling of belonging, and it looked like it would be that way for his dreams too.

Despite the relatively mellow dream, he was breathing hard. Since when did emotional intimacy get him so hot and bothered? He slowly peeled himself away from Sakura’s form (when did he move so close to her?) to find her still asleep, looking like an angel. He didn’t want to disturb her, so he slipped out of bed as noiselessly as possible to get some water from the kitchen. He needed to cool off.

He was gulping down a glass when he heard the floorboards creak. “What are you doing? Did I wake you up?” His heart started to break—she looked sleepy and adorable with the comforter wrapped around her like a cape. Sakura rubbed her eyes, squinting at him. Instead of answering him right away, she moved to stand in front of him and rested her head against his bare chest. He had no choice but to abandon his glass.

His arm was wrapped around her and the comforter when she finally spoke, her voice scratchy with sleep, “was wondering where you went. I’m cold.” She scooted even closer to him, her entire body pressed up against his. He wondered if her habit of burrowing close to him at night, of stealing his body heat, had anything to do with his dreams. If she kept standing pressed up against him like this he’d be having distinctly dirtier dreams.

Sasuke squeezed her briefly and placed an almost accidental kiss to the top of her head. He started guiding her back to his bed— their bed—wondering why everything came so easy with her. Sasuke was tired and still a little thirsty, but suddenly getting Sakura warm and back to sleep was the only thing that mattered. Because he cared about her.

Only after they settled back into bed did he realize she had taken his shirt to wear as pajamas. He fell asleep spooning her, his hand wrapped in the excess fabric of the shirt she was wearing. Even if he dreamed of her again, he wouldn’t be upset.

Living with Sasuke was easier than she thought, if she ignored the almost uncomfortable level of attraction between the two of them. He cooked a lot and reminded her to take breaks from studying. He was a clean person and always smelled good, even when he came back from the gym. He allowed her to put a single cherry blossom sticker on his black laptop case. He was always there to welcome her home or pick her up if she didn’t want to walk alone. And it didn’t hurt that he was so damn attractive.

When he wasn’t there, she felt like her body ached and yearned for his presence. He convinced her to share his location with her, you know, for safety purposes, and she found herself checking it almost constantly. They lived together, but why did she miss him so much?

She found excuses to hang out with him, even turning down other plans because watching a movie with him always sounded better. She tried chalking it up to being a homebody, but she never minded going out if he was with her. She studied more diligently because she told herself she could then reward herself with some Sasuke time afterwards. It felt a little pathetic, but it was really what kept her going.

He forced himself to leave the house, not wanting her to be able to notice just how attached to her he had become. He thought she might want her space, thought she might find him too intense. They were roommates, they didn’t have to spend every waking hour together, right? Even though that’s more along the lines of what he wanted.

He took care of her in ways he hoped seemed casual enough. He always just so happened to cook enough food for her to enjoy the leftovers, always telling her he “was going that direction anyway” as soon as she called him to come get her, always checking up on her. But he definitely never took care of his freshman year roommate like this.

He felt pained thinking about the future. They wouldn’t be roommates forever. Thinking of another person—her soulmate—taking care of Sakura left a bad taste in his mouth. Sakura was a caring person, she’d make a good roommate for anyone, but he hoped she treated him extra special. It was childish, but he liked feeling special in her eyes; it had a different connotation and spread warmth throughout his chest.

Sasuke was out of the house — again, where was he lately? — so Sakura took advantage of being alone to talk on the phone with Ino. She had a lot to update her on.

She tried to steer the conversation towards safe topics like classes and family, but Ino kept bringing it back to Sasuke. “It sounds like you spend an awful lot of time with him, Forehead. Wouldn’t it be cool if he was your soulmate? It is kind of weird how well you get along—I mean, I never expected it. He barely talked to anyone else in high school.”

Sakura sighed, for once laying on her own bed. “It’s not like that, we’re just roommates! You know it’s only natural for two humans to bond when they spend a lot of time together. Shouldn’t you know that, miss psychology major?” Sakura felt like she was grasping at straws trying to justify herself. This reminded her of the time she had to convince her mom to let her live with Sasuke: she really had to emphasize that everyone else had roommates already and this situation was better than living with strangers and they were simply compatible based on their living habits. Plus, he could kill bugs for her.

“Yeah, yeah, but I don’t think anyone would bond or whatever the way you and Sasuke have. Why won’t you even consider the possibility of him being your soulmate? Is he not good enough for you?”

A strange feeling bubbled up in Sakura’s stomach. There was nothing wrong with Sasuke as her soulmate, quite the opposite actually: she wasn’t sure she could stand seeing him have a soulbond with anyone else. Their connection felt strong enough already, how intense would his soulmate connect with him? So she pushed any thoughts of soulmates out of her brain to save herself the heartbreak.

She changed the subject, “whatever, it doesn’t matter that much. What about you? Any cute boys on your end?” Ino chattered incessantly for the rest of the phone call, and Sakura was grateful for it, but she just kept wondering when Sasuke would come home. Her days were always better with him in them.

“TenTen invited me to a party tonight, but I don’t really wanna go.” Am I being lame? Can you just tell me to stay home?

“Then don’t.” I’m being serious, don’t go. “I don’t know if I’ll know anybody there besides her.” But at home, there’s you. “Want me to go with you?” Sasuke grimaced as he offered, remembering his sloppy behavior the last time they had attended a party together. I’d go anywhere if you asked.

“No, no, you should just stay home and relax. It probably won’t be that fun anyway.” I don’t want to bother you, but it would definitely be better with you.

“You haven’t been out in a while, you never know.” I’ve gotta make this less suspicious.

“I don’t know. I actually don’t really feel like going.” I’ve been waiting for you here.

“Then just stay home.” Please stay here. With me.

“Okay.”

Sakura was glad she didn’t have to ask outright, glad he could read her expressions well enough to coax her into doing what she really wanted. Sasuke was relieved she agreed. He would’ve missed her if she went, and the thought of her forcing herself into situations unsettled him. If she stayed home, he could at least try to make sure she was comfortable.

“I don’t feel like cooking tonight. Can we order in? Or...can you make us something if I do the dishes?”

“I already started preheating the oven. I’m making your favorite.”

“Are you boiling water?”

“Yeah. Should be enough for two cups of tea.”

“Okay. Come sit on the couch, I’ll get the blanket.”

Sasuke opened the fridge, ready to make himself a big breakfast before his midterm. Sakura had already left for class, so he wouldn’t even get to eat with her and he felt himself pouting a bit. He smiled when he noticed a hot pink sticky note on top of a plastic bag with a sandwich, “good luck on your test! See you tonight. <3” The sandwich looked like it was stacked high with tomatoes.

You never put medication on your cuts?” Sakura asked as she cleaned up Sasuke’s hand. He was being careless with a kitchen knife.

Sasuke shrugged, trying not to flinch from the stinging. “Why should I? I’ve always been fine before.” “Because you need to take care of yourself, Sasuke,” she admonished gently, a sad smile graced her features.

Sasuke suddenly felt the need to make it better, even though he was the injured one. “Okay. I will,” he promised. This seemed to placate her marginally, but he continued softly, “Thank you, Sakura.”

That put the sparkle back in her eyes.

“I washed a few of your shirts that got mixed in with my laundry. They’re folded on the bed,” Sakura mentioned when Sasuke came home. She said it like it was an accident when they both knew she plucked a shirt out of his drawer whenever she pleased.

He gave her a lazy half smile, “what would I ever do without you?” He meant it as a joke, but he knew he shouldn’t have said it as soon as the light died in her eyes. The room’s atmosphere became thick with tension.

They wouldn’t live together forever. Neither of them knew where life after college would take them. What would they do without each other?

“Let’s just eat dinner now, yeah?”

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back.”

A/N: *twice voice* you make me feel special

Ughh they are so domestic and they don’t even realize it. By the end I was kind of just trying to write vignettes to give an idea of how they are together.

One more chapter to go!! I tried to make this one longer.

#sasusaku #my writing #soulmate au #fanfic

37 notes · View notes

alleiradayne · 5 years

Photo

Unconventional A J2 x Reader RPF Series

After a rousing evening of Friday Night Karaoke at the Supernatural convention, you’re tired and about to go to bed. But then a distinctly familiar laugh echoes through the hallway outside your hotel room door, and sleep is the last thing on your mind.

Part VIII - Emotional

Summary: What do you do after a weekend full of Jared and Jensen? Warnings/Tags: Angst. Like. A lot of angst. And some fluff... Characters/Pairings: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki/Female Reader Word Count: 5,032 A/N: For the love of everything good in this world, assume everyone involved is single or polyamorous. No. Wife. Hate. Allowed. This series as a whole will fulfill my Polyamory square for @spnkinkbingo but not until closer to the end. Beta’d by @atc74 because she’s awesome and managed to read this hella long buncha nonsense.

In the interstitial space between asleep and awake, your subconsciousness floated, adrift on an endless sea of unadulterated bliss. Dreams clamored for your attention, visions of salacious fantasies that teased at your senses. You lingered there between those worlds, between fact and fiction, desperate, anxious, and even a little scared. You struggled to shake the idea that, were you to awaken, that easy peace you had found would cease to exist, and a grim reality would replace it.

Hope. Some stray sense of hope had lulled you to sleep the night before. So, you latched on to it, to the sore muscles and warm skin and familiar sleepy breaths that marked a steady cadence in your ears. Most of all, you trusted that you were not alone, and that, when you did decide to shrug off your sleep, you would find yourself in the arms of two people that felt the same way as you.

Whatever happened next, you left up to fate, and opened your eyes.

The three of you had hardly moved in the night. Jensen yet lay on his back, his hand on your arm draped over his chest, and the other on your thigh crossed over his hip. Jared had curled in so close to your back, you could barely tell where he ended and you began. One leg laid over yours and an arm wrapped around your waist to hold you tight against his entire torso. Afraid to wake them, you did your best to remain still and waited for them to come to on their own.

You had expected to learn something unpleasant about at least one, if not both men overnight. Snoring, maybe drooling. Or needing to defend yourself from elbows and knees. But, no. Instead, they were perfect and slept sounder than the dead. Jensen’s eyes remained still behind his lids, undreaming. So close, you counted the freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks until you nearly fell back asleep. When you turned over your shoulder, you found the most incredible image of Jared you’d ever seen. The sheet had fallen off him completely—he must have kicked it off in the night—and his hair covered his entire face but for the tip of his nose.

As though he felt your eyes on him, Jared breathed in deep and exhaled with a contented hum through his nose. His arm squeezed you tighter for a hug as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and kissed you, his hair teasing your skin. A subtle sigh of your own roused Jensen, who rolled onto his side and entwined his legs with yours. When he found no space for his arm around your back, he reached further to envelop Jared in his embrace, his hand resting on his hip.

“Morning,” he whispered against your lips, then placed several short, sweet kisses there. “Sleep okay?”

“Slept great,” you said with a laugh, hoping to hide the quaver in your voice. “Although I imagine I was completely exhausted after last night.”

Jared sighed as he continued to nuzzle your neck. “It was… something else, that’s for sure.”

An unsettling hint of emotion distorted his voice, hidden like an undercurrent that threatened to sweep you away. Did he worry like you? Had he thought of all the implications, the impossibility of the situation?

“Y/N?” Jensen mumbled. “You okay?”

“I’m… fine,” you said with a sigh and an unconvincing smile.

He propped his head up on his hand and cupped your cheek. “What’s up, honey?”

You searched his eyes for the answer but found nothing except more questions. Over your shoulder you spotted Jared’s gaze averted, staring into the middle distance. “I don’t… what do we do now? Do I just… go home?”

Jared pulled his hair back from his face as he sighed but said nothing. A swell of pink colored his nose and brow as his eyes reddened, still staring off at nothing. When you turned back to Jensen, you found him staring at Jared, a knot of worry etched into his brow. “I’m afraid we all need to get back to reality.”

Your worst fear rekindled, fueled by Jensen’s truth. You knew, had known all along, that what you wanted was impossible. Where would you live? What would you do for work? And how would society in general even accept such a lifestyle? Could you keep it entirely private? Ceaseless questions spiraled out of control until Jensen interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey, no tears okay, I…” he paused with a hitch in his breath. “I can’t handle that shit, I’ll start crying, too. And Mr. Waterworks back there is probably already doing it, so I’ll be a mess in a few minutes anyway.”

With a deep breath, you did your best to rein in your emotions. “This sucks,” you muttered. “I want… I know what I want is impossible.”

“It is,” Jared agreed as he returned his lips to your skin. “But we feel the same way, if that helps.”

You turned to your back and the two of them curled in closer. “Our plane is leaving soon,” Jensen started. “We shouldn't waste any more time. Need to get some rest tonight since we're on call sheets tomorrow.”

“At least you got Monday off,” you said. “But… I almost regret it. You should have left last night. Before all this…”

Jensen rubbed your stomach as he spoke. “The damage had already been done. Last night was just a confirmation of how we all felt after Friday and Saturday.”

Great. You had ruined three lives in two nights. “I'm so sorry, guys. I wish I hadn't made things so messy. It was just supposed to be a fun weekend. I thought I could go home today and go back to my life but…”

“Trust me, Y/N, that's the last thing we want,” Jared sighed. “We’re as crazy about you as you are about us. But we do have to go.”

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry, but the tears welled so suddenly, you had no chance of holding them back. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Jensen soothed. “We’ll never forget you. This con was one for the record books. It'll always have a special place in my heart.”

“Says the guy who hates chick flicks,” you replied.

“Oh, he's full of shit, he loves them,” Jared teased.

You raised a questioning brow at him as Jensen shrugged and said, “Guilty.”

His laughter filled your heart near to busting, but you fell quiet once more. Thank God for their mutual silence. For letting you lay there with them as long as you wanted. Maybe you would remember them better that way. Maybe, when you looked at the pictures you took and your photo op with Jared and their autographs, you would remember that exact moment, laying in their arms, above all others.

“It’s time, Y/N,” Jensen started. “We have to go.”

A frustrated grunt followed Jared as he quite forcefully shoved himself from the bed. Cold, you shivered in the void that replaced him, and though you wanted to reach out to stop him, you remained beside Jensen. Jared gathered his clothes and headed for the bathroom without even a cursory glance at the bed.

“This is gonna be really rough on him,” Jensen started as he pushed to sit at the edge of the bed.

You followed him and asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

Jensen snatched his boxers off the floor and slipped them on. “I think he’s gotten quite attached to you,” he explained. “And he might not be alone.”

You looked to the bathroom door as you considered Jensen’s words. “Are you sure?” you asked as you hopped from the bed and gathered the scattered pieces of your clothes. Your suitcase sat on the other side of the room, and there you sorted through your clothes for something comfortable to wear on the flight home.

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded as he righted the sleeves of his shirt. His socks followed and he retrieved his boots near the door. He brought them to you and set them near the bed as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Y/N, we never meant for things to get like this.”

“I know,” you said. “It’s nobody’s fault,” you continued as you slipped into a pair of underwear and a fresh bra. “And then again, it is everyone’s fault.”

You pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then immediately slumped in Jensen’s arms again. Before either of you spoke, Jared burst from the bathroom, dressed and hair tamed. He paused a moment as he spotted you, then crossed the room for the door. Without another look, he wrenched the door aside and strode into the hallway. The door slammed shut after him, loud as a clap of thunder.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Y/N,” Jensen said as he kissed the top of your head. “He’s in a lot of pain.”

Numb dread chilled your toes and your tears stopped. “I understand,” you said. “You should go.”

Jensen parted from you with a pained scowl plastered to his face. “I hope to see you again.”

“Me too.”

He turned for the door and pulled it aside, but not without one last look over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, the two of them vanished from your life. So suddenly alone, you slumped onto the foot of the bed and sat in stunned silence.

In the hallway, Jensen headed for the suite at the end of the hall and pounded on the door. “Dude, open up.”

The door swung wide without delay and Jared towered over him, face red and wet. “What?! I’m packing! We need to get going!”

When he tried to slam the door shut, Jensen blocked him and shoved his way into the room. With a disgusted scoff, Jared returned to his packing, slamming things into his suitcase.

“Look, man, I know this sucks,” Jensen started, “but what are we supposed to do? We can’t bring her with.”

“I know!” Jared bellowed. “Go pack so we can get the fuck out of here!”

He had not expected that. Hell, at the very least, he had expected Jared to fight back. But that? He couldn't argue with him.

Jensen turned on his heel and strode through the door. He stomped down the hallway, headed for the elevators, but froze as he reached your room. The image of your numb resolution returned to the fore of his mind, a fresh memory that mirrored Jared's anguish. And the longer he stood there, the worse he felt until the sting of his own furious tears welled in his eyes. Nothing would make things any easier than they were at that moment. So, he forced one foot in front of the other, fighting every desire in his body to say one last goodbye, and rounded the hallway for the elevators.

The call button opened an elevator door immediately and he rushed into it, eager to be on his way. But when the doors closed behind him and it lurched into motion, he wept.

The hour passed uneventful. The first fifteen minutes you hadn’t noticed. The next half-hour dragged. And another fifteen rounded out the hour. You had finished packing in the first five, then created other things to do for the remaining fifty-five. A few hands of Bridge on your phone consumed ten minutes. Social media consumed another fifteen. Work emails warranted at least twenty minutes before you remembered you sat in your hotel room and should head to the airport soon. And at ten minutes shy of the hour, you confirmed it took a mere twelve strides to cross your room.

You almost made it out the door before you spotted the watch on the bedside table. Silver with a bright blue face, it glinted in the lamplight as though it beckoned you. You returned to the bed, a heap of sheets piled atop it, and sat on its edge as you hefted the watch.

The frame of the face rotated under your thumb as you inspected the timepiece. It must have cost a small fortune. Given the side of the bed on which you had found it, you assumed it belonged to Jared. And after waiting over an hour for Jensen to return like had promised he would, you figured that, at the very least, you’d make some money pawning it.

The thought broke your heart. Tears welled and blurred your vision. It was the only thing you had left of him, the only thing to remind you of what had transpired that weekend. Sure, there were the autographs and photo ops. But his watch? That had to mean something, some sort of symbolism.

You shoved it into your suitcase and promptly forgot about it.

At the door to your hotel room, you wiped the tears from your eyes and steadied your breath. One last sweep of the room accomplished absolutely fuck-all besides tug at your heartstrings again. You could hardly look at the bed without wanting to scream. Best to just leave then, get to the airport a little early. Eat lunch, read, maybe even write. After that weekend, you had plenty of emotion to draw on for some particularly depressing scenes.

Through the door you pushed your suitcase and shifted your backpack on your shoulder. Without another look, you started down the hallway for the elevators. You couldn’t look back. If you did, you might never leave.

The door slammed with a thunderous crash as though a tomb had sealed shut on an expired life. Your mind blanked in the wake of that sound as you stared at the elevator. And then in a final fit of rage, you punched the call button with your solid fist, cracking the plastic and breaking open your knuckle.

“Shit.”

“Alright, we’ve got about an hour before we board, you wanna get a drink?”

Jared glared over the top of his book. “No.”

Jensen’s lips thinned to naught but a line as he pushed to his feet. “Fine, I’m getting a drink.”

“Don’t be late!” Jared insisted under his breath. “I want to get out of here.”

Jensen stopped beside him as he said, “You know, you could have at least said goodbye.”

When Jared rolled his eyes, Jensen scoffed and walked away for a nearby bar. Hopefully, he’d pick up a waitress and fuck her in the bathroom. Might help him get over Y/N. Then that way he’d stop bringing her up every five minutes.

Jared wanted nothing more than to forget all of it. As amazing as it had been, the pain in parting had been far too great for them both. Jensen rolled with it well enough. But Jared did not. Had he lingered any longer in her bed, he would have succumbed to his base desires and capitulated to everything Y/N wanted.

He couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking about him in that way, a blubbering mess and begging for you to uproot your life, to follow him across the country. Or God forbid he put his foot in his mouth and ask you to wait for the show to end, to wait for him to find some sort of normal life and return to you when he had the time. Fuck that. Fuck all of it. How could he ask you for any of that? What kind of asshole did that?

His phone chirped in his pocket with a short buzz. When Jared withdrew it and found a text from Jensen, he almost ignored it.

Almost.

Jackles: I can hear you thinking all the way over here.

Jared rolled his eyes as he slumped further into his seat.

Sasquatch: Then move further away.

Jensen’s response arrived a second later.

Jackles: Dude, I’d have to move to the moon to not hear your heart breaking right now.

Jared shoved his phone back in his pocket only to feel another text come through.

Jackles: We didn’t have to leave her like that.

Sasquatch: Will you just forget about it already? It was a one-night stand.

Jackles: Technically, it was two nights. THREE for her.

Sasquatch: I know! Why do you think I feel like such a giant piece of shit?!

He turned his phone to silent, shoved it into a pocket in his suitcase and returned to his book. At least they would be boarding soon, and after a nap, they’d be in Vancouver and back on set. He couldn’t stand to think about that weekend any longer, lest it rip his heart from his chest. Fuck, but he had been so stupid. He thought he could have some fun, share a woman with his lover, then move on. But Y/N had proved him so wrong, he damn near regretted everything that had happened since the moment you had found him in the hallway.

He stared at his book, reading the same passage over and over and retained none of it. After the fourth attempt, he threw it into his bag and stood in a huff. He should get a drink. Jensen was right, a drink or five would help. As he leaned down to retrieve his phone from his bag, he checked his watch.

Except he wasn't wearing his watch.

“Shit.”

The line for security had taken ten minutes. The walk to your gate, despite your very slow trudge, took two. The decision to get a drink at the bar took five. That left you with an hour before boarding.

Might as well get hammered.

At the end of the short terminal, your gate sat between two others and a bar. Empty, the bar seemed the perfect place to get smashed and forget the weekend had ever happened. Nothing better to get over a one-night stand than a wasted flight home.

If only it had been one night.

As you approached the bar, you spotted the bartender busied herself with cleaning and organizing, bottles situated and glasses gleaming. You wended your way through tables to the middle of the bar directly in front of her, sat down in a seat that had been angled askew, and found it warm. A subtle hint of a familiar scent teased at your nose, and you searched with a hurried glance in both directions, but as before, the bar remained empty.

Before your chair and angled against the rail sat a large iPhone in a black case, nondescript but for its worn-in use by a large right hand. When you settled, the bartender leaned over the bar and said, “What can I get you, honey?”

You looked up from the phone and handed it to her. “Double of Bowmore, neat. And this was sitting here.”

She took the phone from you and nodded. “Oh. Musta been that looker with that hat,” she started. “He had a big enough broken heart for both of us,” she said as she placed it by the register on the back counter. “He’ll be back, expensive phone like that.” She paused at the wall of liquor, grabbed the bottle of Bowmore off the middle shelf, then looked over her shoulder as she asked, “You said a double, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

She poured out your drink and handed it to you. “’Nother broken heart, huh? You shoulda met that other fella. He was sittin’ right there not five minutes ago. Peas in a pod you two woulda been.”

You sipped from your glass as she rambled, half-listening. She went on about him for the better part of fifteen-minutes, about how crazy his weekend had been and how eager he seemed to be to tell her about the woman he’d met. But you sipped your drink, remained silent, and tuned her out. Not like you cared about some random fucking guy’s weekend fling.

“What about you, darlin’? What’s got you half into a glass of the hard stuff?” she chirped.

You stared at her for a second before you took a deep breath and said, “I fucked two famous dudes three nights in a row, the third of which was a threesome, and now they’re flying back to Vancouver to film their TV show.” A sip of your drink punctuated your statement, and the clunk of the heavy glass on the bar closed the topic.

Big brown eyes started at you for a beat before the bartender burst into laughter. “Oh, sweetheart, you are quite the character,” she said as she poked buttons on the screen of her register.

Of course, she didn’t believe you. Who in their right fucking mind would believe such a ridiculous story? Hell, if someone else had told you a story even remotely like yours, you’d laugh in their face, too. But that was before the absolute insanity of that weekend.

“I broke up with my boyfriend and I’m flying back home,” you said, and you hated just how close that came to the fucking truth.

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. You’ll find another, pretty gal like you,” she said as she returned to her cleaning.

More small talk crossed between you for several minutes before she returned to talking about her previous patron, surprised that he hadn’t yet returned for his very expensive phone. While you listened, you retained hardly anything she said, choosing instead to continue thinking about nothing. The bartender blathered on, her endless gushing about wide brimmed hats, freckled noses, green eyes, full lips, and big shoulders boring you to… to…

Son of a bitch.

“Give me that phone.”

The bartender stopped mid-sentence as though she had been punched in the gut. “Excuse me?”

“The phone. I know who it belongs to,” you stated.

“I can't do that, he might—oh, good timing!”

You caught a subtle whiff of his scent before you heard your name all but sung in his perfect baritone.

“Y/N.”

That sound should have sent a shiver up your spine, put a quake in your knees. Hell, it should have ruined your god damn underwear. A voice like that was most women's wet dream.

But for you, it was your worst nightmare, and your heart broke all over again.

His hand enveloped yours on the bar before you turned to him. If you looked at him, it would all be over. There would be no turning back, no going home. At least in the hotel, it had been quick, like a band-aid ripped from your skin. The sting of parting ways had been sharp, but short. Nothing but a dull ache left you sore. But that wound would open again if you looked.

“You got my phone back there, sweetheart?” he asked the bartender.

You kept your eyes glued to your drink as the bartender silently handed Jensen his phone. “Thanks.” He returned his attention to you as his fingers slipped into your palm as you gripped his hand tighter than a vice. “You can keep squeezing, honey, but it ain’t gonna break.”

“Dammit,” you choked with a laugh despite your impending tears.

“Come here,” he insisted as he coaxed you from your chair. Not that he had to do much convincing. You slipped from the stool and wrapped your arms around his waist as Jensen held your head to his chest. “God, am I glad you’re here. But I didn’t realize you weren’t from town.”

“Jared knows,” you started as Jensen parted from you. Eyes still averted, you continued. “I showed him my driver’s license, remember? That’s why he wanted to get out of here so bad.”

“Y/N, can you at least look at me?” he asked as he cupped your cheek. “Please?”

You shook your head with a firm frown. “I can’t. You said goodbye already, I can’t go through it again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he took both of your hands in his. “I never meant for things to go this way,” he continued. “Please, just look at me.”

Over the intercom, a boarding announcement began. Jensen groaned as he cursed, then leaned into your ear and whispered, “Honey, I'm begging you, please look at me.”

“If that's your flight, you should go,” you said. “It's for the best.”

His knees hit the floor before you said another word, and his green eyes—red and full of tears—bored into yours. ��If you won't look up at me, then I'm gonna do this on my knees. I want you to be at the next con.”

The pit of your stomach dropped as though you rode a rollercoaster. “What the fuck are you doing, Jensen, get up,” you hissed as you tried to pull him to his feet.

“No. I need to say this to your face, not the top of your head, and you refuse to look at me,” he said, “so you've got me on my knees for probably the third time this weekend. And I’m begging, also probably for the third time this weekend.”

You gawked at him, his words brazen and unrepentantly lurid. “Stop that!” you demanded as you looked at people slowing to watch. “Get up, you're making a scene.”

“Fuck those people,” he said as he tossed a cursory glance at onlookers. “If they wanna watch, let 'em. I perform better with an audience anyway,” he added with a coy smirk.

“Jensen!”

“What?” he laughed as he wiped his tears away. “C’mon, Y/N. Come to the next con. We’ll fly you out, you can kick it in the green room all you want. We mostly just sleep in there.” He paused with a thoughtful gleam in his eye. “Although, there was that one time Jared and I were alone—”

“Seriously?!”

“Yeah, it was pretty hot, he just bent me over the arm of the—”

You clamped a hand over his mouth before any more salacious details of green room sex spilled out. “Cut it out!”

“Say you'll go to the con,” he started when you removed your hand. “I want you to come with us to Vancouver right now,” he added. “But I know that's not—”

“I'll go.”

His mouth shut with a click of his teeth. “To the con?”

You leaned into his embrace as a nervous twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. All or nothing. That had been the truth of it since Friday night. And the further into the weekend you went, the harder it had been to ignore it. You wanted everything they had to offer and you were willing to make the biggest sacrifice for it. So you dove in headfirst despite that welling sensation in the pit of your stomach.

“Both. I can do Vancouver for a few days. And the con next month,” you said.

How could his eyes shine any greener? They were the stuff of fairytales. So full of hope, he asked. “Really? What about the cons after that? Can we fly you out every month?”

His arms wrapped around your hips to grasp your backside as yours encircled his shoulders. “Hell yes. I don’t know why you didn’t ask in my room.”

The floor left your feet in a rush as Jensen stood, legs wrapped around his hips and holding you so tight, you felt as though you might burst. With his lips against yours he spoke. “I don't either, honey. All I know now is that we should have.”

He barely gave you a moment to breathe before his lips landed on yours. Relief so sweet coursed through every fiber of your existence. Cleansed of your apathy, you gave yourself entirely to Jensen and never looked back.

Countless seconds passed before the intercom interrupted the moment again. Jensen parted from you with a curse and set you on your feet. “That’s our flight.”

“Jen?!”

Jared’s bark of yell sounded around the corner of the bar as he loped into sight. The second your eyes met, he stopped dead in his tracks, nearly stumbling to a halt. For a single beat of your heart he stared, wide hazel eyes flashing so bright with suddenly renewed hope.

He said not a single word. Three long strides crossed the space between you, his towering frame bearing over you as he picked you up in his massive embrace. His lips landed on yours for a firm, desperate kiss that lasted far too few seconds. When he parted from you, he spoke. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“We were apart for two hours,” you muttered into the crook of his neck. “Speaking of which, I have something of yours.”

As he set you on your feet, you dug into your pocket and withdrew his watch. When you handed it to him, he wrapped your fingers around it, his massive hand enveloping yours. “Keep it. That way you'll always remember our time together when we’re apart.”

Thank God for Jared's emotional perception. As the tears threatened to return, one hand dove into your hair at the nape of your neck and you melted into his embrace as the other circled your hip. He pressed closer, and damn all the extra eyes and gawking mouths that fell open as they stared. His lips found yours for another kiss so tender, so full of need, you worried the bathroom on the airplane might not be big enough for the both of you.

When he parted from you once more, his eyes fluttered open, wide and bright despite the dim bar light. Several long seconds ticked by until the intercom announced the final boarding for Vancouver. Jared glanced overhead, then returned his gaze to you. “I think I love you.”

“I think I knew that,” you started, “And I’m pretty sure I love you, too.”

“I’m going to throw up.”

Over your shoulder you glared at Jensen and said, “And I’m damn near certain I love you, too.”

Jensen's derisive gag started a fit of giggles in you. When you turned back to Jared, he said, “Now or never. What do you think?”

You smiled as you took Jared by the hand and headed for the gate.

“I think you've picked yourselves up a stowaway.”

Fin

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

UNCONVENTIONAL MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN KINK BINGO MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Dean’s Dames (Jensen):

@supernatural-jackles @jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Unconventional:

@wayward-and-worn @evansrogerskitten @squirrelnotsam @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @pink1031 @kutie-stans @aomi-nabi @wilde-abandon@samwichesterssexyface @heavensheadbitch @amandamdiehl @thatonecurlygirl @deans-baby-momma @crookedslimecreatorpasta @stoneyggirl

#jared padalecki fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #j2 x reader #alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #rpf fanfic

159 notes · View notes

lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

Text

Fire in the Car (Colt x MC, N*FW)

A/N: Part 3. Follows from Fire on the Floor and Fire in the Bed (I apologize for my lack of creativity in titles). Ok, listen y’all…don’t yell at me because they finally touch in this one!?! OK?!? My Ellie here is more adventurous than canon; canon Ellie might steal cars but your girl here just wants to get laid, am I right?

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 3861 words

Rating: N*FW/Explicit (Still need religion. This is a dirty story, people hook up. Don’t read if you have eyes, which no one paid attention to anyways, etc. etc. etc.)

Summary: Colt finally gets his hands on Ellie.

The dreams wouldn’t stop. Her subconscious was apparently trying to make sure she that she wouldn’t, couldn’t focus on anything else, only able to feel flashes of heat, pleasure, hands sliding all around her body to draw out the sweetest moans, a body in front of her, behind her, all around her, bringing her to the height of pleasure before she woke up, shaking, drenched in sweat with slick leaking down her thighs.

They had been happening for days now and, after the fifth night in a row, she was desperately unfulfilled and cranky and frustrated. She slowly sat up, careful not to wake Logan on the couch, and crept to the break room, still trembling from the intensity of the dreams.

The cold water was a blessing, splashed over her face to dispel the heat, and she leaned against the sink, clutching a glass of it. She needed to get herself under control, silently berating herself, rolling her eyes at the foolish girl she had become. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice the footsteps until it was too late, until Colt was walking in the room and stopping short at the sight of her.

“You’re awake too?” She coolly looked across the room at the reason for her sleepless nights, willing her cheeks not to blush. He looked just like he did in her dreams, cocky, smug, but watching her with an air of confident interest that gave her butterflies.

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow at her. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Rude. You always so nosy?” She scoffed and took a sip of the water, trying to cool herself down, separate herself from her subconscious thoughts. “Maybe I was having nightmares.”

“Oh that’s too bad.” His eyes darkened and the look he gave her made her stomach dip. “I would hope you would have nice dreams. Good dreams. The best kind of dreams.”

She breathed out slowly, through her nose. He was impossible. “Colt-”

“Maybe I was having some nice dreams.”

She choked on her water.

“What?” He only smiled, wider, and walked closer. “You don’t want to know about my dreams?”

She knew her face was bright red now and she looked away, focusing on the moon out the window. It was nearly full, casting the room in a pale glow, making Colt’s eyes gleam when she finally turned back to him.

“I was going to go back to bed but I think it would be much more fun to tell you about what I was dreaming about, Ellie.” His smile was predatory, lips curving into a smirk as he moved even closer. She would have backed up but couldn’t, the sink right behind her. “Spoiler alert, you’re in them. In a lot less clothing.”

“I’m getting a little sick of your games.” She could feel her hands starting to shake and put her glass on the counter, never breaking eye contact with him.

“I am so far from playing right now.” He watched her through his lashes, considering. “Was I playing the other night? When you were in my bed?” Another step closer. “When I watched you move so I could remember it for later?”

She met his eyes head on, crossing her hands over her chest. “I think your mouth is making promises you can’t keep.”

“I think you’ll find that my mouth can keep every single promise I’ve made.” He smirked, one side of his lips lifting reflexively as he took a step closer, eyes burning as they traced from her eyes down her her lips and back up, a slow smolder that made Ellie’s stomach clench and dip. “And then some.”

She couldn’t stop the gasp that fell from her mouth as he leaned over, resting his hands on the counter behind her, caging her in, mere inches between them. Ellie couldn’t help but lean back as his eyes bored into hers, all intensity and heat, so close she could see every single lash surrounding his dark gaze. They hung in the moment, staring at each other, and Ellie couldn’t move if she tried.

Finally, Colt leaned back and, eyes making one last sultry sweep down to her lips, the rest of her body, back up again, shot her a wink before walking away, disappearing back into the darkness of the shop.

When she was finally able to inhale and the fog was finally lifted from her brain, she only had one thought.

Oh hell no.

She darted around the pool table, as quickly as she could move on tiptoes, willing her feet to be silent as she made her way to the shop floor. She could barely see him, in front of her, broad shoulders navigating around the cars and toolboxes. She broke into a sprint, following the same path, catching up to him halfway across the floor and clamping her hand onto his forearm, spinning him to face her.

“Wait a min-” The words died on her lips as she caught sight of his face, illuminated by a patch of moonlight through the window, glowing in the dark room. He looked shocked and she watched as his gaze traveled down to his arm, where she was clutching his soft skin between her fingers.

She gasped despite herself when she realized. Other than their kiss, other than that slide of lips amidst the pleasure in his room, in his bed, this was their first touch. It seemed so pedestrian; it was just an arm under her hand, wrapped around skin and muscle and bone. But her nerves, the shock that went through her and settled in the base of her spine? She might as well been touching a live wire. She let go, watching his arm fall to his side.

She couldn’t breathe as they watched each other, Colt looking as surprised as she felt.

Finally, he broke the silence, a murmured “Ellie” falling from his lips as he stepped forward, curving his hand around her jaw and pulling her lips to him. It was softer than the last time, sweeter, his lips folding over hers as his other hand cupped her waist, holding her steady. They stayed like that, their lips mapping each other’s, until Ellie had to pull back for oxygen.

She could only grin as he looked down at her, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “You do want me, don’t you?”

“You thought otherwise?” The whisper was incredulous; he was still holding her face, thumb tracing the hinge of her jaw.

She looked away, eyes tracing a crack in the floor. “I mean, you wouldn’t touch me. You wouldn’t-”

He grabbed her waist, hands rough, pulling her to him so their hips met. “There. Can you feel how badly I want you?"

The moment had been sweet but now, feeling his hips roll against hers, that sweetness turned to heat, cascading through her body. All she could do was nod, struck mute.

"I’ll show you how bad I want you.” His jaw clenched and then his hands were in her hair, pulling her forward so their lips met again and Ellie lost the ability to form rational thought, his teeth and tongue demanding her full attention.

He backed her into the nearest car, hands solid and insistent on her waist, his lips never leaving hers. She kissed him like her life depending on it because it did, it did; she would combust into a shower of ash if she couldn’t feel the strands of hair between her fingers, his teeth gently pulling her lower lip, his hips pressed into hers so she could feel how much he wanted her. She couldn’t stop the moan from her throat and would have flushed at the wanton noise if she weren’t so busy trying to pull him closer, hands fisted in his shirt, trying to get him closer than the laws of physics would allow, so they would occupy the same space and breathe the same air and finally be connected in the way she had only dreamed about.

She was trapped between him and the car, unable to move as his lips traced a fiery path up her jaw, stopping to lavish attention on her neck before worrying the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“Fuck, I wanna fuck you right here.” His voice was hoarse and low, puffs of breath sending tingles down her spine.

She answered by grabbing his hips and pulling them together in a slow grind, feeling him twitch against her as the friction made her whine, high in her throat. She felt his hands respond by edging up to grab the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and throwing it, lost in the darkness, as he bent his head to lavish attention on a nipple, the play of his tongue and scrape of his teeth making her cry out. She could feel the glass and metal on her bare back, the chill a marked comparison to the heat in front of her, his hands and mouth scorching her from the outside in.

She was about to cry out again, to demand he make good on his words and take her right here, when her eyes flew open. Footsteps. Somewhere from downstairs, heading this way. Crap.

Ellie watched as Colt’s eyes widened and he pulled her a step from the car, opening the door. She was still in a fog and let herself be hustled into the backseat as Colt shut the door behind them and draped himself over her, trying to stay out of sight of the windows. It was a tight fit, both of them in the back seat, her legs squished to the side to make make room for Colt to crouch over her.

“What the-”

Ellie trailed off as she could hear, distinctly, whistling, coming from the doorway to the shop. She craned her neck to peer out a window, but Colt pulled her down again.

“Shhhhh.”

“Who is it?”

He only looked at her, eyebrow raised, before ducking his head to suck her nipple into his mouth again, tongue making her nerves dance. Ellie gasped and then quickly covered her mouth with a trembling hand, trying to muffle the sound.

“Does it matter who it is?” Colt looked up through his lashes, between the valley of her breasts.

Ellie shook her head desperately, hand still over her mouth. She could still hear the footsteps outside, the whistling. Someone was heading towards the shop floor.

He grinned, teeth a wicked gleam in the dark. “Can you be quiet, Ellie?”

Without waiting for an answer, he slid back to her nipple, teeth and tongue again leaving sparks on her skin as she realized what he was doing. “Wait, but-”

One more grin and he moved lower, lips teasing her stomach before his hands reached her waistband. She shifted so he could pull off her pants, one leg at a time, leaving her completely bare and trembling in the back seat. He stopped to look at her, eyes traveling up and down her body like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look first. Any embarrassment she felt died as she watch the heat in his eyes, the way he bit his lip, crouching in the limited space at her feet.

“God damn, sweetheart.” Colt’s tongue edged out to wet his lower lip. “You make me regret not getting my hands on you ‘til now.”

“Oh my God, then do something about it, please.” She couldn’t help pleading, the words slipping from her lips.

“Shhh!” The whistling was still there, footsteps echoing on the concrete. Ellie tried to catch her breath, quiet the sound; it wasn’t working.

Colt smirked at her and grabbed her ankle, slow hands tracing a delicious path up her calf, under the sensitive spot behind her knee. She moaned as his hands reached the back of her thighs, every touch on the sensitive skin there sparking heat up her spine.

He raised his eyebrows, voice low and rough. “That was a sexy noise.” Without waiting for a response, he ducked his head, lips and tongue finding her inner thigh and tracing patterns over her skin as her head fell back and she tried unsuccessfully to silence the moans the were coming out. Slowly, so slowly that she almost thought she was imagining it, his tongue moved up her leg, edging closer and closer as her back arched, desperate for some kind of relief.

“Please, Colt…please.” She couldn’t stop the whimper. However, he only sat up with a smirk. Ellie blinked up at him, confused. “Wait, no…”

Without waiting for another word, Colt bent again, grabbing her ankle and tracing the same path up her other leg, hands sliding over her skin, followed by his lips and tongue. Ellie moaned; now that she knew what was coming, her muscles tensed in anticipation as his tongue made his way higher and closer and she couldn’t breathe.

As soon as she felt his tongue touch her, oh God right there, she moaned, forgetting where she was, forgetting when she was, God forgetting everything except the feel of his tongue and lips on her.

“Hello?” It was Toby, on the shop floor, somewhere behind them. Crap.

Ellie’s hand flew back to her mouth again but Colt only smiled, lips slowly spreading over her skin as his tongue continued to dance. Her breath was coming faster, lungs struggling to get oxygen through her fingers, but she didn’t dare remove her hand, not when Colt’s tongue was moving just so, every move shooting pleasure through her body.

She was hot, trembling, and she could feel every touch as if it were amplified. Colt’s lips closed around her clit and she keened at the sudden suction, back arching off the seat of the car.

“Shhh….” Colt raised his eyebrows at her. “My mouth has promises to keep and I’d rather not be interrupted.”

“Hello?”

Toby was closer now; she could hear movement outside the car and bit the flesh of her palm to keep in the noises, the obscene sounds falling from her mouth. Colt didn’t seem fazed at all, tongue and lips and suction bringing her to tears, streaks slowly rolling out of her eyes into her hairline.

“Hello?” Toby was still there, voice breaking through the fog. “Uh…is this a shirt?”

Colt chuckled, low and soft against her skin, and eased a finger inside of her, a gentle slide into her body, then another, a slow stretch teasing her as his thumb danced on her clit. “Do you think he’ll hear you?”

“Huh?” Her brain wasn’t working; nothing was making sense except for his hands on her body.

“If I get you to scream, he’ll definitely hear you.” His fingers were still moving inside her, stretching her; when he hit the spot that made her legs twitch, a dull thump against the car door, he caught her eye with smug smile on his face. “And I really want to get you to scream.”

“Colt, oh God.”

“Hello?” More footsteps, closer still. “Is someone here? Or something?” She could see his shadow, moving around the floor, passing the car.

Colt winked and returned to the task at hand, fingers toying with the right spot with stunning accuracy as his lips and tongue descended onto her. She could feel the heat building, tears trailing down her face, and was shaking, both with pleasure and with the effort of keeping quiet, of not making a single sound. Both her hands were clutched over her mouth but she could hear the gasps, the shaky breaths.

More footsteps, this time moving away from the car, thank God. Ellie bit her lip, hard; she couldn’t hold it in for much longer as Colt fucking played her body like a goddamn instrument. Her legs were shaking and all it took was one last circle of his tongue, one last scrape of a callused thumb inside her and she was a goner, completely unable to hold back the breathy moan that poured out from between her fingers, teeth buried deep in her lip painfully.

When she came back to herself, he was caressing her, hands stroking calming patterns over her sides, her legs, as he watched her, smile playing on his lips. He knelt over her to give a gentle kiss to her thigh, then stomach, then neck. Logically, Ellie knew she was lying in the backseat of the car but it felt like she was floating, limbs suspended in space and waiting to come back to earth.

“Don’t you dare move. Don’t move a muscle.” Colt pulled away and Ellie almost moaned at the loss. “I’ll be right back.”

Ellie could only sputter, incredulous, as Colt opened the door behind him and slid out, shutting it behind him softly and sliding through the shop floor. She was too shocked to move but realized where he was going when she heard voices. Colt and Toby were talking, hushed, and she could hear snippets of the conversation, not enough to tell what was going on. Then footsteps, moving away from the car, into the backroom. Then silence. She was alone.

“What?” Ellie whispered to herself and looked around the dim car, absolutely confused, trying to figure out what had happened. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wonder long because the door opened again and Colt ducked back in, clutching her shirt.

She didn’t miss the way his eyes gleamed as he looked her over. “Damn. I’m glad you’re still here.” He melted over her and his lips found hers again, tongue swiping over her lips, soothing the spot she bit when she came. It took everything she had to pull back, still clutching the strands of his hair.

“Where did you go?”

Colt moved to her neck, lips teasing their way to behind her ear. “I was worried he would never leave so I told him I couldn’t sleep and would watch Blown Gasket with him. Again.” His tongue was tracing patterns behind her ear as she struggled to focus on the words.

“What?”

“I even told him he could talk throughout the movie.” His lips trailed down, teasing her nipple again before smirking at her. “The things I do for you.”

“Wait but…we…” He was at her naval now, teeth teasing her sensitive skin.

“One thing first.” Lower still and she had to stifle a moan as his tongue found its target, fingers sliding inside of her. Ellie could only let her head fall against the seat and squeeze her eyes shut. “One more.”

“Huh?” He was muffled, mouth against her; she could feel the breath as he spoke, the raspy puffs of words a contrast to the heat of his mouth.

“One more. You’re so hot when you cum.”

“What?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t need to answer, as his tongue danced around her clit again and the breath left her lungs.

“What about- oh God- Colt, what about-”

His eyes flashed as he looked up. “Don’t you dare say anyone else’s name right now.” His fingers started moving faster and she didn’t think she remembered her train of thought, didn’t think she could form a sentence. He was on a mission and all she could do was hang on.

“Colt-”

“Fuck, I love how you say my name, that fucking moan, fuck.” And with that, he couldn’t say anything else as his mouth was covering her, tongue and lips sliding up her slit to her clit and she couldn’t do anything but moan his name and ball her hands into fists and writhe as the pleasure brought her higher and higher until she broke into a million tiny pieces that she would never be able to fix.

When she came back to earth, he was watching her, smug smile softening into fondness as he considered her.

“I have to get back.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, willing her shaky arms to reach for him as she sat up.

“Oh, your clothes.” Everything had fallen away, somewhere buried in the car, and Ellie sat up as Colt fished her things off the floor. Her eyes widened as she realized that he was helping her into them, sliding the fabric over her head, hands gentler than she ever thought possible. She leaned into the touch as his hands drifted down her neck, her arms, her legs as he helped with her pants.

It was almost as if he was making up for lost time, trying to get his fill; now that his fingertips had finally graced her skin, it seemed he didn’t want to stop, couldn’t pull away from her.

He was still looking at her, taking her in, when she realized that he had never gotten off, had never even taken his clothes off. Before she could reconsider, she moved, sliding into his lap, pushing him back against the seat, getting so close she could feel every inch of him under her. He was still hard; she could feel him against her under the layers of fabric, and she moved closer so their hips met, harder.

Colt’s hands tightened around her hips as his head dropped back. “Ellie, fuck, what are you doing?”

“Turn about is far play, Colt.” She kissed his neck, up to his ear, teasing his earlobe with her teeth. “Maybe I want to show you how it feels.”

“Fuck.” His hips were moving against hers, desperately seeking friction. She bent her head to kiss him, hard, tongue twining together. She could taste toothpaste and her, still on his tongue, and it made her deepen the kiss in appreciation of what his tongue could do.

When she heard his low moan, pulled from his chest, she pulled away, swinging her leg over him to slide out of the car, looking back at him with a smirk. “Don’t you have a movie to watch?”

She could only smile to herself as she sauntered away, trying to file the image of him gaping like a fish into her memory, when a hand on her forearm spun her and his lips crashed into hers. She threw her arms around his shoulders as he backed her again into the car.

“Now you’re playing games.” His voice was low, quiet.

“No games.” She pulled back to look at him, dead in the eyes. “Fuck me.”

He swallowed, hard, licking his lips as he struggled to keep his composure. “Fuck. Ellie, damn, I gotta go.”

“No, not now. Tomorrow night.” She watched his eyes widen. “We can do the real thing, instead of just dreams.”

He couldn’t speak, could only kiss her again, tongue demanding entrance to her mouth, hands twining in her hair, body long and hard against her. She couldn’t decide if she was being brave or stupid but, as she pulled him close, she realized that maybe she didn’t care.

“Colt?” Toby’s voice rang out across the shop and Colt jumped back, eyes wide. His hair was mussed, shirt wrinkled, and she felt a flash of pride at being the one to upset his equilibrium.

He glanced towards the break room one last time and nodded, resolutely.

“Tomorrow.”

Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves @jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira@desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit @liamzigmichael4ever @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

#playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt rod #choices rod #n*fw #lemon #30 diamond scene #amy writes

171 notes · View notes

chaoticsagi · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019 | Day Four | “I know you didn’t ask for this”

Prompt: 4 - “I know you didn’t ask for this”

Fandom & Ship: Community, Jeff x Annie

Summary: Annie asks Jeff to come with her to her high school reunion. What she doesn’t expect is for him to pretend to be her boyfriend - not that she’s complaining.

“Jeff, I need a favour.”

She has spent the better part of a week debating whether or not to call him. Ever since she woke up to a Facebook notification inviting her to an early Riverside High School reunion, she’s been in a state of mild anxiety, unsure what to do.

Something inside of her really wants to go, to show them that Annie Edison is no longer “Little Annie Adderall” as they had all called her back then. She wants to prove that she’s on track to actually doing something with her life. She deserves to do a little bragging.

The only problem is, she really doesn’t want to show up alone. And considering her only remaining friend from high school is Troy, who is currently travelling around the world and completely radio silent, she doesn’t have anyone else who she’d actually want to spend time alone with there.

And that’s why she needs Jeff. If he is by her side, she’ll be fine.

“What is it?” His voice is thick and hazy, kind of like he’s just woken up. She hasn’t called that late in the evening, but she doesn’t question it. She’s got more pressing things on her mind.

“Would you come with me to my high school reunion?”

He scoffs down the phone, disinterested. “Ugh. Aren’t you a little young for one of those?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs. “Can you just say yes?” She doesn’t realise she’s even doing it at first but when she does, she stops herself from batting her eyelashes and pouting when she remembers that he can’t even see her. “Please.”

“I don’t know Annie. I don’t think I can actually think of anything worse to do. They suck,” he whines.

It takes a few more “pleases” and a promise of some sort of reward for him being the best friend ever, but eventually, Jeff agrees.

“Fine. But you seriously owe me, Annie.”

When the day comes around, Annie can’t stop herself from pacing around the apartment, her heart racing in her chest. She applies and reapplies her lipstick five times in the mirror, and fiddles with her hair, then her necklace, then her hair again as she waits for Jeff to arrive.

She kind of regrets responding to the e-vite now. The more she thinks about it, the more she’s worried about what might happen tonight. She doesn’t keep in contact with most of her old peers for a reason, they were all horrible to her, and she always knew she was better than them. Is it really worth attending just for bragging rights?

She knows she wants the chance to prove herself at least. That’s important to her. She wasn’t voted “most likely to succeed” whilst at rehab for nothing. It’s time to show all those jerks she went to school with that Annie Edison had grown up and made something of herself, which is probably more than most of her ex-tormenters could say. Take that, idiots!

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the buzzer. Jeff’s here to pick her up.

Deep breaths, Annie.

Her stomach turns as she grabs her purse and smooths out one last invisible crease on her dress.

She’s probably a little overdressed for the occasion, wearing a strapless black dress that she knows she looks great in. It’s leaning towards the dressier side of the smart-casual dress code but that’s not her main concern right now.

She inhales, steps out the door, and shuts it behind her. Let’s do this.

“You look beautiful, Annie,” Jeff has a lopsided grin on his face as he takes in the sight of her. She tries to hide her blush as his eyes linger on her body. His glance burns against her skin, and she follows as his eyeline traces around her curves, down her legs and back up again. She licks her lips slightly, feeling a wave of excitement roll over her.

“Thank you,” she meets his eyes now, a smile on her face. “You look very handsome.”

And he does. He’s wearing one of those blue shirts that always look great on him; she’s pretty sure he’s aware of how attractive she finds him when he wears them too. She has to stop herself from looking at him too much, just in case.

“Let’s get this over with,” he says, opening the car door for her.

“Annie Edison, and guest,” she smiles as they walk into the bar – one she distinctly remembers for its red door. Memories flood back to that dreadful argument Jeff and Britta had years ago. He still insists on calling it L Street to this day. It’s funny how pointlessly argumentative they could be.

They are waved inside, met with the buzz of various conversations, held by faces Annie can vaguely recognise. She searches the crowd for friendly faces, frowning when she doesn’t spot one.

“Annie? Annie Edison?” a woman with bleached blonde hair approaches them. Her stomach is swollen – presumably pregnant, and her fingers glisten as her diamond ring catches the light. “It’s me! Katie Young. I arranged all this,” she gestures around the room. “You know, it was actually pretty hard considering I’m planning my dream wedding and we’re trying to build the nursery before JJ arrives. So much to do, you know.”

Annie gulps. Katie was once on the cheerleading captain, and tortured Annie during her brief stint on the squad.

And yet, Annie couldn’t help but feel her little achievements seem to pale in comparison to Katie’s. Annie didn’t have her dream career, a fancy apartment, hell she didn’t even have a boyfriend yet, much less a fiancé or a baby on the way.

“Hi,” Annie forces a smile, shaking her extended hand. Katie’s handshake is weak, non-committal. She’s not paying any attention.

Annie follows her eye line, noting that Katie’s actually looking at Jeff, not her.

“You didn’t go to high school with us, did you? You’re a little old to be our year anyway.”

“This is Jeff and no, he wasn’t a student at Riverside,” she offers, and Katie’s lips curl into a flirtatious smile.

Annie rolls her eyes, wishing she had a drink in her hand to distract herself with. She takes a mental note to stop at the bar after this.

She’s starting to think that this is all a mistake. At least she can duck out with Jeff soon. Maybe go get some food or something, she thinks to herself. She really doesn’t want to be around these people longer than she has to.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Jeff grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer. “Nice to meet you, Kathy.”

Boyfriend? The word takes Annie by surprise. She can’t lie to herself and say she’s never dreamt of Jeff saying that, of him being her boyfriend and him accompanying her to events like these, but in real life? It was something she never expected, especially considering they never speak about the way they feel about each other. She assumes he’s just trying to be nice, but still. It’s very random.

Annie turns to look at him, a confused look on her face. She wants to say something but can’t exactly call him out with someone stood right there.

“It’s Katie, actually,” she corrects him, her tone has soured. The flirtatious grin has disappeared.

“So… What have you been up to since you disappeared in senior year, Annie?” she turns to her ex-classmate with a faux-smile.

Despite her angelic appearances, Annie knows this is a reference to her stint at rehab. She knows the woman stood in front of her is testing her, hoping for an “Annie Adderall” type reaction where she runs into a glass door or does something equally as dramatic and laughable, something they can all gossip about when she’s gone. But no, that isn’t who she is anymore. And she won’t let them intimidate her. She won’t give them that satisfaction.

“I’m actually going to be a forensic investigator,” she beams proudly.

“She’s the best,” Jeff gushes beside her. She’s never heard him be quite this sweet about her, now this is a Jeff she could get used to. Annie reminds herself not to enjoy it too much as he speaks openly and animatedly about all of her accomplishments. Whatever it is he’s doing, it’s just an act.

“Oh,” Katie purses her lips together. “Well that’s just great. Oh, that’s…” she stutters out a name, one that is presumably fake as she waves at nothing the distance. “I should probably go say hi.”

And with that, she leaves.

Now that they’re alone, Annie can finally talk to Jeff. She pulls him aside, finding a quiet corner by the bar which seems empty enough to talk.

“Ok, what was that about? You’re my boyfriend now?” her heart beat speeds up as she utters the word. She hates that he has such a control over her, even after all these years. Nothing and everything has changed between them at the same time, it’s confusing and exciting.

“Oh come on. You knew what she was doing. I was just trying to shut her up.”

“Well, you didn’t have to. I know you didn’t ask for this.”

“I wanted to,” he smiles.

He proceeds to order them drinks, he gets her an appletini (she notes how he doesn’t even roll his eyes when he does it for a change) and gets himself a beer to sip on through the night. He is designated driver after all.

They discuss a game plan for the night – if anyone asks, they’ve been together for two years and they’ve just moved in together. Annie has to know these details, just in case.

“Don’t worry about it too much, Annie. It’s all about the creative license. I know what I’m doing,” he says in true Jeff Winger fashion, she forgot how convincing he could be.

It’s easy to fall into this pattern with him. His arm wraps around her waist, his hand is warm against her body, and he holds her extra close as they stand together. The way he looks at her, she swears there’s a sparkle of something, though she’s not quite sure what. She just hope it never ends.

The closer they get, the more they make each other giggle and laugh, the more she wants to lean up to him and kiss him. Her hands ache to feel the nape of his neck and the scruff of his hair against her skin, her lips want nothing more than to feel his, to taste him.

But before she can get anywhere near his mouth, she’s interrupted by three women calling her name.

They’re all either very excited or ever so slightly tipsy. He pulls away ever so slightly as they jump around her, talking all at once.

She tries to hide the disappointment on her face from the interruption.

“Annie! Hi!” they coo at the same time.

“Jeff, this is Stacy, Lauren and Lena. We were all in Debate Club together.”

She wouldn’t call them friends per se, but they’re probably the nicest people she will see tonight so she’s not exactly dreading talking to them for a bit.

“Oh, Jeff,” they all grin at him, one even licks their lips suggestively. “Nice to meet you,” one steps towards him, twirling her hair around her finger.

“How do you know Annie?” another turns to him, a hopeful glint in her eye.

“I’m her boyfriend. Been together about 2 years, right babe?”

“Yeah. We met in college,” she adds, trying not to embellish on the story too much. She feels nervous and giddy as she immerses herself in their little game of pretend.

He continues, “I knew as soon as I laid eyes on her that she would change my life somehow. Just took me a few years to get the courage to ask her out.”

He’s smiling down at her. When their eyes meet, they both burst into the widest grins. They barely even register the people around them, even though the girls are aw-ing loudly at their words.

Annie really wishes this was all real, because the butterflies in her stomach are going wild and he’s looking at her like he’s going to kiss her and god, she really hopes he does.

But he doesn’t. He just looks in her eyes like he’s trying to tell her something, and she wonders why he’s putting on such a good act.

The things he does to her are really unfair. He really shouldn’t have this much of a hold of her by now. She’s used to the flirting, the little moments of something around campus and the way they dance around whatever it is they feel for one another. But this? It’s like an electric current running between them, waiting to explode into something bigger. It’s all too much to cope with right now.

“You guys are so cute,” the other smiles genuinely. “I’m so happy for you, Annie.”

The night continues similarly, women approach Annie trying to reintroduce themselves, and each time Annie and Jeff end up making ridiculous stories up about dates they had, their first kiss, what their apartments like. It comes too easily to them, almost as if were actually true or like it was all rehearsed. Maybe that is just in Annie’s head though. She can’t be sure.

Jeff has never been the romantic type. He’s certainly not the man to run in the rain to announce his feelings, or the type to write romantic poetry or a love letter. This Jeff in front of her now seems different; sure, he’s not going to write her a sonnet, but he’s describing dates she’s always dreamed of, looking at her the way she always wished he would.

By the time they leave that evening, giggly and excitable and still wrapped up in each other, Annie can barely believe the night is over. She’s almost sad to be leaving.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her to keep her warm.

“I did thanks to you.”

“I’m glad.”

“Did you mean---” she intends to ask a question, remembering something he had said earlier that had stuck in her mind for the better part of the evening. But before she gets it out, he slants his mouth on hers, his tongue darts inside and she swoons into his embrace. He tastes like a mix of spearmint and beer and his stubble tickles her ever so slightly. It feels so perfect, like fireworks are going off in her mind.

“I meant it Annie. Sorry it took so long for me to realise,” he kisses her again.

“You’re worth the wait,” she says breathlessly.

She might have to pinch herself to be sure this is real.

“Want to be my fake girlfriend again sometime? You do owe me for tonight...”

“Jeff, if that’s the way you’re going to ask me on a date, I suggest you do it properly.”

“Fine,” he sighs, but he’s still smiling up at her goofily and she doesn’t even listen to what he’s going to say because her heart is beating in her ears and she’s overcome with emotion because this is finally happening.

“Annie Edison, do you want to go out with me? On a date? For real this time?”

By the forceful way she leaps onto him, her lips finding his in a passionate kiss, Jeff thinks it’s safe to assume the answer is a wholehearted yes.

#fictober19 #jeff x annie #annie x jeff #jeff/annie #nbc community #jeff winger #annie edison #fan fic #fan fiction #community #otp: like a perfect duet #fake dating trope #i'm sorry this is a day late #i was so swamped yesterday and out of the house for like 12 hours so i didn't have time to finish #but might have today's one up later or tomorrow morning and then the next up tomorrow eve yay

19 notes · View notes

angelofthequeers · 5 years

Text

Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 2

Origins II

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

If you don’t take the chance to spruce up Ladybug’s outfit, then what are you doing with your life?

Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3 link

For a moment, Alya is frozen, unable to do so much as breathe. The little cat yawns and stretches, then blinks, revealing brilliant green cat eyes.

“Uh –” Alya clears her throat and tries again. “Uh – what – guh?”

“Better than my last holder’s reaction,” the tiny cat drawls in a scratchy voice, then darts over to Alya’s computer. “Ooh, shiny! Can you eat this? No, you can’t,” he gags when he tries to bite a corner off the monitor.

“Um, hello!” Alya says in a high-pitched voice. “Less eating, more talking! What are you?”

This is all just a dream. It has to be. What other explanation is there for a talking cat appearing in her room?

“My name’s Plagg. I’m a kwami,” the little cat says. “I grant powers. Yours is the power of destruction. Got it?”

“Wait…” Something click’s in Alya’s brain and she shrieks and bounces on the spot. “You – powers – am I a superhero now?”

“Uh huh,” Plagg says. Alya squeals and snatches up the silver ring to slide it onto her right middle finger. “And no one can know I exist, you should have a partner to help out, yadda yadda, you know the drill. Seriously, you got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“Omgomgomg yayayayayayay!” Alya throws herself into her blue beanbag chair, kicking and flailing. “I’m a superhero now! I get to go out and fight crime and save people and be badass and – and – wait.” She freezes and points out the window in the general direction of the giant stone monster. “Does that mean I have to fight that thing?”

“Uh huh,” Plagg says.

“How do I transform? Is there a magic word? Do I like – I dunno – do a dance or something?”

“You just gotta say claws out. Now, first thing you gotta know is –”

“Plagg, claws out!”

“Wait, I haven’t finished explainiiiiiing –!”

The ring on Alya’s finger pulses as Plagg is sucked into it, and she’s enveloped by bright green magic, cold and forceful and powerful. Although she’s not entirely sure why, she runs her fingers across her eyes from the bridge of her nose, then brushes a hand over her hair, then holds her other arm up in the air and does a twirl until the green sparkles fade away.

“Oh. My. God.” Looking down at herself, all Alya can see is shiny black leather. She rushes for her mirror, tripping over herself in her haste, and she lets out a high-pitched squeal of excitement when she catches sight of her reflection – her superhero reflection!

Her hazel eyes are now cat-like and bright green, with the whites of her eyes a paler green colour. Her features are concealed behind a black mask with two points above her eyes and one down her nose, like a cat nose and miniscule ears, and with a thin outline of neon green. She has fake black and green cat ears on her head, while her brown hair is pulled back into a bushy ponytail tied with a green ribbon, and she’s wearing a tight black suit with a high split neck and green trim, elbow-length bright green gloves, and thigh-high black boots with green around the tops. She’s also got a thin black belt around her waist that hangs behind her like a cat’s tail and a bright green cat’s paw on her chest, along with neon green cat paw pads on her black palms and fingers. A quick look at one of her boot soles confirms that her feet have the inverse: green soles and black paw pads.

No. Way. What. The. Heck. She looks just like a comic book superhero!

“This is the greatest day ever!” Alya grabs the baton resting at the small of her back and rushes over to her glass door to burst out on her balcony. She climbs onto the railing, takes a deep breath, then leaps.

“Wahooooo!” Alya shrieks before realising that she’s about two seconds from splatting on the road below. Acting purely on instinct, she shakes her baton to extend it into a staff and holds it above her head so that it catches on a street lamp, then grabs the other end with her other hand. The lamp acts as a hook, leaving her dangling, her vision blurring from the jarring force in her arms that should have dislocated her arms but strangely didn’t.

“Okay,” Alya groans, letting herself drop to the ground. “Lesson one: don’t go jumping off balconies two seconds after getting superpowers.”

She eyes up a nearby building, then looks at her staff, and then gives a rather shark-like grin. Using her staff as a vaulting pole and with the aid of what she can only assume are enhanced physical abilities, she manages to leap from the road to the roof of the building, letting out a hysterical laugh as the wind whooshes in her ears but the locks of hair hanging around her face magically stay put and don’t fall in her eyes.

“What else can this thing do?” she says. She frowns at a building across the street in the next block over, then throws her staff like a javelin and whistles when it nestles neatly against the other building, laid between that one and the one she’s on like a tightrope. “Should I? I mean…I can’t die if I fall, can I?”

There’s no response from Plagg. With a sigh, Alya gingerly places one foot on the staff, then the other, then thrusts her arms out on either side and ever so carefully inches across. Don’t look down, don’t look down…

“Hey, I think I’m getting it!” Alya says. Almost as if in response, there’s a shrill scream that steadily grows louder and louder, and Alya looks up just in time to catch sight of a red figure hurtling through the air before crashing into her. Thankfully, the figure has some sort of string-rope-thing that catches their fall and leaves them dangling in mid-air from Alya’s staff, bound front-to-front, although Alya’s currently too busy trying to coax her stomach out of her throat to really pay attention to what it is.

When they finally stop swinging from side to side and Alya manages to regain a few of her brain cells, she realises that it’s a yo-yo. And the wielder of the yo-yo is a girl who looks absolutely terrified.

“Uh…hi!” Alya grins. “Your first day too?”

“How could you tell?” the other girl says with a faint laugh, finally managing to untangle them. Alya nimbly lands on her feet, but the other girl is a lot clumsier and nearly crashes on her face. “Sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“No sweat, girl,” Alya says. “At least you didn’t nearly rip your arms out of your sockets.” She finally gets a good look at the other girl, who’s wearing a tight suit that’s red with black spots over her chest and upper arms, with a black abdomen, ladybug-patterned legs, and black elbow-length gloves and knee-length boots. Her jet-black hair is red-tipped and in pigtails, tied with red ribbons, and the eyes behind her ladybug-patterned mask are a brilliant shade of blue.

“Ouch,” the girl winces. “That sounds painful.”

“Oh, you bet.” Alya nudges the girl. “Anyway, you must be the partner my kwami told me about! I’m…hmm, okay, hold up. I gotta think of the perfect name!”

“I take it you’re a fan of superheroes?” the girl says.

“Am I ever! How about…Chatte Noire! Nah, too simple. I’m literally just calling myself ‘black cat’ in French.”

“Well, I’m Ma – er – Mar – uh…” The girl pulls her yo-yo free of Alya’s staff. Alya winces and groans when the end of it slams her on the head, but it also brings her staff down with it, so she bends down to grab it. “Madly clumsy! I’m so clumsy. And sorry. So sorry.”

“All good, clumsy girl,” Alya says. “I don’t have any more of an idea what I’m doing. Hmm…Patte d’Ébène? Ugh, no, that so doesn’t sound heroic. That sounds like some fancy rich meal.”

The ground beneath them suddenly rumbles, causing Alya to nearly trip over her own feet despite her enhanced reflexes. A tall building crumbles to the ground nearby, and Alya immediately starts running in that direction, using her staff to propel her to a nearby rooftop.

“Hey! Where are you going?” ladybug girl cries.

“Uh, to save Paris, right?” Alya calls back, then takes off again. “Dame Lune? Eh, that doesn’t feel right. Ugh, how does Majestia even do this?”

The stone monster turns out to be at the stadium, cornering one of Alya’s new classmates – Kim, judging by the monster’s cries.

“Hey!” Alya nimbly lands in front of Kim, shielding him from the monster. “Pick on someone your own size! Oh my god, that’s the actual cheesiest line. Can I have a do-over intro?”

“Huh?” the monster says. Rolling her eyes, Alya lets out a war cry and charges to slam her staff into the monster…and promptly gets her ass handed to her when it just grows bigger after she hits it and then flicks her away.

“Ow,” Alya moans. She untangles herself from the soccer net and runs at the monster again, but it lets out a rumbling, almost bored sigh and throws her into a row of seats around the stadium. Thank god for kwami superpowers, because otherwise Alya’s spine would totally be smashed to pieces right about now. On the other side of the stadium, at the very top, Alya spots the ladybug girl covering her mouth, making no attempt to jump in and help.

Okay, if Alya has to pull both their weights, she’s gonna be super pissed.

“You can do it, red bug hero!” calls a voice from nearby. Once she’s managed to extract herself, Alya pinpoints the source as the Adrien kid, who’s crouching near the entrance to the inside of the stadium, recording the fight on his phone with wonder in his eyes. Why is he even here? He hadn’t come along to P.E.; Alya distinctly remembers him asking to talk to Marinette back in the library.

Apparently, Adrien seems to have no sense of self-preservation, because he doesn’t move when the stone monster growls and rips up a soccer net, then hurls it in his direction. It’s purely instinct – adrenaline surges through her – Alya bounds across the stadium and throws her staff to catch the net above Adrien’s head. At the same time, a yo-yo comes hurtling out of nowhere, wraps itself around Adrien’s waist, and yanks him out of harm’s way so that Alya can retrieve her baton and let the net fall to the ground harmlessly.

“About time!” Alya says to ladybug girl.

“Sorry!” ladybug girl says. “I’m just…really not up to this.”

“You think I’ve had any experience before today either?” Alya says. “Let’s turn this guy into dust!”

“Kick his butt, awesome superhero girls!” Adrien calls from a safe distance.

“Excuse me, but the name’s…uh…Reine…Nuit…Reine Nuit! Yeah, Reine Nuit!” Alya – Reine Nuit – snaps her fingers. “Perfect!”

“Have you noticed now he grows bigger and stronger with every attack?” ladybug girl says. “We have to do something different.”

“Any ideas?” Reine Nuit says. Ladybug girl frowns.

“What’s your superpower?” she says.

“Uh…my superpower?” Reine Nuit says. “I mean, I’ve got super senses, this awesome staff –”

“No, no, you should have a special power!”

Reine Nuit blinks. “Shit. Maybe I should’ve let my kwami explain everything before I transformed.”

Ladybug girl snorts. “You think? I guess it’s up to me. Lucky Charm!” She tosses her yo-yo into the air and catches a ladybug-patterned wetsuit.

“Umm…handy?” Reine Nuit says. “So, uh, what’s the plan?”

“My kwami told me I have to break the object where the whatchamacallit – er, the akuma is hidden.”

“He’s literally made of stone,” Reine Nuit deadpans. “Unless you can figure out which rock –”

“His right hand!” Ladybug girl points. “It’s still closed! He never opens it. It’s like the Russian dolls – the object isn’t on him, it’s hidden in his fist!”

“Huh. Smart and cute.” Reine Nuit winks. “I reckon we’ll get along just fine. What’s your plan, red bug hero?”

“Hmm…”

Okay, Reine Nuit is eternally grateful that she didn’t end up with the Ladybug Miraculous. Ladybug girl’s plan involves sticking a hose into the Lucky Charm suit, yeeting Reine Nuit and then herself at the stone monster to make it drop the akuma, then getting Adrien to turn the hose on to inflate the suit and force the monster to let ladybug girl go. Once she’s free, ladybug girl smashes the dark object to bits, releasing a purple-veined butterfly that goes flapping off into the distance.

“Yeowch!” Reine Nuit cries when the stone monster dissolves into another classmate of hers and sends her crashing to the ground. “That. Was. So. Cool!”

“What’s going on?” the burly boy groans, rubbing his head, “What am I doing here?”

“You were incredible, red bug hero!” Reine Nuit gushes, jumping to her feet. “You did it!”

“Ladybug. Call me Ladybug. And we both did it,” ladybug girl – Ladybug – corrects. Purely by instinct, they punch at each other in a fist-bump, declaring, “Pound it!”

“Uh, what’s that?” Reine Nuit says when Ladybug’s earrings give off a loud beep.

“We’ve only got five minutes after we use our power before we transform back,” Ladybug says. “You should go. Our identities must remain a secret!”

“Yeah, yeah, first rule of superheroing,” Reine Nuit says. She bounds away, calling, “Until next time!” over her shoulder.

In the high of defeating a real live supervillain, Reine Nuit doesn’t realise that she’s forgotten to get one crucial detail from Plagg: how to turn back into herself. It’s not until she’s in her room that it hits her.

“Crud,” she says. “Uh…claws out? Detransform? Back to Alya?”

Nothing happens.

“I can’t be like this forever!” Reine Nuit cries. “I mean, not that I’d hate being a superhero forever, but I have a life and a family, and everyone will know who I am if I don’t turn back and –” She groans and facepalms. “That’ll teach me to rush ahead without listening to the magic black cat.”

Pouting, she slumps on her bed, fiddling with her ring, which is now black with a tiny green cat’s paw. She wriggles it off her finger, then gasps when she’s enveloped in bright green light that devours her suit and leaves her as just plain Alya again.

“Oh,” Alya says. “Uh…that should’ve been obvious.”

“Next time, you might wanna try not rudely interrupting me,” Plagg says when he’s zipped out of the ring and sprawled across Alya’s bed. “Claws in to detransform, by the way.”

“Right. Sorry.” Alya sits down on the bed next to the tiny kwami. “So, uh…what’s my superpower? If Ladybug’s is Lucky Charm –”

“Cataclysm.” Plagg says. “Destroys anything you touch. One-time use before you turn back. I’m so hungry!”

Alya blinks at him.

“What?” he says sullenly. “I gotta keep my strength up somehow. No food for moi, no more superhero for toi.”

“Ugh, fine,” Alya says. “Wait, what do you even eat, anyway?”

Plagg’s eyes light up. “Camembert! Beautiful, rich, stinky Camembert!”

“…Great.” Alya facepalms. “Now I’m gonna stink of cheese. Well…small price to pay for being a superhero, I suppose.” The words send a thrill through her.

“Damn right,” Plagg says. “Where’s my Camembert?”

“Alright, cat face,” Alya sighs, pushing herself back to her feet. “Wait here. I’ll get your icky cheese.”

Plagg’s cheers follow her out of the room. She pauses outside her door, shakes her head, then smiles and heads for the kitchen. Alya Césaire is now a superhero! Who would’ve ever dreamt that this would happen to her?

#miraculous ladybug #aotq fic #aotq: reine nuit au #chat!alya #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #plagg #origins part 1 #stoneheart #alya definitely hasn't been planning for this her whole life #who needs a radioactive spider #when you have a stinky cat god #adrien please develop some self-preservation #poor sheltered boy

26 notes · View notes

timeisacephalopod · 5 years

Text

Thin Red Line: Fic Preview

Its real ass rare that I come up with a good name for a fic that’s not a song title I pulled lol. Anyway, the red line refers to the lines of fate that connect people. But I thought I’d give another small preview, a lil foray back into that world. Any previews of this will be tagged with ‘thin red line fic preview’ so they’re easy to find!

Bucky’s sitting on the couch lazily eating a bowl of ramen when he hears the door unlock. He wouldn’t even bother looking over if he didn’t hear a second person with Steve but since he does he turns to see who Steve has brought home. Steve gives him a half a hopeful smile when he walks in and that doesn’t bode well but when Bucky sees who’s behind him he decides he hates him on sight. There’s no reason to hate the guy, Bucky knows, but there’s something about him that makes him want to throw the guy out a window.

“I hate him, throw him back outside,” Bucky tells Steve, who goes from hopeful to offended in two seconds flat.

“Bucky, this is my other soul mate Sam. And he’s not going anywhere,” he says and no. “He’s staying, so deal with it,” Steve tells him, marching off to his room. Sam watches him go, leaning out a little to make sure he’s gone before he turns to Bucky.

“I hate you too, but I’m content to let your trailer park trash looking ass dig your own hole,” he tells Bucky and his jaw drops.

“Did you hear that!” he yells at Steve.

Sam grins, “nope. And he never will. I’m an enemy you don’t want and your rat face makes me want to punch it,” Sam tells him.

“Oh eat shit, Sam!” Bucky tells him just as Steve reappears and its like Sam’s a fucking Gremlin that’s gone back to normal as soon as he appears.

“Bucky, apologize!” Steve tells him before turning to Sam. “Are you okay?” he asks in this stupid gentle voice that makes Bucky want to slap Sam more.

“He’s fine, and he’s evil!” Bucky tells him.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Sam says, playing innocent and Bucky is baffled. This is worse than Tony; at least he could ditch the kid- how’s he supposed to get out of this? Sam looks upset too, really fuckin milking it and he’s a good actor. Bucky is at a loss here, he’s got nothing to combat Sam’s bullshit at the moment.

Steve gives him a dirty look. “Bucky, you’re going to have to deal with Sam whatever your problem with him is. I’ve had to deal with your soul mate issues,” he says and Bucky blinks rapidly.

“Excuseme, like fucking what? I haven’t even spokento Tony in seven years!” And the one time he did it was a single sentence.

“Oh like you would have stuck so closely to Howard if not for Tony,” Steve says. “And don’t deny it, you have no patience for people like him on any given day but you roll over and take whatever bullshit he throws at us both for your nonexistent updates on Tony’s wellbeing.”

He’d like to argue, but Steve’s not wrong. “I get updates sometimes,” he mumbles even though that’s not true unless he runs into Peggy or Maria.

Steve rolls his eyes, “sure, Bucky.” As soon as Steve’s face is pointed away from Sam’s direction he gives Bucky a little smirk and oh this is war.

Tony spins under Bucky’s arm, smiling as Bucky pulls him back into an embrace as they dance. He tucks himself in as close as he can without messing up the steps he learned forever ago and resented at the time. Now the knowledge isn’t so bad because Bucky is here and he’s missed him somuch. He can almost feel it; the ache in his heart where it felt like Bucky was missing. He gets the same feeling if Rhodey is gone too long and he doesn’t like it.

“I’ve missed you,” Bucky murmurs, echoing Tony’s thoughts and he beams.

“Missed you too,” he tells Bucky. They remain silent for awhile, spinning around he dance floor in quick, practiced moves that they’ve obviously danced before. It’s nice, quiet, something soft and pleasant. “I thought you’d never come back,” he says to Bucky softly.

Bucky picks him up and spins him around, “Tony, I could never leave you behind,” he says and Tony leans in to kiss him.

He wakes with a start and Rhodey is giving him a judgmental look. “Did you have that weird Beauty and the Beast dream again?” he asks.

“No,” Tony lies even though he distinctly remembers the ballroom and the fact that he was wearing yellow. But Bucky wasn’t some man wolf thing so it’s not the same.

Rhodey shakes his head. “You need a life, man.”

Tony pouts, curling up with his head on Rhodey’s chest. “Shut up and cuddle me,” he mumbles, wrapping Rhodey’s arm around him. Rhodey pretends to be put out by it but Tony can see that he’s smiling just a little as he looks down at the book on aviation that he’s reading.

#fic preview #thin red line fic preview #tony x bucky #winteriron #fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @haletostilinski!

A/N: a little note, here, that a friend gave me ideas that helped this along, lol;; a soft warning for a vague Hale fire mention;; I hope it’s a good gift, and I hope you have a very merry christmas!!!

Read on AO3

*****

Loneliness, Food, & Mistletoe

It starts with a dorm.

Or, more accurately, it starts with a waterfall.

Specifically, it starts with Stiles waking up to a flooded dorm, water rushing from the ceiling after having had the craziest dream about being in a snow-strewn field with his mom and a group of people he didn’t know, having a feast and drinking flower wine, as they all chatted with him, all beatific expressions and an ambiance of aching joy. His mother had hugged him, before he’d woken, whispered something he can’t remember into his ear, and then his eyes had fluttered open to a personal, theatrical, indoor waterfall.

It takes him about three minutes, blinking and smacking his lips and generally being only barely awake, before he actually realizes what’s going on to the tune of shrieking curses and scrambling to save everything he doesn’t want to lose to spectacular water damage.

His roommate, the ass, has been at his girlfriend’s place since the day before yesterday, and has enough money that his only response to the informative, sarcastic, slightly melodramatic text Stiles shoots off to him is the equivalent of a shrug and an, I’m good here, so you’re on your own with that shit-tastic fiasco. Have fun.

The dormkeeper, TA person is… daunting? Stiles has never talked to him, anyway—no matter how hot like burning the guy is, storms live in his tsunami eyes, ‘I’m going to kill you’ is written in the line of his impressive eyebrows, and intimidating might actually, in this case, be an understatement. But, nevertheless, he doesn’t really have the option of avoidance now, since it’s four in the morning, water’s still actively flowing, and Derek’s the guy.

(If there was any other guy, but, nope, Derek’s the only one.)

So, gingerly, clothes and computer and cheap-ass griddle piled haphazardly in his arms, he—tries and fails to knock at least four times, almost dropping everything in the process, cursing some more, until the door’s opening all on it’s own, a sleep-mussed, startlingly soft Derek Hale standing there, glaring at him, and narrowing his eyes hatefully at Stiles’ armful of things.

“Oh. I, uh. Have a feeling this is already off to a bad start? Um, so, okay. My room? 320? I’m Stiles, by the way, I’d shake your hand, but… uh-hm.”

One of Derek’s eyebrows steadily rises as Stiles babbles, and now he’s leaning on the door-frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed.

Stiles gets the feeling, if he doesn’t get to the point soon, Derek’s going to slam the door in his face. In hindsight, introducing himself wasn’t necessary.

“My dorm’s flooding, is the thing.”

Derek’s eyes widen, something like a growl filling his chest as he whips around to grab something from his room. “Stay here,” he orders, his voice a little like smoked sugar-grain, higher than Stiles would’ve expected. The man prowls away intently without another word and Stiles sighs heavily, sets his stuff beside Derek’s door and settles down next to it to wait.

Derek comes back more than a little soaked around two and a half hours of bejeweled, tetris, and candy crush later. He looks harried and two shades shy of homicidal.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” he bites, and Stiles looks up from his phone to gape at him.

“I—no? Is there no way to fix it? Is it still flooding?”

“Yes,” monosyllabic monotone, but there’s something incredibly dry in his eyes and it takes Stiles a second to realize the man wouldn’t have just left it like that, then another to realize that, even if the flooding itself has been stopped, it probably hasn’t been fixed, and he really doesn’t have anywhere he could possibly go.

He tells Derek as much and the man glares at him for an endless moment, it feels little better than being an ant pinned under a microscope and infinitely more awkward. A huff, and then firm, thick-corded muscles are wrapped around his pile of stuff and lugging it into Derek’s room.

“Wai—woah, hey, hey, dude, what are you—?” Stiles calls, exasperation and incredulity warring with annoyance as he scrambles to follow after. Derek drops Stiles’ stuff on the right side of his perfectly pristine room- the side with the bean-bag and the nineties bulk-tv and the pale-blue carpet and the closet door, without the bed and the distrubingly neat study desk and the bookshelf- before regarding him with a scowl.

“Don’t make a mess,” the man says, “it’s temporary.” Then he grabs a change of clothes from the closet and leaves Stiles stranded with the implication that Stiles will probably be staying here until whatever piping problem turning his dorm into a nature documentary gets fixed.

Here with the annoyingly uncommunicative TA dormparent who is simultaneously terrifying and vaguely infuriating.

He blinks at his stuff, breathes. He’s pretty sure he’s been through worse… maybe.

–❄❆❅❆❄–

He gets desensitized fairly quickly, gone from mildly scared of the guy to downright vexed by him.

He’s obsessively clean, which is something Stiles struggles with, but is more capable of understanding—after all, up until now, this has solely been Derek’s space. Still, the half snarky, half antagonistic, half animal sounds of irritation don’t actually tell him anything- except that Derek’s upset, and there could be any number of reasons why, because, man, this dude is tightly wound as fuck- until his side of the room is being invaded and forcefully cleaned before Stiles can protest, let alone do anything about it. He has some definite anger management issues, and isn’t spectacularly good at dealing with Stiles’ particular brand of hyperfocus versus hyperactivity, and cheap, unhealthy college student habits. Stiles has some problems with how quiet he is, how he’s never tactile unless he’s aggro, and how he’s always huffy, grumpy, sour.

Needless to say, they grate on each other, and it might be a month yet before Stiles’ room gets fixed, which is just, you know, great.

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Snip.

Derek tries valiantly to focus on his book.

Tnk, szznip.

A vein in his forehead is throbbing, he can feel it.

Stiles mutters unintelligible gibberish around the highlighter he’s holding between his teeth.

Clip, snip, tnk, snap.

“What. The hell. Are. You. Doing.”

Stiles spins around quickly, the chair making two dizzying rotations before he stops it, facing Derek, and yanks the marker out of his mouth. There’s a neon yellow mark right next to his lips, cuddling up to his freckles, pen and glitter coating his bone-nimble fingers. Derek doesn’t want to be endeared, really, he should be annoyed.

“Writing an essay on how to use inflections correctly, how to make them flow, y'know? So that questions sound like questions, sentences sound like entiresentences. It might be surprising how many people struggle wi—”

“Stiles,” he snaps, annoyance abruptly far brighter than fondness.

“Oh my god, can’t you just… chill, a little? I’m doing classwork—although the depths of the internet may’ve distracted me, on that one, I’ll admit—and I’m making decorations for Lydia’s christmas party, because she’s terrifying, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t she’ll gut me. Or steal my roommate—.” Stiles cuts himself off, a tiny recoiling flinch in his eyes that Derek doesn’t understand at all, but it’s there and gone so fast, it might not have been there at all. “Which would actually border on a good thing, considering, well, Jackson.

"Wait… have you ever met Jackson?”

A headache. Derek’s pretty sure he’s getting a headache.

His question answered, he contemplates just ditching for the quiet of the library, only. Well.

(This is the first time in a very long time he has shared his space with anyone, and his feelings about it are complicated, to say the least, but part of him whimpers at the idea that, if he were to leave right now, when he came back, Stiles might be gone. Another part says that he’ll come back to a mess that would be too much work to clean and babysitting is just altogether a better idea.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries about Stiles’ oddly mournful pause.)

In the end, he sighs heavily, and returns to his book.

“Don’t make a mess.”

Stiles starts muttering about being the cleanest person in the world, and Jackson and he would probably get along, and just wait, he dyed Jax’s hair blue in the fourth grade, he can fucking do it again if he wants to, fucking Sourwolf.

Sourwolf? Derek wonders; then, I better keep an eye on my shampoo.

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Derek watches Stiles do the same thing he’s been doing every day for a month and a half.

The egg sizzles on the griddle, gets tossed on top of a bowl of instant ramen, which is downed along with two red bulls, before Stiles’ full attention is returned to his work, which is, as always, at least ten things at once, armed with a highlighter, no less than four books, his computer, two notebooks, a dozen differently colored pens, and maybe a thousand color-coded sticky-notes, half of what he’s writing is either seemingly encrypted or in a different language altogether. In a few hours, Derek knows, he’ll blithely down another redbull.

He barely fucking sleeps, and he’s paler than the moon, and, jesus christ, if he keeps going on like this he’s going to die, his body won’t be able to take it.

The next day, Derek shoves a plate of banana peanutbutter bagels with granola and yogurt on the side in his face along with a cup of caffeinated tea, and Stiles looks up at him with wide, wide eyes before smiling, those eyes crinkling, the honey in them warm and gooey as his cheeks dimple and plush, crushed-pastel lips curl something happy. It’s the brightest thing Derek thinks he’s ever seen, and everything around it gets cotton-soft, tempered with gentled sweet, and his breath catches, heart tripping over the bubble of wonder billowing out in his chest.

Stiles says, “Thank you,” on the edge of an awed breath, and Derek swallows, nods curtly, stalks away.

He tries to remind himself that Stiles can be annoying and loud, talks too much, asks too many questions, doesn’t take care of himself at all, is, quite possibly, one of the messiest people he’s ever known, and that it shouldn’t matter how nice it is to share space with someone again- because sharing space isn’t something he should be allowed, anyway- it shouldn’t matter that, when he does decide to talk, Stiles actually listens, or that he gets Derek’s dry humor, snipes back easily and mostly good-naturedly, or that he smiles like… like that.

It shouldn’t matter. This is temporary and Stiles is an asshole most of the time.

(It does matter, and Stiles isn’t the kind of asshole Derek could ever hate, anyway.)

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Stiles’ room gets fixed. And that’s fine, that’s seriously fine, it’s not like he wanted to sleep on a borrowed air-bed in the corner of someone else’s room much longer, anyway, but…

He’d just started to get used to Derek, just started to be able to maneuver around him and with him with any kind of ease, could now translate the scowls and the serial-killer eyebrows from the emotionally clumsy, socially awkward language he’d finally realized they were into mostly… unexpectedly sweet intentions. More than that, he’d begun to realize just how much of a dorky mom friend Derek secretly is, with him spending any time he wasn’t studying or cleaning- or cleaning up after Stiles- reading some really old, complex book, cooking (for them both, because every time Stiles eats a mildly unhealthy meal or foregoes food for caffeine, Derek’s eyebrows twitch like he literally cannothandle watching Stiles’ unintentionally self-destructive habits without overloading on discomfited concern), and drawing these steampunk looking ink sketches of buildings and construction.

It had taken less coaxing than Stiles had thought it might to get Derek to admit that he wanted to be an architect, and that a lot of those books he was reading were either historical diaries, euro-romantic literature, or spanish or french poetry, with occasional visits from obscure fantasy and science fiction. He has a weathered set of books by Tolkien, and the whole of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, dozens of ragged, rugged, heavily used art journals, along with a complete collection of star trek and star trek: the next generation and old school doctor who cds on his bookshelf. He’s sassy in an almost inspiringly dry way, quick witted, funny, and, just, genuinely good.

Yeah, his social skills leave a lot to be desired, and he can still be annoying as all hell sometimes, but. An almost permanent glare doesn’t stop him from dropping everything and helping anyone who needs anything the moment they ask, doesn’t stop him from kindness and chivalry, for all that it’s masked by his gruff, almost wolfish demeanour.

And yesterday, for the first time, he saw Derek laugh. It was an odd kind of thing, because he’d woken up grumpier than Stiles had ever seen him, and it had felt like the first day all over again, like five thousand steps back, a doom-gloom quiet descended and everything Stiles did seemed to grate, everything anyonedid seemed to, and after all the discoveries he’d made about Derek’s character, it had felt like such a loss.

So he’d taken the lashing out in stride and done whatever he could to cheer Derek up.

The tension broke when, after corralling Derek into a daredevil marathon- because he had a feeling that Derek might… relate, a little- he began rambling about parkour and cinematography and “sinful red leather, oh my god.” He doesn’t even remember what he’d said, exactly, that made it happen, he’d just turned his brain-to-mouth filter off and let the words come, but the next thing he’d known, Derek was curved toward him and in, knuckles to his mouth like if he just pressed down on it enough it wouldn’t come. His eyes had gone so vivid, vast forests, willow trees tangoing, dipped back into the lakes their roots curled so close to, sunshine scattered across a dusk-smoke sky as a smile spread helplessly, as a sound a little like joy bubbled up and overflowed, and the thing that shocked him most was that he’d been rooming with this person for three months, and this was the first time he’d ever seen anything like it.

Mist still lingered in that small, frangible piece of joy.

Something devastating taints most things Derek does, Stiles thinks, and begins to hate all the more that he suddenly needs to leave this temporary haven, because he wants to know why.

He wants to see Derek smile more, wants him to laugh so much this whole room is saturated with it. Wants to be the reason for the sound, the expression, wants more.

Derek turns from his drawing when Stiles clears his throat, square black framed glasses perched on his nose, charcoal smudge on his cheek, and Stiles bites back a burst of something utterly fond.

“I’m gonna head out.”

Derek’s eyebrows twitch a little, his mouth tilting firmly down when he eyes Stiles’ stuff packed, a little less haphazardly than last time. Unhappy, Stiles can read easily, but the rest is inscrutable.

The man nods and Stiles huffs. The less comfortable Derek is, the less communicative he is, and Stiles gets it, but he’s unwilling to leave on this note, so he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicks it to contacts, adds a new one, names it Sourwolf, and hands the thing over. Derek peers down at it, glares at him.

“We’re friends now,” Stiles informs him, “insufferable nicknames are a necessary evil.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise, a little sarcastic quirk to his mouth.

“Yes, friends. Dude, give me your number of your own free will, or I’ll get it on my own using my awesome investigatory powers and I’ll spam you pictures of dirty dishes and piles of laundry and unorganized bookshelves. You know me, you know that I can, and I will.”

Derek scoffs a half disbelieving sound and rolls his shoulders meaningfully.

“You wouldn’t block me,” Stiles smirks, “we’re besties, big guy.”

Derek glares at the slight mess Stiles has left on his desk, gives Stiles a blank look with black at its’ edges, raises an eyebrow.

“Face it. I’m a slob and you love me anyway.”

Stiles moves to tidy up a bit, anyway, and when he returns to Derek, the man’s holding out his phone, Sourwolf’s contact page completely filled in.

“Text if you. Need… food,” Derek orders, voice saturated in a grudging growl, and Stiles knows he’s grinning like a fucking loon- he doesn’t even care- as he leans in, smacks a quick kiss to Derek’s cheek.

“Definitely,” he agrees, delightedly, before spinning toward his stuff, heaving it up, and swanning off.

(He doesn’t turn back or stay long enough to see the deep, candied-cherry flush that fills Derek’s cheeks, coats the tips of his ears. Doesn’t hear him exhale, sharp and heavy.

Doesn’t hear him breathe out a soft, strained, “Fuck.”)

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Stiles sighs when he sees the sock on the door, for a whole, huge, sack of incredulous reasons.

The first being that it’s three a-fucking-m, and Jackson knew he’d be getting back around now. The second has to be how absolutely cliche it is, nevermind the actual state of the sock—maybe Derek’s rubbing off on him, because all he can think of is that fucking germ song Derek texted him a few days ago, and how he’s going to have to disinfect that doorknob if he ever wants to feel safe using it again because eughh.

So he’s stuck, slumped outside in the hall, with absolutely nothing to do.

He barely even hesitates to snake his phone out of is jacket pocket and start texting Derek. Yeah, it’s ass'o'clock in the morning, but Derek turns his phone off when he goes to sleep, because he’s lame, so Stiles is pretty assured in just complaining to a non-existent audience, figuring Der might get a kick out of it later.

He tries not to look too deeply into the fact that Derek’s the first one he wants to complain to, the person he’s been talking to the most lately, refuses to analyze how overjoyed he’s been to discover that, as long as you give him the time to, Derek’s communication issues don’t hinder him as much over text.

Derek’s sometimes so dry it takes Stiles a whole fifteen minutes to realize he wasn’t actually being serious, on tuesdays he only responds in iambic pentameter, and he uses shakespearean insults on occasion because he’s nothing less than a sarcastic little shit; he’s still monosyllabic, every once in awhile, and his punctuation is as terrible as it is in real life, but it’s like the distance, the phone between them, makes Derek feel more confident, makes it easier for him to be… himself.

The week before last, they got into a conversation about past relationships, that led to a discussion about fire and the confession that Derek had only ever had three relationships, one that ended because he’d made a childish mistake his high school lover couldn’t forgive, another that ended in flames, a trial, and a prison sentence for a woman Stiles would… probably kill without a second thought, if he’s being honest, and a third that was too self-destructive for both of them to have ever been healthy or sustainable.

Soon after, Stiles had opened up to him about his mom’s disease and his dad’s drinking and his bills—he hadn’t really had the time to date much, his romantic entanglements tend to be of the more one-night-stand, friends-with-benefits variety, and even when he’s wanted more, no one else has seemed to.

Every day since Stiles moved out, even after he’s annoyed the hell out of Derek to the point of radio silence, the man comes to him with a tupperware full of healthy, incredible food, and a cup of tea, his scowl fermenting on his face, the storm of it worsening when Stiles inevitably giggles (how can he not?) as he takes the gift. There are days, too, when they’ve ribbed each other, chatted extensively about conlangs and architecture and psychoanalyzed star trek characters in between memes and jokes and Stiles’ ever fickle focus, and Derek will come bearing his small feasts with this soft, tender, breathtaking expression, a smile curling in his eyes that never touches his lips, and hot cocoa or coffee with whipped cream and cinnamon and marshmallows and extra chocolate instead of tea.

(“I’m going to get fat if you keep bringing me this-” a bite, then, choking back a moan- “glorious, sacred—oh my holy god.”

A hand, large and warm, calloused and covered in ink-stains, in charcoal and lead, had smoothed tenderly through his hair, gentle enough to make him almost thoughtlessly lean into it, to make him want to shiver.

“It’s better,” he’d said, then left before Stiles could ask what he meant.)

He doesn’t know what to do about how much part of him, lonely and withering, the same part that would view Lydia taking Jackson away as some form of punishment, because then he’d be alone, craves every little interaction, and then some.

Mostly, he ignores it, as he starts to type out how much of an asshole Jackson can be, and couldn’t he have gotten his nookie a little earlier? which all devolves into an anecdote about that time he painstakingly filled Jax’s locker with water for being an asshole and all his stuff got soaked but he kept the freaking fish.

He’s surprised when he gets a text back calling Jackson a goodly rotten apple, and then asking if Stiles realizes what time it is.

〖did i wake you? don’t you turn your phone off when you pass out so it can charge or some shit?〗

〖There could be an emergency.〗Derek texts back, succinctly, 〖And I don’t want you to starve.〗

〖… you keep your phone on at night, now, because i could have an emergency craving?〗

Stiles bites his lip, hard, warmth bursting in his chest, champagne-fizz rushing through his veins. His heartbeat’s skipping along to an odd tune of half embarrassed hope, and he’d known he was probably crushing on this man, but, god, he’s so fucking gone for him it’s ridiculous. For one, completely insane moment, a giddy part of him wants to send a bunch of kissy, heart-eyes, I might be falling head over heels for you emojis.

But, no. No way. Too awkward, silly, and he’s still not… sure. About how he feels.

Derek texts,〖Yes,〗 and it takes longer than it should to remember how to breathe.

〖you’re being sarcastic right now, aren’t you? you’re such a fucking tease, i was totally craving one of your crazy sandwich concoctions〗

〖Stiles.〗

A minute or so passes.

〖You woke me up.〗

〖yes. i gathered. the hazards of being my friend, oh, such a horrible atrocity, how much sleep have you lost, woeful der-ber? how much? shall i just call in the queen to chop off my head right this very minute?〗

〖Stop being an asshole or I’m going back to sleep.〗

〖you wouldn’t leave me in the lurch like that, would you?〗 He stops being an ass, anyway, though, just in case, only feels a fraction of guilt as he steers the conversation toward Lydia’s fast-approaching christmas party, one which they’re both attending, because Lydia’s a force of nature, and she somehow met, cajoled, and garnered a befuddled promise out of Derek at some point after the whole dorm-waterfall incident. Derek’s still mildly lucky, at least he didn’t get roped into decorating duty.

For all Stiles knows, if Lydia had known Derek’s architectural ability, she would’ve demanded he construct her an entire building for the affair.

Time ticks by, and Stiles is enjoying himself enough that he doesn’t notice until his phone starts complaining at him how low his charge is. The only problem? his charger is in the room.

He has no fucking clue how long Jackson’s going to be keeping their room… occupied, and he’s far too invested in this silly little conversation he’s having, anyway. (How could he not be? He can practically see Derek smiling through the phone.) So, vaguely hopeful, he tries knocking on a few other doors, begging after anyone who might be willing to lend him their charger. The only one who isn’t so pissed off about him waking them up or interrupting their study time as to simply slam the door in his face, doesn’t have a compatible charger, and…

You know what? fuck it. He needs to talk to Derek, this idiot who cares enough about Stiles to wake up at three in the morning and endure Stiles’ spazztic assholery, who, if Stiles actually asked him for food seriously right now, would probably make him something and come without a second’s hesitation, whatever black look he may’ve worn the entire time, who said 'emergency’ like part of him expected having a friend meant the maw of disaster was ten seconds away from chomping at the bit, the dork who… yeah, he must be totally fucking in love with.

He sincerely doubts he would have opened his door, army crawled through a room hosting a veritable pornographic lovemaking scene on the bed, snatched his charger out of the outlet, and rolled the fuck out of there for anyone else. Not even candy crush and boredom are that important.

But Derek is.

A silly conversation about crows being one of the most mischievous animals on the planet and seagulls being generally shitty is.

Fuck.

What the hell is he going to do now?

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Christmas eve brings the ice queen Lydia and her spectacular winter gala that… pretty much the whole college has been invited to and is attending.

But Stiles doesn’t let himself get distracted by the two guys covered in glitter, dancing and making out on a table to the cheers of a bunch of drunken peers, or the various decorations put up, scattered around, that he had a hand in, or the numerous people trying to get is attention or get in his way. He’s on a fuckingmission.

He’s on a hyper-focused and overthinking for two weeks about how to approach the Big Emotional Elephant In The Room, before giving it up as a lost cause and going for the first stupid thing he could think of, mission.

Which is why, when his eyes catch Derek’s across the room, he rushes for him, which is just as well, since the man seems greatly relieved to have an excuse to run away from the group of people cornering him, trying to elicit conversation.Derek still makes a noise of surprise, though, when Stiles’ saving him comes in the form of grabbing Derek’s arm and impatiently dragging him away, calling a brusque, “I need him more!” over his shoulder at the gawking partiers.

“I—Stiles?” Derek murmurs, mildly wary, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Stiles’ ear.

Valiantly, he doesn’t let himself shiver, instead, he jerks to a halt, hand still wrapped tightly, terrified and hopeful at once, around Derek’s wrist. His breath is short, heart beating too fast, and he’s scared.

What if this doesn’t work? What if it’s… not meant to be? What if he loses Derek to these useless, silly feelings?

“Stiles?” Derek urges, softer, more worried, and he pulls his wrist away, replaces it with his hand, wide and warm and so, so gentle.

Stiles swallows, forces himself to take a breath, to turn enough to look Derek in the eye as he squeezes his hand, indescribably grateful for the contact. Vast seas reflecting vaster galaxies stare back at him, solicitous, fond, questioning, and there’s this little confused smile twitching at his lips.

A smile Stiles thinks was knitted and weaved together just for him by a man who doesn’t like to smile at all, has too many reasons not to, besides.

God, it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles breathes, and those impossible eyes widen, too-lovely lips part. “And, goddamnit, I really want you to come to this doorway with me where there’s mistletoe so I have an excuse to kiss you?” The words trip over his tongue, come out all in a rush, flutter and skip like his heart, a terrified, hopeful sort of babble, his eyes scrunched up because he has no idea what Derek’s reaction will be, and he doesn’t dare look.

The fingers laced with his curl in further, a staying kind of thing, as Derek responds, a little husky, wanting, soaked in every type of sugar imaginable, “Or you could just kiss me here?”

Stiles’ eyes snap open, and Derek’s grinning, all impish rogue, glittering amusement. “No,” Stiles blurts, logic pretty much knocked clear out of him, “no, I have this all planned out; the mistletoe’s important.”

Derek leans in, eyes hooded, heated, brazen, his free hand sliding up Stiles’ cheek, tender but no less shocking for it, their lips nearly ghosting when Derek whispers, all alluring, seductive-smoke, “How important?”

Stiles feels a bubble of hysteria climb up his throat as he tugs a sprig of mistletoe out of his pocket to hold above their heads. “Important enough that I have contingencies,” he tells him, and Derek blinks a little, laughs almost suddenly, warmer than any fireplace, sweeter than any confection, and the best gift Stiles could’ve ever fucking asked for.

This may, in fact, be one of the best christmases he’s ever had.

It only gets better when they bridge the gap, a caress that turns filthy on the edge of a gasp as Derek pulls Stiles flush to him, both of them greedy for the taste of each other, biting and humming and mewling softly. Stiles’ arms end up around Derek’s neck and Derek’s clingingly around his back, their kiss ending breathlessly, both of them melting further into their embrace, drinking each other in, nuzzling, and just. Holding on.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Derek presses the words into Stiles’ pulse-point, barely heard over the chaos of festivities and overly loud, remixed christmas music, “I love you, too.”

Stiles chokes on a laugh, and holds all the tighter.

“I think I lost that mistletoe.”

“Mmm. Merry christmas, baby.”

Stiles can’t suppress the shiver this time.

“Merry christmas, Der.”

#haletostilinski #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

23 notes · View notes