#anyway them together is like they throw enough bullshit into the air to blind everyone while they speedrun important changes in the back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anubislover · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 19: Lying Hearts

“How can anyone stand to live in a city like this?” Nami grumbled as the light glinted off of yet another painfully white building. True, the setting sun had lessened the glare slightly, but after an entire afternoon of it, she was developing quite the headache, even with the sunglasses.

Law shrugged and continued walking at a leisurely pace, still unaffected. “I’m sure if you’re born somewhere like this it’s easier, but people can learn to tolerate almost anything given enough time, I suppose.”

“Do you think you’d be able to learn to tolerate bread?”

“I said almost. I’d sooner die of starvation.”

She shook her head with a chuckle but kept pace, following his lead. Instead of heading straight back to the submarine, Law had insisted on a few detours through Atifakuto—partially in case anyone had grown suspicious and decided to follow them, but also to scope out potential escape routes under the guise of sightseeing. Nami, for her part, had been exceedingly helpful in this, mapping out in her head which stairways lead where and pointing out various places to hide. If Law found her compliance suspicious, he didn’t say anything; it was in their best interest to work together, especially with some potentially valuable goods on the line, so her behavior was easily rationalized.

For her, however, there was more than artifacts or even belli at stake. This heist had to go well. She needed Law to trust her enough to open up about why he was so obsessed with Amber Lead. Perhaps if he could do that, she wouldn’t even have to sneak into his quarters to take a look at the ledgers. She could just ask and he’d let her in like a rational human being.

Of course, in order for either of their plans to succeed they needed to know where the vase was. Luckily, the rest of the Hearts hadn’t been sitting idle on the submarine. They’d been investigating every possible gallery, art collector, museum, and auction house their prize could possibly be at. The second they had a lead, they’d call on the mini Den Den Mushi.

Until then, though, Law and Nami were forced to meander about the city, planning and killing time.

“So, while we wait for some intel, what else are you going to buy me?” she asked as they wandered the fourth level. They’d passed quite a few shops, and while most had stocked dull business suits similar to the last store, Nami felt her bags were tragically light. They were in a beautiful-if-blinding city, and she was walking away with only one outfit? What a travesty.

Snorting dismissively, Law glanced down at her with a clear look of are you kidding me? on his face. “Nothing. I told you I was only getting you one outfit. I’m your captain, not your sugar daddy.”

“You know, for a man who wants this little job to go well, you’re not putting in nearly the effort you should,” she quipped, a sly smile on her lips, eyelashes fluttering prettily. “I’m supposed to look professional and put together if I’m gonna pull off being your lovely assistant. That means I need matching shoes and accessories. Maybe a cute leather purse or briefcase to really sell it.”

“If you want those so badly then buy them yourself. Or,” he smirked, halting his pace to turn around and catch her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up towards him as he stepped in close enough so she could feel his body heat, “you earn them by doing certain favors for daddy.”

Her cheeks only pinkened a little at his innuendos while she stuck out her tongue and shoved him away. Last night’s dream wasn’t quite as close to the forefront of her mind anymore, but that didn’t mean his smirk didn’t do things to her she’d rather ignore. “Pass. You should know by now that it takes more than clothes for me to play nice.”

“Mmm, I do. That’s what makes it so much fun,” he purred, gold eyes glinting in wicked amusement. One gloved hand was shoved into his pocket while his free arm slung itself casually over her shoulder as he continued stalking along the fastidiously clean road. “But since you’re currently insisting on being a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to provide for her, you can instead borrow some shoes from Ikkaku, and she might still have a pair of glasses or something from the time she pretended to be a receptionist at a Naval base.”

Brown eyes widened at his statement. Not because he was suggesting that she borrow clothes or anything, but the bombshell he’d just casually dropped in light of her recent discovery.

“Was this for one of your plans?” she asked, shoulders stiffening.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, though he did give her a curious glance at the way she tensed beneath him. “Yeah. We needed someone on the inside, and they’d put out an advertisement for an attractive female in her early twenties. It’s not like Uni or Penguin could do it.”

“But…holy shit, Law, are you serious?” she hissed, dragging him over to an unoccupied part of the street behind a solitary gated tree so she could scold him in private. There weren’t too many people about, but the last thing they need was to get unwanted attention because they’d caused a scene, even if Law totally deserved to get chewed out at the top of her lungs for being such an asshole. “Ikkaku has Marine brothers who want her dead and you sent her into the lion’s den? What the fuck?!”

Caught off-guard by her anger, Law’s eyebrows shot up briefly before furrowing. “She told you about them?”

Damn. In her shock and anger on her friend’s behalf, she’d forgotten that this was a subject she wasn’t technically supposed to know. But instead of admitting guilt, she doubled down and threw on her best poker face.

“Yeah. She told me,” she lied easily. Too easily. It came as naturally as it had back in the days she’d been working under Arlong, getting close to pirates by lying through her teeth and then robbing them blind. How many crews and captains had she deceived before Luffy? Nami had honestly lost count, but once she’d joined up with the Straw Hats, lying to a supposed ally hadn’t been quite as instinctual.

But this isn’t Luffy, and Law’s keeping way more secrets than I am, she rationalized. It’s just a little white lie anyway. He’d be way more pissed at Shachi and Penguin for telling me. I’m looking after those guys.

Law’s expression hardened, and for a moment she wondered if he’d seen through her bluff. She didn’t think she’d gotten too rusty in the lying department, but Law was smart and distrusting in general, so she couldn’t quite tell. Trepidation hung heavy in the air as she waited for him to speak, mind going a mile a minute coming up with new lies and explanations to appease him. Worse came to worst, she could throw the guys under the bus, even if she didn’t really want to, but they were his best friends, so Law would doubtlessly be more forgiving towards them, right?

Thankfully, it seemed his anger came from a completely different place, as he snarled quietly through clenched teeth, “Nami-ya, I am, as you have pointed out rather frequently in the past, a control freak. Do you really think I would devise a plan that required sending my top mechanic into a Marine base if there was even a chance she could be recognized? Especially by her utter shit of a brother?”

She flinched at the vitriol in his voice. It seemed she’d touched a nerve, and unless she wanted to lose all the progress she’d worked for, she knew it was best to back down. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you tell me what prompted her to tell you,” he stated, crossing his arms. “It’s not information she makes widely known, even to those who are permanent members of my crew.”

Well. At least this was easy enough to justify, and she’d be doing both Law and Ikkaku a favor, right? Sure, the guys would obviously tell him later, but being the first to warn him might earn her a few more crumbs of trust. “There was an article in the paper about Marine reinforcements coming to the Grand Line. Ushi was interviewed. He seemed pretty intent on taking down the Heart Pirates.”

Law froze, his frown deepening into a dark sneer. The tic in his jaw and the way his fists clenched reminded her of his reaction to Ikkaku having been attacked on Grimm. “That fucker will stay away from Ikkaku if he’s got any brains in him.”

“You’re pretty protective of her,” she said. Sure, he’d perhaps phrased his defense in a way that implied his priority was the plan, it was clear from the hiss in his voice that Ikkaku’s safety had been genuinely considered.

The brim of his hat hid his eyes as he stated, “I’m protective of all my crew. She’s just…it’s hard to find submarine engineers, let alone ones as skilled as her. Ikkaku’s hard to replace.”

Well that stinks to high heaven of bullshit, she thought. Sure, the Surgeon of Death had a rightly-earned cruel reputation, but he’d shown time and again his crew meant a lot to him. Stepping in close, she used her finger to lift his hat enough to see his expression unobstructed. “Is that why you let her sass you? Because if she walked you’d be dead in the water?”

The gold orbs glared down at her, though the held no heat. “Everyone on the crew is a vital component. Like gears in a well-oiled machine. You’ve gotta take care of them to make sure they don’t break.”

When Nami merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he sighed, body deflating slightly. “Look, Nami-ya, everyone on my crew, we’ve all got shit in our pasts. Some have overcome it. Some still carry the scars. Ikkaku…hers is one of the few that’s actively still trying to get her. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit more protective, but it’s for a damn good reason.”

Ok, now that was a fair point. “I’m surprised you haven’t just killed him.”

“Oh, I want to,” he snarled. “No brother should try to hurt their siblings. They’re supposed to look after them. The only reason Ushi-ya still draws breath is because Ikkaku begged me to spare his pathetic life.”

It suddenly dawned on Nami that, despite his criticizing Luffy for not being more bloodthirsty, Law was…surprisingly merciful in his own ways, too. He didn’t murder Ikkaku’s brother, despite having clear reason to, just because she asked. He rescued Jean Bart from a life of slavery despite not knowing him. And while she didn’t fully understand the Ope Ope no Mi’s powers, she wondered if his cuts didn’t draw blood because he didn’t want them to?

She wasn’t sure if he had a complexity addiction or if he genuinely wanted to minimize bloodshed, but once again another side of the incredibly fascinating man had been revealed.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, he gave Nami a sadistic smile. “Doesn’t mean I let him off the hook with a sternly-worded warning, though. Wanna know what I did to him the last time we met?”

Nami turned a bit green as she remembered Jinzo’s still-beating heart in his hands. Complex and caring towards his crew or not, he was still a twisted bastard. “Fuck no!”

Briefly he pouted at not getting to regale her with the gory details before shrugging. “Pity. It was quite the eventful evening. In fact, it was also the night of mine and Drake-ya’s first kiss.”

“How the hell are those two things connected?!”

“Well, I had to distract him somehow. He was guarding my poor mechanic like a dragon would a virtuous princess.”

Before she could demand more details, or even snort at the idea of Ikkaku being virtuous, the sound of the mini Den Den Mushi reached their ears, interrupting the conversation.

Looking around to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers, Law pulled out the little snail phone and clicked down on the top. “Guessing you’ve got something for me?”

“I do,” the snail answered, and Nami recognized the faint accent that indicated they were speaking to Cousteau. “Only one place that specializes in North Blue history. Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. It’s an auction house and gallery on the fifth level, a block away from the Elevate Deliverer Restoration Church.”

“Well that’s a needlessly long name,” he quipped, rolling his eyes. Mentally, Nami had to agree, though it also sounded vaguely familiar. “At least that makes it easier to find. Anything else I should know? Other landmarks, nearby guard stations, that sort of thing?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Cousteau replied, “No station, though there would probably be at least a few guards wandering around at night. It’s, uh, right by a fountain. Blessings from the White City.”

Nami’s eyes widened a little. Oh. Now she remembered. That had been the church with the huge stained-glass windows. The one in her book, by the tribute to Flevance.

“…I see.”

The little snail chewed its lip, clearly concerned. “Captain, if you want, I can do all the surveillance—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, tone sharp before smoothing out, “I saw it earlier. In fact, I’m glad it’s so close. Nami-ya and I will check out the gallery. We’re nearby and I’d rather see it with my own eyes to get the lay of the land. Unless anyone else has a better lead, you and the others can head back to the ship.”

“Understood, sir. Anything else you need?” he asked, sounding relieved.

“Just tell Clione I might have a job for him later on, so don’t make any evening plans.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The call ended, and Nami peered up at Law, expecting signs of the same darkness that had crossed his face when they’d visited the fountain earlier. Instead, his face was totally blank, staring down at the tiny snail, expressionless.

Somehow, that was far, far more unnerving.

“Law?” she asked, touching his arm hesitantly.

As if awoken from a trance he shook his head before smirking down at her. “Well, hope you don’t mind one last detour before heading back to the ship? I know it’s more stairs but look on the bright side; at this rate, the definition of your calf muscles will be a thing of beauty.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, turning on his heels and heading towards the direction of the stairs to the next level. Frowning, she began to doubt whether or not this was all a good idea. She didn’t know exactly what his deal was, but she really felt like he was too close to this. But she had the feeling trying to talk him out of it would be an exercise in futility, and would set her back far more than any lie she might spin.

Oh well, she sighed internally, jogging to catch up, so long as he doesn’t do anything stupid. He’s sensible enough to keep a cool head, no matter what his problem is. It’ll be fine.

While it wasn’t far, it took longer than either of them would have expected to actually find Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. Mainly because it was a surprisingly nondescript building compared to the opulent churches and museums nearby. Honestly, based on the exterior, one could easily have passed it by. Like everything else the building was pristinely white, the windows boasting small arches over them and flower boxes containing white impatiens. Really, the most impressive thing about it was the marble plaque out front boasting the company’s name in gold leaf.

But the two pirates didn’t really care about the appearance; it was what was inside that counted. That, and the information board out front, which stated in bold, black letters that there would be a showing and auction of North Blue artworks at 8pm that evening.

“Why don’t you just Scan the place, grab the vase, and walk away? Seems like that would be easy compared to putting on this charade?” Nami asked, eyeing the building. It was hardly Harpin’s mansion; it would take almost no effort for Law to use his powers to steal every item of value inside it, replacing artifacts, paintings, and money with pebbles and potted plants with a mere flick of his fingers, then teleporting them away to safety.

Really, if he weren’t such an ass, Trafalgar Law would be a thief’s dream partner.

Of course, he was an ass, so he gave her a look that implied he considered her question to be phenomenally stupid. “Because there’s no guarantee that the vase is even in there—for all I know it’s being kept in a secondary location until the actual event for security or health reasons. It is a relic from a city that suffered a notorious death toll both before and after the World Government had quarantined it,” he explained lowly. “On top of that, my Room would draw too much attention, so if it’s not in there, we’ll have blown our whole cover and probably the operation.”

Though disappointed that they couldn’t just whisk it away with his powers, she conceded that he had a point. Versatile and useful as they were, the Ope Ope no Mi’s abilities did have their drawbacks. Actually infiltrating the auction house was a safer move.

Yet for a moment, she saw Law glare at the building, as if he were equally frustrated that they couldn’t just grab their prize and go. Perhaps even a great mastermind like him sometimes wished to take the direct path. “At least we can be sure it’ll be presented at this auction,” he reassured, almost as much to himself as her as his hand rested on Nami’s lower back while he escorted her away. “Makes it easier to come up with a plan and contingencies when I actually know the target. My crew did good.”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger in thought. She supposed he was right, and the pride in his voice when he mentioned the Hearts’ contribution…well, she knew better than to argue with that. Seemed the lesson he learned on the last island was sticking. “Still too bad we don’t have blueprints like Harpin’s house, though.”

“It can’t be helped. That was a job I’d been planning for months. This is more…spontaneous. Why? Scared and looking to back out?” he asked, glancing down at her with a challenging grin.

Nami scoffed. She was a thief that specialized in robbing pirates. Sure, she was a scaredy-cat, but when treasure of some kind was at stake, there were few risks she wouldn’t take. “Not a chance. Just pointing out that we’re going in more blind than last time.”

“Maybe, but at least our prize will be out in the open and not in the home of a former Marine with tentacles. Hell, we might even get it legally.”

“Law,” she started, brow furrowing. She wasn’t scared, but she did have a reasonable concern, especially with how intent he seemed on this one item. “What are we going to do if we don’t win the vase?”

The pair stopped by the Flevance fountain, Law taking a long moment to stare solemnly at the beautiful white angels. Without a word he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin, pressing it to his lips before flipping it into the water.

When he turned back to her, his gold eyes were as hard as the statues’ and twice as cold.

“Simple; we take it from whoever did.”

XXX

Hidden in a small cove on an unpopulated section of Atifakuto’s coast, the sight of the Polar Tang’s sunny yellow hull was a welcome relief after a whole day of the city’s stark white walls. Law seemed to agree as his tense posture relaxed into a comfortable slouch, even giving a few of the guys a small grin when they called out to them. To Nami, of course, the submarine was still far from the Sunny and thus would never be home, but she couldn’t help but smile at Law’s reaction. The Dark Doctor really did have some softness deep down.

Of course, that didn’t last long, as the moment they were within the safety of the cargo bay he was once more all business. “Dinner is in an hour. Rest up, brush up on your notes, do whatever you need to prepare for the auction tonight; I’ve got a few more dominoes to put in place,” Law stated. He’d been silent for most of the walk back, though Nami attributed that to him mentally filing through all the information they now had and formulating his plan. Much as she missed and loved Luffy, having a captain who didn’t just go rushing in like an idiot was a nice change of pace.

That didn’t mean she appreciated his tone, though. “Say please,” she quipped, hip jutting out. She might have decided to be more compliant for the sake of gaining his trust, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him boss her around.

Besides, if she were too accommodating, he’d probably grow suspicious and then she’d be right back at square one.

He scowled but apparently decided it would be a waste of time to argue. They were on a tight schedule, after all, so her attitude would have to be tolerated. For now. “Please,” he grumbled before marching off, beckoning Clione to follow him. The biologist glanced between the two, bewildered, but smartly said nothing before chasing after his captain.

Flashing a self-satisfied grin at Law’s retreating back, Nami practically skipped to her quarters. Even though they weren’t as prepared as she’d like, so far, things were going well. Perhaps they couldn’t just use Law’s powers to swipe the vase, but by obtaining it through legal means, they wouldn’t have the authorities after them, which would be nice. Besides, it wasn’t her money that would be spent at the auction.

Her research of the North Blue had taught her a few things, including just how valuable things from Flevance were. After all, things made from the white ore had been in high-demand during the city’s heyday; now that it was in ruins, any remaining artifacts would surely triple in price. And, admittedly, if that fountain had been anything to go by, the vase could very well be extremely beautiful. Something any art collector or historian might want for themselves.

Once more, she wondered why the hell Law wanted it. He collected coins, not art, so she doubted it would be something he wanted just for the heck of it. What was his obsession with Flevance—

That train of thought was derailed when Nami walked into her room. She blinked then rubbed her eyes, certain her vision was still messed up from the sun, because Ikkaku was still sitting at her desk, working on some little device, practically in the same position as that morning. Really, the only difference was the lack of towel around her head, though her curly hair was a tangled bird’s nest.

“Have you even moved today?” Nami exclaimed loudly, flabbergasted.

The mechanic jumped a few inches out of her chair, a pen cartwheeling through the air before falling back onto the surface of the desk with a clatter. Apparently since she’d had the room to herself, she hadn’t felt the need to put the earplugs back in, leaving her vulnerable to Nami’s loud voice. “Damn, girl, you scared me,” Ikkaku said with a breathy laugh. She glanced around, noticing the time on the clock and the fact that her hair had dried completely. “Guess I was in the zone.”

“You haven’t been working all day, have you?” Nami asked, plopping her shopping bag on her bed. “At least tell me you had lunch.”

“Sounding an awful lot like Law there,” she teased, pushing away from her desk to stretch. There was an audible pop from her back, and her dark eyes closed in relief. “Like me, too. The boys and I are always bugging a certain workaholic captain to eat something and not subsist solely on coffee and aspirin. But to answer your question, yes, I did have lunch.” She pointed at an empty plate that had been shoved into the far corner of the desk, a few grains of rice stuck to the surface. “Bepo brought me some onigiri.”

“Good. If you didn’t, I’d be dragging you into the galley and force-feeding you a sandwich, then charging you a cooking and inconvenience fee.”

Snorting, Ikkaku cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, further releasing the tension sitting hunched over in one spot for hours had built up. “Dinner’s soon enough; even if I hadn’t eaten, I could have waited. And good luck making a sandwich with no bread on board.” Despite her dismissal tone, though, she gave a wry grin. “But thanks for caring, I guess, even if it does come with a price tag.”

“What are friends for?” Nami shrugged with a smile that was a little forced. It was such an alien feeling, this sudden awkwardness. Since first arriving on the Tang, she and Ikkaku had gotten on like a house on fire. It was almost inevitable, being the two women on the ship surrounded by men dealing with that insanity together. Hell, even if that hadn’t been the case, Ikkaku had practically sacrificed herself for her back at the club on Grimm. A companion like that was more than she’d even dared to dream of before she’d met Luffy.

Was it really right for Nami to act like she didn’t know about her brother? Should she just tell her that the guys told her about Ushi? Really, what was the point of keeping it a secret? It wasn’t that Nami thought she’d slip up and spill the beans—lying was her specialty, after all—but Ikkaku wasn’t some mark or stranger. She was her friend.

Hell, even if they were on opposite crews, she’d even dare to call her nakama.

The issue resolved itself, however, when the other woman’s expression turned a little melancholy. Ikkaku sighed as she rested her cheek on her fist, her other hand idly playing with the pen. “Heh. Funny, I used to ask myself that question a lot when I was younger. I didn’t really have friends back on my home island. I lived with my Gramps in a lighthouse, so besides the occasional trip to town, it was a pretty isolated life.”

“What about your brothers?” Nami asked, masking her interest by taking her purchases out of the bag so they wouldn’t wrinkle before the auction. A swell of relief surged through her. If Ikkaku talked about Ushi herself, the whole charade of pretending not to know about him wouldn’t even be necessary! She just had to carefully press for the right crumbs of information, maybe even offer up a couple tidbits about her own life in exchange. No big deal. Tit for tat, right? “Nojiko was my best friend growing up. Hell, probably my only friend until Luffy came along.”

A dark look crossed Ikkaku’s face. “Yeah, well, Nojiko on her worst day was probably a way better sibling than all of them combined.”

“I don’t think you’ve talked about them much. I basically just know that they exist and said you wouldn’t really make it as an engineer because you’re a girl.”

A long sigh escaped her lips. “That’s…the nice version. Didn’t want to unload my shitty childhood on you, especially since yours sounded worse. I mean, my island was never taken over by pirates, and I didn’t work for the guy who murdered my mom.”

Well, that was certainly true, but then again, people with healthy, normal childhoods seldom became pirates. Or at least, those that did rarely lasted long on such cutthroat seas. Nami should have realized there was more to the mechanic’s past than some run-of-the-mill misogyny. “Maybe, but I don’t mind. We’ve all gone through some rough shit, right? We wouldn’t be in this line of work otherwise.”

“True. I just…I guess I just like to pretend he doesn’t exist most of the time.”

“He?” she asked as if she didn’t already know.

Ikkaku’s calloused hand dropped the pen to instead clench into a tight fist, and there was a haunted look in her dark eyes as she stared off into space. “Ushi. He’s the oldest. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of him. Spent our childhood making our other brothers use me as a punching bag. When he wasn’t doing that, he gave me almost hourly reminders that I was a burden on the family, that no one really loved me, that I’d never amount to anything.” There was a hitch in her breath and a pause, and Nami noticed her close her eyes tightly for a moment. As if she were fighting back tears. It was a look she’d never expected to see on the tough, vibrant woman’s face. “Then, when I was seven, he tried to kill me.”

“What?!” Nami exclaimed, dropping her blazer to the floor in shock.

“Yeah. Joras had a huge fucking forest, and he led me into it to look for mushrooms or some shit. Can’t remember. Next thing I know, he’s shoved me into a pit, and by the time I’d climbed out, he was long gone and it was night. I think…I think it was supposed to be my grave, ‘cause it was really fucking deep. Or at least it seemed that way. Maybe I’m misremembering.”

Somehow, Nami doubted that. Sure, memories could get warped with age and fear, but some details remained solid for the rest of a person’s life. “But, you got out, right? And I’m sure your parents must have been worried sick!” She could almost picture it. A young Ikkaku, sticks and leaves caught in her messy curls, knees and elbows scraped, face covered in dirt and tears, frightened but once more able to smile when she was finally found, her mother and father scooping her into their arms, scolding her for worrying them but just so relieved she was safe…

At least, that’s what Bellemere or Mister Genzo would have done if Nami had gone missing.

From the bitter laugh that escaped her throat, Ikkaku hadn’t been so fortunate. “I spent three days wandering around those fucking woods, scared and cold and wondering if I was gonna die out there. My parents didn’t even notice I was gone.” After a long moment of silence, her fist unclenched and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “Gramps found me, though. When I didn’t come home after two days and a storm rolled in, my brothers Nausagi and Fukuro ran two miles to the lighthouse to tell him what Ushi had done. Maybe they realized he’d gone too far. Or they were scared I’d come back as a vengeful zombie. Either way, Gramps rescued me and demanded custody. Mama and Pops were glad to hand me over. One less mouth to feed, and I wouldn’t be causing their Future Marine Hero any more trouble.”

“That’s…that’s horrible.” And yet Nami could tell she was getting the abridged version of the story. “Tell me your grandfather was a better guardian.”

Despite the childhood trauma she’d just confessed to, Ikkaku merely shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. He was. Gramps was crazy, but he loved me and taught me how to fight. Told me to never lose my smile, ‘cause that’s my best protection against a world that’ll try to break me.”

“Bellemere said something similar to me and Nojiko. ‘Whatever happens, never lose your ability to laugh. If you can survive, happy times, lots of ‘em, will come your way’.”

“Smart lady.” She tried to casually run her fingers through her hair, only to find them caught in the tangled knots. She let out a light chuckle at her predicament and added, “I think she and Gramps would have gotten along pretty well. Well, assuming she liked salty former smugglers who had the gumption to threaten Law with a shot gun. Not that he didn’t deserve it a little.”

Nami had to smile at that, and she could only imagine what he’d said that had nearly gotten him shot. It was definitely something snarky, a shit-eating grin on his face while he provoked a protective grandfather just because he could.

Noticing Ikkaku’s hair situation, she abandoned her suit to instead pick up a wide-toothed comb. “Well, I’m not sure about Bellmere, but I’d certainly love to meet him.”

“Of course you would.” Leaning back in the chair, she allowed Nami to carefully put her thick curls to rights. “How was shopping? Boss show you the blinding sights of the city?”

“It was…enlightening,” she said cautiously. There was still so much to sort out, and every time she thought she had an answer to one of her questions, four more popped up in its place.

Grabbing the pen she’d been playing with earlier, Ikkaku handed it to her over her shoulder. “Here; I made you something, since I doubt you’ll be able to bring your Clima-Tact with you. Kinda why I was so focused—I wanted it to be ready by tonight.”

Curious, Nami inspected the item. It was a plain black ballpoint pen maybe a bit longer than her hand. There was an almost unnoticeable jolly roger engraved into the middle, and she ran her thumb over it idly. “You spent the whole afternoon making me a pen? I could have just as easily brought my stylus.”

“Oh, but a stylus is only good for writing. This is so much more useful. ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’, right? Click the top.”

She did so, and instead of an ink-filled nub, a small syringe, similar to an epi-pen, popped out. Her eyes widened in realization as Ikkaku explained, “Inside’s a powerful tranquilizer. Should knock any fool out in minutes if injected into the bloodstream. Takes longer if it’s ingested. It’s non-lethal to humans, so it should be safe to use on anyone you’re looking to knock out. Assuming they aren’t really Fishmen in disguise.”

“Why? Does it react differently for them?”

She grimaced. “Yeah. Severe allergic reaction. Anaphylactic shock typically. So, unless you want that on your conscience, humans only.”

Tucking the pen away for later, Nami nodded in understanding and went back to combing her hair. “Gotcha. Doubt it’ll be a problem, though. Jean Bart said this place is pretty humans-only.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s impossible for someone to have that kind of bloodline. If it’s diluted through a few generations, a lot of the time you can hide it and pass for human.”

“Hmmm, hadn’t thought of that.”

There was a moment where Nami could tell she was mulling something over. Even faced away from her, Ikkaku wasn’t hard to read, and it was only a matter of time before she voiced whatever question was on her mind.

While she waited, the ginger took the time to appreciate the texture of Ikkaku’s hair, combing out each curl individually so it wouldn’t frizz. The thick, black locks were coarser than her own, yet surprisingly soft despite her hard life at sea. Hair maintenance was extremely difficult living on the ocean, the salt and fluctuating weather of the Grand Line wreaking havoc on Nami’s much finer strands. And while Ikkaku was far more feminine than one would expect upon first meeting her, in the time they’d roomed together, she didn’t seem to put much more extensive care into her shiny locks than some leave-in conditioner.

Guess she’s just got some good genetics, Nami thought appreciatively. Either that or she’s hiding some amazing shampoo formula, and damn if she is I’ll never forgive her!

When Ikkaku at last broke her silence, the hesitation in her voice was palpable. “Hey, it was a Fishman who held you prisoner all those years, right? You ever…blame all Fishmen for what he did?”

It was an unexpected question, but a fair one, Nami supposed. Arlong had committed a crime so heinous she knew she’d never forgive him, and she knew there were plenty of people, especially ones who spent years abused by such a monster, who would project that hatred onto an entire race. But why even ask?

“I…not really. I mean, I can’t say I never lumped them all together in my head, since Arlong and his crew were my only baseline for Fishmen for a long time.” She bit her lip, thinking. “But that was when I was a kid. My view of things was a lot more black-and-white, mostly because I was bitter at my situation. As I got older, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was stupid to think all Fishmen were like him. He was the one who hurt me, so he’s the only one who should get my hate.”

“So, you don’t hate them all?”

She shook her head. “Nah. Hell, I was even able to forgive a member of his crew. I’m sure you heard about how Luffy punched a Celestial Dragon?”

Ikkaku craned her neck up to look at her, dark eyes widening in shocked understanding. “Yeah? You saying the Fishman he defended—”

“One of Arlong’s crew. Hatchi. Like all of them, he hurt me too, but it was on his captain’s orders, and he clearly regretted it.” Well, it had been a bit more complex than that. Hell, when they’d first encountered him again, she’d nearly gone back on her promise to Camie to rescue him. Even if he hadn’t abused her like the others, he’d still been complacent in it. Still destroyed villagers homes, held her hostage, attacked the Navy ships that tried to come to the rescue. He hadn’t been blameless in the least. She would have had every right to demand that he be left to be killed or enslaved. That it was karma come to bite him in the ass.

Yet what had swayed her, apart from Camie’s determination to save him, was her own friends’ reactions to seeing him again. Those who knew her past had immediately been ready to turn the ship around and leave Hatchi to his fate. Of course she’d expected Sanji to be her knight in shining armor and want nothing to do with someone who had abused a lady, even by proxy. Zoro and Usopp had been a bit more surprising, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. They knew what she’d been put through. Had fought and bled for her. Despite their sometimes heated disagreements, Nami knew she could count on them to always have her back.

The one who shocked her the most was Luffy. He might have flip-flopped between reason and his stomach, but the fact was, her loving, forgiving captain had actually held a grudge on her behalf. Hatchi and Arlong hadn’t done anything to him personally, but his nakama had suffered, and that wasn’t something he’d easily set aside. That genuine show of solidarity and loyalty to her had melted what ice had still been around her heart, which allowed her to truly forgive the octopus Fishman.

Yes, Hatchi had hurt her, but her hatred was solely reserved for Arlong, not his underlings who genuinely felt remorse.

“I’m not a saint or anything but hating Hatchi…it seemed pointless. He wasn’t the one who killed my mother. And blaming all Fishmen for the actions of one seemed pretty shitty. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill Arlong if I had the chance, though.”

Nami could practically feel the tension drain from Ikkaku’s shoulders, and she couldn’t hide her smile before she looked away. “That’s good to know. That asshole deserves it, from what you’ve told me. He and my brother should meet, then get sacrificed to some kind of horrible sea monster. Plenty of hungry Sea Kings out there to feed.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer pair of guys,” Nami giggled as she ran the comb through the last strand of hair. “Though, that might be cruel to the Sea King. Poor thing deserves a better meal than shit like them.”

“True. We’ll just have to think of something else then. We can ask Law; he’s always got great suggestions.”

A shudder ran down her spine, though she had to admit, it wasn’t as horrified as she’d like. She justified it with the fact that Arlong was scum who deserved whatever painful death the likes of Law might propose. So did Ushi, from the sounds of things. Though, Law had said Ikkaku had begged him not to kill her brother. Why? Did she still care about Ushi due to their familial ties? Or was there something else?

Maybe she just doesn’t want her brother’s death on her conscience, Nami thought, putting the comb away and proceeding to raid the closet for shoes. I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite her someday.

XXX

Dinner on the Tang was certainly livelier and noisier than breakfast. Mainly because the crew didn’t have to walk on eggshells while waiting for Law to get his caffeine hit. Most of the time about a dozen different conversations could be heard, utensils clattered against plates, insults were tossed about, and laughter filled the air. But at the moment, the whole galley was silent save for Nami, who was telling the Heart Pirates—save for a few who’d been sent out on last-minute errands—all about her crew’s wild adventure on Skypiea.

“…so, after Luffy beat the crap out of him, Enel flew off to the moon in his gold airship, and we escaped the island with the help of an octopus balloon, our ship loaded with treasure!”

There was a pregnant pause as the Hearts stared at her in a mix of awe and disbelief. She’d had their undivided attention ever since Law announced that the Straw Hats had found Noland’s lost city of gold, all but demanding she tell the tale and not skimp on the details.

Naturally, those details made the story even more bizarre, practically unbelievable, but she gave them what they asked for, so they couldn’t complain. Even Law’s jaw had dropped once or twice in incredulity. Mostly at the part where Luffy’d been eaten by a giant snake and thus been hidden from Enel’s senses.

Finally, a few of the crew managed to find their voices.

“An orangutan nearly wrecked your ship with singing?” Shachi asked, face utterly baffled.

Penguin grabbed his hat and smacked him over the head with it. “That’s what you’re stuck on? That’s from way back in the beginning of the story!”

The ginger punched him in the shoulder in retaliation, which quickly devolved into a childish slap fight. “Well it’s weird, ok?”

“Weirder than Straw Hat punching Kami or the knock-up stream business or the ship that flew to the moon?”

“Yeah! You ever met an orangutan that could sing?!”

“No, but that’s not the point!”

“You met Monte Blac Cricket?” Ermine interrupted, eyes so wide the whites could be seen even under the rim of their hat, though their mouth quickly split into a smile. “Holy shit, I’d wondered what had happened to him!”

“Wasn’t he your friend or something?” Seiuchi asked through a mouth full of rice.

They shook their head, looking a little wistful, a faint blush rising to their cheeks. “Just a neighbor. The people of Lvneel were dicks to his family and anyone who associated with them didn’t get treated much better. But I always thought there had to be some truth to Noland’s story.”

“Because a city of gold is so fantastical it’s gotta be real?” Nami asked, amused. She’d half-expected everyone to laugh at her like the people on Jaya when she’d asked about Sky Island—she’d even glossed over that part, finding no reason to recap such a blow to her pride. Yet instead, they’d been respectful, even entranced by her tale. It seemed to help that she’d been able to fill in a few blanks with what she remembered from Noland’s ledger, thus adding credibility to the man himself instead of just imagining the lying fool the king’s slander had reduced him to.

Usopp would probably love these guys, she thought fondly. Not that they’d likely believe his fantastical lies, but they’d probably at least let him spin his yarns to his heart’s content.

“Because you don’t tell a king about a city of gold unless you’ve got something to show for it,” Uni interjected wisely, ladling some more curry onto her plate. He paused to smile at her with his eyes, the bottom half of his face still distinctly covered by his bandana despite it being dinnertime. This close, Nami couldn’t help but try to subtly look for signs of scarring, and in fact could spot a line of slightly-paler skin peeking out just over the edge. “That, and history’s rarely all that accurate. Full of lies and twisted to suit a certain narrative.”

“That’s the World Government way. I’m sure we’ll see plenty of it tonight,” Law stated, leaning back in his chair as he munched on some onigiri. The bulge in his cheek might have been comical, but the glint in his eye was humorless. “Can’t wait to hear the dumbass assumptions people make about us Northerners.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout the room, though an angry tic formed on Nami’s forehead.

“Are you saying the stuff you had me study is going to be a load of crap?” she demanded, pointing her finger accusingly. Of course she knew history was skewed at best, but she’d spent days cramming! Had weird sexual dreams about him because of it!

Yes she was blaming the book for that and no one could stop her.

He shrugged and took another bite of rice, unbothered by her irritation. “It’s the information you’ll need to be able to regurgitate if anyone asks you about the North.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimed in, nodding sagely. He and Shachi had finally been pulled apart by Jean Bart and had resumed eating like nothing had happened. “These people aren’t interested in the truth. They just want to feel superior to the ‘uneducated masses’.”

“Buncha pretentious pricks,” Shachi sniggered, balancing a spoon on his upper lip. “Bet they’d have a fucking fit if they found out El Dorodo’s not only real, but in the fucking sky!”

“I mean, can’t say I’d blame them,” Jude grumbled, playing a bit with his food like a grumpy child. “I figured we’d be the ones to find it, but this whole time we’ve been sailing around in a submarine for nothing!”

“You got something to say about my ship?” Ikkaku snapped, glaring at her crewmate. Behind her, Crozier, Cousteau, and Ermine made slashing motions across their throats, silently reminding him that disparaging the Polar Tang in any way in front of its chief engineer was a sure death sentence.

Before he could say anything, Uni thwapped him on the forehead with the spoon, apparently taking just as much offense. “How can you say it’s been for nothing—we’ve found tons of cool shit down here! May not have been El Dorado, but there have been some amazing sunken cities. And fish! We’ve discovered more aquatic animals than any other ocean explorer,” he pointed out excitedly, Cousteau nodding in agreement. “I mean, we’ve seen deep-sea fish not recorded in any book! Extracted hallucinogenic venom from puffer fish! Taken samples of bioluminescent plankton! We’ve seen octopi punch fish!”

“You ever figure out why they do that?” Shachi asked, cocking his head.

“Best I can figure? Spite.”

As weird as this little tangent was, Nami found herself giggling a bit at how excited Uni was. She didn’t know him too well, given how he was one of the quieter, more reserved members of the crew, but it was endearing to see him so animated and giddy as he discussed marine life.

“Plus, it’s cool to study navigational currents and everything, and underwater topography. The maps I can make from that kind of intel are really good,” Bepo added, twiddling his claws a bit beside her.

“Right! And if that’s still not enough to convince you, who needs a city of gold when you can get your hands on more sunken treasure than most pirates see in their lifetimes?” Uni asked, puffing out his chest.

She couldn’t help it—Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs at the thought of how many sunken ships the submarine probably came across, all that gold theirs for the taking. Most treasure was basically lost once it hit the bottom of the ocean, but the Hearts’ ship and diving equipment turned the ocean floor into their personal piggy bank.

It seemed Jude had the same thought. “You’re right, you’re right,” he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s a great ship, and we’ve definitely found more than a city’s worth of loot—and yes the fish are cool Uni put the spoon away—but it’s still annoying to find out that we’ve been searching the wrong place this whole time.”

“Eh, happens to every pirate crew,” Jean Bart said, sipping his drink. “You find a treasure map only to discover the gold’s already dug up. Same with legends of lost cities. The fact that the Straw Hats actually found El Dorado and came away with a profit just means they’ve got the Devil’s luck on their side.”

“Or the favor of some god. Probably not that Enel guy, though,” Shachi said with a smirk. “And hopefully nothing from Joras, either.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the crew at that, though Ikkaku looked more uncomfortable than amused. Nami wasn’t the only one to catch that, though, as Uni reproachfully smacked the side of his head with the spoon.

“Dude. Don’t joke about the eldritch horror gods, yeah?”

“Sorry,” the ginger said, blushing slightly as he wiped away the curry splattered across his face.

“Eldritch horror gods?” Nami asked, recoiling at the thought. What the fuck?! Joras sounded vaguely familiar and given the context she guessed it had to be someplace in the North Blue, but she sure as hell didn’t recall reading anything about that! Was this something related to Northern culture, or were the guys just fucking with her?

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Nami-ya,” Law stated with a smirk, though she didn’t miss the glare he sent Shachi’s way. “We’ve been sailing under the ocean for over five years and I’ve yet to see a sleeping god who can turn you mad with terror.”

“No, just an underwater ruin or two that talks about him,” Ikkaku muttered, picking at her food.

Underwater ruins with tales of sleeping gods? Sounds like something Robin would be interested in, Nami thought, nervous sweat running down her neck. Not that she’d be able to blame her. Sure, the archeologist was macabre as hell, but Nami could appreciate her thirst for knowledge, creepy or not. Who knew what history and cultures had been lost to the seas? Maybe there were even Poneglyphs down at the bottom of the ocean!

Damn. Robin and Law would probably get along great. She wasn’t sure if she was frightened or comforted by this thought.

Uni seemed to notice her unease and patted her shoulder. “We’ve seen some strange stuff down there, but nothing more dangerous than Sea Kings. Which, I mean, aren’t exactly friendly guppies, but they’ll leave us be. The Tang’s Seastone coating and electrical defenses ensure that.”

Though she still found the whole concept horrifying, she was appreciated how hard Uni was trying to keep the peace and not make things needlessly frightening for her. The whole crew had a morbid sense of humor, but while she’d mostly adapted, she still found this whole conversation creepy. It made her feel a little guilty for wanting to pry into his business. Yeah, it was annoying to know the crew was hiding stuff from her, but Uni deserved a little privacy, right?

“Yeah, and if there were anything more, Uni’s fish buddies would warn us ahead of time!” Malamute added.

“Fish buddies?” Nami asked, eyebrows lifting to her hairline in surprise. So much for respecting his privacy. “Wait, can you talk to fish?”

The man in question stiffened beside her. “I, uh, I can understand fish a little,” he said, looking nervous. His large hands twisted the napkin in his lap, and he refused to look at her. “It’s a Haki thing.”

“Haki can do that?” she asked, surprised.

“Observation Haki can do a lot of things, and Uni’s the best at it on the ship,” Law cut in harshly, glare brokering no argument. “It’s a skill that’s saved our asses plenty of times.”

Nami blanched at his defensive tone. “Hey, I’ll take your word for it, but you don’t have to act like I insulted his mother or something.”

“It’s ok, Law,” Uni said, shrugging a bit, though his face seemed to sink a little further into his bandana. “I know she didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a fair question, and it is a weird talent.”

“It’s not weird. It’s fucking useful as hell and I won’t hear anyone belittling my crew.”

“I’d never belittle him—” Nami snapped, starting to stand up to give Law a piece of her mind before Bepo’s heavy paws fell on her shoulders, gently but firmly keeping her seated.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “Law doesn’t mean you. It’s just…the last person outside the crew that found out, he was extremely cruel about it. Beat Uni to a pulp and even threatened to sell him as a freak show attraction before Captain found them.”

“Oh my god,” she replied, anger cooling quickly as she covered her mouth in horror, imagining Uni bruised and bloody on the ground at the hands of some bastard. Well, that would sure as hell explain why Law had taken such offense. If such a thing had happened to Chopper because he could speak to animals, she’d likely be just as pissed. From the scowls on the rest of the Hearts’ faces, the whole crew felt similar. Her gaze flicked to the fuming captain. “I’m guessing he ended up on your operating table?”

“I wish,” he growled, gold eyes glinting in fury as he crossed his arms. “Marines showed up before I could cut out his heart. Must have been his lucky day, but luck won’t be enough to save him if I ever run into Hyena-ya again.”

“Hyena?” she asked, the name not ringing any bells.

“Bellamy the Hyena,” Bepo explained, snout wrinkling in distaste. “He’s also from the North.”

Oh. My. God, Nami thought, wondering if the world was really so small. “You said Bellamy, right? Blonde hair? Spring powers? Asshole with a stupid grin?”

Law cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Seems you’ve encountered him before.”

She ground her teeth as she remembered the way he’d mocked Luffy’s dreams in the bar. “Yeah. On Jaya. His crew laughed at me for asking about Sky Island and his first mate tried to buy me. Later he stole Cricket’s gold, so Luffy went after him. I didn’t see the fight but given what an ass that guy was…yeah, Luffy wiped that stupid smile off his face.”

Once more the room fell silent, but quickly broke out into thunderous applause.

“Hah! I would have paid good money to see that!” Ikkaku laughed, spirits lifted.

“If he hurt Cricket, I’m glad he got the beating he deserved,” Ermine said with a grin.

Uni smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily. “When you see Straw Hat again, shake his hand for me! That guy’s a dick.”

Even Law was put in a better mood, though there was still a malicious edge to his smirk. “Good on Mugiwara-ya. Still wouldn’t mind doing some permanent damage to the fucker myself, though. Bad enough he insulted my crew, but that bastard should pick his idols more carefully.”

Nami’s brow furrowed at that. His idols? The hell did that mean?

She didn’t have time to vocalizing that question, though. Sweat ran down her neck when said smirk then took a more lecherous edge as he rested his chin on his fist, eyes glinting with mischief. “But Sarquiss-ya tried to buy you? I might have prioritize kicking his ass, then. I’m the only one who gets to be your sugar daddy.”

“Oh shut up! You didn’t even buy me new shoes!”

“You got her a suit but no shoes? For shame, Boss,” Ikkaku giggled, getting up to help Seiuchi and Jude clear the tables. “I thought you were supposed to be a ladies’ man.”

“I’m a cruel bastard who doesn’t do something for nothing. She can borrow yours.”

Sauntering over, she playfully poked him in the forehead. “Says who?”

Law snorted and childishly poked her right back. “Me. Your captain. The guy who pays your salary.”

“You pay me to keep the submarine running and sass you when you’re being an idiot.”

“I don’t pay you for that.”

“Mmmm, you’re right; that’s a service I provide for free.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say those two were siblings,” Nami chuckled under her breath.

“Right? When I was first recruited I was convinced they were secretly related,” Uni agreed.

Bepo gave them both a smile and said quietly, “I think it’s good for them. Especially Law. I think he secretly likes having a little sister again.”

Brown eyes widened at that little tidbit. Law had a sister? What happened to her? Bepo had stated the past tense, so there was either some kind of falling out or…

…oh no, she thought, turning to watch Law continue to bicker good-naturedly with Ikkaku, his expression annoyed but the glimmer in his eyes belying that he was enjoying himself. Another piece of the puzzle that was the Surgeon of Death had fallen into her lap, but it wasn’t a particularly happy one. Sure, people died or were killed all the time, but Nami couldn’t imagine what she’d be like if she’d lost Nojiko. And depending on how young they’d been or how she’d died, that could really fuck with a guy.

“Nami-ya.”

Her attention was yanked from her musing as Law called her name. He was on his feet, plate clean and smirk dangerous as he regarded her. Nami wondered whether this would be the last time she’d see him in a genuinely good mood for the rest of the evening. “It’s seven o’clock. Time to get ready to watch history be defiled by pretentious morons. And for your obnoxious thunder god’s sake, make sure you’re wearing shoes you can actually run in.”

( @ninhaoma-ya, @awesomi, @vannahfanfics)

#Fic: Welcome to the Heart Pirates #lawna #trafalgar law x nami #Trafalgar D. Water Law #lawnami #op fanfiction #op fanfic #heart pirates #heart pirate nami #ikkaku one piece #one piece ikkaku #uni one piece #law x nami #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #nami

42 notes · View notes

curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #5: for the birthday boy (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: For Taehyung’s birthday, you’ve planned a special surprise-filled evening just for him as his best friend by day, fuck buddy by night. But especially after a few drinks, he finds it difficult keeping his hands off you, which isn’t a good thing in front of all your friends.

Genre: drabble, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: teacher/student roleplay (if you’re not into that, just skip to the next scene, it’s meant to be slightly sarcastic anyway), brief lap dance, oral (m&f), overstimulation (m&f), unprotected sex (your girl finally invested in the pill yay), cum dumpster, facial, cum play and consumption, squirting, basically filth, light BDSM like spanking, handcuffs, choking, the usual, daddy kink (you know HW!Tae)

Word count: 11.3k yikes

A/N: Happy early birthday to the best boy! Why do I call these drabbles when it’s basically a series at this point smh -_- Enjoy this filthy monster~

“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”

Taehyung jumps beside you as you switch on the lights to your flat, illuminating the room full of people leap out from their hiding place at his arrival. The last syllable of their celebratory chant hangs in the air for an awkward moment as he takes in everything you put together for his birthday surprise.

Shiny party streamers decorating the walls, black and gold balloons bobbing against the ceiling, printed photos of your best memories together hanging from shelf to shelf, all his and your closest friends gathered to greet him. And of course, the impeccable two-layered strawberry chocolate sponge cake sitting on a platter that you know would excite him the most.

A smile spreads his mouth wide and square as he turns to you, his cheeks bundling up like rising bread in sheer elation.

“No you didn’t, Y/N.”

Then you’re being suffocated in a bone-crushing hug, your ribs almost cracking under his snake-like squeeze. His chest rumbles in the most boyish giggle.

“Hap-pee-burf-day-” You manage to utter as you move your arms between two to create some space for you to breathe.

Seeing Taehyung this happy, especially knowing you’re the cause of it, is truly a feeling matched by no other. You don’t have a massive squadron of friends, you are more the type to carefully select those you actually like and get along with. To put it badly, you’re picky, judgy and quite a bitch when it comes to making friends. But the few you actually care about, you love ferociously and passionately, willing to cut off your own limb for them. And Taehyung is at the top of that list.

“You’re actually the best, I love you.” When he finally lets you go from his painful but appreciated embrace, his hands rest on your waist, lingering.

You had just treated him to a birthday dinner at his favourite steakhouse, roommate to roommate, in order to enable this surprise party. A few pints might have been downed for the occasion, which explains his excessive touching. Taehyung has never been able to hold his liquor, always a lightweight. The number of times you’ve had to half-carry half-drag him out of a club and stick your fingers down his throat in a dark alley is truly embarrassing for him.

“I am the best. You’re lucky I love you too, dork.” With his nostrils flaring from excitement, you can’t help but pinch his nose before turning to the guests and properly starting the party.

To be honest, you wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without the help of anyone else. His parents have come to town to visit him during the day, so off he went to show them around the food market, the park and his favourite vintage stores. Which gave you plenty of time to set up the house, prepare the refreshments, and buy the birthday cake. But keeping him from returning home was a feat that you had to enlist his parents’ aid in, and ever the obedient son, Taehyung of course did not argue when his folks disagreed with his suggestion to go back to the apartment. Then, it was a matter of taking him to dinner, deftly urging him to meet you there rather than going together from the flat so not to miss your reservation. The rounds of alcohol and your tiny bladder slyly masked the many bathroom runs you took in order to text Lotta to gather everyone to your place. And when everything was set, you headed back with the clueless Taehyung, giddy with a belly full of Michelin star food.

It was purely out of your headstrong resistance that you two didn’t stumble into the apartment making out, exposing your on-going debauchery to all your unaware friends. He had begun to feel you up on the way home, grabbing your ass one too many times for it to be merely playful. Honestly, it’s never easy rejecting his advances, not with your nymphomaniac track record anyway. But tonight was especially difficult, knowing what you have planned for him after the party…

From the corner of your eye you see Taehyung chattering away with friends from his class, and from the way he’s waving his hands around, you can tell it’s about the latest Christmas horror story of the two of you trying to stuff a turkey.

The memory of you yelling at each other to grab-this-grab-that warms your chest more than the white wine you’re sipping on. It’s always these stupid anecdotes that mean the most.

“Looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

Lotta’s voice startles you from your thoughts. Hands held behind her shyly, she smiles at the sight of the outburst of laughter from the guests at his story.

Aside from Taehyung, you would say she’s your best friend, having gone to the same highschool together and now the same university. You knew you would be close the moment she told you her star sign - there isn’t a more iconic duo than an Aries and a Leo. She puts up with a lot of your shit but also isn’t afraid to scream some sense into you whenever you pull something rogue, which you guess is very often.

“Yep. He should probably stop drinking though.” You say as you watch him tip the contents of his glass down his throat. “I swear to god if he throws up on the couch, I’ll chop his dick off.” Of course you wouldn’t, how could you ever bring yourself to hurt that godsent meatstick that fuck tears out of you? You both giggle nonetheless.

“You’re funny with him.” Lotta is wearing a smug expression that you distinctly dislike.

“What do you mean?”

“You act like he’s some annoying brother who you hate, but then you go and take him to this boujee-ass steakhouse, throw him a surprise party and splash out on his birthday gift. You beat him up when he uses your shampoo, kick him when he accidentally scrunches up your notes, and threaten to emasculate him if he spills alcohol on your favourite couch that you treat like your newborn child. But you secretly care so much about him that I know you’d give him your kidney if he needed one.”

You blink at her.

Not quite sure what to say.

“Well, yeah, of course I care about him. Like you said, he’s a brother to me.” Okay, but do you let someone who’s just a brother to you cum on your face? “You don’t live with him so you don’t know what a useless brat he is. He burns pasta, Lotta. Pasta. Seriously, he’s such a dipshit, but of course I care about him. What’s funny about that?” Lying straight through your teeth is a Y/N specialty. As long as you say it with enough confidence, you can sell any bullshit.

But maybe you’re sounding a little defensive.

Lotta is clever, it is why you’re friends. Where this observation of hers is headed, you’re unsure of. She could turn this into a lecture about your abrasive personality, or suspect that something else is going on between you and Taehyung other than sharing rent.

“Nothing, I just said it was funny. The way you are.” Her smile tells you that it’s probably the former of the two possibilities.

“What can I say, I’m a funny person.” Not entirely buying it though, you shrug and play along.

Another bout of laughter breaks out from Taehyung and his friends, catching both your attentions. He thrives in social situations like these, good at entertaining people with his odd humour. You watch the flash of his teeth, the crinkle of his amused eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips every other sentence.

“You know, he actually is really hot.” Now, that you didn’t expect at all. Your head whips to face your best friend, whose eyes fixes back on yours but not before you catch her checking him out.

“Um, what?”

“I’m just saying. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, charming too.” Brows raised, Lotta lifts both hands up in defense when she see the arrows your glare is shooting at her. “Definitely the best looking guy I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re drunk. Since when did you admit that Taehyung is ‘hot’?” In complete ridicule, you scoff at her. Though, her point is completely 100% valid and true.

“Do you see me with a drink? I’m sober tonight, got an early shift tomorrow.”

“Why are you suddenly saying this? Weren’t you the one who wouldn’t shut up when I went to Mykonos with him because you thought I was too blinded by his looks to even know if he’s a serial killer?” Never has Lotta expressed the slightest, most remote of interest in Taehyung, not once properly acknowledging his attractiveness.

“I’m just saying. It’s a shame that you can’t see him that way anymore after spending so much time together.” It’s her turn to shrug, again with the annoying cocky expression.

Yes, after spending so much time sleeping together, more like.

“Yeah, no. That’s gross. You won’t get it because you don’t have a guy best friend. But trust me, no way would I ever go there with him.” Go ahead and call you a pathological liar, you don’t care. You’d never hear the end of it if Lotta finds out you and your ‘guy best friend’ have been knocking boots for over half a year.

You catch Taehyung glancing over to you, eyes twinkling with amusement, signalling for you to come over and join his crowd. Telepathy is one of your secret talents nowadays, you just know each other so well that spoken words are not a necessity for communication.

Taehyung watches you manoeuvre past those chattering bodies from across the room, making your way towards him with Lotta trailing behind. He knows he is definitely drunk, so it might just be the alcohol getting to his head but something looks a little different about you tonight. By that, he doesn’t mean your curled hair, or that new red dress you’re wearing that introduces your cleavage to the entire world. You’re kind of… glowing. There is a permanent smile on your face, even while resting the corners of your lips are turned up. And when you’re in a good mood, you are so transparent about it that you basically radiate like a disco ball in the room.

His chest feels warm. Maybe it’s the wine.

“Fuck, she’s so fit.”

For a second, Taehyung is worried that he thought out loud, but then realised that the voice belonged to Seojoon. He turns to his friend to find him ogling at your figure.

He doesn’t know what to say. It’s weird if he agrees. But he also doesn’t trust his inebriated state to execute a flat out lie that convincingly.

“You don’t know how lucky you are to have Y/N as your roommate, man. If it were me, I would’ve tapped that on the first night.” Seojoon continues, taking a swig of his beer.

“As if you could.” Taehyung snorts, unable to help himself. “She’s out of your league, ass.”

“Fair point. I heard she is a freak in bed, too. Do you ever hear, like, sex noises?” A freak indeed.

“Sometimes…” It’s true, even now. Occasionally he will stumble home with a girl he picked up at the bar only to hear the bed creaking furiously or breathy moans sounding from your room. Walls are thin. Sometimes it turned him on, other times it pissed him off.

“Bet you wank to it, eh? Taehyungie?” Seojoon ruffles his hair just as you and Lotta come within earshot. Liquor-brazen, he is suddenly overcome with an urge to announce to the whole room: Y/N and I are fucking. Yeah, that’s right. She’s my fuck buddy, so you can stop trying to hit on her right now because I’m gonna be the one she’s riding tonight. Seojoon, fucking suck on that. I don’t need to wank to her sex noises when I’m the one coaxing them from her.

However, a small sober part of his conscience tells him that he really shouldn’t do that; if he does, he probably won’t get any riding tonight. So he clamps his mouth shut.

You arrive amidst them in that sinful dress that reduces Taehyung to a teenage boy, and you take your turn giving them brief hugs as formalities, your best friend beside you mirroring your action. When you reach Taehyung, he pulls you in roughly by the waist, wine sloshing in his hand. From his careless force and lazy grin, you can tell he is almost completely gone. Taehyung is a wine-killer, but wine is also a Taehyung-killer.

Highly conscious of the presence of all your mates while he clearly isn’t, you pretend to roll your eyes and pry his hand off the small of your back. It doesn’t budge. So, awkwardly, with your midriff locked in Taehyung’s arm, you lean over to hug his last friend Woosik who gives you a shy pat on your shoulder.

The conversation resumes, morphing into Lotta telling everyone the most embarrassing stories of you during high school - back when you had braces and had the biggest crush on the captain of the football team. You don’t even try to deny it, laughing along at your pathetic 14 year old self. Though, you’re only half paying attention, the other half is keenly aware of the way Taehyung’s thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your pelvic bone. When you peek up at him, you find him already staring at you with eyes you know too well.

The ‘I’m gonna eat you out until you squirt’ eyes.

Fuck.

Then you notice Lotta’s sharp eyes on Taehyung’s hand gripping your waist. The ‘hold up, what could be happening over here?’ eyes.

Double fuck.

Tipping your toes, you whisper into your roommate’s clueless ear. “Let go, people are watching.” You almost allow your lips to graze his skin because you know how much it turns him on, but you remember to behave. But this close, his warm familiar scent tingles your nose in a way that makes you want to hug him.

Taehyung pulls away to look at your face, clearly displeased, then regards everyone in the circle. When he notices Lotta’s focus on the two of you, he slowly withdraws his paw, but not without purposely brushing past your ass.

“Strawberry-flavoured lube?”

Taehyung audibly gasps in disbelief as he tears open his poorly wrapped present.

“Yeah, you like strawberries right?” Seojoon chuckles and claps his back so violently that he falls forwards. On the other side of him, you haul him back up onto the sofa.

Everyone is gathered around the pile of birthday gifts on the coffee table, but not before witnessing you scold Woosik for not leaving his drink on the kitchen island from which the couch is a safe distance to prevent any spillage. Lotta just laughed at your fixation.

So far, the array of presents Taehyung has received ranges from Amazon vouchers, to expensive whiskey, to a funky tie. Yours sit furthest away from him, which he practically leapt in excitement when he saw the size of, only to be forced to open it last because you insist it’s going to be the best one.

“You’re insufferable, Seojoon.” Taehyung rolls his eyes yet fails to suppress his grin. Oh, you’re definitely trying out the lube at some point.

After ripping into a couple more, he finally arrives at your present for him. It spans an entire arm’s length; you know every guest must be wondering to themselves what it could possibly be. Taehyung drops onto his knees before it and carefully peels away the tape this time, knowing it probably took you awhile to wrap it up this neatly. You watch his long cautious fingers reveal the gift you had spent weeks raking your head for.

“Stop…” His eyes light up at the polished cedar easel that he caresses over as gentle as he would your skin. But as he continues to unwrap the present, a box of oil paints, a wooden palette and a set of 16 expensive natural fibre brushes are unveiled. “Oh my god, there’s more?”

Ceasing in action, he looks up at you, jaw so slack you bet you can throw a pea into his mouth even with your bad aim. The surprise on his face, almost a replica of his expression when everyone jumped out at him and yelled ‘Happy Birthday’ an hour ago. Except this time there is something more tender about how his wide pupils bore into yours. It makes you squirm.

Then without warning, he dives onto you, crushing you in the most fatal of embraces; you swear something in your spine cracked as you fall back onto the cushions, suffocated. People let out a sound of amusement at your struggle, but with his warm breath fanning your neck, you don’t even hear them.

After allowing this sweet painful moment for a few seconds more, you shove Taehyung’s heavy body off you, harder than you need so he slumps onto Seojoon.

“You’re actually the best, I love you.” He squeals like a boy on Christmas day before examining the paintbrushes with the utmost careful touch, as if afraid he would bend the bristles the wrong way.

What is he so cute for?

You kind of really want to pat his head and kiss his cheek right now. But there’s an audience obstructing.

Looking up, you lock eyes with Lotta. She is smiling, endeared by the purity of his reaction as well. See, not even she is immune his stupid cuteness. How are you supposed to?

Taehyung’s heart is constricting as he strokes the fine wooden edge of the giant disassembled easel. Of course, you know him better than any of his other friends. He has recently expressed an interest in painting, though his love for art and sophistication has been harbouring for a while now. He has only ever made subtle comments about wanting to properly get into it but not having the proper equipment to and not knowing the best brand to purchase. Yet you had picked up on it nevertheless. Everything combined must have costed you a significant portion of your allowance. Even he would not have splashed out this much on himself.

He turns back to you again from where he kneels in front of the coffee table. You are observing him with a thing he wishes to be adoration, a glimmer in your smile that wears more beautiful than any dress on you. For a second, there’s a flutter in his stomach and it confuses him because it feels an awful lot like butterflies.

But then you kick his back with the heel of your foot to get him to stand and Taehyung remembers that you are best friends. He’s not supposed to be thinking like that.

After cutting the cake, with food being a major satisfaction factor of any party, everyone sort of just hovers, huddled in their little groups with their plate of dessert in one hand, while they resume their conversation. The music is turned up loud so they all have to half-yell; some don’t even bother talking as they dig in, you included.

Being a quiet eater that you are, you stand by the island counter, sipping your wine in between bites of that chocolate decadence. Taehyung approaches you with his already empty plate; you haven’t even made it through half your slice yet. Judging by the lethargy in his step and that icing-slathered grin he has worn the entire night, you can tell he was the one who finished the second bottle of wine you opened.

“Hey.” Your fingers do a weird little wave that is so completely uncharacteristic, but tipsy-Y/N is sort of that friendly and laid back.

“Hey, pretty.” His hand trails around the corner of the counter surface and traps you between it and his body as he comes up behind you. Immediately you stiffen, looking around to see if anyone, especially Lotta, is looking. But when you find everyone preoccupied either with each other or the cake, your shoulders relax.

“What’s up? You having a good time?” Twisting to face him, you edge back until the counter digs into your back. Taehyung’s face is a dangerous proximity to yours.

The anticipation for the night you have planned for him in your bedroom thrums in your core. Patience has never been one of your strengths, and right now it is testing your very limit. You could kick everyone out right now if you really wanted to. But you won’t. You’ll wait.

You wipe the chocolate off the corner of his mouth with a swipe, the gesture you can’t tell if motherly or romantic. And just because Taehyung is peering down at you so longingly, you flick your tongue out and suck the sweetness on your thumb.

His breath hitches.

“Uh- I…” For a second, all thought is scattered in his brain, and you almost laugh aloud at how susceptible he is to your attacks. “Yeah, of course. I’m having the best time.”

“Am I the best roommate ever or what?” You watch his eyes trained on your mouth. From his alcohol scent, you don’t trust him to have enough restraint not to kiss you right now so you turn your back to him and rest your elbows upon the island top, leaning over to finish your cake.

In your peripheral vision, you spy his hands crawling towards your sides to cinch around your waist, his front pressing into you as he holds you from behind. The warmth of his body seeps into your back, and you swear you can feel the beating of his chest against your shoulder blades. A tingle shoots straight down your spine when he plants a soft, brief kiss on the shell of your ear.

Good thing you turned around then, your intuition was right. Taehyung has never been able to suppress his overt affection after a few drinks, and certainly not after this many. And no matter how much you want to just turn around and pull him into your lips, you fight it.

“Babe...” He groans into your ear and though it was barely audible even to you, you quickly glance up to see if anyone has heard. Of course, no one heard, they are all stood far enough that even without the music, they’d have to strain their ears to hear his whisper. Paranoia is eating your head away.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Taehyung.” Your heart is racing, which is weird because you swear you used to be completely immune to his charms. “You’re being too obvious, babe.”

“You don’t ‘babe’ me. I can’t control myself when you call me that.” The warmth of his breath fans all over the back of your neck, sending a convulsion of shivers down your spine.

One of his hands stretches for your wine glass, but knowing him well enough to predict it, you draw it away from his reach. “Stop drinking, you’re literally about to pass out.”

“No, you’re about to pass out. On my-” hiccup, “dick.” You keep your eyes locked on the crowd, ready to shove Taehyung away if anyone looks your way. But still, you can’t help but lean back into him.

“That made no sense.” You chuckle, fingers brushing over the smooth thin skin of this hand.

“Just one sip.”

“Taehyung. Stop. Drinking.” You grab his hand that tries to make a run for the wine again.

“But, Y/N…” He whines and slumps onto you, knowing that whining has gotten him what he wanted before.

You turn around, grab his face and pull him towards you until your mouth is brushing his earlobe. “Be a good boy and stop drinking if you want the best birthday sex of your life after this party. You better not get whiskey dick because a have a lot planned for you.”

At that, Taehyung stops breathing, stops resisting. Against your shoulder, you feel his chest jump. “Oh. Um. Okay, yup, no more drinking. Got it, ma’am.”

He sighs, completely at your disposal, as your touch trails from the sensitive side of his neck down to his torso. “Good.” After looking around again to check that no one is looking, you press your alcohol-infused lips onto his hastily, savouring his softness for no longer than a few seconds before pulling away. God, is it difficult to pull away. You’re aching for him. “Go entertain the guests while you sober up.”

Satisfied grin from the kiss stretched across his face, he nods obediently and scampers over to his friends.

“Are you ready yet?” Taehyung calls, impatient and giddy, the music that you’ve put on playing softly in the background.

“Give me one more second.” You reply from the bathroom, doing up your last button and regarding yourself in the mirror. Hm, not bad. You’re pleased with how this turned out, if you do say so yourself. Taehyung is going to lose his mind.

Sheer black stockings stretched thin over your legs, you strut into his room where he is seated on a chair in nothing but his boxers, wrists shackled to the back. When his eyes land on you, a strangled noise emits from his throat.

“Holy. Fuck. Holy fuck. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.” He chokes out.

The checkered material of your school skirt flies up at your every step teasingly, not high enough for him to peek your panties, but enough for your thighs to be flaunted.The clip of your stockings sit cool and beguiling on your quads. First two buttons of your white blouse undone, the matching red tartan tie hangs loosely around your neck between your exposed, pushed up cleavage. Your hair is tied into two school-girl braids, decorated in ribbons.

You’re Taehyung’s walking talking fantasy.

Innocent, chaste, ready for him to defile.

“Sir.” You address him, committing to your character, as you bow your head in courtesy.

Taehyung doesn’t appear capable of words, Adam’s apple wobbling in awe. So you continue your approach, making sure to regard him with large, demure eyes. As you sink down onto your knees between his widespread trembling legs, you notice a prominence already erecting in his boxers. You try not to smirk.

“What can I do for you, sir?” You put on your sweetest, most virgin of voices and bat your lashes once at him.

Chest rising quickly, Taehyung gulps as he realises that he’s most definitely going about to have the best sex of his life. “Um. Uh. Um.”

Smiling at his malfunctioning cognition, no thanks to you, you decide to help him out a little. “I’ve been sent to you for being a bad girl, sir.”

Do you find this slightly humiliating and degrading? Yes, you’re a woman of pride and a feminist. But does Taehyung’s birthday outweigh your morals? Yes, if only just for this night.

“What… What did you do, baby girl?” Voice dangerously deep, Taehyung watches you from his handcuffed posture, watches you twirl your braids in your fingers before they move sensual down your front, curving over your breasts and travelling to your core.

“It’s embarrassing to say but…” You look down in feign shame. “I touched myself.”

His whole frame tenses, arms straining to be freed from the cuffs so he can throw you onto the bed and fuck you mercilessly. His lips are parted, breath unsteady, cheeks still slightly stained from the alcohol but you made sure that he’s mostly sober by now. “Why did you touch yourself?”

“I was thinking about you, sir, and I just couldn’t help myself. Something started tickling down there and it felt so good to touch it.” Biting your lip, your fingers reach your clit over your skirt and start rubbing. The other hand traces swirls slowly up his thighs, higher and higher, until he’s buckling his hips.

“Wait, pause.” He says, your touch ceasing at his command. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m not going to last if you do this to me. I might even cum my pants.”

Usual smugness returning as you smirk up at him, your teeth digs deeper into your lower lip, refusing to break character. “Well, it’s a good thing we have all night then, sir. A water hose doesn’t just fire once does it?”

“Fuck.” Shutting his eyes, his head falls back to reveal his gulping jugular. Already so malleable? Yeah, he’s definitely not going to last. The first round. “Okay, okay. Resume.”

Your fingers reach the hem of his boxers, skimming through his tan, lustrous inner thighs. He jerks, his hard member jabbing out the soft cotton, begging to be freed. “So I was wondering if there is any way I could get out of this punishment, sir. My parents can’t find out that I’ve been a bad girl. I’ll do anything you want me to do, sir.”

“I see, Miss Y/L/N… How about, you warm up my lap for me first? I’m feeling slightly cold.” He wets his lips and bounces on his toes, his hard length jolting along with his legs.

“Oh, of course, sir.” When you stand up, you make sure to do it slowly, curving your body towards him to give him a good look at your breasts. He doesn’t miss the chance to devour them with his eyes.

Your hips begin to sway in the rhythm of the slow sensual music while you turn until your back faces him. You feel his glare immediate follow your ass, skirt sloshing side to side to reveal your plush cheeks. But rather than falling onto his lap as he wants, you stride over his leg, hand trailing across his chest as you begin to walk around him.

Massaging up his bicep, your hand arrives at his collar as you lick a thin strip up his neck. Taehyung shudders, struggling against his handcuffs again, cursing. “I can do anything you want me to, sir.” He shivers as you whisper into his ear, teeth grazing his skin. Your own heart is racing from excitement. Maybe you should do this more often. It’s selfish of you to do so since it’s meant to be his birthday sex after all, but you enjoy having him helt under you, seconds away from whimpering, gone be his natural preference for dominance.

As you walk around him, his head turns with you, not wishing for his sight to miss a second of this private show. Patience isn’t something he’s born with, he is a man who’s used to ceasing everything he wants. You know what must be going through his head right now, the anticipation, the hunger. So finally, when you’ve done a full circle around, hands not once missing the opportunity to feather his chest, you decide to ease him a little.

Deliberately unrushed, you sit inch by inch down onto his lap until his dick is burrowed between your warm cheeks underneath your skirt.

“Baby…” Taehyung immediately sits up, mouth arriving at the back of your neck, exhaling his hot fervour. The feeling of his skin pressed on the strip of yours between your skirt and cropped blouse has you craving for him to pound into you right now. Nothing can describe the flash of desire you get when you feel the touch of his naked body.

Then you begin to roll your hips, drawing loops of infinity with your ass to the beat of the song. The groan you elicit makes your cunt pulse. Taehyung’s stiff length jerks between your wiggling ass. His head falls onto your shoulder in a huff, metallic sound of his chains ringing as his arms clench.

“Sir, is that warm enough?” Your hips are merciless, rock back and forth, providing him with the friction he so craves. Hell, maybe you should start doing this for a living.

“Y… Yeah.” There is defeat in his voice, a croak that tells you that you’re the only woman to ever put him in his place like this. The only he’d ever submit to.

Slowly, you peel yourself off his lap, delighting in the small stained spot on his boxers, evidence of his drooling dick. You sink onto your knees before him again, fingers crawling playfully up his thighs. “You seem a little stiff, sir. Do you want me to ease some tension in your muscles for you?”

“Please be a dear.” The fervour in his eyes as he gazes down at you is pure, undiluted. It stirs something beastly inside you.

You’ve sucked Taehyung off a hundred times before, but something about the fact that he’s handcuffed to a chair on his birthday, almost cumming his pants, makes you especially eager this time.

A string of precum greets you as you take his lividly throbbing cock out of its restraints. You spare it a few pumps before you enclose the warm wet cave of your mouth around it. It’s perhaps evil of you, but you cut to the chase and go straight to deep-throating. He lets out a yelp of surprise when his tip slides smoothly through and hits the back of your throat. He’s going to cum soon, might as well give him your all, right?

Your mouth has gotten used to resisting the gag reflexes by now, engulfing him like a strawberry ice lolly during the summer heat. The occasional scrape of your teeth, just the way he loves, has him shiver beneath you. If he likes it rough, he should be able to take it rough. And when your tongue begins its inexorable attack at the pinch of skin where his tip ties to his shaft, Taehyung lets out a throaty cry. Not even a moan, a cry.

“Fuck, I’m losing my mind. Y/N, oh my god, keep going.” Through your curled lashes, you gaze up at him. His brows furrowed, guzzling up his favourite view in the world, maybe second to you riding him. Jaw unscrewed, he heaves at your large feign-innocent eyes, wrists dying to be freed so he could fuck your mouth.

Two throbs at the base of his cock, and he’s cumming right down your throat. It’s a larger load that either of you’d expected, telling of his obscene concupiscence. There’s so much cum that you can’t swallow, so you have no choice but to let it flow down his cock. With you still staring at him, he watches his white hot fluid dribble out your mouth and onto him, his features screwed tight in pleasure.

“Lick it off, baby.” Taehyung rasps, half his mind completely gone, dilapidated.

You hum as you spread his liquid around his tip and along his shaft, lips now glossy, before you slowly lap it all up. You know he is particularly sensitive after cumming, so you wallow in teasing his head a bit more, watching him writhe on his seat, whining your name. “Sir, how was that?”

Taehyung’s head is tossed back, eyes shut to recover from that post-orgasm intensity. He doesn’t speak at first, still trying to piece back together his mind. “I… That was… You deserve a worse punishment for doing that to me.”

Your core twists in excitement.

Briskly, you fish out the key to his handcuffs and unlock him, thrumming from the molten fury in his eyes. “What did I do wrong, sir?”

As soon as his wrists are free from their shackles, Taehyung stands and throws you over his shoulders. Smack. He hits your ass, your skirt doing little to soften the blow. You never knew yourself to be a masochist until it comes to Taehyung; his are the only hands you’d allow to spank you.

Then he tosses you onto the bed, your skirt flying up to reveal your peachy ass as you land on your front. “You just love it when I’m under your control, don’t you? Even this innocent school-girl roleplay is just a disguise to get me to beg for you, isn’t it?”

Twisting your head back, a smirk plays at your lips as you regard his frustrated yet immensely pleased expression. His fingers glide up your silky stockings enticingly, sending shivers coursing up your legs. “Sir, I have no idea what you mean.”

“Look at your fucking ass in this skirt, holy fuck.” He begins to knead the supple flesh of your behind, pushing up the skirt until it sit on your lower back.

Another smack.

He’s such an ass man through and through.

“Do you like my uniform, sir?” You moan between his smacks. Nothing really is compelling you to continue with this roleplay, but something tells you that Taehyung is bursting from it.

“I fucking love it, baby girl.” Smack. You can practically hear him grinning in satisfaction. His palm massages the redness he inflicted like smearing paint, touch growing closer and closer to your core.

Then with one push at your inner thighs, he spreads your legs wide open.

“Fucking hell. Crotchless? You’re really spoiling me tonight.” Like a little boy on Christmas Day, he marvels at your glistening slit, gaping at him in anticipation. Another small surprise for him.

“Of course- ahh!” You break into a moan when he runs two fingers down your folds, all the way to your bulging clit. “For the birthday boy.”

“Okay, now you definitely deserve the best head.” He lies on his front and grips onto your thighs to pull himself up to face level with your cunt.

You won’t tell him to prevent further ego inflation but every head he gives is the best head.

“Wait, Taehyung, it’s your birthday. Just let me-” You squirm in his clutch, trying to flip around, but he holds you still.

“Exactly. My birthday. I get to eat you out if I want to. It’s what my baby girl deserves.” For some reason, you blush. Who are you to resist head, especially from Taehyung?

Heat of his breath tickling your entrance, you plant your face onto the pillow and clamp down on your lip, preparing for that mind-twisting sensation that has a way of robbing you of sanity. His mouth finds your thighs first, kissing, sucking, blooming roses of his affection. You let him mark you - you are completely his tonight. Then his breath arrives at the sensitive crevice where your folds begin, a slow seduction towards your tingling bud. When he finally latches onto your clit, your eyes roll to the back of your empty head, a whimper ensuing.

His tongue is a predatory serpent, ceaselessly rolling your bud in his mouth. He’s rough, generous with the waves of pleasure he sends. You wish you aren’t lying on your front right now, just so you can look down at his concentrated face and pull on his wavy mop of hair.

With every flick of his tongue, you swim closer to your orgasm. His fingers are digging to your thighs, his breath quickening with his face buried in you. When he adds his long slender digits, you know your demise is round the corner.

“Fuck, daddy.” You yell into the pillow, that name coming so naturally to you that it requires zero brain processing to leave you.

Taehyung hums in response, those baritone vibrations shaking into your core until your leg involuntarily kicks back. Gripping onto the sheets, a string of profanities expel from you as that euphoric current comes crashing onto you, drowning your surroundings so that all you feel is his face, his tongue, his teeth, still mercilessly going despite your state.

“Fuck!” A tear slips from the violent stimulation at your clit continuing past your orgasm. You guess it’s payback.

Not one minute later, a second climax hits you, this time stronger than the last as it rides on the residual pleasure. The orgasm disperses into tension down your thighs, dying for more friction to relieve your cunt of the blissful ache. Warm tears stain the pillowcase your face is buried in, your cries muffled.

His pace gradually decelerates into soft kisses on your flower, fingers withdrawing to massage your folds. You are motionless, completely depleted after the dopaminergic release. Delicately, his lips travel up to your ass, where he sucks more colours as he awaits your recovery.

“How was that, baby girl?” Taehyung slowly turns you over onto your back, a lazy grin on his glistening mouth, your wetness slathered all over his nose. It views in your eyes as a display of your possession. You don’t miss the triumph in his gaze; you wonder if he likes making you cum more than cumming himself.

“Your mouth is fucking incredible.” You bask in the post-orgasm high, pulling him atop you, hand locking in his curls. You taste yourself as you kiss him, slowly and lethargically, your energy ebbing back to you.

“Yeah?” He smiles against your lips. “You know what’s incredible? You in this fucking uniform.” Pulling away, he scans your body top to bottom. And as you follow his gaze, you notice his hardened cock, once again ready for another round. You surprise yourself with how ready you are to take him, exhaustion not yet settled in from his overstimulation.

“You like it that much?” You press your lips together, and as used to Taehyung’s constant flattery as you should be, you still feel proud.

Taehyung nestles his face onto your neck. “If we went to high school together, I would 100% have been your bitch. Not a single doubt. Whipped.”

Your heart squeezes. Whipped.

You kiss his hair, resisting the urge to make a comment about what he said. “Haha. I would not have noticed you, I was obsessed with the captain of the football team.”

Taehyung lifts his head up, frowning at you with a playful annoyance. “Are you sure you want to mention another man in front of me right now?” For emphasis of his possessive mood, he grinds his member into your thigh. You can’t help but push back to feel him digging into you. Possessive Taehyung toys with your strings.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” You taunt further, pulling on his locks. Taehyung’s competitiveness is an easy target for manipulation; everytime he starts to go soft and sappy on you, all you have to do is tug on his jealousy and the bull will come charging back full force.

Surely enough, he growls into your ear. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, miss. You wouldn’t want your parents knowing the naughty things you’ve been up to, would you?” So he does love the roleplay. His tone slightly sarcastic, but also not really. But before you can hiss a witty response, he silences you with his teeth on your neck. As he sucks on your tender skin, your nails rake across his back in pleasure. He’s growing bolder with his territory.

“More hickeys?” You purr, not exactly in the complaining tone you’d wished it would come out in.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” He mocks, leaving a wet purple trail across your throat.

You allow it for the sole reason that it’s his birthday. Otherwise, you’d be kicking off.

You’ve never liked the idea of hickeys, the notion that someone feels entitled to mark your skin as theirs. You don’t belong to anyone. This is your own skin, and no one else’s. Yet - right now, as Taehyung nips at your neck, hand yanking on your uniform’s tie to pull you closer to him, you feel like you do belong…

You don’t finish that thought.

Reaching down, you begin stroking his patiently awaiting cock. “You’re brave for someone who’s dick is in my hands.”

Taehyung breaks away from your neck and reviews his work of art. The wolfish grin an indication of his pride. “You’re going to kill me tomorrow.” He says without the fear that should come with such statement.

Yes, you’re definitely going to.

“Then fuck me until I forgive you.” You challenge, unbuttoning the first button of your shirt while your stroking quickens.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Fingers scrambling to undo the rest of your shirt, his mouth finds yours again, sucking on your bottom lip until it’s sure to swell later. Your bra falls loose with a dexterous flick, a gesture he can do in his sleep. Yet, he makes no move to remove your checkered tie at all.

When you try to loosen it yourself, he grabs your hand and pins it against the pillow. “That stays on tonight, along with the skirt and the stockings.” Voice laced with carnality, there’s a feral glint in his glare.

“Yes, sir.” Smile unstifled, you fall back into obedience.

Taehyung dares to plant more bitemarks down your chest before taking your nipple in his mouth, tormenting the sensitive bud relentlessly. Patience wearing thin, you line his tip with your slit, dallying it around to coat it with your dampness.

“Wait, grab a condom.” He mutters.

“Don’t need one.”

He looks up, confused. “What? Why?”

“I started taking the pill. Surprise.”

The look of pure shock and delight that usurps his face, for the third? fourth? time tonight, sows a seed of joy in your core.

“Wait, seriously?” You swear you feel his cock twitch happily in your hand. That stupid boxy grin that makes him look like a kid again… You want to kiss him dizzy.

“Yes, seriously.” You would never admit that you started taking contraception solely for Taehyung, because that would be weird, you absolutely did not do it for Taehyung. You’d always wanted to start contraception anyway. This was your own decision, influenced by no one else.

Certainly. No one else. Of course.

“Holy fucking shit. Y/N, you’re amazing.” Taehyung cannot contain his glee despite its juxtaposition with his pulsating cock about to enter you any moment now. “All this for me?” He asks, still in disbelief, as if the answer isn’t already written in big bold black letters.

“For the birthday boy, and the birthday boy only.” Your nose grazes his. These are the very words you’d be embarrassed to be caught saying to any guy, yet you’re currently too fuelled by the desire to please him to berate yourself.

Without another second gone to waste, Taehyung pushes his girthy member into your heat. Though it glides in with ease, your walls are stretched so wide that your inside stir, a sore pressure squeezing around him with each thrust. You always seem to forget how well he fits into you, and so each time comes as an eye-rolling surprise - the way he fills you so completely and entirely with his hefty cock.

“Oh fuck, you feel so-” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, too caught up in the raw unobstructed sensation of your slick walls.

Lifting your leg over his shoulder, the cavernous angle allows him to jolt deeper into you, his tip violently punching through you. While one hand remains on your ankle, the other twists your tie around his wrist and pulls as if it were a leash. “Sir…” You choke out at the constriction around your throat.

“Are you going to bad girl again?” He grunts, sweat beading on his forehead while he continues to ram his hips.

“No, sir. I won’t touch myself again,” you moan under him, “unless you are watching.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” One eye shut, Taehyung sticks his thumb into your mouth to suckle on. Your tongue swirls around his finger, biting down every time you need to shriek in pleasure.

After a while, he flips your bodies over so that you are riding him, watching, mesmerised, as your breasts bounce freely each time you spring on his dick. Your body falls back at the rippling coil inside you, hands braced on the mattress to keep you upright.

Taehyung could watch you ride him for the rest of his life. Hell, if he has a heart attack and dies this very moment, he would die the happiest man.

Sometimes, while you’re fucking, Taehyung gets a sudden rush of jealousy. Jealous that he wasn’t the one to ruin your innocence. Jealous that someone else other than him got to, or still gets to, fuck you like this.

He pulls on your tie so that you fall over him, lips colliding to remind himself that he’s the one fucking you right now, the rest shouldn’t matter. The way you moan into him reassures that no one has ever, or can ever, fuck you the way he does.

Then a messy whimper leaves you like a symphony, and for the third time tonight, you come undone, unravelled.

“Fu-u-u-uckkk.” You cry, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck, holding on as if he’s your lifeline because you yourself are unsure how much of this you can take before you drown.

“Baby, you’re so good, cumming for me again.” He sings, knowing that words like these thrums something in your core. You lap up his praise, smiling against his teeth despite yourself. It’s honestly a miracle how your usual brusque controlling self is suddenly transformed into his docile little girl, especially after a round of orgasms. “I’m going to cum again too.”

“Daddy, fuck, please. Cum inside me.” You pant, hips bouncing as fast as your aching muscles allow. Truth be told, no one has ever finished inside you before. And you are dying to find out how it feels.

Taehyung seems to know this. He grabs onto your waist, holding you in place, and plunges unforgivingly into you, penetrating your walls so ardently that you are shoved near the brink of yet another orgasm.

A grumble rippling through the room, finally, you feel a hot jet shoot into you, squirt after squirt of his thick cum filling you up. He frowns, a hoarse cry from the immense pleasure arriving at his cock, taking over him. Fucking hell, this is hot.

And kind of really intimate.

However, you notice that his pace has yet to slacken.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes open to reveal pupils glowing with vehemence. Your clit throbs.

Still inside you, he turns you over so that you are both on your sides spooning, one of your legs hoisted up by his rough grip. The slap of your skin rings crisp and clear as he continues to fuck you. You lean back into him, ignoring the sticky coat of sweat coalescing your skins. His cum lubricates each thrust as you feel some spill out of you. His fingers start to stimulate your clit to help you reach your ultimate climax, viciously rubbing your sensitive swollen bud so much that you begin to see stars.

For him to keep fucking you even after cumming despite his tremendous sensitivity… Taehyung is going wild tonight.

“Are you going to cum one last time for me, baby girl?” He pants heavily in your ear.

“Yes, daddy.” Your own cunt is leaking profusely its tears of joy; you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.

In a few more thrusts, Taehyung is cumming inside you again, this time naturally less than the last, yet from his loud coarse groan, you deduce is much more intense. He pounds slowly yet robustly, milking every last drop into you. Due to the sheer oversensitivity, he has no choice but to pull out of you immediately after, leaving a spurt of his cum surging out of you.

“Oh my god.” He moans into your neck, both your heads spinning from the vigour of your intercourse.

But he knows you’re still a minute away from your orgasm. And never one to disappoint, he quickly sits up and spreads your legs open.

“Holy fuck.” Taehyung freezes at the sight of his cum slowly trickling out of you. To him, it’s a sign of possession, ownership. Apart from his ex, he has never fucked without protection, certainly not those random one night stands. To him, it’s a sign of intimacy.

Catching his white liquid in two fingers, he inserts it into your already gaping mouth, smearing it all over your tongue. In your cute little braids, you swallow it willingly, and Taehyung swears that he could fuck you again right then and there.

“You like that?” He asks, sticky fingers entering your core, feeling how clenched you are due to the pent up pressure.

“Mhmm.” You nod, hips lifting off the bed so that he can reach deeper. His thumb massages your clit, long digits moving in a come hither motion, stretching your walls in cusps that his cock did not have the ductility to reach. “Ahh, shit.”

Determination worn on his face despite his tiring limbs, Taehyung fucks you with his finger as you thrash beneath him. Your clit is already exploding with sensitivity from the previous rounds, and on top of that, with his thick knuckles push into you again and again, you are clawing at him while your whole body convulses.

The coil within your finally snaps. The ecstatic sensation exploding within you, flooding your every fibre until tears spring out your eyes. A clear liquid shoots out of you to both your surprises, and sprays its droplets towards Taehyung. His eyes widen, marvelling at your beauty as you cum not only on his fingers but all over him.

“Jesus Christ!” Chuffed with himself evidently, he leans in to kiss you, deep and desperate, while his fingers slow their steady thrusts to let you ride out the remainder of your high. His mouth is warm, a familiar taste as you regain your sense of self and surrounding that you tend to lose during sex.

As your brain begins to function again, the first thought you register is how much you don’t want to stop kissing Taehyung, how much you don’t want to let go of him.

“Taehyung…” You whine, bottom lip in the possession of his teeth.

“Feeling good?” He lets go of his bite, but lips remain dearly magnetised to yours. Dragging out his fingers, the wet noises of your clenched walls ring. Taehyung sucks on his dripping digits as you push his sweat-dampened fringe out of his face to survey his eyes. Full of yearning. And the way he is sucking… appears almost as a last display of submission after completely ruining you. A last shred of I’m yours.

“So.” You peck him. “Fucking.” Another. “Good.” Peck. Your bodies naked, your skirt creased and skin claggy, you refuse to release each other from your embrace. “But Taehyung…”

“What it is, my baby?” From on top of you, he is looking down at you as if you’re some delicate little buttercup in a barren field, a ray of joy radiating from his smile.

You tense. My baby.

You two might be kind of screwed...

But you’ll think about that another time. Right now, you just want to be held and kissed and looked after.

“It’s not fair. This was meant for you, but you made it about me.” You don’t know what’s taken over you but you pout at him, the same way he would do to you when he wanted something. But why, of course, it’s just like Taehyung to make you come four times despite it being his birthday sex. You don’t even know what to expect for your own birthday.

His own hair dishevelled, he tucks your loose braids behind your ears, a gesture of affection. “Nothing gets me off more than making you feel good. This was about me. This was everything I wanted. Best sex I’ve ever had. But in what world would my best sex not include making you squirt?”

Your don’t know why but you feel incredibly vulnerable right now, your hard edges softening. It’s the after-sex glow that you’re seeing everything in. You feel warm, bubbly, tender.

And now your chest feels weird, like something itching to rupture out of your ribcage. You want it to stop, yet also don’t.

“Taehyung…” You whine his name again. “No fair… You can’t be like this.” Your brain offers no explanation as to why you’ve adopted his usual saccharine manner, other than the fact that he has fucked you completely senseless.

“Like what?” He asks, egging the rare words of sweetness out of you.

“Like… You know… So giving and nice and perf…” Your voice trails off when you notice his excited smirk. God, what the fuck are you saying? You flush in embarrassment.

“Perf…? His smug grin only grows at your shyness.

“Stop. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Stop teasing me.” Taehyung chuckles at your frustration, taking the chance to kiss the tip of your nose before you try to squirm out of his arms like a cat.

“No, go on. You need to be better with your words. Tell me how you feel.”

Your entire face is heated.

“I… You’re just… You treat me so well. How am I supposed to sleep with anyone else anymore?” You immediately wish you didn’t say it out loud. Because your phrasing implies that you want monogamy, commitment. It’s not what you meant at all, you don’t think. You just meant… You don’t know what you just meant.

You search his eyes frantically, in fear that he’s thinking the same, only to find them calm, content. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty fucking awesome. Thanks.”

Rolling your eyes, you’re grateful for his childish humour obstructing any serious consideration of your words.

“Don’t make me take it back, moron.” You scoff, pinching his round cheek between your knuckles.

“Too bad, it’s my birthday, everything I say is the law.” Still hovering over you, he presses gentle kisses all over your face, delighting in the way you pretend to hate it even though you can’t suppress the smile. When he stops, his face is sincere, the playfulness gone. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Thank you so much, honestly, from the bottom of my heart. This was… the best birthday I’ve ever had. Not just the sex, but the whole time with you, the dinner, the party, everything.” Your heartbeat quickens, unable to hold his gaze so you focus on the curve of his collarbone instead. “Even better than the pirate-themed birthday party my parents threw me when I turned eight.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honoured. It was my pleasure.”

“Seriously, I lov-”

Taehyung catches himself before he could finish that sentence. Those unspoken words hang over your heads like a puppet.

Because for some reason, although you’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other a plethora of times in the past, this time feels like a different connotation is implicated. The line between platonic love and romantic love feels blurred. And neither of you know which love is meant.

Taehyung is a sentimental guy, you tell yourself. Of course he means he loves you as his best friend. And that’s surely what you mean too when your eyes are pleading him to keep kissing you.

There’s a moment of silence, for you both to gather your scattered thoughts, staring at each other, unsure what to say.

You clear your throat, dispelling the tension in the air.

“Lets go clean up.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung rolls off you, avoiding your eye as much as you are avoiding his.

The clean up is wordless, both pretending to be too preoccupied to spare the unspoken words any thought.

Except they’re all that’s playing at your mind.

Taehyung didn’t mean it like that. Taehyung doesn’t love you like that. You’re just overthinking. And he’s overthinking about you overthinking. You two are fine, you’re normal.

Examining the purple clouds he had imprinted on you, a stream down your neck, a cluster around your breasts, then the large ones between your thighs, you’re surprised to find not one drip of annoyance. A scary thought dawns on you. What if you like them? What if you like being marked by Taehyung?

What the fuck is happening?

You wait for him to crack a joke to ease up the awkwardness, glancing up at him in the mirror as you dry your hands on the towel by the sink. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s perched on the edge of the bath tube. Zoned out.

Have you finally taken it too far? Finally overstepped that hazy nebulous line that you perhaps should have set more clear?

“Hey, Taehyung.” His head snaps up at you, eyes large with uncertainty. “You okay?”

You want to reach out to touch him, brush his cheek, kiss his forehead. But you hold back. Not wanting to fuel the fire of confusion. But then he tugs you towards him by the hem of your skirt, corner of his lips turning up, imbuing you with a gust of relief.

“Just thinking.” His fingers crawl up your legs, holding onto your hips like his hands belong to nowhere else. “Come here.”

Chest pounding, you walk towards him, let him sit you down on his lap. Though you wish not to look at him with his face so close to yours, your eyes cannot pull away from his striking beauty. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but Taehyung’s feel more like the front door to your home. When you look into them, no matter how you’re feeling, whether you’d been fighting or kissing, you just feel embraced in a cloud of clarity, security.

You don’t want to think about the complication between you two at the moment. You just want to be looking at him, touching him, holding him.

You watch him glance at your lips, hesitancy playing at his mind. You know he’s thinking the same.

“We’re okay, right?” Throat tight, you ask, rather pointlessly.

“Of course. We’re great, same old us.” His arm around your waist feels warm and safe, and when your mirror his growing smile, you almost believe him.

But when your lips gently press against his, you know it’s a lie.

You’re not the same old you.

Taehyung feels different. Skin smoother, tastes sweeter, mouth softer. The roughness of his usual kisses is gone, replaced by an inexplicable tenderness that makes you feel things in your gut. You swat those feelings away.

Something is changing. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, you don’t think you can ignore its booming presence.

You don’t dare make a sound as he carries you back to his room. You don’t protest when he throws one of his t-shirts over your head. Nor when he holds you into his chest, lips tracing your forehead with a soft sleepy smile.

Noting that you’re being uncharacteristically quiet, he pokes the nub of your nose. “Who stole your tongue?”

Act normal. Just be your loud annoying self.

“Uh… You.” You murmur, unable to meet his eye even with strenuous effort

Well, fuck.

“Okay, let me give it back to you.” Before you can protest, he is kissing you again. And you want to push him away because you feel your heart lurching to your throat, and you don’t think it is healthy. But your feeble hand that was meant to shove him off lands weakly on his pec, and somehow with a mind of its own, snakes up to his neck and pulls him in. His tongue unfurls onto yours, gently sweeping away any logic.

When his lips finally leave yours, you’re out of breath.

You don’t know what’s happened to you. Since when did you react like this to Taehyung?

Forcing your usual smirk, you try to wear a convincing facade that you feel nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m expecting great things for my birthday, though to be honest this is going to be hard to beat.” The underlying dishonesty tastes sour. You’ve never had to put on a front with Taehyung, and doing so now feels… alien.

“I’ll start planning it tomorrow, don’t you worry, your highness.” Taehyung pretends to roll his eyes at your demand, though the circles he’s rubbing down your back is telling of his genuinity. He isn’t an classically romantic guy, not one for flowers and chocolate, but more a sentimental gift that leaves a deep meaning. You know you’ll love whatever he plans. It worries you that you’ll perhaps love it too much. “But seriously, thank you for everything. The easel? How much did that cost you? I’ve looked at that brand before and there’s no way it was cheap.”

“It doesn’t matter how much it costed.” Warmth is creeping up on your cheeks again. You try to excuse it as Taehyung’s radiant body heat. “Let’s just say I had to resort to prostitution to pay for it, okay?”

Bodies shuddering in laughter, some tension in the air is thankfully alleviated by your humour, filling you with hope that things should and will return to normal in no time. You just need to stop overthinking.

“Hey, can you sleep here tonight?”

You freeze at his request. Because despite your constant fucking around with each other, one clear boundary has been that you don’t physically sleep with each other after sex. If you do sleep over, it is always just a completely platonic gesture. No kissing or fondling. Something about falling asleep in each other’s naked bodies is too mushy and couple-like. The type of thing that make you puke.

“Why?” You frown defiantly at him. “It’s not even your birthday anymore, it’s past midnight. So technically, I don’t have to treat you like royalty anymore.”

“Why not?” Taehyung rebuts, that cocky expression making you want to nipple-cripple him. This difficult son of a bitch, does he not know that the line is going hazy between you two?

“It’s weird, we just had sex.”

“So? What do you have against sleeping together after sex? Scared that you’ll fall in love with me?”

Your chest sinks to your stomach. You swear to god, Kim Taehyung is going to be the fucking death of you, stupid shit. How could he even say something like that so casually?

“In your fucking dreams, prick. If anything, you’d be the one to fall in love with me first, I just made you cum three times.” Taehyung chuckles at the flash of fury in your eyes, amused by how easy it is to strike a nerve in you.

“Do you want me to fall in love with you?” Though his tone is playful, and the wiggle of his brows suggests his mockery, you don’t know if he is completely joking anymore. And suddenly, everywhere that you’re touching - your entangled legs, his hands on the small of your back, your chests pressed on each other - everywhere starts to burn.

“Shut up, I’ll fucking sleep here, okay?”

And so this night, for the first time in the seven months you’ve been on-and-off fornicating alongside your unwavering friendship, you rest in Taehyung’s bed, your frame tucked snugly in his, his arm reposed on your waist. And despite your fatigue, it takes too long for sleep to find you as you watch his shoulders rise and fall in the dark, lips slightly parted, beckoning you to kiss them.

26/12/19

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams

2K notes · View notes

racebox-of-higgars · 3 years

Text

Forcing The Last Page

The third work in the current series I’m working on - The Unkindest Cut Of All. Please read the other parts first, otherwise this won’t make much sense.

MAJOR SUICIDE TW - please stay safe and do not read if this could potentially be triggering for you.

Summary: "Race closed the door behind him with a gentle click, leaning his back against it. His hands trembled and his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. His whole body shook violently as the tears he had spent so long holding back finally burst free, cascading down his face and carving paths into his skin. His nails pressed into his palms, forming small red dents in the pale skin. His fingers twisted in his hair and he pressed his face into his knees and completely fell apart."

The aftermath of Jack and Race's argument.Title from Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copley - loosely based on the same song.

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31436591

@angelslibrary

Race closed the door behind him with a gentle click, leaning his back against it. His hands trembled and his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. His whole body shook violently as the tears he had spent so long holding back finally burst free, cascading down his face and carving paths into his skin. His nails pressed into his palms, forming small red dents in the pale skin. His fingers twisted in his hair and he pressed his face into his knees and completely fell apart.

Jack didn’t want him. Jack hated him.

He had looked up to Jack almost his entire life, and Jack hated him.

Down the hall, a door slammed.

Jack had known, of course he had. Jack knew everything about him, and saw in the way he had ducked his eyes, made himself as small as possible in every moment he could so he could slip by as inconspicuous as possible that he wasn’t well. It wasn’t like Race had a choice though. It was either hide it with bittersweet lies or tell the truth and let all of his burdens weigh down on Jack, and that he just couldn’t do.

He wiped his eyes with shaking hands, taking a deep breath as he slowly pulled out a notepad - the one Jack hand bought him with the tiny dinosaurs in the margin - and a pen. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly. He would say his goodbyes.

He had no idea where to start.

There were a million things he wanted to say, but no right words to say them. There were thousands upon thousands of unsaid words that would stay unsaid forever now, because Race just didn’t know how to put them onto paper.

I hate you.

You’re my best friend.

You bring out the worst in me.

You are the best in me.

I need help.

I love you.

All things that would never be said.

Jack. I know that you’re angry with me at the moment, and probably will be forever, but I still had to say goodbye.

He finally put pen to paper, his writing almost trembling, hesitant as it appeared on the page. He couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted to say. The walls were closing in on him and everything was too hot, too much, and it was all too overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe.

Someone help me, I can’t breathe!

There are a million things I want to tell you, I should tell you, but there are no words to say them, so I’ll leave them unsaid and hope you know them anyway. I know that isn’t possible, but here we are. There is no right way to say goodbye.

You have questions, so many questions and none of them have sensible answers, none of them have answers that I can rationalise, but I’ll try to answer them as best I can.

Race put the pen down, gasping for air as he clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his violent, unforgiving sobs that took everything from him and more. He could do this. How hard was saying goodbye, really?

He forced himself to put pen to paper.

The first question - why? The simplest answer is “I don’t know.” The long winded answer is difficult to explain but I’ll do my best.

It’s like I’m drowning. It sounds cliche, right? But things started going downhill just as college started, but you knew that. It was all too much at once and I didn’t know how to handle it. Suddenly I wasn’t the genius everyone expected me to be. My grades were dropping and for some reason I didn’t care. Everyone had expected so much of me, and I think I crumbled under the pressure. There’s a triumph in crashing down when you’re supposed to be soaring.

Race’s hand flew across the paper now, the words appearing in his mind and on the page almost simultaneously. There was so much in him that he needed out, and this was how he was going to do it. Jack deserved to know. He couldn’t leave without giving him that.

The second - why wasn’t I enough? Again, there is no simple answer. I don’t think anyone was enough. You were right when you said I didn’t want to be helped. By being helped, it meant I had to open up and tell you everything and submit to the mortifying idea of being known, of being seen for everything that I am, flaws and all, and just hope that you wouldn’t leave. I was too afraid to tell you everything, so I told you nothing.

Race regretted not talking to Jack. Well, not really. He regretted what that had led to. The endless fights, the screaming, the hurled insults, the rift between them that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t close. There was nothing he could do now to fix the damage that he had done.

All I really have to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for the way things ended, I’m sorry for tearing us apart, I’m sorry for ruining our family. But most of all, I’m sorry I was never a better brother to you. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were a bad brother to me - you weren’t. I couldn’t have asked for someone better. Please, don’t feel like this is your fault, it’s not. This is just my time to go. There’s nothing you or anyone can do to change that. You can't try to change that. I'm sorry for that.

Race’s tears flowed freely now, he stopped trying to stifle them. uncontrollable, wrenching sobs wracked his body, each one forcing him to gasp for air, but he didn't stop now. An overwhelming sense of desperation crashed over him in waves as he finally put all of his thoughts onto paper. Everything he had been holding in for months now was forcing its way out of him, as if it knew that this was its last chance to.

I know it sounds hard, but I want you to be happy. You have a good life ahead of you, Jack, don't waste it on me. If you don't go to that art school in Santa Fe I will haunt your ass. I don't want you to throw everything away because of me. You're worth more than that.

Race had to force that page. He knew it was all bullshit, a meagre attempt to try to lessen the blow, all of it some mandatory ritual that held no meaning, no purpose. None of it made sense. He tried to inject some humour into it to try to take away from the crushing reality of what was about to happen, but he knew it wouldn't work.

So, I suppose I should end this with a goodbye. An apology and a goodbye.

So I’m sorry for everything, both what we've been through and what you will go through. I love you, no matter how upset I may have been at times. I’ll never stop loving you.

I want you to have Jackie. He comforted me in the worst times, maybe he’ll help you too.

Your friend. No.

Your best friend. No.

Your brother.

Racetrack.

He hastily tore the page from his notebook and set it on the desk. Beside it, he set the worn, ragged stuffed dinosaur, with the word Jackie scrawled under the left foot in smudged blank ink. He pulled out his favourite jacket, an old blue denim one covered in pride pins, so it was more metal than fabric. He started to pull it on, but then he stopped, glancing briefly at his phone as it lit up with a notification.

Spot: Are you able to call tonight? I wanna tell you something.

Behind the message was a photo of him and Spot, with Spot pressing a kiss to his cheek as he laughed, eyes crinkling with his smile. Race couldn't remember being that person, but he couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

You: Sorry, I can't tonight. Had a lot on my plate with studying, and don't feel great so I’m gonna get some sleep. Tell me tomorrow?

Spot: Of course. Goodnight, Racer

You: Goodnight Spot, you can sleep now

“You can sleep now.” That was tradition between them now. It had started when they had first hit together a year ago. Instead of “I love you,” before falling asleep, Race would say, “you can sleep now.” Spot hadn't been ready to take that step yet, so Race worked around it, and it had stuck.

Race couldn't go without saying goodbye to Spot. He pulled his notebook open again and scribbled another note, more calmly this time, less frantic. He folded the jacket and set it beside Jackie, then set the note on top.

He glanced around the room, going over the million memories he had here. Most of them were good, but more recently they had been tinted black and red and he couldn't break through that to see the good ones on the other side. It just got darker and darker and darker with no sign of light. He walked alone in that darkness, he was the only one who seemed to be able to navigate it. In his darkness, only the blind could see, and he was blind - blind to everything around him trying to help, blind to the hands reaching for him to pull him back to the light. He couldn’t see them.

He pushed the window open, relishing the way the wind whipped his hair. Slowly, he climbed out, and took off into the darkness of night, shrouded by the cover of woodland.

Finally, Jack was able to calm himself down. He thought over their argument, and felt sick as he thought about all the things he had said to Race. Race didn't deserve any of that, and none of it was true. He had said cruel things in the heat of the argument, and he wanted nothing more than to take them all back. He had to make everything right.

He gently knocked on Race’s door, frowning when he didn't receive an answer. He supposed it was to be expected, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He knocked again, louder, but he still got no answer. Then the worry started to settle in, just the feeling of something being slightly wrong . It made Jack feel sick.

“Racer, I’m coming in, okay?” Again, silence on the other side. Slowly, Jack pushed the door open.

A cold breeze blew in through the open window. Why did Race have his window open in November? Then he realised that Race wasn’t there . He glanced around, his eyes falling upon the stuffed dinosaur on the small desk tucked into the corner, and his heart sank.

He picked up the note with trembling hands.

He read the first few lines, before it slipped from his shaking fingers to the floor.

His knees buckled, and he felt himself tear in two, but he wasn't truly there.

Everything came crashing down around him and the world was spinning all too fast, too much at once and nothing stopped and nothing let up and everything was so, so wrong and nothing could fix it.

Race was gone, and he couldn’t fix it.

#suicide tw #newsies #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #angst

6 notes · View notes

crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

Falling - Harry Styles

*obviously inspired by Falling, which i am OBSESSED with! *italics are from the past, a lot of this story will be from the past. *also, see if you catch some mini easter eggs to other songs from fine line (this wasn’t intentional, but for the timeline to work he never dated camille)

There’s no point in stopping the tears as they slowly stream down my face. As soon as I saw the tracklist to Harry’s new album I had a feeling this one would bring on the waterworks. Now that the album is officially released, I can hear what he’s been working on the past few months.

Falling.

A simple word with so much meaning behind it. It’s hard to fight off the memories of our relationship.

“-and this is the lovely, Y/n.” A friend introduces me to a small group of her friends at the party. She managed to drag me away from a conversation I was having to ‘meet some friends’. I smile and wave to all of the new faces, they go around and give me their names in return.

“Harry.” The last one speaks up, he raises his glass in a wave.

Our eyes pull together like magnets. I’m thankful for the darker lighting that is hiding the blush that creeps over my cheeks.

We all quickly dive into a conversation, everyone present being easy enough to talk to. They’re all lovely and fun people.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” I announce as I get up from my spot.

“I’ll come with, mine seems to be empty too.” Harry grins and follows me back to the bar.

We both order our drinks and wait for them to be made. It takes a while, seeing how busy it is with all of the people here, but neither Harry or I mind. We immediately jump into a new conversation ranging from music, acting, and travel.

“You’ve never been to the UK?” Harry asks, utterly shocked.

“No.” I shake my head, laughing at his appalled reaction.

“How is that even possible? You’ve never had to film over there or anything?”

“I’ve been to Italy and France, but never your neck of the woods I suppose.” I let out a laugh.

He takes a sip of his drink, neither of us have made an effort to move back to the group since receiving them. I can see my friend giving two thumbs up over Harry’s shoulder. I’m sure this was some plan of hers to try and get us to hit it off.

“Well, you tell me when you’re free and we’ll go.” He smiles, “I’ll be your tour guide.”

God, I would love to take him up on that offer.

“Aren’t you going to be awfully busy with your first solo tour?”

“Ahh, you keep up with me then?” He smirks, I’m sure he’s enjoying that little ego boost.

“Pretty hard not to.” I roll my eyes, as if the pop star was so under the radar. “I can hardly leave my apartment in New York without coming across a billboard with your face plastered on it.”

“Well I’m sorry about that, love.”

“Don’t be, it’s a nice face to look at.”

It’s my turn now to smirk and notice Harry slightly thrown off.

“Tour doesn’t start for a month, pick a date before that and we’ll go.”

“You’re putting an awful lot of faith into someone you just met a half an hour ago.”

“I have faith in you, Y/n.”

“And why should I have faith in you?” I tease, “For all I know you could be a very creepy man.”

“Hey!” He laughs, “Haven’t you ever heard of treating people with kindness?”

The first time Harry and I ever met. That first night even, I knew that he was going to mean so much. I was proven correct a few weeks later when we actually did go to London together.

“Home sweet home.”

Harry opens the door wide enough so both of us and our luggage can fit. He’s invited me to stay at his flat, claiming it’s nicer than any hotel anyway. It’s also an obvious excuse for us to spend more time together just the two of us.

“It’s awfully gloomy here, strike one for London.” I joke.

“Hey! It’s late, you can’t judge it yet! Plus we just got off of a ten hour flight, you’re not in the right headspace.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes.

Harry and I have managed to grow so close in the short amount of time we’ve known each other. We met up several more times to somewhat plan the trip, Harry helped me pack claiming he would know what I would need better than I would.

We both laughed until we were crying, trying on the various clothes from my closet. Many random gems, things I’m almost positive Harry wants to steal.

We still haven’t defined what we are. Friends is the easiest way of putting it, but it doesn’t feel quite right. We flirt constantly and were touchy with each other, but we’ve never acted on anything.

“Alright, let’s find you a room.”

Harry takes my suitcase with him as he leads me into the rest of his house. We go up to the second floor and he opens the door to a large room. It’s decorated in simple white with hints of yellow.

“Cute.” I grin looking around the room.

“Y’like it?” He almost seems nervous. Giddy like an unsure child.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

For the first time there’s an awkward pause. Just a few seconds of what to do, it’s really late and by the sounds of it we have plans for an early morning.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, H.”

Harry leaves me to my room and goes to his own, which is conveniently across the hall.

He wasn’t lying, the next day we are up bright and early. Too early, I might add.

“Y/n.” He taunts my name on the other side of the door.

“Too early.” I grumble, my face still half smashed into a pillow. I don’t even flinch hearing the door open.

“C’mon, Y/n. If you get up now we can go out for breakfast and go to the farmers market.” I feel the bed dip as he settles on the bed.

“Why can’t I sleep in and we just eat here?” I finally turn to face where’s he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, he has an amused look on his face.

“Because I’ve been in Los Angeles for the past two months. There’s quite literally no food here.”

I let out a groan and drop my head back down.

“I’m amazed with how cute you still look while so angry and having just woken up.”

“You’re such a kiss ass.” I grumble.

“Only for you.” He lightly smacks my ass before walking back out. “Let’s go, Y/Ln.”

I get up and look out the large window to see that it’s raining, but it looks like the sun is trying to come out. I settle on a comfortable outfit, tucking my hair back into a low bun. I wash my face and throw on a pair of sunnies.

“Ready?”

I nod and we take off. We walk to a diner that Harry loves going too, he claims that he gets cravings for it when he’s back in the states. I have to say, after eating there, I understand his hype.

Once were no longer hungry, we take off for the farmer’s market.

It’s cute to say the least. We pick up some organic veggies to cook with for dinner and we find some cheese and fresh bread.

“H, look!” I cross over from the tent we had been in to the one across the street.

“They’re beautiful!” I trail my fingers across all of the different bundles of flowers.

“I almost lost you.” Harry says after catching up.

“Look at how pretty they are!” I pick up a bundle of sunflowers.

“How much?” Harry asks before handing over more than enough for them.

“Gotcha!” Harry smiles looking down at his phone. I’m sure he’s taken yet another candid picture.

“For someone who doesn’t post on social media, you take an awful lot of pictures.” I bump his shoulder as we continue walking.

“Yeah, still like to have the memories.”

Harry and I spent two more days in London exploring more of the city before we decided to take a road trip to Holmes Chapel to see where Harry grew up. It was a long drive, but it was worth it to see Harry light up.

“That’s the bakery I used to work in.” He points out the car window.

“Don’t you want to stop?” I ask, watching him drive right by it.

“No, it’s kind of become a fan beacon now.” Harry explains.

We continue to drive through the town as he points out more spots from when he grew up. Or we sit in a comfortable silence just looking out at the scenery. I don’t notice we’ve arrived somewhere until Harry puts the car in park.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking at the house in front of us. It’s grown dark out, but the house looks warm and inviting.

“My mum’s house.” He quickly gets out of the car before I can ask a question.

“Harry!” I roll my eyes, following him to the door.

“What?” He grins looking over his shoulder. He knocks and it doesn’t take long for an answer to follow.

“Harry!” She pulls him in for a hug, the woman I can only assume is his mother.

They talk softly to each other and I feel as if I’m invading a very private moment.

“You’ve brought someone home?” She shouts with an excited voice. Without a pause, she pulls me in for an equally tight hug. She knocks the air out of my lungs, but I let out a laugh.

“In all these years, Harry’s never brought a girl home!”

“Mum!” Harry groans, a pink color taking over.

“Come in come in! I’m just finishing up supper.”

She disappears further into the house, once Harry and I step in, I can feel the warmth of the home and smell whatever she’s cooking.

“You brought me home to meet your mom!” I tease, turning to smack Harry lightly on the chest.

“No, she would just be upset if I was here and didn’t see here before leaving for a world tour.”

Bullshit.

“Harry, you’ve never brought a girl home before.” I smirk.

“Alright alright, I really like you. As if it wasn’t obvious enough before.” Harry admits, he successfully knocks the smile clear off my face.

“Are you going to say anything?” He asks, suddenly twisting the right on his fingers around out of nerves.

“I like you too.” I smile, “Duh.”

“Thank god.” He sighs, pulling me in for a hug.

“Alright, supper is- oh! You’re having a moment, I’ll go.” Anne rushes back to the kitchen. It would take a blind man to miss the smile and happy dance at seeing us like this.

“She’s a sweetheart.” I pull back so I can look up

“Yeah, we’re a pretty charming family.”

“I can see that.”

After that it was bliss, Harry and I finally got together. Just in time for him to leave on tour. But we made it work, thankfully. Either I would fly out to whatever city he was in, or when he had extended breaks he would come see me on set. Any time we weren’t performing, we were facetiming. Or when the time differences didn’t work, we would leave each other long voicemails, just longing to hear the other’s voice.

By the time he finished his tour, and I finished my movie, we finally got to date like a normal couple and see each other regularly.

“Coming, coming!” I yell, rushing to my door to see who’s in a huge rush that causes them to knock repeatedly.

“I said-” Before I get a chance to yell when I swing the door open my jaw drops at the sight.

“Hi, love.” He grins, a bundle of sunflowers in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” I peck his lips with mine and pull him in for a long hug, “You had things to finish up! I wasn’t supposed to get you home for another week!”

“I’m sorry, love, but I lied. I always knew I could sneak away.”

“That’s kind of evil.” I laugh pulling away, but still holding onto him.

“Which is why I have these.” He hands my the flowers.

“Thank you.” I grin, he follows me into my kitchen and watches as I put them in water.

“So, how does it feel to be all finished?” I ask.

“Good, it was really rewarding, but really exhausting. I’ve just been waiting to come home to you to be perfectly honest.”

“Well, here I am.” I smile, I take a seat on his lap. It’s good to have him here.

Beachwood Cafe. The coffee here doesn’t taste as good when it’s not filled with our laughter and deep conversations. It seems bitter without the games.This was our spot in Los Angeles. Early in our relationship we had stumbled upon the place and it became ours. The baristas growing accustomed to our orders and our stardom.

“You’re absolutely mad if you think that’s a word.” Harry says, his voice getting louder and gaining the attention of people around us. As if we weren’t already doing that. The cafe is always busy, but today it seemed like there were lots of people here.

“Have you ever played Scrabble? Of course this is a word!” I argue. Part of why we like the cafe is the bookshelf filled with board games. Every time we come Harry and I pick a new one we’ve never played together before. Today we settled on Scrabble even though it led to us bickering.

“I don’t like playing with a cheater.” He can’t even get away with it without smiling, but we continue the teasing fight for the fun of it. Banter is always entertaining.

“A cheater?” My voice raising as well, “Look it up!”

We both breakout in laughter over how stupid it is to be arguing about.

Still blissfully aware in our honeymoon phase which lasted way longer than any other relationship either of us have been in. If only I had known then how much worse the arguing would get.

“Harry, what’s happened to you?” I ask, tears freely falling to the floor. The tears being caused more by anger than hurt at this point.

“What do you mean?” His words slurred.

“You’re drunk again, of course.” I roll my eyes, leaving him on the bathroom floor to deal with himself.

“You’ve made a fool of me Harry!” I shout, letting my temper get the best of me, “Do you know how embarrassing you were tonight? Tonight was a big deal for me, I’ve never been the lead actress. You now what this premiere meant to me.”

“Love, I-” Harry follows me out of the bathroom into our bedroom. My attitude and hurt seems to have sobered him up a bit, though he is still far from dry.

“You got hammered before the movie could even start!” I huff, “You were loud and obnoxiously shouting about nonsense! Not to mention the fact that you flirted with nearly every person at the bar.”

“Y/n, it’s fine we-”

“No, it’s far from fine. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, since when have you felt most comfortable with a drink in your hand? Or a stranger on your arm? This isn’t new for you anymore, you’ve been acting like this for months.”

The silence coming from him proves I’m right.

“If it’s been months, why haven’t you said anything before now. We’ve been dating for nearly two years now, we live together. I would think you’re comfortable enough to tell me you think I’m a drunk.” Harry sasses back.

“I’ve tried! You just get rude or you don’t even remember it in the morning.” I push my hair back out of my face, “The only difference it, tonight was my breaking point.”

I walk to my closet and grab a bag and start shoving essentials in it.

“No, Y/n, wait.” Harry follows me, he takes the bag from my hand and starts pulling things back out.

“Harry stop!” My voice rising louder than it ever has in this house, “Enough. I’m done. We are finished.”

Harry suddenly drops the bag and stumbles back out of the closet. I manage to repack the bad come out to see Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at his shoes.

“I’ll send someone to get the rest of my stuff. You can buy out my half of the lease.”

After that night, I never looked back.

The song ends and I turn off my phone and set it down. I wipe away any remnants at eyes, the tears long dried. Before I can spend any more time thinking about him or the way things used to be, I get dressed for the day. Harry was right about one thing.

I’ll never need him again.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #angst #harry styles angst #Harry Styles

587 notes · View notes

zairapvrker · 4 years

Text

oookay, so i made the rookie mistake of deleting post this before it was finished and had to delete it, so the ask got lost. luckily i had screenshotted it, i hope you’ll see this anyway dear anon! thank you for requesting and i hope you’ll like this💕 (unedited)

masterlist

This dance around your feelings was softly killing you both. When you were with him you felt like flying and falling at the same time, knowing that he wouldn’t be there to break the fall but choosing to jump anyway. Calum had been a friend of yours for forever, and since you could remember you’d always wished you two could be more. What you did not know was that he felt the same - but the two of you were always too blind to see it, always afraid of losing each other.

If the two of you were together, you didn’t care for the rest of the world at all, alienating yourselves and entering your own little world.

There had been a few close calls, a few times when either one of you had almost crossed that invisible line drawn in between your hearts, but out of fear it never really went where you were both hoping it would. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that you were meant to be, not the two of you though.

The crowd was the same as always, that Saturday night, when you got to the bar where you were supposed to meet your friends. You saw them occupying your usual booth in the far corner of the room as soon as you walked in, your eyes trained to go that direction almost automatically. The night was going great, everyone had a few drinks in their systems and you were currently playing the most fun game of pool of your life, probably because none of your friends was getting it right. You doubled over in laughter as you saw one of them miss their shot and almost fall onto the table and disrupting the game. Everything was good, you even liked the music blasting through the speakers. That’s when you saw him. Calum, wrapped up into the arms of somebody you didn’t recognize, so close your gut wrenched as you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

Surely you must be mistaken, you must be jumping to conclusions. But they had smiles that, you thought, shined twice as bright than yours when you were together. Calum was making her laugh, the unmistakable glow you loved lighting up his features as well. You refused to listen to reason, the small voice in your own head suggesting why you shouldn’t be letting your heart break over an assumption. But you wouldn’t listen to yourself. He wasn’t even yours to begin with, why should you be sad? But the heart has its reasons which reason does not know.

You bid goodbye to everyone, pretending to be tired, as you spared Calum one last glance. His eyes met yours from across the bar, just one second was enough to make you tremble. You left without looking back.

It had been a week since then and you’d let yourself focus on your work and nothing else to keep your mind from replaying the image you had of him with her in your head. That obviously meant ignoring Calum as well.

The poor boy had no idea what had happened, if he’d done something to upset you and he was starting to worry. At the beginning, all that he could get out of you were short answers, telling him that you were busy and couldn’t talk, couldn’t meet. Then that had turned into complete silence and he was about to combust. He’d been fidgety and tense all week, distracted and worried. You’d been on his mind all day everyday, but then again, when weren’t you? Calum took it upon himself to go and check on you, still remembering where your spare key was hidden. He had a bunch of snacks with him and was ready for whatever issue you were going to throw at him. Or so he thought.

Before he could even look under the potted plant of your nextdoor neighbour, where your key was, you opened up the door and a man he didn’t recognize came out, waving you goodbye. He froze. As soon as you saw Calum you did too, not expecting him to be at your house. You looked at him confused. “Calum” you let out in a sigh.

“Hi” he said through gritted teeth. “Is him why you’ve been avoiding me?” before he could even realize what he was going to say his mouth spoke for him.

Anger built up inside of you. He was one to talk. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, you heard me the first time” things were excalating quickly and before he could add anything, you’d pulled him into the apartment, slamming the door shut.

“What are you even going on about?” you exclaimed, throwing your ands up and walking to the living room, Calum hot on your trail.

“You’ve barely talked to me all week long, only sparing me yes or no answers and pathetic excuses” his voice started to raise, his bottled up emotions finally being let free.

“I told you I was busy” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bullshit!” you’d barely ever seen Calum like this, and you never wished for this to happen again. “Or maybe, yeah, you were busy with him” he mirrored your stnce, his chin pointing to the direction of the front door.

That was a low blow and it hit you where it hurt, you’d refrained speaking to him in fear of speaking words you could never take back and he had the nerve to come to you just to yell at you? You weren’t having it. “And even if I was? That’s none of your damn business”

He scoffed to hide the pain he was feeling, not allowing you to win this yet. “It’s my business alright! I’m your best friend and you won’t even talk to me”

Those two words stung even more than what he’d said before, but you didn’t know about the bitter taste left in Calum’s mouth after he’d spoken them. “Well I could say the same” you said.

“You’re the one who’s keeping secrets and ignoring me” he knew he was being childish, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, says the onewho hasn’t told me about his new girl” this was hurting you more than you wished it did.

“What girl?” he asked dumbfounded. You scoffed.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me” you snickered. “I saw you two at the bar, last week” you spat, the image of them still fresh in your mind.

Calum had to stop and think for a second, almost not understanding what you were talking about. “That’s a friend of Mali’s, she asked me to show her ‘round” he replied, recalling the events of the week prior. “If you hadn’t bolted out of the bar I would’ve introduced her to you”

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to believe that when she was all over you”

“She wasn’t all over me” he defended.

“Was too”

“Was not!” you were about to speak again, before he cut you off. “Will you listen to yourself? You’re being a child”

“You’re one to talk after coming here to yell at me over my fucking neighbor asking for some sugar!” the silence was heavy, your words ringing in the air.

After what felt like forever, Calum finally spoke. “That was you neighbour?” you just nodded, not even wanting to keep the conversation going. He remained quiet a while longer, before speaking again. “I still don’t know why you haven’t talked to me in a week”

You sighed, hiding your head into your hands as you sat down on the couch. Calum was mindful of sitting further away from you than he usually would. You looked at him right in the eye, seeing expectation in them, but you didn’t want to adress the elephant in the room yet. “I still don’t know why you seem to hate my neighbour” you spoke, voice quiet and throat burning lightly from the screaming match that had just ended.

Calum figured he had nothing to lose right now, apparently you were avoiding him anyway. “I got jealous” he said it in a whisper. Your breathing stilled as you waited for him to go on. “I hadn’t heard anything from you in a week and I was worried something happened or that I’d done something, then I come here to make sure everything’s alright and he comes out of your apartment and you’re smiling and I’m not the reason-” he cut his blabbering short, inhaling deeply as you waited again, sure he could hear the frantic beating of your heart.

“I guess I just really like you” Calum looked at you, ready for you to start laughing and tell him that he might as well just get out, but he was met with utter surprise.

“You like me” you repeated, shifting your gaze from him to the floor.

“I do” he confirmed, trying to calm down. “Please say something”

But how could you? You were sure you were going into shock. You looked at him again after interminable moments, a shy smile adorning your lips. “I guess I just really like you to”

It was Calum’s turn to be shocked, as you explained why you didn’t give him the chance to stop you a week prior at the bar, the huge misunderstanding that led you to ignore him for days on end in hopes to shield yourself from heartbreak without him ever having to know.

You were both idiots, you concluded as you started laughing at your stupidity. He shifted closer to you on the couch, his eyes bright and searching for yours, finding them moments later with just as much glee in them. Calum lifted a hand to lightly place on your cheek, stroking the skin softly with the pad of his thumb. “Can I kiss you?” he asked trembling in expectation.

You just smiled and nodded, bringing your face closer to his until your lips crashed, knowing right then and there that he’d always be there to break your fall.

157 notes · View notes

naturaldisasterfanfiction · 4 years

Text

9. Part 2

I am on my third blunt, but yet my mind is on the fact Rihanna and Mel have both been at me to come to the home, for what. To throw it in my face about her being pregnant I don’t fucking think so, I don’t even want to see Rihanna pregnant, not when it is not mine. I am hurt about it, I feel like they want to get back at me, now I know they do because she mentioned Kae. Putting my blunt out as I got up from the couch “fucking sick of these bitches” making my way to the kitchen area, I don’t know why I am coming here but I am “move” I said to some random girl in the way “rude!” she spat, placing my hands on the counter, it’s driving me crazy that she is pregnant and I shouldn’t feel this way but I am, it’s like she laughed in my face with all that talk, she knew. She knew she would be fucking Drake, oh she fucking had sex with me with a condom on and him raw, see how foul she is about this situation “maybe this should be your last blunt” Krista said, she was about to touch my blunt but I moved it “don’t fucking touch my shit!” I shouted and walked off again “what is even wrong with you!” I don’t need another fucking female driving me crazy, Rihanna is doing it for me “it’s ok, you just leave him” Hoody said as I walked by him “aye!” he said behind me, I was going to kick my door open but I didn’t, it’s my home and I need to remain calm. I sure in hell banged the door shut to my studio, placing the blunt between my lips and lit it as I sat down in the chair and sitting back “bro, what is wrong? You are taking too much in, like you are mixing whippets and blunt together without having a break” blowing the smoke out from my lips “fuck you” I pointed at him “what has happened? You got a broken phone and all that shit, come on?” I laughed, I laughed so hard because they think I am crazy, but I am not, I know everything. Grabbing the dispenser from the side “leave me the fuck alone, nigga” I don’t need him.

Placing my hand over my head as a sob left my lips, I close my eyes and I fucking see her face and I don’t want it “not crying” I said to myself, throwing the dispenser to the corner and got up from the chair. Let me go, I want to know now what the fuck she wants. I am high enough to not care, or maybe I am just feeling emotional, but I don’t care nothing will hurt me now. Walking out of the studio room “clean this shit” I mumbled, I want a clean home when I come back but what do I know I am just out of my mind. Grabbing my Bentley key from the side “what are you doing? Aye, where you going” Sinko grabbed my shoulder, pushing him “don’t fucking touch me, I am going out” walking off to the front door “but you are out of it, if you get stopped nigga you will be locked up. We got everything here. What do you need?” he is asking what I need, that is laughable when they need me in everything, who are even these niggas to question me. They don’t care for my wellbeing; I am just a home for them to come too. I swear I am just going there because I am out of it, she can talk her shit and I will be there just not listening.

Who the fuck said I would get stopped, I know where I am going, I am a fucking robot. I am not even human anymore; I am outside the home and I fully knew where I was going to come here. I don’t even want to go inside this home at all, to think she is in there and wants me to come, why. What is even the purpose of this, I know it will be to throw that she is pregnant to my face and to say how happy she is but oh fucking well. I see she rented a place because she isn’t at Mel’ apartment, hiding as fucking always. I was going to get out of the car but then I heard a commotion coming out of the home, squinting my eyes seeing a group coming out of the home, she is having a party in that home and wants me to come there, she is a bitch. I know she is a bitch because she wants to just crush my soul and then stomp on it, opening the car door. I am surprised it’s not gated off but then this is a rich area, and nobody really comes here with the police constantly around, it’s rented anyways or knowing my luck she has moved here. Stepping out of the car, I feel a little weird actually. I have totally taken too much I think, turning around and grabbing my phone from the middle panel “what” I said to myself, when did my phone screen break. Kicking my door shut, I turned around a little too quickly I near fell “you dancing for us!” I am sure that is Jen’ voice, looking up and seeing her wave, locking my car door and walking across and then hearing a loud honk. Turning to see the bright lights “what the fuck dude!?” some guy shouted “suck my dick nigga, you fucking blind you saw me walking. Don’t fuck with me and that is on blood” I can’t see who this guy is but whatever, walking off anyways “he is dancing and stepping in front of cars now, hey!” Jen is funny but I don’t think I am in the right mind to care “chile” this bald headed dude said, looking at him as I walked by “are you ok?” Jen asked “huh, me? Yeah good” walking by her, I don’t want to speak to be honest “I am going now!” hearing Mel shout, I felt guilt seeing Mel. I was rude to her on the messages “the door is open, lets go bitches!!” Mel shouted as she ran by me.

The door is just wide open, stood staring at the open door. I have not moved an inch from when Mel flew by me, looking behind me and at the SUV that is being packed full of Robyn’ people. Turning my head and looking at the door again, it is fully opened, and I don’t actually want to go inside. Putting my head down, I mean I feel at ease but the thought of Robyn being in there pregnant, I just don’t want to see it. Lifting my head hearing the SUV drive off “I can’t” I breathed out, I am going “dat Melissa! You left the door open you stupid-” Robyn stopped shouting from the door looking at me, my eyes fell to her stomach. She is really pregnant; I felt the pain in my heart. I didn’t want it to be true in my own deluded mind I wanted it to be a joke, I hate that I love her, I really fucking do hate it. She still dogged me out, I won’t be slipping this time. I feel so awkward “when you want to come in” Robyn walked off back inside “fuck” looking up to the sky, I need a sign. Any kind of sign because I can’t do it, I am high as fuck and still I feel this way. Eventually she would move on, eventually Robyn was going to get pregnant, but I always wanted it to be mine. Turning back around on myself, I have whippets in my car, I need to feel the euphoria but then what if I am just out of my mind too much, just one shot I will be ok.

I am ready now; I can face a pregnant Robyn. Closing the door behind me I just laughed, I laughed because this is bullshit, there is no reason to feel like this when she isn’t mine, she is everyone else’s and whoever the father is, fuck this “man” I said laughing to myself, now I am giddy and I feel good about myself. Stuffing my hand in my pocket walking inside the home and laughing “woah” I moved back “sorry” staring at the wall “ok that is weird” that was somebody, I just know “hide and seek now, we playing” I am on some shit and I find it hilarious, looking around the home “huh” lifting my leg up looking at the floor “you got a dog!?” I shouted “clearly” placing my foot back down and looking at Robyn, I just laughed “well, well, well. A wild pregnant Robyn has appeared, I am funny” nodding my head smiling “if you were going to be high as fuck you shouldn’t have bothered, you’re not even high. You’re just fucking out of it” licking my lips still cackling to myself “well kick me back out, I don’t mind? You like that shit anyways; I think you should go Chris you said? Well! I am here, what do you want, oh and congratulations on the thing” I pointed at her stomach “thing?” Robyn is not impressed “you drinking? We are drinking, let’s get drunk. Remember” walking slowly, I don’t want to walk fast because I will end up breaking my ass on the ground. Robyn hit my hand before I touched her nose “we don’t talk when we sober, I remember” walking off, I know she got booze here “you got drink! Come on!” I will find it myself.

I laughed as a little bit of wine spilt on the side counter “ooppss” laughing looking behind me “you ain’t see that” I spoke to the statue “I don’t even like wine, but we are celebrating Rihanna, Roc Nations queen. The island queen” grabbing the glass turning around “woah!” I near fell, that was too quick “I am used to the face Robyn, unimpressed. Everyone is unimpressed but Drake, the fucking Jew got you knocked up. Pussy wasn’t too dry huh?” sipping the win “urgh! Nope, that is nasty. But I am happy for you, because you wanted that, but you didn’t need to fuck me, you were fucking him. But to Rihanna and Drake the perfect fucking parents, is that what you wanted me for?” I am unsure at what she wants, why she is wanting me here “you’re an actual mess Chris, I think maybe you need to just go and come back when you’re not like this?” placing the glass down “I can’t, I will come back again like this. I, I can’t see you like normal me, we don’t talk when we sober Rihanna!” I shouted, “you are holding onto every word I said, stop being petty” I sniggered, she really telling me what to do “you’re pregnant, what do you want from me!” throwing my arms in the air “Drake won! I lost, now what?” walking to Robyn slowly “I am not a fucking prize Chris, just relax. It’s not even that bad” she said “liar! You are a born face liar, come on. You everyone prize, Drake fucking got it! He got it all, and now this. Fucking luck” Robyn pushed at my chest “shut the fuck up, he is not the fucking father!” Robyn shouted “oh” I laughed “another drunken sex talk then!?” Robyn mean mugged me “you think like every man does of me! I fucked you Chris! I had sex with you! You were the only fucking nigga I had sex with and got pregnant, you are the fucking father, not fucking Drake!” Robyn pointed at my chest, I stumbled feeling the blood drain from me staring at her. Feeling dizzy with myself and stumbled back “Chris, hey!” that was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

Staring at Chris on the floor, I did not expect such a reaction, but he was being erratic. Grabbing the pillow from the couch and making my way back to him “Chris” slowly getting on my knees at the side of him, I didn’t want him to hurt his head “Christopher” lifting his head him, placing the pillow behind his head, he is breathing. Touching his face “Chris” he groaned out, scrunching his face up as he did “don’t get up too quick, are you ok?” looking down at him, his eyes bulged out at me, he is confused “just lay there for a moment, it’s ok” getting up from the floor, I need a little peace from his mouth. I was losing the will to live hearing him rant on, I am a little hurt by some of the things he said that is why I had to just say it, he was acting like I am a whore and that I let any nigga fuck me, he judge me and I just snapped. Chris is going to give me heartburn now, my poor baby is just thinking what the fuck is happening. Grabbing my water bottle from the side, this is the most peace I have had all day. It’s been dramatic because of everything happening, I can hear him shuffle on the floor. Turning around as I drank from the water bottle, he is still a little shaky, but he wants to get up he can. I didn’t expect that at all, I did not think he would faint but I don’t know what drugs he’s had but they really did a number on him “you can sit if you want” I pointed at the couch “you said something, what did you say?” nodding my head “that I had sex with you, that was it. I found out I am pregnant, hi” Chris rubbed the back of his head “I need to smoke” he turned back around, he is shocked, and I don’t blame him.

I had to check on him, I didn’t want Chris to be out there fainting again, but he isn’t, he is just pacing and smoking but the knock has stopped him acting a whole ass to me. I should have kicked him out but it’s Chris, I know him, and he is hurt that I threw him out of the bedroom like what was we supposed to do after we had sex, cuddle. Hearing the door close, this is round two, this will be fun. Chris has come back with a whole new persona “so you are telling that the baby is mine?” nodding my head “you were the last person I had sex with Chris” which he was “we wore a condom, I mean I fucking remember that, you put that on me, well you checked it anyways. How can that be mine?” he is really questioning me “you wouldn’t be the perfect candidate to have a baby with, I have lasted this long without getting pregnant but look at that, now I am. I cried when I found out, then I cried to think it was you” Chris pulled a face at me “well if you told me, then I would have gave my blessing to get rid of it. You think I want a baby with you, the same woman to tell me to go. You used me! You fucking used me for a baby, used me for sex. You think I am stupid” rolling my eyes “you think I want you in my fucking life, you think you are so fucking hard done by because I told you to go, what did you want! To fucking hug you, you dogged me out with Kae, you made me look fucking stupid and I had to leave your ass, don’t fucking start with me, you did worse than me. I was so sick and upset when I had to leave you because you didn’t leave that fucking bitch! And you are crying to me about making you go, trust me Chris you are the last nigga I want in my life!” why is he making this such a fucking argument “you should be glad I am even telling you this, I don’t need you. I am telling you to give you a chance to be a father, I mean what was I thinking” I laughed turning away from him, what was I thinking.

I don’t think this heartache was worth it “well I assumed it was Drake’ baby because you are so far up his ass, and to be honest I don’t remember it. You have your team of people that you love so much, you chose them over me” he is starting again “over you! Are you kidding me!? I was busy on that fucking tour and you couldn’t stay faithful because you had that bitch on the side, it was done. You were the one running to me in New York, I chose you at that point! I chose you and you fucked it up” I pointed at him, I am fucking raging now “you had me Chris, you had me. Just that you lost me and yet again your sorry ass can’t even apologise after all this, you right. The reason we can’t speak being sober because of this! I still have your fucking heart and you know it Chris, why the fuck are you making this so hard” I need to relax “because you are dead ass wrong, you about to have the baby what you want me to do now?” sitting down on the couch “thank god you’re not a fucking doctor, my god. Talking about I am about to have it, I am giving you a motherfucking chance to be a dad now! What did you want me to do? Run to you and be one of your many baby mothers which I am but nobody knows” Chris sniggered “welcome to the circus!” he said with his arms in the air, I hate him.

Chris and I are quiet now, I rather be quiet with each other because this is not working out already, he doesn’t let go and I can’t be bothered anymore but I need him to go now if he doesn’t care “you’re either in or out” clasping my hands together “I am not shouting at you, we have too much past to argue on but you’re either in this or you can go and pretend like this never happened, I can raise the baby alone but I am not chasing you Chris, I am not doing that. You leave from that door then my door is closed from you and you just stay away, that will include Mel. You’re in this then we can work together but you’re in this on my terms” I just want him to answer and fucking go because it’s just petty back and forth now “I will take you to court, do what you like. I will take you to court, my terms. Just because you’re Rihanna you are talking my terms, I will get the rights to my child!” he is just pressing me today, licking my lips laughing shaking my head “take me to court to do what boo boo the fool?” now he has triggered me “what? So your mother can take care of it huh?” getting up from the couch “tell me Chris, tell where the fuck are your kids! You want to start let’s start. Royalty, your mother looks after, the boy is in Germany. You! Fucking take drugs, you have whore parties at your home, you have not a fucking clue. You know what you will gain out of it? A fucking clown hat, you don’t know a single fucking clue on how to be a father, what is your daughter’ favourite fucking toy? What does your son love so much. I have been watching you Chris, just like you said you watch me sometimes but since I have been pregnant I have done nothing but watch you, I bet you haven’t even changed a diaper. You half ass dad, your mother has that girl constantly, you know what I see in that house of yours!? Loneliness with random girls that can’t fill that void I left. You don’t feel a thing when you don’t see your kids, you have a title of being a father, that is it. I am not, and I am telling you now. I won’t have no half assed father in my child’ life, I am not having this. I had it with my own father! I won’t have what you are now to those kids! If you was a good dad then you wouldn’t be what you are now, a fucking mess. Yes, I am judging you, come for me Chris because I will fight for my baby. Whatever comes out of you mouth is non void because you can’t defend your actions, it speaks volumes to me that you came to me like this, you are still that man I met again in twenty twelve. Fatherhood hasn’t changed you, just gave you a collection. I am not going to kiss your ass in this, you think now. Because you are going to play by my rules until I know you can act right, and you know what? Your mother should have done this a long time with you. I will not have Joyce looking after my child, period. What do you honestly got going for you? A dead end life with a bunch of fools, I am sick of it. I don’t need your shit when I am pregnant, I don’t need it. I am going to pee, you do as you please. If you go then shut the door on your way out but this door won’t be open again” walking off to go and pee, I need it after all the commotion of Chris.

I feel like a bitch, I didn’t want to bring up his kids. That is not my issue but his cocky ass smiling like he is taking me to court, for what exactly. I am going to protect my baby whether he wants it or not, I will fuck anyone up when it comes to my baby. I feel awful but he just pushed it, I know I have upset him because he didn’t say a word to me at all but he doesn’t know anything about his kids, you can tell he don’t he has the fucking title and that is it. I have been hiding in the bathroom, I think in a way I don’t want to see he left because then everyone is riding on he would be there, but this Chris that is delving in deep drugs, I don’t know him “fuck it” I said to myself, I just need to face the music, if he has gone then I guess it’s just me and my baby. Walking back into the room, he is here then but he got up from the couch ever so quickly “I need to think” he said in a much calmer tone “about?” I questioned, staring at his face he is teary eyed and I feel bad “I uhm, I want to come back less high” he put his head down “I just need a moment, if I can come back if not then I will have to just, I don’t know” he shrugged, he wants to cry “I will be back in the morning” he sniffled “I won’t tell anyone about what was said, I just need to think yeah?” I want to say no but I agreed, it’s been a lot and a lot has been said between us both, we have hurt each other but I think may have hurt him the most “I just need to gather myself, I will be back” he moved back a little “ok” I breathed out, watching him walk off “see you in the morning then” I added but he didn’t say anything back, he just was wiping his face as he left.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

beautifulbows924 · 4 years

Text

The Christmas Wish

Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam (Platonic)

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve really hopped back into my writing lately and I’m super excited. This is my first time writing for supernatural, so go easy on me. I’d love to do some requests- feel free to send me some, Happy holidays!

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Fluff, Gore mention.

Summary: Christmas is near and feelings are being kept secret, will they find out how they really feel about each other or will they never get the chance?

“Are we really going to do this right now?”, Dean asked, exasperated with both you and his brother.

“Yes”, You responded, not missing a beat.

He rolled his eyes, but handed you an ornament anyway. You placed it on the tree with a smile. It was Christmas and you loved the holidays- plus you knew the boys hadn’t had a traditional holiday in years, if not more. So here: you, the Winchester’s, and Cas were putting ornaments and lights on the Christmas tree like the majorly dysfunctional family you were. However, as good as this was, this wasn’t all you wanted for Christmas. What you really wanted was for a certain Winchester to wake up and smell the roses (or in this case apple pie).

“Here you go”, You said after handing all of them cups of hot chocolate.

“And this is why you’re the best”, Sam said kissing your forehead and giving you a smile.

Unnoticed to you, Dean suddenly was wearing a frown on his face seeing the exchange between you and his brother. It made him seethe whenever he would see how well you went together, he wanted to be the one to kiss your forehead and make you smile.

Sam was the one that always noticed this and suddenly not being able to stand the obliviousness of both of you. He took you by the arm to the kitchen, mumbling an excuse about needing you to help him find something.

“Sam!”, You laughed finally managing to tug your arm from his grip, “What’s going on?”.

He sighed running a hand through his hair, “You have got to know that my brother likes you”.

“What?”, You asked, that couldn’t possibly be true.

“God, you’re both blind idiots sometimes. His eyes light up when you smile, and you blush when he touches you for a little too long. He’s the best and so are you- you both deserve to be happy for once”, He said smiling.

“So, what should I do? I can’t just tell him that I like him Sam”.

“Let me deal with that- I have a few ideas”.

“I don’t know if I should appreciate how much thought you’ve put into this, or be a little scared”, You said still nervous about any plan that would include Dean finding out about your feelings for him.

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder, “Look at me, I promise everything is going to be okay- just trust me on this one”.

You were still skeptical, but you nodded in agreement to his plan anyway.

Once returning to decorating, you couldn’t help but notice the lingering glances Dean was throwing your way. You actually thought Sam could be right, but you tried hard to not let yourself get your hopes up.

In bed, later that night, you couldn’t stop the slight smile that tugged at your lips or the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You were abruptly woken up by Dean shaking your arm roughly, looking at him you could see he had a guilty look on his face.

“You’re not going to like this”, He said, “-but we have a case”.

“Well duty calls and all that bullshit, right?”, You said throwing the covers off of you.

“Yeah, though I know we were all looking forward to the holidays this year, especially you sweetheart”.

Your heart swelled at the nickname, but you knew you had a job to be done, “So, what are we dealing with this time?”

“A Djinn by the looks of it”, Sam said walking in the room with one of many lore books.

“Great another wish bitch, just what we need”.

You remember the stories the boys have told you about Djinns, they’re quite dangerous. Being able to poison someone with just one touch.

“I’ll prepare the knives if you get the lamb’s blood”, You said to Sam who was already on his way out of the room.

“Sounds good”.

“We’ll leave at 11”, Dean said before leaving too.

Once they were gone your shoulders slouched, just one holiday? With the man you secretly loved and your two best friends. That’s all you wanted.

You were canvasing the large warehouse, looking for points of entry until you found a large window on the first floor that was already broken.

“Boys”, You whisper yelled loud enough for them to hear, “I found our way in”.

They instantly came over to you readying themselves for the fight they were about to walk into. Just before you went through the window Dean grabbed your arm, turning you to face him, “Be careful, okay?”.

You nodded continuing your movement being as quiet as possible. There was a bunch of rows of shelves, you each split up into one. The only sound you could hear was that of your own breathing. When you finally made it to the end of your row you found people strung up and connected to blood bags, as pale as ghosts.

You pulled the needles from them, and worked on getting them loose. When you turned you saw a Djinn directly in front of you, it took the knife from your hands and flung it against the wall. You ran to try and get it, but it was immediately back on you again crushing you against a wall. You could hear Dean shout your name, before everything went black.

You woke up back at the hotel, Dean at your side.

“You’re okay- thank goodness”, He said squeezing your hand. You didn’t know why, but this didn’t feel right.

You ignored it.

“Did everyone get out okay?”, You asked concern evident in your voice.

“Yeah, a lot of them were banged up pretty bad, you included. You scared me”.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Just resting”, He said, placing a hand on your face. It looked like him and talked like him, but when you love someone you know and you knew this wasn’t Dean. Sitting up you tell him you have to go to the bathroom, but instead you make your way out of the hotel room and into baby, using the keys you stole from his pocket without him noticing- something you never would have been able to accomplish if this was real. You sighed; you were really enjoying the treatment he was giving you. If only it were real.

“Dammit, why’d she have to go and do that Sammy? She should have waited for us”, Dean said holding your body close to his.

“Cas!”, He yelled, causing the angel to appear, “Help her”.

Cas walked over placing his hand on your head, “I can’t, she has to make the choice herself”.

He looked at the angel, green eyes red rimmed with pain swirling in them.

“Please come back to me”, Dean repeated in your ear over and over.

Sam and Cas stood off to the side wishing for the best.

Pulling into the warehouse, you immediately jumped out, following your original path.

“You can’t just let yourself be happy, can you?”, Dean’s voice asked from behind you.

“Here, I love you, and I want to be with you. We can get married, have kids. Out there he doesn’t really care about you. Sam’s just trying to help to make you feel better, but here everything you want can be yours- I can be yours, isn’t that what you really want?”.

You walked up to him, kissing him on the lips like it could be your last chance.

“Maybe he doesn’t want me and never will, but I’d rather live what’s real out there, than a lie in here”, You said, taking your knife and stabbing yourself in the chest. You fell to the ground as you blacked out again.

Your eyelids fluttered open as you groaned weakly, Dean pulled you tighter to him, “I thought I lost you”, He said his voice cracking with relief.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily Winchester”, You said before coughing.

“Good”.

Back at the bunker Christmas was only a day away, with this hunt almost bleeding into the holiday, you felt lucky you were actually going to get to spend time with the boys- especially after everything that had happened.

Dean had barely left your side since. He seemed like he still felt responsible no matter what you told him.

You missed the Djinns dream world sometimes, but you knew you had made the right choice. Reality was always better even if you wished for more. Sam had yet to make good on his promise and you were slowly losing hope. You told yourself it was for the best.

You were walking to your room when you ran into Dean, “Ouch!”, You exclaimed.

“Sorry”, He said.

You turned to leave, but before you could- “Wait, look up”.

You looked up to see a Mistletoe strategically placed by whom you assumed was Sam.

“Oh, well we don’t have to. I’m sure you don’t want to so it’s fine- “, You were cut off by lips being pressed to yours. You instantly responded by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When you had to break free for air, you smiled up at him slightly surprised.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while, but this hunt made me realize something important. That we never know how long we’ve got and whatever time we’ve got left I want to spend it with you”.

You kissed him again letting his words sink in. You really were getting what you wanted for Christmas.

“Remind me to thank Sam later”, You said with a giggle.

Finally, your Christmas wish had come true.

*Thanks for reading! Leave a Note or Reblog if you Enjoyed it* ~Rose❤️

If you would like to be tagged or un-tagged comment down below💕

Permanent Taglist: @breezy1415 @marveltrashaddict @nonamesland @asphalt-cocktail @petamakesmoneyoffanimalabuse @bungeewabbit @egonickart @peculiar-monstar @howdycharlie @hauntedfiremilkshake @ilikebreadandmemes @starguardian319 @nanbaka-lover-4146 @buckysbean @nellygruber @spoonlickermoondancer @navenici @dr-tardis-who @thevanishedillusion @pianomad @ask-aizawa-rin @pan-galaxy @tiddyciddy @makeshift-prime @edgy-alex @misfit-wiitch @oliviajmarvel @supernatural-jackles @pianomad

91 notes · View notes

romnff-blog · 5 years

Text

America’s ass

Pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader (can be platonic or romantic, whichever works for you!)

Warnings: language! somebody’s undies are exposed, fighting (although no serious damages seeing as its mainly playful) & hardly anything else unless you wanna consider humor and a bit of fluff a warning bc in that case you’re in for a treat!

Request: “so what about a steve x fem!reader one where they are both Avengers and they are doing their usual morning routine: running before training, but Steve gets cocky and laps the reader several times and just laughs about it so the reader takes revenge during the training session by showing off her "soooo much better fighting skills" and tries to knock Steve on the ground and it ends with being extremely fluffy and giggly, please? thank you bubs, you da best!!”

A/N: hi! This request is from my dearest, @adoringsteverogers aka an absolute angel, I enjoyed writing this and I actually like how it came out so I hope you enjoy! Go follow her guys! She writes as well (a whole lot better than myself, that’s for sure!) and it’s so good, 10/10 recommend, literally not kidding when I say she’s the absolute best! Thanks so much again for this, I love you so much!

“Oh, come on! That all you got, dollface?” Steve yelled from a good metre’s distance, jogging backwards with ease, almost tauntingly.

“Not to burst your bubble, cap, but not everyone is as physically advanced as yourself,” You practically seethe, causing him to pause for a breather, walking leisurely in your direction as if he hadn’t just gone thirteen laps in just under a minute.

“I mean look at you,” you continue breathlessly, waving a hand in his direction, hunched over and palms gripping your kneecaps as you fail to control your staggering breaths, “you’re like a walking steroid!”

That earned a chuckle from Rogers, “walking steroid, huh?” He parrots with a faux thoughtful expression before speeding off.

What the hell?

Before any burning questions you had could be answered, you noticed Steve’s, once missing, figure speeding in her direction as she continued on her light jog. With a shit-eating grin, he speeds right past you.

“On your left!”

“Bastard!” Y/n yelled loud enough for not only steve, but the rest of the neighborhood to hear—if they were even awake, that is.

Steve makes you wake up at the asscrack of dawn saying it’s “the best time seeing as you’re your freshest in the morning -mind, body and soul- and well-rested. It will help you be ready to take on any and every task. And as a bonus, if you run on an empty stomach, you could burn more fat!” that one earned a fake gasp from you and a playful punch to the shoulder for Steve. He’d chuckle, just the reaction he was looking for.

You’d realized your thoughts had blinded you from the reality that is Steve Rogers being an absolute asshat. Almost like lightning, he’s sprinting past you again, this time laughing his head off to your reaction, almost slowing down from laughing so hard.

You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle. “That arrogant asshole,” you thought, “I’ll show him.”

After about the sixth time he’s lapped you, watching him with an amused expression, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Alright, asshole,” you said, pausing in your movement, exaggerating the second part, “you wanna play, let’s play!”

That got his attention. With the same shit-eating grin as earlier, he’s walking towards you.

“Had enough, sweetcheeks?” He says teasingly, pinching your cheeks as if you were some child.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, you cocky bastard. I want a fair game, not this bullshit. Meet me in the training room in five.” With that she was off, slowing down at the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Wait, y/n! You didn’t tell me, five what? Minutes? Hours? You sure you can even get there that fast?” You can practically here the grin on his face, as if he’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

Idiot.

“Prepare to have your ass kicked, old man!”

“Say, y/n, are you sure you don’t wanna back out now? I don’t want to hurt you.” Steve says, pretending to be serious, -you can tell by the way his eyes shine and crinkle at the corners, he’s not- as he rubs his hands together in faux preparation.

“Shut up and fight me already!” You reply as you bounce irritably in your spot, cracking your knuckles.

And with that you’re basically tackling him to the floor. He loses all balance and falls underneath you and between your legs. It’s only a matter of seconds before he’s got one leg straddling your entire front and the other holding himself up. He’s got that signature smug look on his face as if he’s just defeated the world’s toughest villain. Steve’s not as smart as he likes to think he is though. Not with you in his corner.

He’s too lost in your eyes to realize his foot has slipped and he’s laying on his back yet again. You raise an eyebrow, huffing in amusement at his idiocy. You’re straddling his waist for a good minute before he’s got you pinned yet again. After a few rounds of rolling around, seeing who would win for dominance you eventually stand and offer a hand to the sweaty man beneath your feet. He hesitates for a minute before taking it only to earn an unexpected punch to the face and kick to the groin. He groans and lets out a humorless laugh before grabbing your wrist in hopes to knock you off your feet only supporting you to throw yourself back in a flip and landing on his shoulders, straddling the sides of his face with your thighs -and neck with the quads- in a chokehold with your thighs.

“I see nat’s taught–“ he coughs, gripping and tapping your thighs almost in a way of showing he’s surrendered “—taught you her little trick, huh?” Before you can smirk in confidence, you’re being knocked off your feet, landing harshly on the mat.

You can see his figure on top of you as you groan in pain, oh how you wished you could smack that smirk off his face.

Instead, you did yourself one better. While he was too busy attempting to keep his breathing at bay as he laughed his head off at your aggrieved state, you managed to crawl underneath him and take the risqué move of yanking down his pants. You couldn’t control the squeal that left your lips when his true form was revealed to you.

“Y/n!” His voice was high pitched as he attempted to cover up with his massive -clearly not massive enough compared to his...hands.

“ARE THOSE CAPTAIN AMERICA UNDIES I—“ you burst out laughing before you could even finish your sentence.

Steve was quick to get defensive, “LOOK, I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO WEAR, ALRIGHT? CUT A MAN SOME SLACK,”

“THAT DOESNT EXPLAIN WHY YOU OWN A PAIR OF BOXER BRIEFS WITH YOUR FACE PLASTERED ALL OVER THEM.”

“I GOT THEM FROM TONY FOR CHRISTMAS AS A JOKE AND I HAD NO OTHER CLEAN PAIR SO WHAT’D YOU EXPECT?”

You were trying so hard to control your fits but every word he spoke had you in tears.

“Fine,” you lift your hands in surrender, biting back a laugh, “I’m never letting you live this down though.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenges back before throwing himself at you.

He was slick, you give him that, but you were slicker. You were too quick in your actions as you slipped underneath and stuck out your left leg in an attempt to trip him. How easily trick-able he was when he was in a playful mood was beyond you.

You didn’t know whether it was the way his arms flailed in the air before falling backwards or the look on his face and the little shriek that left his lips before falling but whichever it was had you clutching your chest as if your lungs would quit on you any second from laughing so hard.

“You little shit,” he groans as you gasp out a snarky “you kiss your mother with that mouth, cap?” causing you to chuckle, “fine, you win! That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You smiled victoriously, “yes, actually, that’s all I could ever want, thank you!”

Feeling bad after maybe five minutes of watching the man lay with eyes closed, struggling to catch his breath you let your generosity get the best of you.

You kicked his shin lightly to get his attention. He opened one eye and closed it immediately, blushing, almost too embarrassed to open them.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a sore loser now. Here,” you wave your hand in front of him. He’s hesitant but takes it anyway.

Now what you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you to the ground along with him but of course because this is steve, that is exactly what he went for.

You were impressed by his strategy and you, instead of getting angry, couldn’t help but let out the ugliest laugh you’ve ever laughed in your life. This caused Steve to erupt in a fit of laughter as well.

The giggling went on for hours, random things triggering even more laughter which in turn made it so neither one of you would calm as you clutched your stomachs in laughter, all while still being tangled together.

After a good couple of minutes of laying atop of Steve, with your head resting in the nape of his neck in a fit of giggles, all had calmed. Both of you just lay there, engulfed in one another as you move your face to meet his and let out an airy laugh as you smugly reply,

“Can’t believe I really got to witness America’s ass this up close and personal.”

He let out a long sigh, letting his head hang loose before mumbling, “That’s not going away anytime soon.”

359 notes · View notes

for-bucks-sake · 5 years

Text

Underwater.

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 4.5K. I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Warnings: Angst, Endgame Spoilers, general sadness? Characters death. That’s it probably. Summary: For the past five years, Y/n has been holding her breath. A/N: Idk man, I want to thank everyone who read Missing Is a Recurring Theme. I was overwhelmed by the comments so just,,thank you! Currently working on part two (get ready for fluff!) But for now, this was requested by the lovely @fandomnerdxox. Hope you love angst, because that’s what this fic is all about. Hope you like it!

Her lungs were filled with dust. She could tell. Unable to expend them enough to take a breath, ribcage staying painfully small. “Bucky?” She called, maybe yelled. Nothing was clear anymore. Not even the air.

The fighting stopped all at once, there was a shift in the atmosphere, like the universe itself sensed something has gone terribly wrong. She stopped running when a Wakandan soldier reached for her, hurt, looking distressed as he tried to come closer, his back bent.

She swallowed, the urged to find her partners almost overpowering her instincts to help the man. She took his hand nevertheless, holding it tight in hers and pulling him up. She glanced to the sides, forever searching with her eyes familiar figures, when she felt the man slipping from her touch; “Are you oka-“ y/n looked back just in time to witness him disintegrating in front of her eyes, warm human flash crumbling in her grip, nothing left but dirt.

She gasped, nearly falling back. Her eyes widened in panic as she finally started to notice more and more people dissolving into thin air.

Y/n ran. “Steve!” Knowing it’s too late. But she ran. “Bucky!” The field was too big to cover on foot. But she ran.

There was a long leg clothed in navy blue uniforms, scattering into invisible particles. Wind spreading them all over two silver, Vibrenium made shields, That’s when she stopped.

“No.” She choked, vision clouded, not even registering the chaos she walked right into.

A single, large, sniper rifle abandoned on the grass, inches away from where the leg was no longer. “No.”

It can’t be. It can’t. Not them, it can’t be them.

She collapsed to the ground, the weight of her injuries finally hitting her fully;

“I can’t breathe.” She panted, holding her sore throat desperately, starving for oxygen,“I can’t breathe.”

Loneliness is a funny thing. You could be lonely for years, decades, even. And never once notice it. You could live content with what you have, not even wondering about what you might miss. That’s when life tricks you. It lures you into tasting it, like a pinch of salt you bake inside a cake, bringing the sweetness out. Life places it on your tongue, melting it away into your bloodstream, changing you forever so you will never be the same. And then, they wait.

Wait in the shadows, until they think you’re too used to it, until they decide you don’t deserve it anymore. So they take it. Snatch it from between your fingers with brutal force, leaving you alone, bare, unworthy.

Funny may not be the accurate word, no. But all the other words she thought of to describe her situation were too tragic. So she sticks with funny.

Nat asked her to move back to compound today.

Y/n said no, of course. Not even remotely considering this as an option, furious at Natasha that she did. It got heated quickly, on her part, mostly.

She was alone all her life. Both of them were before the universe was vicious enough to give a meager taste to the starved. She thought maybe Nat, could understand.

Y/n didn’t want to move in. Waking up to the sound of Natasha trying to save a world that already lost. Listening to her secretly wiping about what Clint has become. She didn’t want to do that. Y/n had enough shit to deal with on her own.

She finally reached her front door, fumbling with her keys, groaning as the jingling continued because she couldn’t find the right one, hands still shaking from anger.

“Did you know how quickly smell fades away?” Nat’s hair was longer, red color vibrant than ever. It suited her.

“I’m sorry?” Confusion replaced Natasha’s fading smile,

“Smell.” Y/n stressed, “of people, I mean. When they’re not here to renew it, it just disappears. Dissolves into the air, like it was never there.” She refused to sit, not once stopping to chip on her nails.

“Are you okay? Y/n, I’m starting to w-“

“Especially with clothes.” She frowned, burring her hands inside the pocket of her oversized leather jacket, changing her mind right after, bringing right hand fingers to her lips instead, “you know, I tried keeping their clothes in the closet, I thought maybe, it will help preserve the smell. But it was all bullshit. Turns out I just missed about a year of their scents. When I opened it, it was barely there.”

Natasha remained silent, too alarmed to speak. Y/n accepted it as an invitation to continue her ramble.

“I was so angry, you won’t believe.” She laughed bitterly, “At myself of course, like, I could’ve googled it or something, but I didn’t. So I don’t have much to go with now.” Y/n continued, either going through an aneurism, a fit, or finally losing her mind all together, doing so hysterically right in front of Nat.

Natasha left her chair, walking towards y/n as carefully as she would approach a wounded predator.

“Listen to me, it’s going to be fine.” She cringed at her own words, feeling terrible at making people feel better. Steve was great at it, he always knew what to say and when to say it. Surly if he returned to give an advice, it would’ve calmed down his grieving girlfriend.

Natasha was relieved to be her only audience, if anyone else was seeing her state she would get a fast pass to a psych ward. Nat knew she wasn’t crazy, just…hurting.

“Yeah. yeah,” y/n dismissed her, swinging her hand, “anyway, that’s my way of telling you I can’t move here.” She finally sat down, leaving Natasha facing the wall. She turned around.

“Why not?” She said carefully, crossing her arms, “the thought of you all alone is- .”

“I don’t mind being alone.” Y/n cut sharply the kind words directed to her,

“do you?”

She finally managed to find the right one, shoving the key to its lock and twisting. She pushed the door with her shoulder, dropping her small bag to the floor.

Five years had gone and she still wasn’t used to the unnatural silence.

The blinds were shut, the air didn’t move, and for a second she could believe that time actually stopped.

Y/n inhaled deeply, standing still in the middle of the room, not daring to make a sound - maybe time did stop. She jumped when a car honked outside. A loud, ear cutting sound that tore her ruthlessly from her bubble.

She blinked, as if waking up from a deep slumber, realizing her precious reality was nothing but a dream.

That’s how she felt everyday, if she was being honest. Sometimes their touch felt more like a delusion than a memory. Sometimes, metal hand and starred chest turning into dust were just a horrifying nightmare. Sometimes, two purple, ugly fingers snap themselves together was just a fucked up hallucination. Sometimes, the existence of two, perfect men, reciprocating the strong, burning love she felt was just too hard to believe.

Nothing was real anymore.

Y/n walked into the bedroom, grabbing the white bottle of aspirin from her bedside table and swallowing down two. It was an exhausting day.

Her head met the sagging pillow with a soft thud, unlike most days, sleep came quickly, and with a flutter of her eyelashes, she was already gone.

He was so handsome with that beard. It was really impacting her ability to focus.

“Hi, ms. Astronaut!” Steve called her, golden fragments of light dancing in his eyes, “your pretty dreamy looks won’t help you on the battlefield.”

“Really? So you’re just that good at punching people?” She smirked, adjusting the straps of her sports bra, “no staring at your enemies with those baby blues until they beg for mercy?”

He caught her off guard, using her shoulder to hoist himself up and tackle her ankles from the back. She hit the soft padding embarrassingly easily, Steve not even giving her the time to react.

He offered a strong hand, swinging her off the ground like she weighs nothing when she took it. He smiled at her, eyes a brilliant cerulean- “ready to beg for mercy yet?”

Y/n huffed and hit his shoulder, “not a chance.” She paused, tightening her ponytail, returning to starting position, “now explain to me how to block it.”

Suddenly, her scenario dusted away in a disgusting black ash, swirling around her body, ruthlessly throwing her into a field.

She started running. She didn’t know where she ran, but it felt like she’s been there before; sounds and smells familiar, recognizing the path to god-knows-where as her legs kept carrying her.

A more clear image started to form, the sky bore lightning but it was warm outside, faceless monsters with sharp teeth and slick skin tried to attack her but only went through. Y/n was starting to realize where she was; it was their last fight against Thanos, and she got another chance.

Running was a part of her by now. Unable to stop or slow down, one mission in mind. Looking for a reflection of the sun on metal, or just the eyes of two bearded men before they disappear for good.

She heard them calling for her, loud and clear, two voices she hasn’t encountered for a long time, yet will never be able to forget.

“Bucky?” She screamed, this time she has to find them, she has to, “Steve? Where are you? Steve, Bucky!”

The tears woke her up, cheeks stained and breaths that were no longer under her control, hasty gasps that choke her up instead of supplying oxygen.

She was so close this time.

Her body shook violently, trembling with fear and drenched in cold sweat. The headache she had when she fell asleep was worse now, an echoing sting compressing her brain every time her heart beat.

It wasn’t just her failed attempt to say goodbye. She dreamed this every other night, and every single time she finds herself inside an unknown territory, not knowing what she needs to do until the very last minute, when she fails miserably, only to awaken to the voices of her loved ones, calling her to come save them.

No, it wasn’t just that. Because this time- this time she had a good dream too.

They used to spar all the time together, it was a good energy outlet and an excuse to spend more time with each other. She had a lot to learn from two super soldiers, and to her surprise, she taught them some moves too.

Y/n remembered that day, Steve and she were having an early morning while Bucky was still soundly sleeping, so they decided not to wake him, leaving an orange sticky note on his metal arm that said, gone to kick steve’s ass, be back by 9:00. love you.

Steve drove them to the compound, crisp breeze hitting her freshly opened eyes as she clutched his firm chest tighter, leaning her body weight on his.

He asked if she was okay, loud noise of the engine and the wind free whistles in her ears, maybe he thought he drove too fast.

She nodded, smiling in reassurance when they bypassed traffic, Steve maniacally dodging cars and driving in between the small spaces vehicles leave. He was crazy. But he managed to bring them to the compound in under twenty minutes, which was a new record.

They entered the gym, Steve’s hand still on her lower back as they stopped walking, taking off their jackets, staying only in training clothes.

“I really like that jacket.” She said, feeling the worn leather of the large brown cloth under her fingertips.

“I know.” He smiled and bit his lips, taking her hand and guiding her to the large ring.

They took their positions, adjusting their stances, “Last night I remembered some old fight moves I didn’t use in a long time.” Steve scratched his beard then stretched his shoulders, “maybe we could start with them?”

She remembers nodding, not registering exactly what he said because she got distracted, thinking about his beard and his eyes and everything else.

It was a good day. Peaceful day. A day she would give anything to experience just once more.

Her eyes were tired, begging for an actual rest as she got up, still in her clothes from yesterday, blindly walking to the kitchen and hitting some buttons on the coffee machine- it was too old now. Needed to be replaced.

Nothing has really changed, since half of the world disappeared, since Steve and Bucky disappeared. She set next to the kitchen table, filling only one of four chairs, like every other day, holding the same bitter, black coffee in the same chipped mug.

Even killing Thanos didn’t mean anything, and she wasn’t even there. Too struck with grief to see the last light behind this monster’s eyes before they darkened forever.

Y/n felt like the world ceased to move, like maybe, in a way, they were caught in a lop, and time did stop.

“I’m sorry.” She went to visit Natasha again. Being sad was no excuse to treat her only friend spitefully. She leaned against the lintel, trying to find support, or hide behind it, she didn’t know.

Natasha’s eyes were swollen, eyes still threatening to tear up again any moment.

“It’s okay.” She took a bite from her sandwich, “Clint did it again.”

Y/n thought about yesterday, her own thoughts were so unfair to Nat, who did nothing but help her the past five years, how could she be so selfish, thinking she was the only one in suffering.

“I’m sorry, Nat. I really am.” Y/n approached her, taking the chair that was opposite of her, “did you try looking for him? Clint is a good guy. You know he is. He’s someone who lost everything at once. Something like that gotta mess up with your mind.”

“You’re still here.” Nat said quietly, already regretting it,

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, reclining against the back of the chair, “If there’s someone in this world that could save him - it’s yo-“

“Hey, Hello, This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport, in Germany, I got really big-“

Both women were startled, slowly getting up from their chairs, looking at the small monitor.

“Is this an old message?” Y/n asked, her eyes burning, she inhaled sharply. Scott Lang is supposed to be missing, he dusted with all the others. And if that really is Scott it means…

Scott didn’t disappear because of Thanos’ snap like the others. So it didn’t mean shit. And hope crushed her chest once again, hating herself for letting it invade her thoughts repeatedly, not learning her lesson.

His incoherent ramble about a time machine sure didn’t help. Natasha insisted they would go visit Tony anyway, saying that if he recognized a real chance he would never hesitate to help-

But when she sees Tony with his daughter, her world nearly crumbles for the second time in two days. The odds he would cooperate were now down to zero.

Tony saw them approaching. She watched him letting the kid down, following her with her gaze as she ran all the way to the front door, swallowed by the wooden house.

“I’m happy for you Tony,” y/n heard herself saying, “I really am. But you can help so many people, you can help bring so many people back, and you won’t even…”

“No. I won’t even.” There was a finality in his voice, one that clearly states they are done.

“Steve? You remember Steve? He used to be your friend. Or have you already forgotten him. How easy.” She pierced the air with an ice cold tone , anger consuming her. “You live your happy life, and you got everything. Tony. Everything. What do I got? What do I have?” She heaved, breathless, and he looked like he was going to say something, when his daughter came jumping on his lap, securing her little arms around him in a firm hug, “mom told me to come save you.”

Y/n finally got a good look of the girl. She was sweet looking, a visible brain behind her eyes; And she didn’t know Tony Stark very well, but y/n could tell the kid shared a deep resembles to him. Who wouldn’t do anything for their child? Even if it means letting the other half of the world burn. -

She clearly didn’t know the man at all, because for some reason- Tony Stark came back.

Everything they did seemed to fail, and when Bruce couldn’t figure it out, almost making what’s left of the Avengers babysitters to baby Scott, Tony arrived to the rescue.

“He turned into a baby, didn’t he?” He snarked with a sly grin, revealing a weird looking metal bracelet and a proud attitude that said, I did it.

“Thank you.” Y/n took his hand, squeezing it hard, knowing that as of now, she owes this man her life. “Thank you so much.”

He offered a knowing smile, grief shifting his features, “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” - “See you in a minute.” She heard Nat, giddy with excitement, before all of them were pulled into a colorful vortex, a hurricane rearranging her guts, staying with her even when they landed in an unfamiliar ally in New York.

“Are we in the right place?” She asked Tony and Bruce, changing her white and red, Quantum traveling suit, into a more area fitting one with a single button.

Smashing sounds got closer by the second right after she asked, not long before they saw a much greener Hulk, destroying everything on his path.

“I’m pretty sure this answers my question. “ Y/n said to herself, amused, heart light inside her chest despite the heavy mission ahead of them.

Y/n wore a big SHIELD identification, saying she was incredibly high clearance, it’s supposed to get her what she needs quickly, no questions asked; but when she entered an elevator full of Hydra thugs, testosterone reeking the small space, she assumed there might be some questions.

“Gentlemen.” She said, too ceremonially, “I will need you to hand me the Scepters. Orders from high, I’m afraid.” She felt all of them tense around her,

“And who are you, if I may ask? I have never seen you here.” The bald man who looked less threatening than all of them asked,

Y/n held her ID high, pointing out her clearance level, “not ever seeing me here is a good sign, Mr…”

“Mr. Sitwell.”

“Very well, Mr. Sitwell. Now, if you will, the Scepter. I’m in a bit of a rush. Wouldn’t want to keep people on the higher floors waiting.” Y/n decided to do something bold, the outcome could either be a success, or one that she would have to punch her way out of. She leaned against Sitwell, bringing her mouth closer to his ear and whispered,

“Hail Hydra.”

The man looked apprehensive at first, debating with himself for a long moment, until finally nodding to one of the other men, handing her the long suitcase reluctantly.

Y/n gladly accepted it , the elevator finally opening up as she turned her back to them, smirking in satisfaction, going towards the exit.

Her legs stopped in their tracks. She wasn’t supposed to see him. Not now, not like this.

Steve, wearing a very cheesy and outdated Captain America suit approached her, holding his earpiece, and before she could even registered what was going on, she heard him say he has eyes on Loki. Fucking Fantastic.

It wasn’t her Steve, she knew, but it was harder to accept than say, because as it seemed she is going to have to fight him, and she wasn’t ready.

In the months before the mission Natasha got her back into a very strict schedule of training, trying to beat her into shape again. It couldn’t repair years of damage and neglect, but it was better than anything. And as past Steve swung his shield to her direction, y/n held onto every bit of shape she head.

It wasn’t her Steve, her mind screamed as she dodged his punch, fighting the desire to take off his mask and kiss him.

He hasn’t met her yet, of course he won’t recognize her.

“Hand back the Scepter, Loki.” He demanded, she was suddenly happy she couldn’t see his eyes.

Steve tried to use her shoulder to hoist himself up, but y/n hunched over, waiting for him to miss his jump, and placed two hands securely on his broad shoulders, lifting herself and using his support to flip over, forcing him down along with her, wrapping her body around his, trying to chock him long enough for him to lose consciousness.

“I can’t do that. “She panted, struggling to keep him in a tight enough grip, “and I am not Loki.”

Steve fought out of her hold, twisting his thighs around hers and kicking her kneecaps, rattling her entire body as they changed positions, now she was the one being strangled. She arced her back, hitting him in full force with it, but he didn’t budge. Not even when she jerked one ankle, jolting him right in the junk. She’ll apologize later.

Y/n couldn’t beat him in a hand to hand combat, poorly shaped and outmatched by him. Distraction was her only possible advantage, and she was running out of time, options, and air. What could baffle 2012 Steve Rogers? She thought frantically, just as the answer presented itself to her.

What would faze 2012 Steve Rogers? The same thing that would faze 2019 Steve Rogers, or any Steve Rogers for that matter.

“Bucky, is , alive.” She coughed out, and it was enough; the lock on her throat was released, giving her an opportunity to take the Scepter and run. She took it out of its case, pointing it at Steve general direction just as he gained composer again, hovering above her. She caught a glimpse of blue, cold and painful to watch without the warm undertones that appeared every time he looked at her.

“Sorry.” She squeaked as he dropped to the floor, head planted down. Only falling asleep, she hoped.

- The minute she saw Clint collapsing, an empty space to her left, she knew Natasha was not coming back.

They didn’t know exactly what happened, and it didn’t matter. Because everything else was clear. She gave her life to get that stone, to get everyone back. That only meant one thing; They could not fail.

- As time went by, y/n thought less and less about what would happen if they came back. There was no point to lead herself on, right? So she didn’t.

But now, as the possibility of them returning appeared more vivid, worry began to chew on her confidence. Insecurity seemed the last thing she needed right now, so insignificant, superficial, in times like this, when the faith of the world was at stake. Yet, she was staring at the mirror, for the first time in five years, really looking. Examining carefully, with attention, how her body has changed. She didn’t like what she saw.

It’s not about you, she had to remind herself, it’s about them.

“Also", a very familiar voice, challenging her with the cheek in her tone; Nat. “Give those two dumbasses more credit, they will love you, no matter what.”

It was only them, and they were losing.

They managed the snap, and it almost cost Bruce’s life in the process. Nothing in the world seemed to scream about drastic changes so far, and then Thanos decided to pay a visit, depriving them of finding out if everything they have gone through was for nothing.

Slowly but surely, they were losing. Being wrecked by the purple alien that already destroyed once their lives as they knew and loved.

It wasn’t fair, Stark was the last one standing. She watched him from where she landed, after being brutally thrown. He could never face him by himself, he wouldn’t survive long enough. She remembered that day, it seemed like thousand years ago now; when she swore, she owed her life to that man.

No superpowers, no special suit, no weapon. Just her, and her fists. That’s all she had to offer. She owed it to too many people to not just surrender and die, leaving a world to burn behind her. She owed it to herself.

Y/n gritted her teeth and spit blood to the side, standing side by side with Iron Man, bringing two fists to the front of her body and fixing her stance.

She inhaled deeply and glanced at Stark, he nodded, letting her know he’s ready when she is.

“Y/n?” She heard her name, somehow loud, in her earpiece. Tony looked confused just as her, he heard it too, and it wasn’t him talking.

“Doll, it’s Steve. Do you copy?”

Her breath was knocked off her lungs, she searched around her for any sign of him, of Bucky, of anyone, when an orange portal was opened behind her. And then another one, and another one, and another ten.

“Holy shit.” Tony called from beside her, laughing, somehow, “holy fucking shit.”

Y/n was at a loss of words.

“Go.” He opened his helmet, motioning her to the sea of warriors behind them - he wasn’t standing alone anymore - “go!”

She shook her head, not moving an inch. “I’m staying right here.”

It was her dream again. Her eyes scanned the crowds, running amok between injured people, bodies. Vision too blurry and burning to see any face at all.

“Y/n!.” A deep voice called in her direction, and she nearly twisted her neck attempting to find its source.

Her eyes teared up instantly, knees threatening to buckle underneath her, a metal arm coming just in time to hold onto her, support her in place. Wiping tears was useless, she found out soon enough, giving up instantly to simply sobbing into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.” She kept crying out, he had a long cut on the side of his torso, he shushed her gently when she tried to bring it up.

There was a subtle movement behind her, and she tensed, head shooting up, “Steve?”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” He said softly, another pair of strong arm enfolding themselves around her, his eyes radiated warmth, bright in the middle of a dirt stained face. She took one last look before burying her body deeper between them, surrounding herself with a scent that was a mix of salt and earth and blood, so humanly them.

“You were gone and I-“ Y/n kept glancing every other second at Bucky- even though she was still in his arms, hysteria got the best of her, gradually taking over any rationale left- the fear they’ll disappear, like last time, becomes too real.

“I didn’t say goodbye and-“ She gasped for air, they caressed her, talking sweet nothings in her ears, just to calm her down.

“It’s been five years and I…I couldn’t live without you.” She said finally, physically struggling to speak, clutching onto them harder,

“We’re so sorry.” Bucky muttered, choking down on tears of his own, weaving fingers through her knotted hair, “So fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve reassured her one more time, kissing her temple, then her knuckles, then her lips. “we’re here now.”

#stucky x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #stucky #avengers endgame #avengers endgame spoilers #i write

201 notes · View notes

musiclovingbitch · 5 years

Text

Together

Summary: Secret Agents!Klaine. When Blaine finds out Kurt’s taken on a really dangerous mission all on his own, he’s resigned to do anything to stop his friend from getting hurt.

A/N: So, someone sent me this list of prompts, but didn’t actually send along any particular number they wanted me to use. So, I decided to try and use as many as I possibly could. I ended up using prompts #1, #2, #23, #19, #70, #46, # 58, (half of #96), #97, #65, #34, #84, #62, #9, #13, #17, #43, #47, #48, #52, #26, #74, #60, #59, #21, #55, #91, #82, #10, #66, #85, #36, #30, #72, #90, and finally #83, in that order, making it a grand total of 35(.5)/100. Relatively decent, I think, no?

Also, a massive shoutout and thanks to @slayediest for making this even vaguely coherent.

~2.7k

on AO3

“If this is you flirting, I don’t like it.”

Blaine huffed as he adjusted his hold on Kurt slightly, and continued walking towards his dorm room in the Dalton Headquarters.

“You’re not going on this mission, Kurt. I won’t let you die,” he said, quietly but resolutely. Kurt took a moment to reign in his fury, because Blaine did not just say that to him, before he responded.

“This is bullshit!” he complained, “What are you doing here anyway? I didn't expect you to be here tonight.”

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to be here. But you know that, of course. I just happened to stay late yesterday to work a bit on my left hook, and I overheard Sebastian and Trent talking in the locker room while I was changing. See, Trent was telling Sebastian all about the idiot that had agreed to take on the Karofsky case, and how they were stupid enough to not only take it on, but take it on by themselves. Now, imagine my surprise when I heard that that idiot, was you.”

Kurt was silent, cursing Trent and his big mouth in his head.

“You idiot!” Blaine yelled at Kurt from across the room as he ran to catch up with him before he walked out the door.

Kurt turned, startled. “Blaine? What--”

“You’ve taken on the Karofsky case? Alone?” Blaine said, livid.

Kurt froze, but quickly composed himself and arched an eyebrow. “Don't sound so excited about it. And yeah, I did.”

“You do realize I’m not gonna let you go, right?”

“Is that so? I'm pretty sure that's not how it works. I’m pretty sure I’m the one that gets to pick my assignments, not you. And besides, you took that mission in Berlise all by yourself just four months ago.”

“That’s different, I am five years in, you’ve only been here for two.”

“And I’ve proven, over and over and over again, that I can keep up with the best of you. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

"That’s not what I meant! You're so stubborn!" Blaine said, running a frustrated hand through his curls. “You are not going, Kurt!” he said with finality.

“Blaine, nothing short of tying me up will stop me from going out there, okay?”

Blaine’s eyes hardened. “Well, okay then.”

“I’m not stupid. Just so you know. I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. So, this? This is insulting. Really, now.”

“Look, just. Don't fight me on this," Blaine pleaded, though he knew it was hopeless.

“Blaine, for the love of god, this is ridiculous. Untie me!" Kurt struggled against his restraints.

“Are you going to come to your senses and not go on this insane mission?”

“No.” Kurt struggled some more.

“Then, no. And quit moving around so much, you’re going to throw me off balance.”

Kurt stilled. “Put me down!”

“No.”

Kurt took a moment to assess the situation, asking himself what he would be doing if this were a case. He switched gears. “Do you realize for how long you’ve been carrying me? I mean. Wow. You're really strong." The admiration was genuine, but Blaine didn’t need to know that.

“Neither flattery nor any of the diversion tactics you’ve learned here will get you anywhere tonight, Hummel. You think I'm dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?” Blaine shook his head. “You know, I thought we were--friends,” he said haltingly.

"Friends don't tie friends up!"

“Friends also don’t hide the fact that they’re gonna be embarking on a suicide mission! God, you didn’t even say anything to me in the cafeteria. Were you just gonna up and leave without telling me? How long ago did you even take the assignment, how long have you been hiding this from me?”

Without realizing it, Blaine had picked up the pace in his anger. Kurt squirmed uncomfortably.

"Will you just--slow down. Please. We’re practically there anyway."

Blaine slowed down. He was kind of surprised none of the other agents had stopped them to see why Blaine was carrying Kurt over his shoulder. Or why Kurt was tied up.

When they reached the door to Blaine’s room, he reluctantly put Kurt down. He held his hand against Kurt’s neck, a silent warning for him to not try anything, while his other hand dug through his pocket for his access card.

“You know, you have some nerve!” Kurt exclaimed as Blaine pushed him in his room. “You have no right!”

“Excuse me?”

“Literally every other person in this building has more of a right to do this than you.”

Hurt flashed in Blaine’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you forget that you did the exact same thing to me with the Berlise job? That I just woke up one day and you were gone?”

“I told you, it was literally last minute, Sam got hurt the night before--”

“Not even a note! Or a text! How much time would that have taken, Blaine? Or if writing was so damn difficult, even a fucking voicemail. You just disappeared.”

“So, what, this is some kind of payback? Are you really going to get yourself killed just to spite me, Kurt?”

Kurt’s lips turned into a thin line. His voice was cold when he spoke. “Unlike you, I’m not going in blind. I’ve read the Karofsky file so many times I’ve had it memorised, and I’ve also read every other file he’s mentioned in. I also asked around and found and read up on every single case, open or closed, where there’s suspected involvement of Karofsky’s organization. Unlike you, I don’t do things half-assed.”

Okay, that stung. “You are so fucking petty.”

“Damn right I’m pretty.”

“I said petty,” Blaine responded, shaking his head but suppressing a smile.

“Oh, I know. I’m just gonna pretend you said pretty so as not to take out my gun and pistol whip you across the face.”

Kurt was sincere in his threat, that much Blaine could see. He was also furious. Blaine was just a little bit too confused for this conversation to work in his favor. “Kurt, come on, are you really still hung up on the Berlise job? It’s been four months.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Kurt gave him a look so furious, Blaine actually felt a twinge of genuine fear run down his spine.

"Am I just supposed to get over the fact that you died? Treat it as if it didn’t happen, which is what you’re obviously trying to do, considering you didn’t even bother to tell me about it. Would that be more convenient for you?"

Blaine froze. “What? How did you know about that?”

"You died! I saw you die! So don’t you dare imply that I’m being overdramatic, like I’m not supposed to get hung up on that."

Blaine could only repeat himself. “What?”

Kurt wouldn’t look at him. “I was part of the extraction team, Blaine. I was part of the team they sent to bail you out when everything expectedly went to shit, because of course it did, because you stupidly took over a mission the night before its launch without having done any prep beforehand.”

“You were there?” Blaine asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Kurt confirmed grimly.

A beat of silence.

“I was only dead for, like, twenty seconds.”

Suddenly, Kurt was in front of him, having freed himself of his restraints. Blaine gave himself some credit that he was able to hold him for that long. Kurt pushed him, and Blaine’s back hit the back of his door. Kurt got right up to his face, their noses a hair width apart. They locked eyes.

“Do you know what it was like, sticking those stickers to your chest?” Kurt said in a low voice, his eyes hard, but glistening.

Blaine felt the air leave his lungs. “No. They told me--Santana.”

“Santana likes me more than you. And everyone else is too scared of her to say anything. But, yes, I… I was the one closest to you when you went down. I was the one that searched for a pulse and didn’t find one. I was the one who had to will my fingers not to shake as I tried to remember where to place those fucking stickers and what buttons to push on the defibrillator.”

Blaine swallowed hard. Kurt took a small step back.

“So. Now you know everything. And now--”

“No, I don’t. You’re still mad. There’s more.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Kurt, come on.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m not mad at you, really.” Kurt exhaled loudly, and seemed to say ‘fuck it’ to himself before continuing, “It’s just… I had imagined what it would be like to undress you again very differently. Not in a filthy warehouse. Not while you were unconscious--while you were dead. I had imagined countless different scenarios about how and when we’d finally stop playing this game of cat and mouse. Who would cave first and come to the other’s room. Neither of us drunk the second time, hopefully. You took that from me, Blaine. From us. And I’m not mad, but -- maybe that’s what you’re reading on my face right now.”

Blaine stood perfectly still, trying unsuccessfully to breathe normally. Kurt continued.

“But maybe that’s a sign. A sign that this, whatever it was, is over.” Kurt breathed in deeply, “Closure sure is something. So, if you could kindly step aside, now. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Blaine stood silently, watching Kurt, watching the tears that still hadn’t left his eyes, willing the tears to disappear from his own, processing everything that had happened in the past two minutes.

“Blaine.” Kurt sighed. “Seriously now. Don’t be nervous. I wasn’t joking when I said I’ve done a lot of prep. More prep than I’ve ever done for a case in my life. There's nothing to fear. I’m not taking this case lightly, and I’m not doing this to spite you.”

Kurt sniffled. Blaine silently handed him his handkerchief. Kurt took it gratefully and smiled tentatively before bringing it up to his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said.

Kurt barely had time to look confused before Blaine’s hand was over his, effectively locking his handkerchief over his nose, and barely had time to realize what was happening before everything went black.

He woke up in Blaine’s bed. When the previous day’s memories came back to him, he groaned. Within seconds he felt the bed dip beside him.

“You’re an asshole,” he croaked. He turned his head towards Blaine, and found him smiling. “Such an asshole.”

Blaine just smiled wider. Kurt looked away.

"Fuck you! Or me. I’m not sure. I’m not sure which is up and which is down right now," he said, bringing a hand up to his head. That caused Blaine to stop smiling.

"You're okay, right? Not hurt or anything?"

“Just a headache. You asshole. Now. Help me up.” He extended his hand.

“No,” Blaine said, shaking his head lightly. “Stay in bed. It’s super early.”

Kurt let his head hang down. "Ugh.” His eyes peered up at Blaine. “You annoy the fuck outa me. In case you didn’t know."

"Sh. Go back to sleep."

Kurt quirked his lips up. “No.”

Blaine sighed, trying to look put out, but failing. He didn’t mind, letting the smile spread over his face easily. Kurt’s eyes wandered around the room. “Where did you sleep?” he asked.

“I didn’t.”

Blaine seemed to be contemplating something, and Kurt waited, watching him, watching as his smile slowly faded into a frown.

"You know the worst part? I thought I had nothing to lose."

Kurt was definitely awake now. “What?” he said, sitting up abruptly and almost falling forward before Blaine’s strong arms wrapped around him and straightened him up.

"Steady now. Are you sure you’re okay?"

Kurt ignored the attempt at a switch in the subject. “What do you mean by that?”

Blaine sighed. “When I left. The Berlise job. I could have turned it down.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I...I had convinced myself that you didn’t want me like I wanted you. Everyone flirts with everyone around here, all the time. You’d flirt back when I flirted with you, but you’d almost never initiate anything, and you’d always have a witty response for everyone else, too.

“Those first few months after you came here? I wanted to kill Jeff, even though I know he’s been with Nick for years and that he flirts with anything that moves, but I’d see you talking, and he’d make you blush and I would have to fight the urge to sneak up behind him and snap his neck. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t handle having to stop myself from touching you and kissing you every time we were in the same room together.

“I felt trapped. Trapped in and by my feelings for you. We’d spend so much time together, and I kept trying to convince my heart that I was making it all up in my head, that your eyes never lingered on me, that your blushes were the same for me as for anybody else, that all you felt for me was friendship. It got to be so bad that I was afraid it would start affecting my work and endanger my place here. So I just--I said yes, just to have something else to focus on, and maybe get the thought of you out of my mind. A stupid decision, really. If it makes you feel any better, it didn’t work.”

They were both breathing heavily after Blaine finished his speech.

“So, what now?”

Blaine looked him over. His expression was so soft it broke Kurt’s heart just a little bit. Blaine reached a hand out and brushed a few strands of hair that had fallen on Kurt’s forehead back.

“Your hair is so soft,” he marvelled.

“Oh no.” Kurt moaned, ducking his head in a futile effort to hide his blush. “That is way too cheesy for this early in the morning.”

Blaine bent down to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Hey. Don’t hide your face. I like your face.” He used a finger to lift Kurt’s jaw.

They both stared at each other in silence. Eyes fell to lips, then rushed back up. Slowly, then both leaned in. They met in the middle.

Blaine’s hands came up to cradle Kurt’s face. Kurt’s hands fisted Blaine’s shirt and pulled him forward. The need for air caused them to eventually pull away.

“You take my breath away,” Kurt said, barely more than a whisper.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt said, smiling a little. “But…”

“What? No, no buts, no buts allowed.” Blaine swept forward and kissed the corner of Kurt’s mouth where it had started to turn downwards.

“Blaine. I’m not sure if this can work.”

“Don’t say that, why would you say that?”

“Blaine? I’m really sorry, but I can’t just not take a mission just because you think it’s too dangerous. Every mission is dangerous, you know that. And I love it here, I love what I do--what we do. I don’t think I could give it up.”

“Kurt, I would never ask you to give this up. I’m not gonna say that I won’t be worried every time you’re out there, and I probably won’t be pleasant company until I have you safe, here, and back in my arms, but I know how competent you are. It’s just this particular mission. Something doesn’t feel right, and I trust my instincts. The two previous agents that took it on died while working on it. I think there may be a mole.”

Kurt looked pensive.

“I still have to try, Blaine.”

“But you don’t have to try alone. We could…you know, go together if you wanted.”

“Together?” Kurt asked, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Together.”

“Okay,” he said and smiled. Blaine grinned in response.

“Quit smiling at me,” Kurt said, and shook Blaine by the shoulders.

"Make me."

Kurt smirked and, in one swift move, flipped them over. He pecked Blaine on the lips.

“I’m still smiling,” Blaine teased.

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly before leaning down and sealing their lips together once more.

#spewing their words without menace #klaine fic

16 notes · View notes

fanforfanatic · 6 years

Text

a bend in the wind

1.5k // ao3

Cas is back from purgatory. And Dean breathes again.

For weeks he held his breath the way he did hope, firmly and with both hands. Kept it tucked in his chest’s cage, the one made of bone and grief, because it was all he could do. But Cas is back now.

The first night they’re together again is like a first time. What theirs would have been if it wasn’t quick and quiet on a bed of dirt with Benny guarding the perimeter. There was always urgency there, a crackle in the air to remind them that staying put would get them dead and going slow would have to wait.

Dean forgets, pulling at belt buckles and zippers with frenzy as soon as Sam leaves the motel room. Cas catches his rough hands, stills them in his warm ones, skin dry and reassuring against Dean’s.

“We can take our time,” Cas murmurs like a promise. He presses Dean’s hands to his chest and cups his face instead. “Let me,” he says, lips so close they share air, “take my time.”

Dean twists his fingers into that damn trench coat, shuts his eyes tight against the tenderness, and nods, giving into Cas.

Cas gets his own room in the bunker but it’s for him to have, not use. He and Dean share a bed. Dean picks it out—memory foam with down pillows—but Cas is the one who never wants to leave it especially loose limbed and post-orgasm. Especially with Dean pressed to his bare back. With strong arms bracketing his sides and soft touches at his hips. With the cold tip of Dean’s nose running up his spine, chased by wet lips along the edge of his hairline.

“You don’t even need sleep,” Dean calls him out once, all smiles and tease, heart lighter than it could ever be outside this safe space.

Cas laughs and puts Dean on his back. But he looks tired.

They nest, filling the bunker’s shelves with books that aren’t all lore, novels they love and plan to love given the time, buying decorative pillows in plaid and thick throw blankets in fleece and an entertainment system in XL for the full cinematic experience. Cas keeps jars of peanut butter in the cupboard like he’s hoarding for the next apocalypse, and goes through honey drop candies by the bag. It’s nice for Cas that not everything tastes like, what was it? Mud? Whatever it was, Dean makes him a peanut butter pie.

On Charlie’s first visit, she asks what this place is, and Sam tells her about Henry, and the Men of Letters, and how they’re legacies . Dean calls it home.

“Well in that case…” Charlie swings her backpack to the front, unzips it, and pulls out one of many liquor bottles with a clink. “Time for a homewarming.”

It’s a good time. The best time. They drink, and they argue about Star Wars, and Dean performs Eye of the Tiger , and Sam forces water bottles into everyone’s hands, and Cas laughs all night and giggles once, face flushed like he’s feeling the booze.

He and Cas are archiving storage room F on a lower level when he finds the glasses, large and thick rimmed and coated with a layer of dust as dense as the lense.

He snorts. “Hey, check it out. Old timey glasses.” He wipes them clean with the sleeve of the flannel tied around his hips, and finds the frame beneath the grime charred. “Oh,” he says. “These were doused in holy fire, Cas. Mark that.”

Cas hums from his stool by the door where he’s digitizing the shitty catalogue the Moles kept, and noting Dean’s findings. Dean slips on the glasses, soot leaving his fingertips stained, and looks over.

He misses them at first.

The ring of light suspended above Cas buzzes and blinds, and as soon as his eyes adjust it glows brighter. It drowns Cas’ body, until Dean realises it’s all Cas’ body. Cas is lustre and gold and radiance.

And then he sees them.

Like a terrible backdrop, a looming shadow. Wings large and spread wide, majestic in the way of a collapsed kingdom. They’re threadbare where Dean always imagined them full, dark plumes missing in bunches, worn thin enough that Dean can trace bone with his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean doesn’t say, the name dead on his tongue.

Cas looks up anyway, and yanks his wings close, tucks them behind his back like shame.

“It’s nothing,” Cas blurts.

“Cas.” It’s below a whisper, lost in a borrowed breath.

“Take them off,” Cas says. He jumps to his feet and says it again, sounding just as broken as his wings look. “Take them off!”

Dean flings them off his face, and they skitter across the concrete.

What was he supposed to do? How’s Dean supposed to make up for another loss? He expects the hits to keep coming, but he never considered there might be a world of ‘em he had no clue of. Ones he can’t even fucking see.

“It’s alright,” Cas says when it can’t be. And then, “I promise.”

Dean hears him. Hears please . Hears let this go .

He moves closer, tentative in a way he hasn’t had to be around Cas in a long time. He kisses him, holds him close, pulls them down to their knees, then to their sides where they warm the ground. Dean imagines Cas’ light bathing the both of them.

Cas is naked and snoring when Dean slips the glasses back on. It’s wrong but Dean’s been a far cry from good for a long time. The halo’s dimmer now, and it flickers like the worst omen, appearing as a dull metal ring between bursts of light. Cas rolls over with a sleepy grunt, and his wings follow clumsily like too many limbs. They leave a handful of feathers behind, scattered horrors, and Dean picks up each one.

They’re soft, more fragile than they have the right to be, so Dean’s careful not to crush them in his tense hands.

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” Cas’ eyes are open, and so blue, even down here, even beneath his halo, but Dean’s never noticed the wrinkles that edge them. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t want them to alarm you. There’s no need for that.”

Dean shakes his head. “Why are more falling?” He sounds like purgatory, raw with fear.

Cas’ smile is soft. He’s calmer than before. “Dean, you’re not to worry yourself about this.” Bullshit.

“I thought it happened in hell. When you saved me.”

With a sigh Cas moves to his knees, mirroring Dean, and brings one wing forward. It curls jaggedly into the space between them. “This did.”

Dean’s heart drops so low it might as well be back in the pit. The tip is scorched, and even a light graze from Dean’s sandpaper hands would turn it to ash.

“Hellfire caught it on the way up.” It. A manifestation of grace, Cas told him once.

Dean says, “And the rest?”

“Over time.” Cas draws his wing back so it joins its twin. It looks like a reflex, like Cas has made a habit out of hiding them, even from himself.

“It’s an ongoing thing?” And then, choking on the truth, “It’s an ongoing thing.”

Cas nods. This isn’t something they can fix.

“This whole time… But why—”

Oh.

“It’s me. Being on earth, not being in heaven, whichever. That’s what’s doing this to you.” The divine is ebbing out of him and Dean’s been letting it. Cas has been eating and sleeping, because he has to. Drinking because he can.

Dean frees the feathers from his grasp like they’ve burned him instead of the other way around, and their slow fall is a long taunt. He shuffles back. He needs to put space between them, needs to never touch Cas again, needs to stop poisoning everything.

“Dean—”

“No.” He’s shaking, bones trembling. “No.”

Cas crawls close, and their knees touch. He takes Dean’s hands in his, and then he takes them again when Dean rips them away. “Look at me.”

Dean’s going to be sick.

“Look at me,” he says even gentler, as though Dean isn’t the one clawing and plucking parts of him away. He tilts Dean’s face up and keeps a hand there, cradling his jaw. “You’re not to blame for this...change.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean croaks, and Cas swipes his thumb over silent tears.

“It’s not because of you. It’s us. Being together, the way I want us to be—it has a price.”

“Cas, you’re giving up too much.” This isn’t a big bad taking his grace away. This is Dean robbing him of it.

Cas shakes his head and smiles like he knows a secret. Like he’s certain. “I chose you a long time ago, Dean. Over everything else. And every day, I’ll choose you again.”

ao3 // @casloveshisfreckles @reallyelegantsharkfish i appreciate you(r help and support) <3

#domestiel #destiel drabble #wingfic #destiel fluff #deancas angst #my writing #a bend in the wind

502 notes · View notes

hexagon-imagines · 6 years

Text

In Time of War:Man the Barricades

“INCOMING!!!”

Breaking apart from you, Jesse looked around with a furrowed brow. “Grab a gun, and go up there and try and hold them off” He told you pointing you in the direction of a tent with people furiously going in and out. The yelling continued as the troopers and captains ran forward with the armored tanks. Swinging their giant hammers and colliding with the omnics that came close. Running forward and pulling the rifle into your shoulder you shot out a few omnics. Everything around you seemed to pass in slow motion, the kick from the gun was the only thing that felt reassuring. It felt like you were holding your breath, and just maybe if you don’t breath you’ll be alright in the end. “Glad to see one of the girls is competent!” A sassed sounding voice called behind you, breaking you out of your morbid thoughts.

Loading the gun into her shoulder she began to fire. Sharpshooting was never a strength for you, it was one of the things you had to really concentrate on. But oh what a day it’s been. “Morrison to Amari! How are things holding at the west end of the base?!” A panicked sounding voice called from the ear piece. “Things are fine Jack! I’ve got some help down this way!!” She chuckled, shooting with a frightening accuracy. Turning your head back to the mess in front of you, you shot at them, reloading and trying to at least create a weak point something to give you the upper hand in the west end.

“There isn’t enough fire power in the west! If we don’t do something they’ll take advantage of any weak points we have!!” You shouted over the gun fire, trying to at least get someone’s help or attention. Looking toward the east end you saw that most of your teammates were firing but in the wrong place, there weren't enough people spread out and firing. “Can you hold down the fort for a second?!” You yelled, looking over at the woman in azure colored clothes. ‘Yes but not for long! Where are you going?!” She yelled as you ran away to get reinforcements. “WE NEED TO DEFEND THE WEST POINT!” You yelled, reloading your gun.

There was still no disturbance amongst the overpowering wave of omnics. Looking to your left you saw an open crate with dimly glowing orbs. Lightbombs. Wrapping your hand around the pin you looked over at your assumed superior. Glancing over at you and giving a curt nod, she and everyone else stopped firing. Jumping over the low crumbled wall, you ran forward til you were far enough from the base. Pulling out the pin, you threw it into the oncoming sea of omnics. A white flash exploded in front of your eyes, with a sonic boom nearly splitting your eardrums. “AAAHHHGHHAAAA!!!!” You screamed falling to your knees, clutching your ears and feeling pained tears running down your face. It felt like someone had stuck a red hot piece of metal in your ears and twisted it around.

Everything seemed to bright after the blast even though it was dark and ashfallen, your eyes seemed to be blind, and your body seemed dead. Your ears were ringing as you laid on the ground around broken omnics. Maybe heaven wasn’t so far away, maybe soon you’d see the sunrise and birds would sing happily in your ears. “(Y/N)!” Someone called, but it sounded like you were underwater, all the sounds were blurred together and nothing seemed to feel real, like you had woken up and couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and all you could feel was fear and pain. “God are you okay?! Can you hear me?!” They called again. Your eyes felt like they had been cemented shut, unopening to the light of day. “Her vitals are falling rapidly we need to move her!” Someone spouted out, worry ribbed in their voice. Feeling your body weight shift, you were loaded onto a gurney and carried out of the rubblized disaster.

“Clear the area! We’re looking at ruptured eardrums, broken radius and ulna , and four broken ribs! Check for spinal damage and check for a punctured lungs!” Someone yelled, the smell of bleach and old blood filled your nose. It made your stomach turn, adding to your already sickening headache. You felt so dizzy, like you had gone a carousel with a hangover. Being placed on a cold table, they stripped your pants and felt around the presumed broken arms. As the prodded around you felt a sharp agony, sending painful surges throughout your body. Nothing came out of your mouth as you laid, helpless and nearly dead...Not able to make a sound.

“We’ll have to go in right now.” They whispered among themselves, the sound of gloves being snapped on as they prepared a scalpel, and the bone repairing tool. You had heard the the process is painless and quick. Bullshit.

It felt like the world’s worst burn, as the bone was being fused back together at an unnatural speed. Not to mention they have to cut open the flesh to reach the bone more efficiently. “No spinal damage or bruising of organs and with a few sessions she should be able to have full hearing capabilities.” A woman sighed. The sound of your arm bones cracking back together faintly;like the sound of a soda bottle being opened,or the sound of a rice crispy treat when you first take a bite. It was sickening, you could feel yourself coming back together, like you were a porcelain doll and they were glueing you back together.

“Alright the arm is now fully healed and mended, grab the wound repair and she’ll have some scars but she’ll be okay.” The doctor said, picking up the scalpel and dragging it down your rib cage, the pain was insufferable. You wanted to scream out in agony, or writhe in pain… But again you laid voided on the table, seemingly dead to yourself. “Starting above the muscle and mending the ‘true rib four’ and working down to ‘true rib seven’.” The doctor said with a sigh, powering up the bone mender and holding it by your side with a sinister sting rippling painfully through your side. “Alright onto the rib 5…” The sighed moving the devilish device over own your side. Swearing and cursing in your mind, not a sound slipping out your throat… Again they moved, til they mended the flesh and moved you seemingly lifeless body.

Being laid on a bed, whether it was yours or a recovery area… Your mind felt fuzzy, like you were half asleep. Maybe they missed something and you were now slowly dying in a corner, another death for the board. Maybe you’d wake up clad in white satin and hear the songs of canary’s and doves, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood lingering in the air. Maybe you’d be ok, and maybe you’d take up Charlotte’s offer of a cigarette, maybe you’d play poker with the older agents and make friends...“Alright, thanks doc.” A familiar sounding voice said, the sound of boots; tapping lightly on the ground. “God sweetheart you’re a mess.” He whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

Sigh. “I’ll have you know that my ass is being chewed by Morrison.” He chuckled squirming uncomfortably in his chair. “Man I was just starting to like you, but you’re gonna be ok...That’s the important part.” He sighed, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Hate to cut this short, but I’ve gotta go sugar.” He mumbled, placing a kiss on the back of your hand and walking out of the room. The sound of his boots fading away to the small ringing in your ears. Now you were alone again, laying on a bed like some sort of lifeless vegetable. Sleep succumbed your mind soon after he left, bringing you no dreams but an uncomfortable darkness.

“She may not wake up…” Someone said, their voices muffled like cotton had been stuffed into your ears. “You don’t know that!” Another person protested angrily. “She may be brain dead, I give her another 12 hours, then we’ll have to move her.” They retorted back, before walking off somewhere. “Fuck!” They yelled, kicking something and rushing over to your side. “Please wake up princess. Please don’t give up. We still got work to do!” He grumbled, placing a hand on your hand gripping it tightly, like he could somehow pass his energy into your body and you’d magically wake up and ride into the sunset.

“Jesse, stop crying over your girl toy. We have work to do.” A monotone voice said, obviously annoyed and done with Jesse’s buffoonery . “Fuck off.” Jesse seethed through his teeth. “Why do you even like her? You barely know each other!” They sassed, walking in the room and sitting on the end of the bed. “She sacrificed herself! Everyone else is shitting their pants! Staying behind the tanks and walls!” , “ Well then cowboy maybe you should pray! And then go listen to Garth Brooks and cry into your pillow!” They argued. Back and forth,and back and forth like small children fighting over a stuffed animal.

It was annoyingly stupid. Feeling an anger bubble in your chest, you just wanted them to stop. “Shut up, for fucks sake please shut up!” You grumbled, sitting up with a pained groan and the sound of your joints popping. Staring at you the looked baffled. “What? Can’t get rid of me that easy.” You sighed, pushing your hair back and throwing your legs over the side of the bed. “She won’t be able to fight anyways Jesse, she’s too weak. She’ll have to be sent back.” Genji sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not some goddamn broken toy.” You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed. “And I’m not leaving.”

#overwatch drabbles #overwatch oneshots #overwatch imagines #overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfic #jesse mccree imagines #jesse mccree x reader #mccree x reader #mccree imagines #x reader imagines #x reader #genji #jesse mccree #overwatch

46 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @blizgori!

Merry Christmas, blizgori! Hope you have a very special one!

*****

The smell of pine in the winter time

“It’s too tall!”

“It’s not too tall!”

“It’s gonna hit the ceiling!”

“It’s not gonna hit the ceiling!”

“Did we seriously need to have one this big!”

“Of course, we seriously needed to have one this big!”

“Would you stop arguing with me like that!”

“Stop arguing with you like what!”

Always having to hide his immense satisfaction and borderline glee at having successfully riled Derek up with his antics was nearly an impossible feat for Stiles. Still, he managed for one very selfish and very important reason. Derek Hale was smoking hot when he was mad!

Luckily, now that they were dating, Stiles got to see this angry side of Derek all the time, though he wasn’t quite sure what that said about the longevity of their relationship. To Stiles, Derek was the sexiest person to have ever walked the earth. Hands-down. But Angry Derek….with his scorching hot glare and that delicious vein on the side of his neck that strained as he turned a furious shade of red, his every muscle tense, even the ones in his eyebrows…well, that was all the Christmas gifts Stiles would ever need.

“Please, for the life of me, just stop talking, I beg of you,” Derek pleaded, pressing his palms together in prayer. “I’ll get your tree up somehow. You just sit there, and look pretty, and shut up.”

Stiles’ already wide grin grew wider. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course.” Derek winked then switched his focus back to the tree. “I also think you’re annoying, ridiculous, deranged, obnoxious…”

The list went on and on. Derek was probably dreaming about how good it would feel to put his hands around Stiles’ neck and just wring. Stiles kept bothering him nonetheless, barking out absurd orders as Derek struggled to put up their humongous Christmas tree that Stiles had begged him for. It was their first holiday together as a real couple and Derek had wanted to buy a stupid fake tree, one that would be too small and too easy to set up. Stiles, on the other hand, wanted a real tree, one that was big and fluffy and smelled like fresh pine. And though their relationship was fairly new—they’d only been together for a month—Stiles was discovering that Derek typically let him have his way. Probably knowing that giving into Stiles was well worth the sex in the end.

“Whew,” Stiles puffed and wiped pretend sweat from his forehead as Derek finally got the tree on the stand. “Well, that was a lot of work!”

“You. Did. Nothing.” Derek glared, biting out each word.

Stiles scoffed. “I’m management. That’s like the most important job. Everyone knows the top’s where all the pressure’s at. Supervising is a lot more stressful than manual labor.”

“I’ll show you manual labor,” Derek murmured, a suggestive glint in his eyes as he slid into Stiles’ personal space and pressed their bodies together.

Stiles had all intention of rolling his eyes at Derek’s massive cheesiness but gasped instead when Derek’s hands went under his thighs to hoist him up into the air. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and clung on while Derek walked them towards the couch, nibbling on Stiles’ ear.

“Wait! We need to decorate the tree!” Stiles whined when Derek dropped them down onto the couch.

“We can do it later,” Derek dismissed, running his teeth against Stiles’ jawline.

“No, we can’t do it later! We have to do this now while the Christmas spirit is still alive.”

“The Christmas spirit can wait an hour.” Derek kissed him then and Stiles forgot all about the tree and the arguing and got lost in the warmth and feel of his mouth.

He remembered the disaster that surrounded their first kiss. Derek had a rough encounter with a witch and was cursed by a nasty spell that called for someone to have sex with him or he would die.

Naturally, out of the pack, Stiles was the only suitable option to help Derek with that, and so they went a couple of rounds in bed but didn’t even kiss at all. As you can imagine, it was very awkward later realizing that they’d fucked for hours but hadn’t kissed. Things got even more awkward as they tried to push past it and pretend that the whole situation never happened.

After a few weeks of unbearable awkwardness, they’d finally had enough and made the grownup decision to kiss to get it all over with. However, they hadn’t expected to never want to stop kissing and honestly haven’t ever since.

Stiles whimpered when Derek’s lips pulled away from his then moaned when they continued kissing down his body. He felt a tug as Derek undid his pants and opened his eyes hungrily to watch when he spotted a sorry sight.

He glanced to it and then back at Derek, torn. “Look at it. It looks so sad that it’s still naked.”

“I’m sad that we’re not naked,” Derek griped.

“C’mon.” Stiles pushed Derek off after a long, bruising kiss and stood, buttoning his pants. “I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

“You’re exhausting,” Derek sighed but got up anyway.

With such a big tree, they would need a lot of manpower and a ton of decorations. Stiles had brought a bunch of boxes of extra decorations to the loft from his dad’s house, trying to save money, being a poor college student and all. But he wished that they would have invested in some new Christmas lights at least instead of trying to work with ones that were super old and tangled up.

He’d made a big mistake in delegating the responsibility of untangling the lights to Derek. It was a huge job that required one to be patient, level-headed, gentle, and super careful; qualities that neither of them really possessed. He thought Derek would’ve done better with it though, because Derek was a werewolf. Honestly, he thought Derek was supposed to be good at everything because he was a werewolf.

But when Derek started getting so frustrated that he was growling and popping wolfy claws, Stiles had to step in and take them from him before he ripped through the wiring. He gave Derek another task of going through the boxes and sorting the ornaments while Stiles dealt with the lights. That way everyone would be happy. Basically, what being in a management position was all about and why his job was way more important.

It took about thirty minutes and a lot of cursing, but Stiles was actually able to get all the lights untangled and was working on putting them around the tree when he heard the sound of glass shattering from behind him.

“Dude! What the fuck!” Stiles cried when he looked back and saw one of the glass ornaments in a pile on the ground. “I thought I told you to be careful!”

He was waiting on Derek to say something, to apologize, or explain himself, or be his usual asshole self. But Derek was just standing there, completely silent, and staring at this one spot on the floor.

“Derek?” Stiles was less annoyed now and more concerned as he put down the lights and tried to figure out what was going on.

“S-s-s-pider,” Derek stammered.

“Uh where?” Stiles asked, frowning as he looked around and saw nothing.

“Right there!” Derek pointed to the same spot he’d been staring at, eyes refusing to budge.

Stiles moved a little closer and squinted. “I don’t see it.”

“Are you blind?!” Derek snapped, finally looking up. “It’s right there. It’s huge! You can’t miss it!” He looked back over to the spot and paled. “Oh god… it moved!”

“Where?” Stiles searched the floor again but again found nothing.

“There!” Derek swung around, pointing somewhere else. “Fuck now it’s over there! It’s right fucking there, Stiles!”

“Seriously?” Stiles furrowed his brows. He was honestly scratching his head at this. “This has got to be some sort of act.”

“It’s not,” Derek said gravely. “Fuck, it must have come from the tree.”

Stiles rolled his eyes; he should’ve known where this was going. Of course, Derek just wanted an excuse to villainize the perfection that was his real tree. But that still didn’t explain the sheer terror he was seeing on Derek’s face. Or the high-pitch scream Derek let out when whatever spider he was seeing moved again. Or even his running away and jumping onto the couch for safety.

“Oh, I see it now!” Stiles shouted, catching a glimpse of something brown and furry crawling along the floor.

It was definitely a large spider, for sure. One could probably keep it as a pet. But it didn’t look poisonous or particularly harmful in any way to Stiles, at least. Then again, he was no expert. And while the spider was definitely big, they as humans were a lot bigger. So, Stiles still wasn’t understanding why Derek was so scared.

“Why are you standing on the couch?” Stiles asked, watching Derek balance himself on one of the couch’s arms. “Did you not see the size of that thing!” Derek asked incredulously. “It’s gigantic!”

“Yeah, it is pretty big but you’re a werewolf…” Stiles said slowly in case Derek had forgotten.

“Fuck! It’s on my furniture! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Would you calm down!” Stiles urged, watching as the spider crawled its way onto the TV stand. “It’s not anywhere near you!”

But Derek did not heed any of Stiles’ advice. In fact, Stiles could see that Derek was done hearing seasonable reasoning completely. He just kept shrieking his head off as the spider crawled over his big screen TV then onto the wall where it remained stationary for a couple of minutes.

“I call bullshit,” Stiles announced then turned to Derek skeptically. “How can you be afraid of spiders? You lived in your old burned down home. You had no roof! All kind of bugs must have been crawling on you when you were asleep!”

“I bought expensive repellent to keep them away.”

“But what about when you lived in the underground train car?”

“Again, no spiders!”

“But you’re a werewolf! All you do is run around in the woods! Basically spider territory!”

“Hey, do I question you about your irrational fear of yogurt?”

Stiles’ hand flew to his heart in utter betrayal. He couldn’t believe that Derek had the audacity to throw that in his face. “That is a very real and rational fear! Not only does it taste disgusting, but it’s alive, and I can hear the screams of young innocent bacteria cultures crying out with every spoonful!”

“Stiles…” Derek said, his breathing laboring in a way Stiles was very familiar with, like he was on the verge of a major panic attack. “Stiles, for once, can you just stop talking and get rid of it for me, please. I need you here.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, now that he was grasping the severity of the situation. “Okay, let me just get a—”

He sprinted to the kitchens and rummaged through the cabinets for something to trap the spider in. He was hoping that this itsy bitsy spider would be cooperative and would just get into whatever container Stiles found without his having to chase it. He wasn’t going to be cruel. He just wanted to catch this spider, take it outside, and order it an Uber ride home. But if things didn’t go as planned, he wouldn’t think twice about giving this spider The Stomp. It had scared the living shit out of his wolfy boyfriend. This was personal now.

“AHA!” Stiles exclaimed and held up a plastic lunch container.

“Not my tupperware!” Derek called out.

“Why not?”

“Because that fucking spider doesn’t pay rent and I need them for meal prep!”

“You can just wash it and use it again,” Stiles tried.

“You think I’m gonna eat out of something a fucking spider’s been in? That’s disgusting!” Derek shouted hysterically.

Stiles could’ve said that there was a chance it was recycled plastic from a dump where spiders had already crawled all over it. But he didn’t because he’d already acted like such a shit boyfriend tonight by not responding to Derek in crisis fast enough. But he kept his mouth shut and put the tupperware back, finding a plastic butter container that nobody would miss.

“Okay,” he said, walking over to Derek, “I’m gonna lure the spider onto the floor. Don’t faint and don’t freak out.”

Fear never made anyone a good listener. Stiles knew he was asking too much in telling Derek not to freak out, but he was hoping Derek could attempt to keep it to a minor one. He worked as fast as he could to get the spider in the container. Derek was counting on him and Stiles couldn’t let him down. He missed catching the spider once, twice, but on the third try, he was victorious. He got the spider firmly under the container on the floor, but must not have realized how much energy he’d been exerting because he was panting by the end of it.

“You ever see that video where the guy catches the spider under a container and then it explodes and has like a million babies?” Stiles asked Derek between breaths. “Right, you probably don’t want to hear about that right now.”

Derek got down from standing on the couch and sank into a seat, covering his face with his hands. Stiles desperately wanted to go over there and comfort him but was worried he wouldn’t be welcome. He took the spider downstairs and released it back into the wild, telling the little fucker never to come again. He also told it to tell its friends never to bother his boyfriend either, because Stiles wouldn’t be so nice the next time.

When he got back upstairs, he was fully expecting for Derek to want some space between them. Stiles had acted like a total jerk and Derek had a right to be pissed. Stiles was pissed with himself too. He’d never wanted to fuck up this bad so early in the relationship on something so important. He enjoyed making Derek angry but never like this.

However, he was pleasantly surprised—more like ecstatic, really— when he opened the front door to the loft and saw Derek still sitting on the couch but holding his arms out for Stiles to come sit on his lap.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you were scared,” was the first thing Stiles made sure to say, that and kissing every inch of Derek’s face. “That was a dick move, and I promise you, I won’t leave you hanging like that ever again.”

“It’s fine,” Derek chuckled, blushing a little in embarrassment. “You didn’t know.”

“I should always believe you,” Stiles said then smiled, shaking his head. “But seriously, who would’ve ever thought that your biggest fear would be spiders.”

Derek snorted. “That’s hardly my biggest fear. Not by any means.”

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth that he’d just put his giant foot in. Sometimes he was an idiot and forgot that Derek had a terrible past and made such insensitive comments when he should know better. Of course, spiders weren’t Derek’s biggest fear. The guy had lost his entire family in a fire.

Derek seemed to sense Stiles’ inner turmoil and tried to make him feel like a less horrible person by saying, “You know, my biggest fear now is telling someone I love them and them not saying it back.”

“No way! That’s a big fear for me too!” Stiles shared. “Like how awkward must that be. Pouring your heart out to someone and them just not saying anything back. The only thing you can really do after that is crawl into a hole and live out the rest of your days as a crazed mole-person.”

It was quiet then. Too quiet. And while this holiday season was known for its “silent nights” Stiles sensed something was amiss here.

“Um, Derek… are you trying to… imply… something?”

“I figured now would be a good time as any after you just saved my life.”

Stiles cackled. “That wasn’t saving your life, dude. I’ve actually saved your life. So many times in fact. You’ve literally been bleeding to death in my car. This spider incident does not compare.”

“It was a big deal for me. There’s no one I trust more than you. You know that right Stiles,” Derek told him.

Stiles was so touched he couldn’t speak. Honored even. Stiles knew it was early. Some would say too early. After all, it had only been a month. But, they’d known each other a long time and have been through so much together. And Stiles wanted to say it. He wanted to say it so Derek would know he’d do everything he could not to let any of his fears come true. So, he did.

“I love you too,” Stiles said and kissed him, feeling Derek’s happy smile ghost against his lips.

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” Derek sputtered, wide-eyed.

“You don’t have to. I already know.”

They kissed again, not coming up for air for a while. Stiles was perfectly content with staying there all night, but then Derek messed it up by pulling away.

“Come on, let’s decorate your precious Christmas tree,” he sighed, moving Stiles off of him and kissing his brow.

“No,” Stiles whined, pulling Derek’s mouth back to his. “The Christmas spirit can wait an hour.”

“Next year fake tree and no spiders,” Derek said sternly.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

#blizgori #stereksanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

20 notes · View notes