#dumb of ass and pure of heart (<- maybe debatable) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

89 notes · View notes

char-lotteral · 3 years

Text

Ticket Booth

Great. Just what she needed.

Amity being stood up on her blind date.

Again.

"This is just ridiculous." She sighs to herself, impatiently alternating between checking her phone and the watch on her wrist just to avoid human confrontation from any passersby on the street.

I mean, is she surprised? Not really. Did she hope it would turn out different? Kinda

Not like this was the first time Ed and Em had set her up on another blind date. You should head out more! Meet new people, get a change of environment!

New people, my ass. If ever she gets a chance to meet these said new people, that is.

Amity checks her phone again with a big bright 8:10 PM, humiliating her at every passing second. Tick, tick, tick. There's that sound of that unnecessarily large wall clock hung in front of the movie theaters, more people arriving in front of the ticket booth, hands interlaced and smiles all warm and happy, and goddammit; her date was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago!

The wind's gotten colder, the theaters getting overcrowded, her feet hurt from standing too much, and in attempt to hide herself from the sad, despicable, cynical reality of it all, she huddles herself inside her massive winter cloak, tendrils of bubblegum hair sticking out from the side of her hoodie.

Why God, why did she agree to go to this?!

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, Amity whips her attention towards the (cute) lady behind the ticket booth. Not one for initiating conversations, she coughs to suppress her shyness and answers, "Uh y-yeah. I have a um, a date. I'm waiting for them."

The lady behind the ticket booth smiles this really cute smile of hers and suddenly Amity has forgotten her name altogether. "You know, I don't wanna sound rude or anything, but the movie starts at exactly 8:15. And I don't think you'll be able to see it if you're gonna be out here, freezing in the cold."

She laughs tucking a hair behind her ear. "Yeah well, this isn't my first time being stood up so I guess I'm used to it at this point."

"Wait, you're being stood up?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now she thinks you're some hopeless romantic.

Shaking her head frantically, she manages to salvage herself from this stranger that she has a sudden urge to impress all of a sudden. "W-What? No! I meant my date was um busy and they texted me too late, so I guess I am kinda freezing my ass off outside the movie theater. But not because I was waiting for them the entire evening! I-I have better things to do than um..."

Being stood up by my blind date who hasn't even met me! Crap, maybe I am the problem?

"Better things to do like stand outside in the freezing cold?"

Her eyes dart towards the ticket lady who no doubt is feeling sympathetic for her pathetic ass and as she does, there's still that smile of hers etched on her face, looking down at her with some sympathy but she doesn't mind, she likes how she's looking at her. Had she already mentioned she thought she was cute?

"O-Or that." Amity answers pathetically, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

"Tell you what," The lady in the booth begins. "Maybe I can refund you for the tickets? I won't tell my boss or anything, they'll be fine with it."

Ticket lady was being awfully nice to her, which was strange because most strangers usually had a fight or flight response whenever they saw Amity talking to them, probably because of her intimidating aura, which she doesn't really blame them for. This cute ticket lady on the other hand, was a whole different story.

"Oh no, my sister's already paid for the tickets online, plus I don't think these two tickets are refundable so um, I guess I'll just have to watch this movie alone or maybe sell my ticket to someone who actually has a date." She giggles again, internally sorry for her own situation.

The cute ticket lady pauses for a second, attention a bit distant and elbows perched above her desk. Amity debates with herself whether or not she should just say fuck it and watch the movies alone, at least until ticket lady finally looks up and meets her eye to eye. And woah, she never knew eyes could look that brown.

"Hey, how about I watch it with ya?"

... What?

"What?" She parrots her thoughts. I'm sorry did she hear that right?

The lady smiles even wider, eyes pinched from the apples of her cheeks and a smile so bright, it could rival the stars above them. "You heard me. I wanna watch it with you!"

"You wanna... watch it with me?"

" 'Course I would. That is, if you'll allow me? I promise I'll pay for the tickets, I'm not scamming you or something."

"Oh um, can I ask why?"

The lady laughs again, oblivious to the damage she's been doing to Amity's poor stomach. Butterflies seemed like a stupid analogy, it was like the entire zoo came in to visit. "I can't let a pretty girl walk inside that movie theater all alone. There might be some serial killers inside there."

Oh.

Well, this turned out to be the best possible scenario she could come up with.

Pretty girl? Her?

This night just keeps getting better and better.

Feeling uncharacteristically playful, she refutes back, cheeks ablaze by the little compliment. "And how do I know that you're not a serial killer, plotting to bury my body?"

Her eyes are squinting from absolute mirth, clearly not expecting her to reply back. "I can prove to you that I am not, in fact, a serial killer by politely introducing myself. "Luz Noceda. College student by day, billionaire philanthropist by night."

"By billionaire philanthropist, do you mean ticket booth manager? Because I think both are equally badass."

Luz shrugs, unfazed. "Eh, its hard living the double life. I have to keep my identity hidden so no one assassinates me in broad daylight."

Simultaneously, they both laugh at their dumb topic, and Amity has never felt this alight with another person before. Her chest feels tighter, her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, this night might not be as bad as she initially thought it would be.

"So, have I proven myself worthy? Can I watch it with you?" Luz is practically bouncing on her feet, tail wagging like a retriever waiting for her treat. She looks so damn adorable behind the ticket booth that Amity's heart threatens to jump out of her throat and melt right in front of her.

So what if a cute girl wants to watch a movie with you? Big deal! It's not like she's asking for your hand in marriage. It's not like it's a date or anything.

Oh God, is it a date?! Oh no, no, no. What has she gotten herself into?!

What if she says yes and embarrasses herself right in front of her? They barely even know each other! They don't know each other at all! What if this really, really cute girl doesn't actually like her and is just doing this out of pity and turns out they'll never see each other again, and, and—

"Hey, earth to bubblegum, I'm still here. In case, you forgot. I don't wanna be all rude or anything—"

"N-No!" Amity cuts her off so quickly, she's on the verge of a panic attack. "You can watch it with me! We can watch it t-together! I'd l-love to!"

Smooth move Blight, smooth move.

Her words seemed to be enough to calm Luz down and she feels like she has God to personally thank for for that beautiful smile of hers. Honestly, how can one smile like that? It's that type of smile that could brighten an entire room or the physical embodiment of joy, youth and everything else good in the world.

"Wait, but what about the ticket booth? Are you allowed to leave it alone?" Concerned, Amity asks Luz as she walks out of the booth.

"Nah, Eda won't mind. I think. I-I'll be back before she even notices I'm gone. Won't be a problem! Hopefully." Taking off her cap, Luz locks the door behind her, tucking the key safely in her pocket. She looks back at Amity, eyes gleaming from the adventure of it all. Eyes that remind her of chestnut and coffee on a cold, serene morn. And a low, pixie cut to tie it all together.

Luz hands out her palm, anticipation and adrenaline coursing through her, she's smiling that sunny smile of hers again, cheeks flushed and hair a mess from the stuffy cap and Amity thinks to herself again that wow, she really is cute.

"You ready?"

Two words, two simple words from a stranger she's never even met before. What would Ed and Em think if they saw her right now, watching movies with a random girl she doesn't even know? Her instincts are telling her to go, leave, maybe find another night to watch the movies, you can pay for the tickets another day, you barely even know this person!

But when Amity finally looks up from her hand to those chestnut eyes and that smile of pure unabashed warmth, she's made her decision.

She's positive that her cheeks are the brightest shade of red, practically glowing under the cheap porch light, but if she squints, just enough, the same shade of red are on Luz's cheeks too, flushed and cherry red, just as she was. Nervous albeit excited, just as she was.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#lumity #the owl house #lumity fanfiction #amity blight #luz noceda #modern college au #hey hey hey lookie its my first lumity fanfic

78 notes · View notes

sincerelybubbles · 4 years

Text

she’s the one || katsuki bakugou

summary: the three times katsuki bakugou almost kissed you, and the one time he did

warnings: pining, mutual pining, resolved pining, cursing, drinking

2.1k words

a/n: happy sunday, i had to take the opportunity to be cliché as fuck, sorry but not really

Katsuki Bakugou was not the type to like puzzles – he had exactly no patience for that. Life has enough problems, why the fuck would you add more?

And yet, here he was, trying to work her out, turning her words and actions around in his head over and over like somehow the puzzle of her would click if he just thought hard enough. And, the worst part, he was doing it because he wanted to; he wanted to figure her out, why she made his heart beat so fast when she smiled why he hung onto every word that left her lips – why was he so damn fascinated by those lips? He found himself memorizing the way they looked pronouncing every syllable – especially his name.

His name, something he never really considered, unless Deku was calling him by that dumbass nickname, and yet, here he was craving to hear it rolling off of her tongue.

“Ka. . . Katsuki-kun.” Correction – craving to hear it come out of those perfect lips, sober.

She flopped down next to him, giggling as she wobbled and caught herself on his arm and jostling the beer in his hand.

“Yes?” Katsuki turned his head, not even bothering to make his tone sound annoyed like he normally would, she wouldn’t remember tonight anyway.

“You haven’t sung yet.” She was talking too slow and too loud at the same time.

Katsuki let his eyes drag around the Karaoke bar that his friends dragged him to, spotting Mina and Denki singing a duet on the stage. He winced at their clashing voices.

“Not really my thing.” Katsuki told her, looking down at where her hand was still clutching his arm, debating if he should cut off her drinks before it was too late, and she blacked out completely.

“Just one song?” She pouted and Katsuki found his eyes locked on her protruding lower lip, tempted to lean the small distance forward and capture it in his own. He wondered how she would react.

She would probably kiss him back – he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice her lingering glances and flirting comments. But then she’d hold Kirishima’s arm while walking and talk to him in whispered giggles, and Katsuki wasn’t so sure. Maybe he imagined her frequent smiles.

And, even if he was right, which he was about eight-four percent sure he was, he knew she deserved better. He had no idea how to spoil someone how she deserved to be spoiled. Hell, the only experience with girls he’d ever had were the few flings he had in college.

Even still, he found himself fighting the urge to close the distance, to take her still pouting lip in between his own, to kiss her until she was gasping and clutching at his shirt.

He refrained – she wouldn’t even remember tonight, and if she did, she’d count it as a drunken mistake.

“’Suki-chan?” She asked, and his heart pounded at the shortening of his name. It sounded to pure, innocent, casual rolling off her tongue.

“Fine, but you’re going up with me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

She squealed and jumped up, grabbing his hand, and attempting to pull him up.

“One song.” He reminded her, standing only when she was nodding enthusiastically.

“One song!” She promised, holding out her pinky to him. She giggled when he hesitantly looped his pinky through hers, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

He followed her, of course he did. And when she asked to sing another duet after their first? Of course, he complied, relishing in the feeling of her eyes on him, her giggles only heard by him.

How dare she wear that. How dare she show up to this dumb ass event wearing that.

The skirt to her dress was surely missing a few inches, and the shoulder she was showing had him transfixed for much longer then it should have.

It was a simple barbeque; how dare she dress so cute. How dare she make him consider something cute.

Katsuki would consider himself a simple man. He typically only really looked at girls as people – obstacles in his way to the top – maybe once or twice on a lonely night as someone to fill his bed. Never as someone cute. He never listened so intently when someone talked, never was so willing to make someone smile. He never considered someone before himself, and yet here he was filling her a drink before he’s even made his own because her favorite drink happened to be nearly gone.

“Here.” He knew he startled her slightly as she jumped before taking the cup from his hand with a smile. He found it wasn’t hard to return it, before he leaned on the table beside her, sipping his own drink. He made a face at the sickly-sweet taste enveloping his tongue.

“Not your favorite?” She asked, and Katsuki realized his error.

“Shit, this was supposed to be for you, that ones mine.” He pushed himself off from the table, prepared to walk across the yard and find her another cup when hands much smaller than his own gently pried the cup from his hands.

“I figured.” She was giggling beside him, offering the cup in her hand to him. He took it, watching the drink she stole from him in her hands. Tracking its path as it made its way to her lips, watched as she took a slow sip and smiled at the sweet taste he grimaced at only moments before. He watched as her tongue peeked from behind her lips to catch any leftover taste. “Thank you, Katsuki-kun.”

It was all he could do to nod, swallowing and taking a sip from his own drink, fighting another grimace as he found it too bitter now.

He wondered if he pressed his lips to hers, would he mind the sweetness?

He let himself imagine, only for a moment, pressing his lips to hers, catching her cheek in his hand, titling her back and deepening it. He could almost hear her gasp.

“Let’s go dance!” She exclaimed, jumping up and throwing back the rest of her drink. Realizing he wasn’t copying her, she jutted one hip out and held her opposite hand out for him. “C’mon Katsuki-kun.” She fluttered her lashes. “You wouldn’t leave a lady to dance alone, right?”

“Ah, right.” He found himself saying, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head reminding him he hated dancing.

Dancing with her was almost unfair, he was allowed to put his hand on her hip, to draw her close, to feel her chest brush against his for a second, but she always wound up twirling away from him.

“You’re an awful dancer.” He observed, catching her as she almost fell again.

“And you’re shockingly good at dancing.” She rolled her eyes before placing her hands on his shoulders, applying pressure. “Although, you’re much too stiff! Relax, Katsuki-kun, dancing is about having fun.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away with a scoff to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Yeah, okay.” Why couldn’t he think of something better to say? Now she was quiet, although still smiling. He found himself looking into her eyes. She licked her lips, and he found himself mimicking the action.

They slowly twirled for a few moments, captivated. Katsuki could barely focus on the music enough to ensure that he was swaying to the right beat.

“See? You’re much relaxed.” Her breath fanned across his face, and Katsuki scoffed gently.

“Yeah, okay.” He forced his tone to be annoyed but knew that she saw through it. She always saw right through him. He expected her to call him out on his bullshit, like she always did, but instead she only smiled and pulled herself closer to him – oh God was she trying to kill him?

She tilted her chin up, and he was bending his neck down. Shit, she wanted this as much as he did, right? Her eyes were closing, and so were his. Her bottom lip brushed his upper lip and he fought a shudder forcing its way up his chest.

“Hey- oh!” Fucking shitty hair, Katsuki could kill him right now.

Katsuki listened as they talked and laughed. He fought to keep himself breathing through the rage forcing its way through his veins. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

She had stepped away, although her hand was still pressing into his forearm, holding him in place much closer to him then they usually stood.

“We were just playing ping pong.” Katsuki found it in him to look up at Kirishima, to act as if he had been listening. To act like the best chance he had to fulfil his fantasies hadn’t just been ripped away. “Do you want to go play a round?” And shit, she was just going to leave, and he was going to have to just stand here –

“Maybe in a bit, Katsuki and I were about to go get some food.” Then she was smiling and tugging him along. The lights around him were blurring. No worries, they were dull compared to her.

She brought him to a secluded area before turning around suddenly. His breath was caught in his throat at the repressed frustration written clear as day across her face. He waned to reach forward and capture her cheek with his hand, to hug her and make the look go away.

He pressed the thought down, annoyed at his own thoughts. Who the fuck was he to have such sappy thoughts? Plus, she was obviously upset with him. Chasing this stupid dream wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he needed to stop.

“You always look at me like you want to kiss me, why don’t you ever just do it?” Katsuki hesitated for a moment, taken aback by her words. He shoved his fists into his pockets and shrugged.

It was no use denying the fact, he didn’t think he was able to lie to her after nearly kissing her moments before.

“I didn’t want to assume.” It was one of the most honest things he had ever said, and it was completely true.

“Assume away.” She whispered, taking a step closer to him. He felt his eyes widen and instinctually, he took a step back.

“What? The fuck are you talking about?” He asked, angry that he was probably taking this all the wrong away.

“’Suki-kun.” Her voice was soft as her eyes searched his. She took a step closer and placed her hand on his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “It’s just me, you don’t have to act that way.”

He watched her with wary eyes as she intertwined her arms around his neck slowly. He found his hands making their way to her hip, the small of her back. He really didn’t want her to move, but he really didn’t want to be wrong.

Fuck, he really really wanted to kiss the breath out of her. He wanted to claim her in every way possible. He had a list longer than his arm of things he wanted to take her to see.

But none of it was worth loosing her entirely over a stupid fucking crush. He had to be sure.

“Kiss me.” She said, clear as a bell. She was close enough that he felt the words before he heard them.

Before he could even think, he moved the hand from her hip to her cheek and pulled her closer, tipping her head back and crashing his lips against hers.

He always swore to himself that if he ever got the chance to kiss her, he would be gentle. He would take his time. But he didn’t have the restraint, and found himself growing into the kiss, kissing her with a bruising force.

He swallowed her moans as he moved his tongue against hers, feeling as though he would never tire of the taste of her. She pulled away all too soon and pressed her forehead against his, breathing heavily. A few short breaths later she leaned forward to press a series of short kisses onto his mouth.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

While he had thought it before, this was the moment for certain that Katsuki Bakugou knew that he was hers. He would take anything she would give and knew he would be content with that. Sharing the same breath with her in this moment confirmed that.

He always thought being in love would make him feel weak, but in this moment, with her mouth reaching toward his again, he felt stronger than ever.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #ground zero #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #x reader

784 notes · View notes

zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

come back to me

pairing | colt x mc

word count | 5.3k

warnings | blood, guns, bullets, wounds, and a mention of death. there’s a section of the fic where mc gets shot when a job goes awry – it’s used in a hurt/comfort scenario, but be warned that it’s in there! lmk if i need to use any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @jaxmatsuo, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | i’ve never written a colt fic before, so i wanted to take a crack at a slowburn colt au – this fic takes place over the span of about ten-ish years (fifteen-ish total since the events of book one). i’m not the biggest colt expert so i hope i did him justice!

•─────────────────•

“If you ever ask me to do this much ass kissing again, I’m divorcing you.”

Colt flung himself onto the bed, still fully clothed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Raquel laughed, reaching back to unzip herself, the soft fabric of her sundress sliding down her body and onto the floor.

He hummed from his place on the bed, neck craning to watch her as she changed into her pajamas.

“Stop distracting me from being annoyed,” he grumbled, letting his head fall back, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Are you actually mad at me or are you just complaining to hear yourself talk?” She asked, but before he could respond she’d climbed on top of him, wrapping him in a koala hug, nestling her head under his chin.

Naturally, he hugged her back, his arms snaking around her waist.

He shrugged. “I’m not mad at you.”

She giggled into his chest, sending tremors up his body, the warmest kind. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you married me,” he kissed the top of her head. “You’re too good for me.”

Raquel pushed herself up till they were nose to nose, giving him a pointed look. “I haven’t been too good for anyone since we were kids.” She pressed a quick kiss on his lips, intending to pull away, but he gripped her chin before she could, kissing her deeply.

He’d never get tired of that… and he’d never get tired of her.

For the longest time, he thought it was too far-fetched to expect he’d find someone willing to stick around through all of his bullshit, much less someone who’d legally binded herself to him.

He was still in awe with how it played out.

He’d returned to Los Angeles dangerously too soon after their run in with The Brotherhood. Incidentally enough, he was laying low on high alert for so long… but nothing came of it.

Maybe they’d been arrested, maybe they’d gotten justice, or maybe they just moved on to terrorize another city. He’d always assumed it was the latter.

Rebuilding his father’s autoshop was painful, no matter how deep he tried to shove those feelings down.

Colt’s vision for his father’s crumbling empire wasn’t one that came into focus for him for years.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, all he had to show for it was a struggling auto shop with a few criminal employees who barely knew how to hotwire a car.

It seemed like there were no hills in sight, only cavernous valleys.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, the death of his father, and the end of the Mercy Park Crew, she came into focus.

Raquel stepped into the garage, heels clacking against the dirty concrete, her gait determined.

He watched her from his tiny office, peering through the blinds as she glided confidently across the auto shop and up to his door.

She rapped her knuckles against it a few times, a little too heavy handedly.

There’s no way she’s really here, he thought, shaking his head. No fucking way.

He debated whether or not to let her in – the last time a Kaneko opened their doors to her, they nearly ruined her life.

He twisted the knob and yanked it open anyways, an insult bubbling up his throat. After all these years, he figured he’d be relieved to see her, but the tiny sliver of relief was easily overshadowed by his knee jerk reaction of annoyance and shock.

There was a small part of him that was excited, but not enough to warrant being nice to her.

When he came face to face with her for the first time, she spoke first. “Hi, Mr. Kaneko. I’d like to apply for a bookkeeping job.”

He blinked when she shoved a thick manila folder in his hands. “I think my qualifications speak for themselves.”

He thumbs the edges of the papers, flipping through her resume and the thick Master’s thesis. She’s too fucking smart to be back here.

Before anyone in the shop could see, he tugged her arm till she was inside, all but slamming the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She ripped her arm from his grasp, brows furrowed. “I’m here to work.”

“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here or are you just stupid?” He all but spat, slapping the folder onto his desk.

“If I’m stupid that makes you just as much of an idiot as me,” she countered, crossing her arms firmly. “I know the risks.”

“You can’t be dumb enough to think I’d take that risk, though,” he rolled his eyes, plopping into the chair at his desk.

She laughed – actually laughed – at him, covering her mouth. “Forgive me for that.”

He cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I went to school with pretentious male academics for five years, Colt. Whatever you’re gonna say to me has already been said, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

He leans forward, flipping to her resume, tearing it off the top. “Let’s see, here. Langston college, yeah, I remember that. Graduated with honors? Predictable to do that three times in a row, don’t you think?”

She laughed again. “That’s a new one. I’ll have to log that under my favorite insults.”

“Well, I have loads. You’re giving me lots of material, Miss Olvera,” he mocked her, going back to skimming her resume.

Truthfully, he was trying to scare her away by being mean, and it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to dig too deep, though, because he wasn’t that evil.

He liked the girl – hell, if he didn’t like her, would he be bending over backwards to make her hate him purely for her safety?

“I can’t pay you well. I’m still rebuilding, and we’re barely breaking even. We’ve been sticking to straight work till I can manage to rebuild our reputation and relationships with buyers.”

She nodded. “I completely understand, and I don’t mind.”

“What, are you gonna ask me for a place to stay next?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He was lying if he didn’t feel a little something stir in his stomach at the possibility of her staying in his apartment above the shop.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You came back to L.A. and you immediately have a place to stay? You’re lying.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, she shook her head. “I’m back at my dad’s house.”

“What? There’s no fucking way I’m letting you work here if you’re living with a cop –”

“He passed away last year,” she chewed her lip, trying to keep her face neutral. “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Couldn’t get to the phone in time.

“Thankfully, he had a will set in place soon after mom died,” she shrugged. “I got the house, so I’m good.”

His fists clenched at his side. He’d already taken it too far without even meaning to.

“Sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed, a single forced laugh bursting from her lips. “You don’t have to respect him in front of me to save face or whatever. Your feelings about my dad don’t affect me.”

He nodded once, and the room descended into silence. He took the time to actually read her resume that time around, finding himself genuinely impressed with what she’d accomplished.

What he wanted to ask was “Why the fuck did you come back here?” but instead, what came out was, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure.”

She said those words with such conviction that he never had to ask again.

Raquel cuddled up to him, her breathing evening out. He hadn’t realized they’d gone that long without speaking.

He didn’t mind it though. He didn’t care as long as she was with him.

She stirred in her sleep, nearly rolling off of him, so he took that as his cue to tuck her in.

When she was settled under the covers, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out onto the deck.

The beach house they’d rented was a hundred feet from the shore, the waves grating against the sand creating the perfect white noise.

Perfect for sleeping, he mused, thinking about how quickly Raquel fell asleep in his arms, watching the water crash and retreat, push and pull over and over.

That same back and forth was what eventually brought him and Raquel together. They butted heads constantly, but had the same view on lots of decisions. They’d finish each other’s sentences and the crew would give each other knowing looks that he ignored.

A year in, she finally broke down. Not purposefully, and certainly not with the intent of him finding her curled into a sobbing mess outside of the garage.

“Hey what the hell, Raquel? It’s dangerous out here,” he called as he jogged up to her crumpled form.

He didn’t notice she was crying until he’d crouched down to check the injuries he thought she’d have.

She shielded her face with one hand and used the other to wave him away. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”

It wasn’t even meant to be romantic. He’d do it for the rest of his crew since they’d grown so close.

There wasn’t a possibility of anything happening between them, or so he thought at the time. And what she admitted to him that night sealed their fate for years.

He’d managed to help her inside to his office, pulling back his worn office chair for her to collapse into.

A short “You okay?” Was all he could manage. He was new to this wellness check stuff and it didn’t come naturally to him.

But he knew as a leader, he had to do a lot more than just telling people what to do. Even if they split without a word in a week’s time, they were still a working machine that needed a little elbow grease every once in a while.

Even in the dim lamp light he could tell her eyes were red rimmed.

“I don’t think you want to hear my explanation as to why I’m not,” she laughed humorlessly, using the sleeve of her shirt to scrub the streak of makeup under her eye.

“I’m not good at this comforting shit, but I’ve got ears and I’ve gotten pretty good at using them,” he joked, sliding into the rickety folding chair in front of the desk.

She shrugged, flinging her hands up. “You’re gonna make fun of me –”

“– I won’t –”

“– You will, Colt. I know you and you’re gonna scoff the minute I take a breath.”

He couldn’t hold back the small smile at that.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to take it to heart.”

She sniffled, laughing. “You’re hard to ignore.”

“So are you, hard ass. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The sigh that came from her was labored, struggled, like she was about to drop heavy weights onto the floor of the office.

“Today’s the one year anniversary since I started working for you.”

He cocked a brow. “That’s it?”

“If you’d just let me explain then you’d know,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re already sucking at being a good listener.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“My whole game plan was to figure out how to make myself useful. It’s why I got my Masters in accounting in the first place. I wanted to have my solid place in the crew, you know? Like I earned my spot.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I just had this stupid fairytale idea in my head about coming back to L.A. and none of that’s come true.”

“Well, what was it? Anything I can do?” He asked.

Raquel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head in response, taking a few deep breaths till she could finish.

“I wanted our old crew back. I… thought Logan would be back here by now, or looking for me at the very least,” she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. “I waited five years to come back here and I’ve barely lasted one year in L.A. without him.”

He couldn’t help but flex his hand in and out of a fist a couple times as she spoke.

Yeah, it was true he didn’t care for Logan that much, but she liked him. Loved him, even.

If she was this dedicated to him six years later and he still hadn’t tried finding her, he didn’t deserve her.

“So it’s about Logan?” He asked with zero judgement, and she could tell.

She nodded, sniffling again. “Maybe I’ve just deluded myself into thinking we meant more to each other, but I’m still in love with him and I don’t know when that’s going to end for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he thought was best.

He stood up, taking a couple steps till he was close enough to lay his palm on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently across the fabric.

She laid her hand on his thumb, holding it in place, as the sobs shook her body.

After that, he tried his hardest to keep her from crying. Which entailed leaving Logan’s name out of things.

Colt abandoned his shirt and shoes at the back door and hopped off the deck, landing softly on the sand. He took his time walking towards the water, gaze transfixed on the moon, which was at its peak in the sky.

He always thought the fact that the sea and moon were interlinked was kind of peculiar. The moon, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away, had just enough power to pull the waves in the right direction.

He thought of Raquel like his moon far too often. The minute he was in her gravitational pull, he found himself wanting to follow her – to let her take the reins – and that was rare.

The first time he knew it was the beginning of the end with her was when a job went south.

Three years after she broke down about wanting the old crew back, they got a taste of the old violence.

One of their crew members, Isaac, had said for weeks that he had a weird gut feeling about that job in particular. Colt waved him off, reminding him that he’d value proof over superstition anyday.

In short, they were ambushed – nothing out of the ordinary in terms of their day to day risk.

What Colt wasn’t expecting, however, was for Raquel to be the one who got hurt.

They were cornered by the masked group, and before their crewmember Aly could grab her gun and shoot, one of them fired, the cracking sound of the gunshot echoing off the concrete flooring of the rundown parking garage.

Raquel’s pained groan followed immediately after.

Colt’s heart stopped when he saw the fabric of her jeans turning a deep deep maroon, the blood spreading faster than he could process what’d happened.

Her eyes fluttered and she stumbled to her knees, crying out as she knelt, bending her legs, one of which had been freshly torn through with a bullet.

“Don’t let them get away –” he shouted, flinging his arm in the direction of the fleeing criminals. He knelt down to scoop Raquel’s crumpled form into his arms. “Isaac, stay here.”

Isaac froze, nodding. “Anything you need, boss.”

“Drop me off at the shop so I can patch her up. I have to stop the bleeding.”

Colt’s voice was calm and even, but inside he was at his breaking point. He sat in the backseat of the car with Raquel strewn across his lap, the color draining from her face with each passing minute.

His palm was firmly pressed against her calf to halt the bleeding. He was thankful that the adrenaline was numbing the pain till they could make it to the shop.

She’d wince every time he adjusted his slippery grip, instinctively turning her head into the crook of his neck. That didn’t cross his mind till much later.

When she attempted talking once or twice, he furiously shushed her each time. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

When Isaac skidded to a stop in the garage, Colt tossed his keys Isaac’s way. “Take my car and get out of the city for a few days. Lay low. I’ll clean this one up and it’ll be good as new when you come back.”

Isaac nodded, brows furrowed. “I should’ve… I knew it was gonna go south but I should’ve tried to convince you again –”

Colt held up a hand. “You were right, and I should’ve trusted your gut instinct, and I will from now on. This is solely on me. Don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded, hopping out of the car, sliding into Colt’s convertible, and disappearing into the night.

He’d managed to get Raquel into the apartment and onto the worn leather couch in the office – she was pale and clammy, flitting in and out of being fully aware of what was going on.

“Colt… I can clean up my leg, just… just give me a second to catch my breath,” she said, her eyes drooping closed.

“Absolutely not. Give me a second. I’m trying to find the goddamn gauze but I don’t see it anywhere –”

He was glad his back was turned, because he was shaking in terror and rage in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The first aid kit clattered out of his hands and onto the desk, and he cursed, gripping the side of the desk till his knuckles were bright white and screaming at him to let go.

“Colt…” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hurting.”

He dragged a chair to her side, propping her ankle up against his knee before getting to work cutting a thin line up the outer seam of her jeans. The blood trickled onto his own leg, saturating the denim of his pant leg immediately.

“Are you gonna ignore me the whole time you work on my leg?” She joked, wincing. “Fuck –”

The scissors were close to the wound, and he tried his best to stretch it away from it before cutting further.

“Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing two rags and dousing it in hydrogen peroxide. He rolled up the second one, handing it to Raquel.

She sighed shakily before stuffing it into her mouth, digging her fingers into the cracked leather of the couch.

She nodded once, giving him the sign to get it over with.

The second the damp rag touched her bloodied skin, she panted through her nose, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He grunted, grimacing as her thigh bucked against his hand, despite him trying to hold her in place.

When he touched the wound, she screamed, devolving into choked, muffled sobs.

He’d made a vow to make sure she never cried over Logan again, and instead he’d broken his promise by putting her in direct danger over and over and over again.

There was no reason for her to accompany them on jobs – she knew the risk, and didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stop her from coming.

No matter how hard he tried, he was always the reason she was getting hurt.

“This is all my fault,” he said, when he’d finished cleaning her wound. “I should’ve never let you come along to our trades.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a couple stray tears still glistening across her temples. “I wanted to be a part of this. Like you said to Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I don’t care what you say, alright? It was my fucking fault and you should’ve never been a part of this life.”

“Colt.”

He glanced up, barely able to meet her gaze.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, I’ve been a part of this life for nearly ten years now. I’m almost thirty. You’re closer to thirty than me. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m sticking by you regardless of the risk on my life.”

She slipped a clammy hand over his, which still held her thigh firmly in place. “If I lose my life on a job, I don’t regret it at all. I’d never regret meeting you.”

She took a labored breath, laying back against the armrest. “That took a lot out of me.”

Colt shook his head. “Stop talking. You need your energy.”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “I try being nice to you and you ignore it every time.”

“I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh?” He asked incredulously.

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. “I just got fucking shot, and you’re cursing at me while asking me to be your therapist? Am I hearing that right?”

He picked up his bloodied hands from her leg and threw them up in the air. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not trying to fight you or get you to be my fuckin’ therapist, alright? I’m just confused.” He was barely below a shout, his chest heaving when he was done.

“I can’t read your mind, Colt. I’m kind of delirious with blood loss right now, so the least you can do is not yell at me and ask me politely to slate this conversation for later,” she said firmly, wincing while she shifted on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he panted, shrugging his stained black thermal off. He tossed it to the side, revealing his equally as bloodied white tee.

He slipped that shirt off, too, tearing the shirt into long strips.

Raquel watched him, her brown eyed gaze one of both confusion and something more he couldn’t place and didn’t care to think about.

Wordlessly, he plopped back down, tying the shredded strips above the wound on her calf, fingertips grazing her skin as delicately as he could manage.

He let his hands linger for a bit too long, staring at the open wound on her leg.

Daring a look her way, Colt caught her watching him with a soft gaze, one that he hadn’t earned.

“You’re not mad at me for being there tonight… you’re mad at yourself for not protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once.

“You’re hoping that this makes me want to leave, because you won’t ask me yourself. You don’t want me to leave.”

He nodded again, glancing away from her.

After a long silence and avoidance of turning her way, she spoke first.

“You’re worried I don’t feel the same.”

He froze, dropping his hands from her leg. She was right, but if he admitted to it and she still didn’t feel the same, then what was he risking all this shit for?

Why was he still clinging onto the hope that she’d feel the same if nine years of pining was seconds away from being thrown out the window?

Mustering up his remaining courage, he nodded one last time.

And when he looked at her that time, she was beaming. Through the excruciating pain, she was smiling.

He broke first, scooting to the edge of his chair to get as close as he could. “What?”

“It’s funny that you were worried we weren’t on the same page. I think we might’ve been for a long time,” she laughed, hoarse and weak, but it was still her laugh that he loved so much.

“What do you mean?”

And then she said the words that he’d desperately needed to hear for nearly a decade.

“I came for Logan but I stayed for you.”

Once Raquel admitted that to him, he was all in. Completely committed, never faltering.

Their first kiss was anything but, the sensation one of nine years of pent up feelings from Colt’s end, and years of her own. Their first kiss was more of a sealant of their future (and their fate).

Their first kiss was everything Colt had dreamed of.

He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning and she was filling his lungs to the brim, her warmth spreading from his insides out.

She didn’t pull away after the first one, and neither did he.

For who knew how long, he was on his knees next to the bloodied couch, cupping her face with his palms, and kissing her like he had a decade of missed opportunities to make up for.

After that, they were inseparable.

And he never doubted her devotion to him again.

They fell into a routine of working at the shop together during the day and into the late hours of the night after everyone had left, before stumbling upstairs into Colt’s apartment, lips locked, hands roaming.

And she drove him to every job from then on, easily evading cops and maneuvering the underbelly of L.A. like it was second nature.

Colt waded into the warm water, barely feeling it as it lapped at his ankles, calves, thighs.

When he was waist deep, he opted to float on his back, using the opportunity to revel in the star littered sky. One he didn’t get to see too often in the heavily light polluted sky of Los Angeles. Was this really the same sky he’d lived under all these years?

He didn’t really plan on marrying Raquel.

It was never in the sleazy way where he was going to leave her the second he got what he wanted – he was content being with her. Living with her. Kissing her. Loving her.

But he didn’t think he needed to go through the motions because that’s supposedly what people in love did. He figured it was enough to spend his life with her without doing all the extra shit.

She brought it up first, nearly four years later.

At that point, he moved into her father’s house with her – they’d crash in Colt’s old apartment above the shop if they were too tired to drive home.

They were curled up on the old futon in his room, huddling under the blankets, and she was curled against his side, drawing circles through his short tuft of chest hair.

“We should get married.”

“Hmm?” He asked, in a haze, nearly drifting off to sleep before she’d spoken.

“You heard me.”

“You really wanna?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to get married, even when I was a little girl.”

He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her closer.

“You’ve always been a daydreamer then,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to dig up my old Easter dresses and strut into the living room asking my Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“And did he?”

She laughed, lifting her head to get a good look at him. “Yep. Walked me right down the hallway and back to my room to change me out of my clothes.”

Her face fell a bit despite the fond memory. “I think I care more about it now because I know my parents won’t be there. It feels like if I don’t get married, I’m breaking a promise, as dumb as that sounds.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound dumb at all, sweetheart. I don’t care what we do as long as it makes you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

Wrapping her up in a hug, he kisses her back with fervor, echoing her sentiment in the form of mumbling against her lips. I love you.

Roughly a year later, they opted for a quick courthouse wedding and a honeymoon that consisted of staying in bed all day and ordering food to build back the calories they’d burned.

Around that time, Raquel reconnected with some of her only living relatives on her Dad’s side. She’d gotten close to a few of her distant cousins, and they convinced her to have a small ceremony for their family in Belize.

And fifteen years after he’d met Raquel, on the cusp of spring and summer, he married her again in front of an intimate crowd and kissed her like it was their first time.

He’d complained about having to ass kiss her judgemental old relatives, but he didn’t really mind. Seeing her in a white dress, beaming like it was the best day of her life, was enough to make any issue nothing but a minor annoyance.

“Hey!”

Colt swirled his arms in the water till he was upright again, grinning when he noticed the bright red lines on her face – she’d clearly just woken up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You sleep okay?”

“Come back to bed,” she asked, pointing at the back door of their beach house.

He tipped his chin at her. “You come out here.”

She rolled her eyes, before tearing off her nightgown, running towards the water at full speed, no hesitation.

He caught her in his arms, letting her wrap her legs comfortably around his waist while he waded out to deeper waters.

“Ugh. I was having a good dream, too, until I realized the bed was empty,” she grumbled, looping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Sorry about that. I promise next time I’ll wake you up before I head out.”

She nodded, content with his answer.

They were both chest deep in the water, faces close, the soft rays from the moon the only light they had.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Colt?” She murmured, eyes flitting to his lips, which were upturned in a soft smile.

“I was just thinking. This spring makes fifteen years since I met you.”

She hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “And only, like, six years since we came to our senses.”

He laughed heartily, squeezing her tighter around the waist. “You’re right.”

“Remember when we jumped off the cliff together?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It was the first time I ever felt a spark with you,” she grinned. “Took a long time for it to turn into a flame, though.”

“That was the first time I knew I loved you,” he admitted. “I wanted to kiss you so badly and I kicked myself in the ass for years for not trying –”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth almost as soon as his mouth moved in tandem with hers. It was the sloppy, unplanned kiss he’d envisioned for that day.

“I think everything worked out for the better. I’m not sure we were ready for each other back then,” she said honestly, her forehead pressed against his.

“We needed to grow a little bit before falling in love, huh? You’re so smart,” he said, voice low, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She was right (like she always was), and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest like he’d felt many times before.

He’d waited that damn long for her, so he was going to savor the rest of their life together as much as he could.

#playchoices #choices rod #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #colt kaneko #colt kaneko x mc #jade writes choices fics #cw: injury #cw: guns #cw: blood #tw wounds #tw injury

39 notes · View notes

linkyu · 3 years

Text

He’s not a himbo, he’s just a decent man

In recent years, the term “himbo” gained more and more popularity, and is now being used to refer to any man who is Buff, Kind, and most importantly, Dumb. A muscular man who is Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass. You all know that triangle. You also all know the inner triangle of that; Jock, Hunk, and A Decent Man.

HOWEVER. As it has been mentioned a few times before around here, a True Himbo has one more component: The Slut component. At heart, a himbo is not only attractive, but he also knows it and even pursues it. This dude thrives on adoration.

As such, I propose an updated diagram with new terms for all possible combinations:

With this, we can see that a himbo without desire of sex-appeal, would be... an ace himbo of sort? Acimbo, if you will. Still not quite sure on the name honestly. It’s not like they’re necessarily ace. At least it’s less of a mouthful than “tumblr-compliant himbo”. If you have better ideas I’m all ears!

Thank you to my husband for helping me figure out some of those new terms. You can find a detailed list under the cut, along with examples. Anyway that’s it for my Ted talk. Bye!

(Disclaimer: Please don’t take this post too seriously. Also, an asexual himbo would 100% be possible; who am i to gatekeep dumbness to such a wide umbrella after all)

Right, so. Let’s go over those words huh

Himbo: Buff + Kind + Dumb + Slut. The real one. This one’s got it all and doesn’t even know it. Example: Johnny Bravo, Hercules, Kronk, Thor, Ben Grimm, Clark Kent, Reinheardt...

Hunk: Buff + Kind + Slut. This is a smart nice man who does know it. Example: Pacha, Bruce Wayne

Twunk: Kind + Slut. A twink hunk. Example: Joey Tribbiani

Jerd: Buff + Kind. A smart beefcake. Debatable whether the Kind component is needed. Alternative names are welcome. Example: Dr. Henry McCoy

Acimbo: Buff + Kind + Dumb. The OG tumblr Himbo. This himbo is thick-headed, gold-hearted, and stacked to boot. But does he know what sex is? Probably not! Or maybe he just doesn’t care. Example: Alex Armstrong, Cullen Rutherford, Colossus

Frat: Buff + Dumb + Slut. Like a himbo, but Not Nice. An evil beefcake. Example: Emperor Awesome, Gaston.

Twat: Dumb + Slut. A twink frat. Twat, if you will. It’s a stupid pun but I feel like it fits. Example: The Onceler

Manwhore: Buff + Slut. Is not nice, and is smart. Played straight here; the definition of that word has not changed much over the years. Example: Tony Stark (if we consider his build to be Buff - but IMO he’s borderline).

Jock: Buff + Dumb. “A jock is [...] a stereotype of an athlete, or someone who is primarily interested in sports and sports culture, and does not take much interest in intellectual activity.“ If you’ve seen any American high-school movie, you know who this is. Example: see previous sentence

A Decent Man: Dumb + Kind. Just a decent man. He’s often a bit confused, but he’s got the spirit. Example: Bernard, Link

A Pegged Man: Dumb + Kind + Slut. You know exactly what goes here. Example: Prince Naveen, Link

#himbo #venn diagram #shitpost #ask to tag #ultimately i care very little about having to differentiate a lusty himbo from a non-lusty one #it's just fun to put things in boxes #and i'm completely ok if the definition of himbo has simply shifted over the years #because languages evolve and that's normal #HOWEVER #this is a clear cut case of double standards #as himbo is now deemed not only acceptable #but even endearing #whereas bimbo is almost always derogatory #and i really don't think i need to explain why that is.

24 notes · View notes

liam-cadmus · 3 years

Text

soft lips and pretty smiles.

— a VERY SHORT sasushika/shikasasu genderbent college au —

Do I like women? she finds herself questioning once again as she notices her own lingering stare at very pretty girls, specifically, a very intelligent-eyed short-haired girl across the cafeteria. Fuck, she always swept the thought away because, no, she isn’t gay, yes, she does like boys. Right? “Psst,” someone hisses, making her jump in her seat, making her head swivel around to glare at an annoying grin directed her way. “What is it, Inuzuka?” she spits out, regarding the shaggy haired boy with a raise of her brow. “What’s got you starin’ at the Nara over there, got any ideas?” Kiba murmurs, brows raising suggestively, his tone intoning mischief. She suppresses her very strong urge of hitting the boy upside the back of his head, instead directing a scowl back. “And what implies in your dumb as shit brain that I’m thinking about Nara?” Her very not thought out response makes her wince, her eyes looking up to Shino who’s regarding her with an amused little smile, showing that her failed attempt of changing the subject was very obvious. “Sasuke.” “Kiba.” she grounds out, exhaling, turning back to the boy. “Do you like girls? Ya know, tits and all?” she avoids his eyes, feeling her shoulders raise defensively, eyes covered by a curtain of her bangs. “Sas? you know it’s fine, we won’t judge you.” She for once, let’s her tough mask fall down, bringing vulnerable dark eyes up to meet Kiba’s equally as black eyes, expecting disgust or some form of mockery, only to see sincere ones. Her eyes dart to her other boy bestfriend, Shino giving a supporting nod. She scoots closer on the bench she’s seated on, pulling the two boys across her closer to the table, ducking her head closer to their faces. She breathes deeply, collecting her thoughts, letting Shino pat her arm comfortingly in the mean time. She inhales, “I might, I think? I mean,” she exhales, before continuing on a low voice, “they’re just so pretty, you know? and I like staring at them and they make me feel like something, I don’t know, maybe I like girls, I really think so, I’m not sure yet, but it just feels so right,” she breathes out quietly, confusion tainting her tone, but a tone of assured, unwavering belief hidden underneath. She looks up to the two, watching her two childhood friends meet each other’s eyes, before looking back to her, both sporting giddy smiles. “We know.” She doesn’t hesitate smacking the two of them at the same time, barking out a free laugh, relief flooding her veins. Of course they do, they know each other like the back of their hands. Still, she throws her arms around the two of them, secured and safe, comforted by the two pairs of arms hugging her back, knowing her these two will stay with her until the end. The moment ended when Kiba snorts, “But you have to still pretend for our arranged marriage, dickhead,” She only reaches up to ruffle his hair, “I’m honestly getting tired of it, dipshit, your face is so unsightly and plain.” gaining a disgruntled face from the male, making their group crack up in laughter. She’d have to worry about it on the future, but right now? she wouldn’t trade them for the world. Sasuke bounds up the stairs in a sedate pace, her shoes scuffing against the concrete steps on the side of the court, bomber jacket thrown on her shoulder. A focused brunette shivers on the cold plastic of the benches, a thin oversized sweater providing no comfort. She huffs, rolling her eyes at the (very pretty) image in front of her, draping her jacket around the girl. The brunette snaps her head towards her, pinning intent and observant eyes that makes her heart skip multiple beats. She offers a smirk, using the hem of her shirt to wipe the sweat by her temple. “First time seeing you here,” she starts, dropping the shirt, and landing her ass on the equally as cold seat. Shikamaru’s eyes dart on the normally gruff and scowling girl. Eyes drinking in the sight of a carefree smile and heart aching because, holy fuck, she’s everything. She instead, offers a coy smile, blowing on the stray brown strands in front of her face. She jabs a thumb on Naruko’s direction, saying in a seemingly deadpan voice, “I came to support my friend.” Dark eyes dart to the side, following the direction, only to snort, “I’d thought Naruko out of all people would remind you to bring a jacket.” She shrugs an elbow to the jacket hanging limply, “I was disappointed that a pretty girl like you is left out cold here, don’t want you to freeze now, do we?” “Thank you, Uchiha.” Shikamaru drawls uninterested, making the girl look around her shoulder. “Sasuke.” The brunette quirks an inquiring brow, “What do you mean?” “Call me Sasuke.” She rushes to say, “And I’d like to know you more, sweetheart.” Sasuke exhales deeply, hands holding on her knees tightly as she regains her breath. A whistle of “that’s our girl!” echoes in the indoor stadium, as the whistle signaling the end of the game screeches. The adrenaline rushes out, various students of their college running down the stairs to hug the sweaty, exhausted players. Kiba claps her on the back, grinning wide, as Shino hands her a full, ice-cold tumbler of water, just the way she likes it. “Drink up, and we’ll go to that dango shop you love to go to.” She groans, closing her eyes, as flaps her shirt up and down, letting cool air hit the warm spot on her stomach, icky with sweat. She startles when a tentative arm reaches around her, opening dark ones to meet chocolate ones. “I think you deserve to have an exchange, hm?” Pretty-brunette-girl hums on her temple, cheek brushing against hers, as arms secure a cashmere sweater around her hips, hiding her shorts. Nara, that’s the name. She opens her mouth to start something, only to stop when the warmth enveloping her disappears. A murmured, “Shikamaru,” goes through her ears, louder than the beating of her lungs against her ribcage. Kiba and Shino exchange snickers in the background. The two of them continue to meet up, whether coincidental or when Naruko drags Shikamaru with, but Sasuke doesn’t mind, in fact, she’s happy her best friend does so. After practice banter, or opinionated debates about waffles or pancakes, or just plain fooling around. She adores every moment with the brunette. Spending time to read the books Shikamaru recommends her, or trying out coffee that caused her to drink it daily, much to the intelligent woman’s amusement. Or lighthearted rustling on the grass, leaving Sasuke wrapping her arms around the out of breath Shikamaru on top of her. Or letting Shikamaru run their hands on her long tousled hair, also letting her tuck messy brown strands behind Shikamaru’s ear. Or the lingering arms around each other’s waist as they pass through corridors, or the hours that pass by because they’re just enjoying the quiet and comfort of one another, watching the clouds go by. A short-tuft full of hair makes itself known on the crook of her shoulder, her own dark strands graping over the other girl’s head. She leans her head against the mellow breathing of the girl on her side, a sense of calm and comfort grounding her, relaxed. She’s fallen in love. "I didn't think I’d see Shikamaru Nara smoking of all things," she drawls teasingly. She stops her steps, breath matching Shikamaru's, in for a breath, and out for one. the brunette looks at her with fond brown eyes, voice rasping, "and what're you gonna do about it?" She can only inhale, even if the smoke in her lungs protests, even if her eyes sting, she meets brown eyes levelly, murmuring a hoarse, and honest to god whisper of "Nothing," to the dark of the night. She licks her dry lips, before snatching the cigarette, and taking a deep drag, flicking it down on the ground. She turns, back facing the short-haired girl, saying, "but that doesn't mean i won't stop you from time to time." She breathes out, smoke fogging her vision, looking at molten chocolate looking through her, heart lurching. "So there's a next time?" the questions hangs from equally dry lips, which she answers with a sure tone, "Of course there is." “Always?” Smoke mingles between them, “Always.” Shikamaru blows out a breath, brushing the flyaway hairs on Sasuke’s face, fingers threatening to bury itself on the soft strands. A shiver goes down her spine at the calculating, and focused dark eyes that peers back, sharp and half-lidded. The intrigue and curiosity swirls, watching her every moment as she throws a comment she’s always thought of. “You’re not much of an asshole they make out to be.” Strong, deft long fingers leave her wrists, only leaving a pale thumb circling the pulse point. Their knees are touching, as she offers a wide smile, “I’d say you’re a softie.” A loud smack on her thigh renervates through the room, Sasuke chuckling lowly, before regarding her with a tilted head, another thumb guiding her chin upwards. “Hm, and you're sure about that?" Sasuke asks wryly. A zing of indignation leaves a full-blown frown on her lips, “I think many people assume things cause they think they know you.” She trails off, her hands fiddling on the silver thin rings on a pale hand, their feet shuffling to tangle together. “ “And can you say, that you do know me, Shika?" Sasuke drags searching eyes to her own, watching her reaction coolly. She gulps, before snarking out, “I know I do.” She doesn’t find any lie about what she said, it was pure honestly. She couldn’t take back her words, but she can only look at the surprised look of the other woman, a hand brushing down the side of her hair. Fuck, she’s in so much trouble. “What’re you playing at, Uchiha?” Shikamaru growls, hair bobbing as she shakes her head in exasperation. “Goddamn it, I’m not some type of game you can just play!” she screams, backing away from the heartbroken eyes looking back at her. Lips tightly pressed, furrowed brows and her strong and broad structure bends in, making the player look smaller, flinching at her loud volume. But she doesn’t want this, she’s in love with her, and she doesn’t deserve to be only someone who’s there to catch, she wants more. “You have a soon-to-be-husband waiting for you?! Why play with my feelings?” She throws it out the wind, fists clenched tightly as she tries to find anything she did wrong. She wants to know that the gentle hold on her cheeks is a lie, that Sasuke is just there. (She wants to know if the onyx eyed, black-haired woman feels what she’s feeling, that she wants more of them, what they have, more, what they could be.) ”I’m not.” Sasuke whispers, convinced and determined as she tries to hold Shikamaru’s hands. “I promise I’m not.” “I don’t think I can trust your empty words.” She whispers, hurt and aching, tears wellling up. “My greatest regret, is to fall for you, love.” “I’ve always been afraid you’ll fly too far out of my reach, that I’m unable to catch you.” she sobs, fingers removing the pale hands away from her arms. She runs, bolting, leaving a devastated raven in the rain, a plead of “S-shika!” ringing in her ears. [“Mum, I like girls.” a girl sobs, “I’m in love with a girl.” “Ma, ‘Tachi, please. I can’t let her go. Please.” “I’ll talk to your Father. ‘Chi, go bring your sister and let her rest. She looks like she hasn’t slept a blink.” “C’mon, Sa.” ”Thank you, thank you.”] Laughs mocks her, her head bent low as male players make fun of how badly their conversation went. How a nerd like her would ever get the engaged, vball athlete. The pain stings, avoiding the dark eyes trailing her every step, the nonchalant grazing on the corridors or the fast glances during the volleyball practice. It’s raw, and it’s open, a wound gaping wide by her ribcage, heavy on her shoulders. Makes her crave for more, to have someone to hold, and to be held. So lost in her thoughts she missed the fist barreling towards her, or the worried whispering to her ear. Naruko supports her as she regains her balance, eyes wide at the murderous glaring woman in front of her, a smaller hand holding the fist back. A threatening growl of “Don’t you dare touch her.” Breath stuck in her lungs, she wobbles as Sasuke punches back, as her seemingly petite form looms and brashly defends and attacks back, swift and graceful. Kiba laughs as Shino pulls the girl away, the infuriatingly smug smirk on her bloodied lips making Shikamaru giggle, the boys previously towering over her crumpled and cowering on the ground. “Fucking bastards. I’m fucking gay, lesbian, whatever. I just know I like, maybe love Shikamaru,” she says sincerely, looking back with a soft smile. “And I know I might be a tad bit too late.” She murmurs, cradling shaking hands in her own, before bloody knuckles graze a freckled cheek. “But I’m not gonna be a coward anymore.” She presses a kiss on the unblemished knuckles, chuckling softly at both of their red faces, hands moving to cup Shikamaru’s cheeks. Her thumbs brush on the soft skin, as the short-haired woman slides her hands to her hips. “I really want to kiss you.” She finds herself staring at Shikamaru's lips, tempted to cover it with her own, to trace the seam with her thumb and hold onto the nape of neck as she loses herself in her. In some type of bravery or impatience, Shikamaru leans in, smacking their lips together, before she also, pulls the girl closer, wrapping her arms around her neck. Her impulsiveness joins, tongue darting out to tangle with the other, holding unto each other tightly. “Want to be my girlfriend? darling?” she breathes to Shikamaru’s ear, feeling lips pressing on her collarbone as the brunette laughs, “I like the sound of that, dear.” “I like you more.” “Sap.”

9 notes · View notes

backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

I am the Alpha Now Part 18

Bakugo x Reader

Words : 3023

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

************************************************************************

Bakugo started pacing, his boots stomping, his fists clenched in anger. If he wasn’t sure Hawks was somehow in on this before then he was now. The asshole slipped out at the first chance he got. “Mother fucking bird brain! I can’t believe him! I’m gonna find the son of a bitch and pluck out every last feather.”

Kirishima and Midoriya had followed him outside and where giving nervous glances to each other, neither one wanting to bet the one to talk to their ticking time bomb friend first.

Finally, Karishma’s shoulders slumped as he decided he was a little less destructible. “Hey bro. I know this is a stupid question… but are you doing alright? I mean besides the obvious y/n situation.” Kiri could see Bakugo open his mouth to argue but he cut him off before he could. “I mean you just look a little, I don’t know… unhinged. Have you slept at all since you left UA? You look exhausted.”

Bakugo growled, “I’ll sleep when I find her. It’s already been two fucking days, almost three since she went missing! Just cuz you extras need to take your little nap time to function doesn’t mean that I do.”

Kiri gave him a nervous look, “Bakugo, believe me, we all want her back safe. But you have to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. You won’t be much help if you pass out. Maybe we could just head back for a little bit. You can catch us up on what you’ve found since we left this morning maybe catch a quick couple hours of sleep.”

“I said I don’t need a fucking nap. I don’t have time…” Bakugo chewed on his lip as debated on whether he should tell them his new theories. He knew they probably wouldn’t believe him. He understood how crazy it sounded. But if they were going to help then they needed to know. “I think I know who took her… but it doesn’t exactly make sense.”

Midoriya could see the hesitation in his eyes. “Kacchan, whatever it is, you can tell us. We’ll keep it between us. Well us and Todoroki. He’d be here now, but he’s busy trying to get the new house put together. He’s still working on this though. He’s keeping a close eye on internet activity. He’s using his dad’s hero agency’s software to scan through for anything posted about Y/n.” Midoriya rubbed his neck, “It’s not exactly allowed, but I don’t think he cares either way.”

Bakugo looked around to see if anyone was listening. He gestured for the other two to follow him. He was nervous Hawks might still be hanging around somewhere. Finally, when he deemed it safe, he stopped and spun around to face them. “I think the League of Villains took y/n. Well specifically I think Dabi did.” Both Midoriya and Kirishima’s eyes bulged. Bakugo’s nostrils flared, “And I think Hawk’s is helping them.”

***************Y/N’S POV***********************************

Your eyes filled with tears, but it wasn’t the pain of Dabi burning your skin that provoked them. It was the helpless, useless, frustrated feeling that was festering in your chest. You couldn’t do what Dabi was asking you to do. You were trying, but you just… couldn’t do it.

You dug deep, you gave it everything you had, and yet you still had nothing to show for it.

“Come ON! Do you want that crusty creep to turn you to dust? Is that what you want? You want to leave that annoying loudmouth and precious little puppy behind.” You could feel your anger boiling over. But what was its source? Were you mad at yourself for not being able to do it. Were you mad at Dabi for trying to force you to do something you clearly couldn’t? Or maybe you were mad at both Dabi and Hawks for getting you into this fucked up situation. “What do you think will happen to them once you’re gone huh? Will your pooch go back to being just another dumb dog? Will their connection die without you? Will THEY DIE WITHOUT YOU? Who’s to say, maybe I’ll get mad and just kill them myself”

“STOP IT!” You fell to your knees. Fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut. “Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! I’m sick and tired of your annoying ass voice!”

You felt his scared hand grip your chin harshly, “Show me your eyes. Or are you scared I’m going to see you cry and finally understand how fucking weak you are?!“

Your eyes snapped open. They glowed brighter than you can ever remember. The bright blue only reflected in Dabi’s eyes. You could see that he had to squint just to see through it. The words that left your mouth were eerily calm. “I said… shut up.” You gripped the wrist that held your chin with one hand and with your other you broke his thumb and he screamed. “You don’t get to talk about my Mercy like that.” Your grip on his wrist tightened as you pulled out a staple on his hand, watching the blood flow. “How dare you threaten my pack.” You ripped out another staple. “My family.” Another staple. “The love of my life.”

Your eyes glowed brighter and you could feel pure Alpha power coursing through your veins. “Look at you. All stapled together like a patchwork quilt. And why? Because you’re the weak one.” You could see something in his eyes now, was it fear or something else you didn’t know. “I’m an Alpha.” You let go of his wrist and punched him in the face.

Dabi spit out blood and cradled his bleeding hand to his chest. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

********************** Bakugo POV**************************

Midoriya paced, “Kacchan. You have to know how crazy that sounds.”

Bakugo groaned, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand dumbass Deku. Did you even listen to anything I just said! I have proof!” His eyes bore into Kirishima’s “You believe me right Kiri?”

Kiri rubbed his neck nervously. “Come on man. You have to give us a little more to go off of. All of your proof is just guesses and gut feelings.” He raised his hands up in defense before Bakugo could start yelling at him. “Before you get mad at me, just know I’ll follow you wherever you go, no matter how crazy. But you really need to think this through. You say Dabi has her because you think you felt her being burned through the bond. A bond you also say she’s turned off. You think Hawk’s is in on it because you think you heard her moan in the background of a phone call. You say you think you know where she is because saw something in your head. Something that none of us could see, not even Mercy saw it. You have to understand how that’s not proof right?”

Bakugo started to grow. “Did you follow him like I asked?”

Kirishima looked back and forth between Midoriya and Bakugo in concern. He really thought his best friend might be losing it. “Did we follow who? Who are you talking to?”

Mercy walked out of the shadows. “He’s smarter than you think. He may not have seen me, but he knew he was being followed. I got a good whiff of him though so I should be able to track him down. Even now I can tell he still hasn’t left his apartment.”

“Good. Continue your patrol and report back to me in an hour.”

Bakugo could sense Mercy’s frustration. His fur was sticking up slightly as he showed his teeth. “I know we’re packmates, and I know we’re doing this for Y/n. But you need to remember that you aren’t my alpha any more than I am yours. Quit bossing me around.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, “Oh give me a break. Are you really going to be a brat right now? You know I didn’t mean it that way. How about instead of bitching about who’s in charge of finding Y/n, we just focus on actually finding her huh?”

Mercy growled, “I’m not bitching, you’re just bossy.”

Before Bakugo could even respond, both of their eyes glowed bright for a brief moment. And in that moment they surged with power. So much power that Bakugo accidentally let off a small explosion.

Bakugo was staring at the hand that had just sent an explosion into a nearby dumpster while Midoriya was up and pacing again. “Okay. I’m just going to say it… What the fuck was that?”

************** Y/N POV*****************************

You could hear you heart pounding in your ears. Your vision started to tunnel. You smelled ash and you could taste blood. But feel? You couldn’t feel anything. You were completely numb. You looked down and was surprised to see your skin had a weird glow to it. You and Dabi had been going at it for a few minutes now. But it honestly felt like an hour had gone by.

All the power you summoned was draining and draining quick. It left you almost as fast as it came. You had blacked out during most of it so you assumed you had gone feral. It had been years since you had done so and you had forgotten about the toll it would take on your body. Were you hurt? Were you dying? You couldn’t tell. You were just numb. You sank to the floor, back pressed against the charred remnants of what used to be the couch. You could see Dabi’s chest rise and fall over to your right. He had passed out, but the fucker was still breathing.

You crawled over to him and fumbled through his pockets. You groaned as fatigue attempted to pull you under. Your fingers finally found what they were looking for and yanked it from his pocket. You focused as hard as you could on the screen in front of you trying to scroll through Dabi’s contacts. Dabi only had like ten numbers and yet you still struggled to find it in time.

You clicked dial and the name feather dick popped on the screen. After a few rings you heard him pick up. “Listen now’s not a good time. I think the mystery gang is onto us…”

Mystery gang huh? Would that make Katsuki, Fred or Shaggy? You chuckled, “It’s me.” You threw up rather loudly. “I think I need help…”

********************* Bakugo POV************************

“Did you seriously just say fuck? Mr. Perfect just swore?”

Midoriya narrowed his eyes, “God Damnit Kacchan! You’re the one out here having one sided conversations with dogs and spouting conspiracy theories, and your worried about me saying FUCK?”

Mercy cocked his head. It would have been cute if he hadn’t been baring his teeth only moments before. “This idiot knows you weren’t having a one-sided conversation, right?” He sniffed Midoriya causing him to stiffen, “I don’t like him.”

Bakugo snorted, “Yeah get in line.” He looked at Midoriya, “Listen if you care about your balls at all I’d stop talking about Mercy as if he’s not here. He’s smarter than you and shitty hair combined.”

Mercy nudged Bakugo’s hand in approval before resuming his sniffing. He went up to Kirishima and shoved his nose in his side, “This one I like. He smells sweet. But not too sweet.”

Kirishima chuckled, “I think what Bakugo’s trying to say is they have a bond we don’t understand.” He rubbed Mercy’s head fondly, “Just because we can’t prove they’re right, doesn’t mean they’re wrong either.” Mercy gave an exaggerated nod and a bark of confirmation. “I say we just go with it.” He shrugged. “If they’re wrong, the only thing we’ve wasted is time. If they’re right, then we find y/n…. seems worth it to me.”

Midoriya gave a long glance at Mercy before leaning down putting his face level with his, “I’m sorry if I offended you. It wasn’t my intention to belittle your intelligence… I’m sure having your alpha torn from you is hard and having Kacchan in your head 24/7 is probably making it even worse.” He ignored the seething look he was getting from Bakugo. “If you can promise to look out for him, and to somehow let me know that what he’s saying is true. I’d really appreciate it.”

Mercy gave a low humming noise, as if he was sizing Midoriya up. He was about to go off on him for even doubting Bakugo but suddenly his head whipped to the side. All of his muscles tensed, and a growl ripped through his chest. “Bakugo. Hawks is leaving his apartment and he’s moving fast.”

“Shit… Okay lead the way. Guys Hawk’s is on the move. Last chance to back out.”

After a few tense moments they both nodded and followed as Bakugo and Mercy took off.

It wasn’t long before they were back in the same district, they had been patrolling earlier that morning. Mercy came to a stop and looked up. “They’re here, now that we’re close enough, I can smell her.”

“Okay Deku and I can start from the top while Kiri and Mercy start on the bottom and we’ll work our way to the middle. Mercy and I can keep each other updated so-“ He pointed to his friends now, “you two idiots stay close to us.”

Without even waiting for a confirmation Bakugo blasted himself into the sky towards the top of the building with Midoriya quickly following after him. Kirishima sighed and looked at Mercy, “Not exactly subtle, is he?” Mercy whined and walked towards the entrance of the building. “Lead the way man. I’ll watch your six.”

*********************Y/N POV********************************

Thankfully you hadn’t passed out, but you still felt like shit. Three days of torture and hard work will do that to a person. The door slammed moments before you felt Hawks pulling your head into his lap. “Hey kid! Open your eyes and look at me.” You groaned at the idea. Even lifting your eyelids felt impossible. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re safe. Big bad Dabi is passed the fuck out. Let’s just get those eyes open yeah?”

You just groaned again like a petulant child before letting out a weak, “…no”

Hawk’s sighed, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay kid. But fine. Be stubborn. I’ll just have to-“

A loud explosion sounded from outside the building. Your heart pounded because you’d know that sound anywhere.

Before you knew it your head was being dropped back to the floor with a dull thud. “Shit.”

You could hear Hawks scurry over to Dabi, “Hey! Patchy! You need to get up and get the hell out of here. There are heroes here. I can still spin this in my favor. But you need to leave. Like NOW!”

You heard Dabi hiss as he tried to sit up and if you had the energy you would have smirked at the fact that you were the reason he was hurting. But then you remembered that you weren’t much better at the moment.

Dabi shuffled over to you, leaning over to speak directly into your ear. “You go along with whatever he says. Do you understand me? You air our dirty laundry and I’ll air yours. I just need to hit a button on my phone and your little secret is out.”

You took a deep breath and forced your eyes open. You could tell by the shocked look on his face that they were still glowing. This had to be a record. Usually they stopped as soon as the adrenaline wore off. “I’d get going if I were you. I may be too exhausted to kick your ass but I don’t think Katsuki will feel the same way.”

Dabi growled before forcing himself onto his feet and leaving the room.

You figured there was no point trying to hide from them anymore. They found you, the jig was up. You looked at Hawk’s pacing. “So what are you going to tell him?”

Hawks played with a feather as he brainstormed, “I’m going to say I received an anonymous tip and flew out here as soon as I could. Found you here, by yourself and that Dabi must have gotten away. I mean look at the place you guys tore it to pieces. It’ll be obvious I didn’t do this.”

You nodded knowing full well that Bakugo wouldn’t believe a word of that. “So is it okay for me to tell him where I am? I mean if you just “rescued” me then that would only make sense, right?”

You reached out before Hawks even said anything and felt for pack. The bond opened up and you were flooded with relief. Your eyes even teared up a little at the empty spot in your chest felt warm again. You could tell Bakugo was two floors above you while Mercy was three below. Sneaky boys. You hoped Mercy caught the chance to sink his teeth into Dabi.

“Y/n. Baby! I’m here where are you pup? Please tell me you are okay.” You brushed a tear aside. You could feel Mercy’s presence as well, but he must have been focusing on something else because he remained quiet. Maybe he did find Dabi after all.

“I’m fine. I’m two floors down from you-“

You heard a loud bang come from the other side of the door. Naturally your impatient boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to use the stairs. Nope. He came straight through the ceiling. Next thing you knew the door was blown from it’s hinges and he and Deku were rushing in.

He looked around frantically until his eyes met yours. He crossed the room in seconds and fell to his knees in front of you. He scooped you into his arms as his lips found the top of your head. “I’m here now pup. It’s okay. God damnit please don’t ever do this to me again.”

You gripped the front of his shirt and just breathed in his comforting scent. You allowed yourself to relax into him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t really have a choice. I’m so sorry.”

***********************************************************************

Tags: @tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2, @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha , @weebnumber3622 , @mixedfeeelings , @munchmunch01 , @inumorph@xxoperatexx @runrabbitrun3 @insane-without-delirium @yolei94

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia #my her academia

21 notes · View notes

karmasuna · 4 years

Text

》you have a crush on bobby pins

pairing; shinso x f!reader

genre; fluff

wordcount; 2235

synopsis; it’s shinso’s birthday and he gets a very peculiar gift from a mystery person.

a/n; wooooo it’s shinso day! this is purely self indulgent and also heavily inspired by this assclass karashuu fic by @/gwendee on ao3! they’re like my all time favorite writer yes i just-

“Happy birthday, Shinso!”

“Thanks,” the purple haired boy glances back at the girl who had just walked past time, giving her a small smile just to be polite.

He doesn’t know that girl, he thinks. Ever since he’s joined the hero course he’s been getting a lot more attention, which he guesses was to be expected. It’s not bad, he supposes, but it does stand in stark contrast from how they had treated him just a year ago, shunning him because of his quirk. It’s a nice change.

Coming to a stop in front of his shoe locker, he opens it only to promptly be hit in the face by an onslaught of gifts and letters. Shinso sighs.

“Isn’t this is a bit too much,” he mutters quietly as he bends down to pick them up, nose scrunching a little when he catches a whiff of all the combined perfumes the girls must have drowned their cards and presents in.

Behind him Kaminari whistles lowly, eyeing the small mountain. “Bro, you’re gonna catch up to Todoroki’s level in no time. That dude has two fanclubs just here at school, I seriously have no idea how he does it.”

Finally managing to get everything out of his locker he slips on his indoor shoes, tapping them gently the floor before looking up at the blonde, unamused.

“Take whatever you want,” he gestures at the pile. “It’s not like I would be able to eat so much chocolate anyways. I don’t even like them that much.”

“Sweet,” the blonde flashes him a grin, already fishing out a bag from his backpack and wasting no time with shoving boxes in. “You’re the best.”

“You came prepared, didn’t you.” Shinso grabs the cards and envelopes, scanning through the names to see if anything catches his eye. Unsurprisingly, nothing does so he just tucks them away in his bag. Of course you hadn’t put something in his shoe locker, that’s just cliché.

Kaminari shrugs, standing up and heaving the bulging bag over his shoulder. “Bakugo never wants his presents either, so I’m ready for it.”

When he gets to the classroom he’s greeted by a chorus of birthday wishes and another small stack of gifts on his desk. These elicit a genuine smile from him. They’re from people who know him well and it shows in the unique presents they had each picked out.

It’s sappy but the thought they put into the presents makes his heart warm, and he doesn’t even try to stop the fond smile creeping onto his face as he flips through the album Midoriya had given him, complete with cute little notes from everyone.

His eyes widen when he gets to the bottom of the pile, looking at the small pouch in confusion. There’s a few bobby pins inside and a small scrap of notebook paper, unfolding it to see “happy birthday” hastily written in chicken scratch. Clearly whoever wrote it was either in a hurry or didn’t really put any effort into the gift.

It’s a strangely thoughtful present, he supposes. Maybe now his hair would finally stay out of his face even when he does his homework after school and his hair gel softens just enough to let a few wisps constantly poke at his eyes.

Shinso thinks long and hard about who possibly could have given him such a peculiar gift even as the school bell rings, tuning out Aizawa’s announcements as he gets lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning the room for any potential answers.

There’s no way it could’ve been a boy. Last time he checked none of them were beauty gurus, and he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t know how to even use a bobby pin either, including himself.

So it was most likely a girl then. He finds his thoughts automatically drifts toward you, but he shoots the assumption down before it can even become an idea. Sure, out of all the girls he was definitely closest to you, but he’s convinced that you only talk to him because you feel sorry for his antisocial ass.

He sighs, burying his face in his hands. Now that he had jumped onto this thought train he can’t stop thinking about those stupid bobby pins.

---

“Midoriya,” he later asks during class when he can’t take the curiosity anymore, “do you know if anyone in our class uses bobby pins?”

Midoriya looks visibly confused from his strange question, and Shinso honestly doesn’t blame him at all. “Aren’t they really common? I’m not sure, but even Eri has some.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. Shinso thanks him anyways, and moves on to see if Kaminari and his habit of “observing” girls would be of any help.

“Kaminari, I need you to help me find out who gave me bobby pins as a birthday present.”

The incredulous gaze he gets in response is definitely something he expected. “Um, what now?”

Shinso repeats himself, slower this time. The blonde still doesn’t seem to get it, so he pulls the small satchel out of his pocket and shows him. “Bobby pins,” he repeats, hoping Kaminari would connect the dots.

“Woah,” says Kaminari.

Shinso waits patiently to see if he had anything else to say. “That’s it? /Woah/?”

“I don’t know, man,” Kaminari peers at the little scrap of paper, studying the handwriting carefully. “I can help you ask around though. See what Jiro knows.”

---

Later that day after school he takes the bag out and puts it on his desk, staring at the small note that came with. He feels stupid for having used up most of his birthday thinking about bobby pins of all things.

“I need to know,” he tells himself before pulling out his phone and dialing.

“The fuck you want, dipshit.” Bakugo picks up almost instantly, which Shinso is very thankful for.

“I need advice.”

“And you think I’m gonna help you like some shitty therapist? Fuck off, I don’t wanna hear you whine like a little bitch.”

Shinso waits a few moments, and when Bakugo doesn’t hang up he starts talking again. “I got bobby pins from someone in our class,” he begins.

“Why do I need to know this.” The blonde sounds angry on the other end, so he decides to stoke his ego a little.

“You don’t sugarcoat things, and I need you to tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not exactly something Midoriya can do.”

Bakugo snorts. “Damn right that shitty Deku’s useless. He’s fucking stupid.”

“Yes,” Shinso agrees, “so help me out here.”

And so he tells Bakugo everything. It’s not much given he really didn’t know anything about the mystery sender, but the blonde listens anyways, grunting occasionally to acknowledge his story.

“You have a crush on bobby pins,” Bakugo concludes when Shinso’s finished.

“Say what now.”

“You don’t know shit about whoever sent them but you can’t stop thinking about them. It’s pretty straightforward.”

The purple boy sighs loudly, not knowing what to say. Bakugo’s not wrong, really. It’s either that or-

“It’s either that or you have a crush on Y/N, since you obviously think she’s the one who gave them to you,” Bakugo says.

Shinso swears out loud. “I did not want to hear that,” he tells the other boy.

“Sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t have fuckin called me in the first place. This is a waste of time.” Bakugo doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“She doesn’t like me back.” At this point he doesn’t even bother hiding his crush on you anymore. If you were going to find out you would have ages ago.

“Why can’t you just ask her yourself and quit forcing me to listen to you whine like a little bitch.”

“Oh yeah.” He hadn’t even considered that an option. “I’ll definitely do that.”

“Cool. Can I leave now?”’

“Sure. Thanks, Bakugo.”

“I don’t want to hear your sappy shit,” is all he says before he hangs up.

Shinso takes in a deep breath before pulling up your contact and quickly typing in a message, finger hovering on the send button, contemplating whether he should send such a dumb-sounding message and potentially weird you out.

He’s still staring at the screen, his other hand going to brush hair from his eyes as he debates with himself.

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door that snaps him out of his thoughts and makes him jump, resulting in his finger accidentally hitting the send button. Groaning in frustration, he gives himself five seconds to wallow in his regrets before getting up to open the door, definitely not expecting to see you there.

“‘Toshi! I know it’s your birthday but it’s still Friday night, and you know what that means,” you grin at him, letting yourself in and flopping onto his bed.

He closes the door and nods, sighing with the motion makes his hair fall into his eyes again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna force me to watch Haikyuu with you again.”

You pout at him, scooting over to make space for him as you pull up the website on your laptop. “Don’t say it like you don’t enjoy it. I see the way you look whenever Yamaguchi gets to serve.”

“Shut up,” is all he says in response, but there’s no heat in his words.

“You aren’t denying it,” you say giddily, but your tone changes when you look at him and see him brushing hair out of his eyes again.

“Didn’t you get the bobby pins his morning? Use them, geez,” you say casually as if it were no big deal.

Shinso freezes in his actions, trying to process what you had just said. “Yeah, I did,” he says carefully, trying not to give way the way his heart was racing in his chest, “how’d you know?”

Just then your phone pings, you laughing when you see his message. “Mhm, I put them there. If you’re not gonna use them then give ‘em back, I don’t wanna waste any.

“Thanks,” he says, feeling oddly touched now that he knew it was really you. “I would use them but I don’t know how to.”

You raise a brow, surprised by this new information. “Seriously? Don’t worry, I gotcha. Where are they?”

Reaching over to grab a few from his desk he hands them to you, sitting still as you shuffle around to sit between his legs, carefully gathering the stray locks and twisting them gently. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

His brain is short-circuiting from how close you suddenly are. He can practically smell your shampoo, and seeing you so pretty and focused up close doesn’t help him calm his heart at all.

Your lips look really kissable right now, he thinks to himself. If he just tilted his head up the smallest of fractions your lips would meet, but he’s too afraid of ruining your friendship.

“Damn, you really put a lot of effort into getting me a present,” he murmurs, “with the chicken scratch and all.”

“Shush, you know how bad I am with birthdays. Be grateful I got you anything at all.”

“Wow, I’m so touched,” he retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes at how you had just blatantly admitted you didn’t remember his birthday, “guess this means I don’t have to get you that Oikawa figure for your birthday then.”

He chuckles when he feels you freeze up from his words. “What? You literally gave me your own pins and told me to give them back. What kind of a crappy birthday present is that?”

“No, please. I need my Tooru,” you whine, voice smaller than before. “I’ll get you something, anything I can afford, okay? Just tell me what you want.”

He hums, thinking about his options, waiting for you to get back to work on his hair before speaking up again. “Anything?”

“Anything my wallet can handle,” you clarify, mock glaring at him as you pull at the strands roughly, making him grunt in pain. “Okay okay, I got it, chill.”

“I don’t think what I want is going to hurt your wallet at all,” he breathes, studying your reaction to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.

“Mhm,” you say, not really paying attention to his words as you slide the last bobby pin into his hair, “I’m done! What do you want then-”

You’re interrupted by him tilting his head up ever so slightly to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Gasping in surprise, you don’t even have time to react before he pulls back, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully.

“Um, I’m sorry,” he begins, but this time you cut him off, throwing your hands around him and grinning.

“For what, stupid? Kiss me again.”

There’s no denying your words set his cheeks away, but he swallows before leaning back in to connect your lips again. Hands carefully snaking their way around your waist and pulling you even closer, holding you so gently as if he were afraid you would shatter or disappear.

“I really like you,” Shinso whispers when you pull apart, bumping his nose gently against yours.

“I like you a lot too, ‘Toshi,” you grin, “happy birthday.”

He hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best birthday ever.”

---

“I should just give you my phone case or something for your birthday.”

“What the hell? Our phones aren’t even the same model!”

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha headcanons #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x reader #mha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #bnha shinso x reader #shinsou fluff #shinsou headcanons

249 notes · View notes

chiwhorei · 4 years

Text

a cigarette between friends

pairing: k. ukai x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

genre: angst, implied smut, 18+ minors dni

warnings: implied smut, no actual sex scene; death of a parent; fwb; cursing; smoking; drinking; characters are 18 i do not, would not, and will not write minors

hymns: mover awayer by hobo johnson, it ends tonight by all-american rejects, and closing time by: semisonic

After the ceremony ends, even just a few hours removed, the reality of adulthood starts to settle uncomfortably in both of their chests. This would be the night that changes everything.

“I have to say it.” They both think to themselves and brace for the impact this night is bound to bring.

Ukai Keishin and Sawamura y/n sit on the roof of y/n’s house and watch the sky melt from pink to deep purple. They should be out with friends or family, rejoicing in the freedom that graduation has brought them, but neither have many friends anyway. Not ones worth more than this rooftop and the view above them. “Cheers, Kei. We’re celebrating.” She says grabbing a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the windowsill behind her. She rolls her big, doey eyes and smacks the bottom of the box. She lights one and passes it to him after a few puffs. “Volleyball is over, one cigarette won’t fucking kill you.” She was wrong. That one cigarette would stop his fucking heart every time he watched her take a drag. The way she talks with it bobbing between her teeth was just as intoxicating as the six-pack of beer next to them.

Never has the tension between them been so thick. There are words hanging like nooses from her tongue, but for the first time in her life y/n couldn’t say what was on her mind. Ukai is always on the receiving end of the sharp comment shooting off of her lips, and he always dishes back what is served. The more they hurl verbal weapons, the closer they are pulled together. There was a magnet impeded in each respective skull and they always come crashing into one another.

If anyone ever saw them together- or caught them together- during school or before Volleyball practice, they were fighting. The steam rising from both parties was palpable whenever they were within ten feet of each other. No one knew what it was like in these moments, though. No one knew what the pair was like behind a closed door or on top of a roof. They were truly inseparable.

The only times y/n is quiet is when sucking on Ukai’s tongue.

It goes one of a few ways with Ukai Keishin and Sawamura y/n. There are plenty of late-night booty calls or summoning each other out of pure boredom. Most often, however, their screaming matches end in hate fucking. That’s how this all started anyway.

“Maybe if you could take your head out of your ass, Ukai, we would be able to finish this project without ripping each other’s throats out.” She whispers at him in an even tone, glaring across the table they share at the library.

Being in the same classes was already grating on both of them. Whatever subject, they would be at odds. Constantly prolonging class discussions just to try to win the competition they created for themselves.

Ukai didn’t actually care to debate the meaning of Cordelia's death in King Lear, but since Y/n had an opinion he surely wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to piss her off. This fighting came to a head when they were paired together for a literature project at the beginning of their third year. Everyone around them braced for impact when the pairs were assigned, realizing the cluster-fuck about to unfold.

“And maybe you could take the stick out of your ass.” He grumbles, but then a sadistic grin spreads across his face. He picks up his chair and drags it to the spot directly next to her. He leans right into her ear, “Unless that’s where you like it, Miss Perfect.”

His comment was a gamble for sure, Ukai knows that the hot tempered girl next to him will probably hit him with her notebook, but if he shocks her, he wins.

“I usually don’t start with things up my ass. Plus, I’m into blondes.” A small shrug and bored look was all he got. Dammit. He should have known that he wouldn’t faze her that easily. Still… She doesn’t acquaint her hand with the back of his head, so he decides to push her a little further.

“How about we take a break and I can relieve some of your tension, y/n.” She stops writing in the sea of papers in front of them and looks at Ukai with unwavering eyes. Her stare is so intense he starts to prepare for the worst. At least in the position they’re currently sat in she can’t kick him in the balls.

“Okay.” Y/n starts packing up her things and Ukai is reeling. Nothing shocked her, and even if he had propositioned her, Y/n always had control.

Whichever way it starts, whether the tension threatens to boil over or just out of boredom, it ends in with him slamming her against the nearest surface while she pulls on the short brown hair at his nape. She has an amazing way of bringing out passion in people and Ukai is no exception. She challenges him at every turn. She elicits rage, anger, frustration- but he comes back for more like she’s holy communion.

“What are we doing?” Ukai is agitated by the silence that has consumed the past few moments. Y/n scoffs at his quip and takes the cigarette from his hand, bringing it to her plush, disarming lips. “Come on, what’s some room temperature beer and a cigarette between friends?” Now it was his turn to scoff.

“I’m not sure we would be considered friends, princess. We’re,” He pauses to contemplate, rubbing the bottle he’s holding between his palms “more like business associates.” The comment feels like poison in his mouth, even though it receives the intended chuckle from y/n. He takes a hearty sip from his beer to wash down the taste of his own words.

He wasn’t lying, these two are not friends. Ukai, even if he was closer to a delinquent than a valedictorian, lives in a different world than y/n. He has athletic talent and a drive to compete, he has a group to belong to and a uniform to adorn. She mulls around with the crowd who directly opposes structured sports. Every time they’re shuffled into the gymnasium for a pep-rally, her friends jeer and taunt as various captains speak words of encouragement.

She hates her friends almost as much as she hates everyone else. She never thought liking vinyl and horrible black coffee were interesting traits, definitely not ones to develop a whole personality around. Y/n thinks it stupid to oppose society without a good reason. She has plenty of reasons, but the friends around her never made compelling points. Even so, she doesn’t have to like the people around her to understand the need for a place to belong. Until she found somewhere to truly be herself, they would have to work. Not that it matters now, even freshly out of graduation, she knows she isn’t going to see anyone from high school again.

“Business associates, huh? Is that what you call this-” She motions between them with the beer bottle in her hand, “thing that we do? Is Hate Fucking right under the NASDAQ when you check the stocks in the morning?” Her comment was sharp but her actions directly contrast. She moves to sit in between his legs and presses her back to his chest. Even if she’s not offended by his comment, she craves the intimacy of his arms wrapped around her. She craves to prove wrong a point she cannot argue. Every time she leans into him is a silent claim. She touches him in a way that no one else does. Y/n would never be seen at one his games donning his number or cheering him on, that was an action reserved for a girlfriend. She wasn’t there to jump into his arms after a win, but she was surely there to take his frustration out on after a loss. Her touch was not that of a romantic, but it served a purpose for both of them, and she revels in that control.

It’s not like he minds, pushing his hands under the shirt that hangs so deliciously on her petite frame. His shirt. He rests his calloused palms on her stomach and she reaches up to run her hand over the back of his hair.

Ukai is addicted to the feeling of her skin. Her soft, curvy body and the smell of strawberry lotion mixed with the faint trace of smoke clouds any rational thoughts. The feeling of her thighs wrapped around him could keep him up at night. At the beginning, sex was more than enough to quench his thirst. The fucked out look on her face in those moments was like methadone. However good that feeling was though, it quickly became insufficient. The real drug is this moment, with her in between his legs and his chin resting on the top of her head. If her sex was methadone, this is heroine.

The comment she made was almost lost by the feeling of her flush against his hard chest. Where he was almost drunk on the feeling of her bare ass pressed into him, she wasn’t flustered in the slightest.

Sawamura y/n was unmatched when she spoke. It seems like she employed a whole writers room to push out bitchy comments. How was she able to counter his dumb remark with a pointed jab and lay into his chest in a way that’s making him want to protect her? How are both possible at the same time? Fuck, he has to tell her before he chickens out again. He doesn’t know where to begin, but his words tumble out in a small voice.

“We don’t always hate fuck, y/n.” He’s referring to the fact that they do spend time together with their clothes on, but his tone implies something different. The accusation is not lost on either of them. She doesn't show it, but his hushed confessional knocks the breath out of her lungs. He was right again.

She can’t deny the soft touches she places on his face after falling into bed together, studying his features as they let their breathing steady. She can’t deny the times she presses her small hands into the dips of his shoulder blades after a grueling practice. She can’t forget the night he came to her after being beaten to a pulp, and she will never forget the way he grabbed her thighs to ease the pain with each swipe of antiseptic on his beaten face.

“Ukai Keishin, why are you calling me at three in the morning. This better be important.” Y/n uses his full name as a sign of her frustration and it feels like a knife piercing his skull.

“Your parents are gone this weekend, right?” He doesn't mean to sound like a prick, but the throbbing in his head is making him lose his senses. He coughs and blood spatters on his hand.

“Yes, but my brother’s asleep so if you’re coming over you have to be quiet. My window is open.” She whispers into the other end of the line and he hears her getting out of bed.

“I can’t come through the window. I’m at your front door.” The idea of climbing the tree in her backyard and jumping up to the roof seems impossible in his current state. He hopes that the tone of his voice is enough to stifle any argument from her. It seems to work as the door to her house is unlocked as quietly as possible. Upon opening it, she nearly screams at the sight in front of her. Ukai is leaning against the door frame with a beaten face and a small, apologetic smile.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He stumbles and y/n helps him inside. She puts her hands around his waist and hauls him clumsily into the bathroom. She sits him on the edge of the bathtub and grabs the first aid kit from the closet with shaking hands. “Is she shaking because she’s concerned for me? Or is she just pissed?” His inner-monologue is drowned out by the feeling of his own heartbeat in his swelling eye.

Y/n runs a washcloth under warm water and turns to face him. He looks up and is able to see her clearly for the first time- as clearly as he can with one good eye. Her bed head is the first thing Ukai notices, h/c locks wildly spilling over her shoulders. She looks exhausted. The bags under her eyes are deep and it looks like she’s been crying. “That wouldn’t be from me right? Surely not, if I ever did something worth crying over, she would just yell at me.” He watches the form in front of him, clad in nothing but an over-sized shirt from a band he doesn't recognize and- he lifts up the shirt slightly- yeah, a pair of underwear.

If she notices him staring at her, she doesn’t say anything and approaches him with the washcloth. She looks so different standing above him like this, she looks like-

“An angel.” He says out loud, only realizing it when the sound of his voice hits his ears. “Hardly Kei. Stop being weird.” She chuckles at his dizzy comment and lifts his chin up, at least her nickname for him is back on her lips, where it belongs. “This is going to sting but you have to stay quiet. If you wake up my brother I will kill you.” Y/n stands in between his parted legs and starts to dab lightly at the blood under his nose. He winces and grabs her thighs to anchor himself, biting his tongue to stifle a painful grunt. Her honey-sweet thighs keep him distracted, at least a little, from the sting of the rag making contact with his face.

“What happened?” Y/n asks so softly it is almost a hum.

“The guys and I were just hanging out- ah, ouch- and some prick from the basketball team started messing with one of our first years. They called him a queer, so my fist attached itself to the douchbag’s jaw.” He says simply and digs his nails into the spot right below her ass.

“And I can guess that said basketball douchebag had friends.” Y/n puts a band aid on the gash under his blackening eye, and Ukai lets out a low chuckle.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who really got hurt.” She sighs and cleans the dirt from his shaved hairline with feather-light touches.

“Don’t expect me to tell you that you’re a hero, Kei. I think what you did was stupid. There are better ways to support gay rights than getting your ass handed to you.” His desire to stand up to injustice was commendable, even if it was rough around the edges, but she wasn’t about to stroke his ego by voicing that opinion. She steps away slightly to clean up the small pile of wrappers and gauze, and Ukai immediately misses having his hands on her bare legs.

“I wouldn't expect a gold star from you, y/n.” He clears his throat in an awkward series of coughs and takes the aspirin and glass of water from her outstretched hands. ‘Can I ask you a question?” He swallows the pills thickly and sets the cup next to him. He plays with the hem of her sleep shirt and looks up at her, awaiting her acknowledgement. The way his fingers tug at the fabric makes him feel like a child.

“I’m not blowing you just because you got hurt.” That damn tongue of hers, so sharp no matter the situation. She puts the first aid kit back and wrings the blood out of the washcloth in her hands, skin tinted pink under the water before running clear.

“You can ask me whatever you want, but I’m going upstairs to sit on the roof.” He follows y/n like a lost puppy, he’s only ever been in her room so walking through these halls feels like an intrusion. Ukai winces as he climbs out of her bedroom window into the cool night’s air.

“Were you crying?” He asks as she lays her head in his lap and blows cigarette smoke in his face, an action he usually finds annoying. He grimaces but lets it slide without complaint. Maybe it’s the late night, or the news that she received a few hours ago, but his presence is calming her racing mind. So as to not look too out of character though, she gives his earnest question a harsh scowl.

“Maybe. Why do you care?” Y/n tries to quell her fastened heartbeat at the thought that he cares about if she’s been crying. The night’s events really must be taking a toll if she’s started caring about that. She takes another deep, cancerous inhale and ashes the cigarette in her fingers with a practiced flick.

“You’re an ugly crier, it’s weird seeing your face all sad instead of bitchy.” Maybe an asshole comment isn’t the best idea, but Ukai knows exactly what reaction he would receive. Even if he doesn’t know what upset her, he knew that the insincere insult would make her laugh. She did, she laughed loudly and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She needed that, and he knew it.

As her giggle subsides, she looks up at his bruising face, She reads his eyes like a book, they tell of fondness and concern where she usually sees anger or agitation. Ukai hesitates, but cards his fingers through her hair that has cascaded around his lap. The tender action feels foreign to them both, but she makes no move to stop him as he scratches gently at her scalp. The silence around them is ringing in both of their ears.

“It’s my dad. My mom took him into the city for an appointment yesterday, he was admitted on the spot. He’s not going to make it more than a few days.” Y/n blows a smoke ring into the crisp air and continues, “He’s been sick for a long time. Like, a really long time. I mean he was so frail when I helped him into the car yesterday, but I didn’t expect that call. I don’t think you can ever expect that call.” She doesn’t realize she had started crying again until his rough hand meets her cheek to thumb away the escaping tears.

This shouldn’t be happening. Even if the circumstances are tragic, and his intent is genuine- it’s selfish to love the feeling of his comforting gesture. Y/n let’s Ukai do so much to her, but this moment feels like she is stealing from him. She’s a thief, but she indulges herself, resolving to make sure this never happens again. In this moment, this horrible night, she leans in shamelessly and memorizes the feeling of his sweet, strangers touch.

“My brother and I are going to see him tomorrow. I haven’t told him yet. He deserves one last night of sleep. His childhood ends tomorrow.” Ukai holds the shaking frame in his arms, tightening like she would disappear.

His heart breaks for her and the nine-year-old boy in the next room. The boy Ukai has never met. Why would he know y/n’s brother? He only ever comes to this house to get off and sneaks away before the sun wakes in the morning. There’s no love here, there shouldn’t be, but his heart breaks all the same.

“Kei,” she exhales a cloud of smoke from her nose and sits up to face him. “I need to tell you something.” His hands start sweating frantically and he knows it is now or never. He has to say the thoughts that are burning a hole in his tongue. Y/n and Ukai spoke at the same time. Both said one sentence that would hang off of this fucking rooftop for the next eight years.

“Y/n, I think I’m in love with you.”

“Kei, I’m moving to California for college.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#haikyuu x reader #coach ukai x reader #ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #ukai keishin #haikyuu!!#tw: smoking

228 notes · View notes

k347 · 4 years

Text

| Evanstan- One Shot |

Notes To Self

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan

Warnings: None. Maybe... a lots of fluff??😙

Author's Note: This drabble contains a lot of references from interviews and articles published in real life. But I don't mean to project any of this in the actual-incidents or life of these two people. This is a work of fiction, purely a fragment of my imagination. Please treat it as such.

*************************

Summary :

Chris Evans just got a few days off from the busy-hollywood-actor-schedule, so he is staying with his boyfriend in their NYC apartment and cherishing every bit of this time. Today Seb had a few press related work commitments and Chris got to see the professional-Sebastian Stan in his element, which he loved! But Chris loves THIS more. Being tucked into the same bed, quietly listening to Sebastian's strong heartbeat among the faint sounds of late NY traffic. He lets out a soft chuckle when an exhausted Seb ocassionly mutters something romanian in his deep sleep. It's incredibly charming and at the same time it is calming and soothing. Chris knows it's past 01:00 am. He should probably stop staring at his beautiful boyfriend now and go back to sleep. Especially when both of them have planned to go on an early morning stroll tomorrow. But before that, being the introspective guy he is, Chris decides to pen down some of his thoughts on paper!

*************************

From the Journal of Christopher Robert Evans -

29th November 2019,

To-do-list, Daily Notes and Observations for future-self :

🔸Try to match clothes with Seb more often

🔸Especially the maroon, because he looks smoldering HOT (🔥) in that colour. It brings out the passion in his eyes.

🔸Try to get involved and a front seat in the room whenever Seb does his next photo-shoot. EVERYTIME! It might sound like a slightly perilous idea considering the tabloids, but it'll be totally worth it.

🔸Although I know he subconsciously looks and acts like he's in a photoshoot 24/7, there's something about him posing infront of a camera, being sinfully pouty and intensely gazing that increases my heart rate and makes the butterflies in my stomach invite some more fireflies 🔥

🔸Go to the gym together frequently. This shoot just reminded me of how deliciously distracting he can be while working out. Holy shit, I need to make it our quotidian routine!

🔸Buy some more Armani bath-robes. Just do it. Maybe one of those David Yurman necklaces, too.

🔸NEVER argue with Seb about roads in New York. He clearly knows better, so he'll always win. In addition to that, he'll always remember your dumb-ass-fight and give an ode to that in his cute-dorky-short videos by making a guy ask him about '4th and Lex'. That unknown-model/stranger apparently represents my ignorant attitude towards the travel advice given by this self-proclaimed 'Best-New-York-tour guide' (😅) God, he's such a dork, my dork!

🔸Buy him a customised T-shirt that says 'Chubby-Dumpling' or 'Dumpling-Man' or maybe both. The nickname from the fans in China still gives him full-belly-laughs.

🔸On your next Boston trip take him to the REAL Dunkin Donuts.

🔸Always stash the freeze with Pizzas and donuts and hot dogs whenever he's having a cheat-day

🔸After a big cheat-day lunch he'll insist on not having anything for dinner. He'll be pretty kin on that. But don't listen to him. Make the romanian bouef-salad recipe you got from his mom. He always caves in with that one! He did today, too.

🔸Interviews for magazine profiles don't always go really well. I've also had my share of bad ones. When things like that happen, don't let him overthink and over analyse it. Seb himself can be a bit capricious at times and every interviewer can't capture the accurate image of a person through his/her writing from an hour long interview. But not everyone gets the privilege to understand,admire and adore this soft, pure, a little shy, beautifully complex and precious soul.

🔸Despite of being an amazing, talented and wonderful human being, Seb will doubt himself at times. Have mercurial mood swings because of it. It's a part of how the human brain functions.

🔸As excruciating as it is for you to witness, don't rush him through that. Let him complete his own thought process, but also never leave his side during that time. Hold him, be there for him. Just like he is there for you, always.

🔸 Seb moves around, paces a lot when he is nervous. Licks his parched lips, tossles his hair. In all honesty, he is more fidgety than Dodger during a haircut!

🔸So when his negative thoughts start to proliferate, give him some extra warm hugs. He says those help and also because you can't help it!

🔸Be an anchor for him during all this turbulance.

🔸Cuddle on that spacious, heavenly couch in the apartment till all of the brain noises settle down.

🔸Then make Seb realise how fucking PERFECT he is and try to erase each and every one of the insecurities he has about his physique and not putting on enough muscle

🔸Tell this sweet, kind, gorgeous man that he's not '50-miles behind' anyone. He doesn't need to compare himself to anybody else, simply because it's not fair, to THEM!

🔸Nobody can ever be compared to Sebastian, because he truly is the one and only♥ He doesn't need to worry about the ego maniac-races in Hollywood️ because he is playing in his own pro-league! Make sure to always remind him of that.

🔸Whenever people compliment him, Seb acts polite and then often internally wonders if they are being obsequious. But do it just right, with a few yet genuine words and he'll turn into an adorably blushing goofball. Try to bring that look on his face as much as you can.

🔸 Last but not the least, Love him. Just Love him. Treasure him, spend time with him as much and as often as you can, till the very last second that you're breathing. You'll never be able to figure out how you got so lucky to get to be with this actual angel of a human being, so don't wreck your mind over it. Seb is the universe's blessing to you. Never dare to forget that. And try to improve yourself each and everyday for him. Because Sebastian Stan, truly does deserve the best!

🔸Ohh, and also remember to buy some bigger blankets. As cute as the cashmere ones are, they can't endure the New York winter too successfully❄ Mackie was right, our apartment needs some dude-sized blankets. But for now, the snuggles will have to work.

_______________()______________

This drabble was conceived because of a picture of Chris Evans in the beautiful chestnut sweater 😂 And this old Marie-Claire Interview

Seriously though, I was actually trying to write a funny one-liner post because I saw the newly surfaced knives out pics and Chris looks so Handsome in the maroon sweater😍. But it just kept getting bigger and turned into this thing😅. I am seriously insecure about my writing skills, so thought of keeping it to myself. But then I decided to post it because some parts of the Sebastian Stan Fandom are in desperate need of positivity 💚

I also scrolled through the 'Chris Evans Thesaurus' (that's what I call his twitter account 😄)for half an hour looking for his trademark words just so I could make this Journal-Entry sound like it's coming from him! (I love wasting my time on the little details!)😏

And if you haven't figured it out yet, I am leaning towards Mackie's side in the Stackie-Couch-debate😂

78 notes · View notes

rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

Rock Hoochie’s Master List

Tags Are Open

Hoochie Groupies/SPN Tag Sheet:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alangel1895 @amandamdiehl @amaranthinecastiel @andkatiethings @anime-music-is-life @apeshit7x @atc74 @babypieandwhiskey @backbackbackagaynbitch @beachy2014 @becs-bunker @blackcherrywhiskey @canadianjelly @charliesbackbitches @chrisatplay @claitynroberts @curliesallovertheplace @dean-winchesters-bacon @deandoesthingstome @deans2nd-baby @deansbabygirl01@deerlululucy @emoryhemsworth @evilskank-inthemegacoven @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @ezauraemmaline @faegal04 @faith-in-dean @feelmyroarrrr @ferferelli @for-the-love-of-dean @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @growleytria-blog @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @hunterpuff @impossible-box @iridianuniverse @itsemmyb @ivvitm1109 @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @jencharlan @jotink78 @just-another-busy-fangirl @kathaswings @kittenofdoomage @kreborn17 @leyshabunny @Lilyoflothlorien @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @maddiepants @mannls @meganwinchester1999 @meganywinchester @melissasalvatoremikaelson @milo-winchester-4ever @mogaruke @mrs-meghan-winchester @MrsJohnSmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfanficlibrarium @mylovelydame21 @nobody-is-here-bye @notnaturalanahi @ohmychuckitssamanddean @olitzisbae @oriona75 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @pinknerdpanda @pisces-cutie @plaidstiel-wormstache @prompt-and-circumstances @saltandburn67 @samanddeanwinchester67 @samtomydeanwinchester @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @saving-things-hunting-family @seductivewifey @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @speakinvain @spence-rreid @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @squirrel-moose-winchester @sunriserose1023 @sunshineandwings86 @supermoonpanda @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @the-morning-star-falls @there-must-be-a-lock @thewinchestielboys @thinkwritexpress-official @thoughtslikeaminefield @tia58 @trenchcoats-and-bees @vintagevalentinexx @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @waywardbaby @weepingwillowphoenix @were-not-the-losechesters @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchesterfiesta @winchestersmolder @zanthiasplace

SPN Pond Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @dr-dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @blushingsamgirl @bkwrm523 @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @mysupernaturalfics @fiveleaf @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @captain-princess-rose @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @ilovedean-spn2 @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @writingbeautifulmen @ageekchiclife @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @mysaintsasinner @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @maraisabellegrey-blog @bennyyh @bohowitch @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @winchester-family-business @buffylovesfoxmulder-blog @4401lnc @teamfreewill92 @just-another-winchester @cas-backwards-tie @canadianspnhunter @mostly-shawn @winecatsandpizza @flamencodiva @firefly-in-darkness @supersassyprobablysad @emilyshurley

#dean x reader #dean x reader smut #dean winchester fanfiction #spn kink bingo 2020 #spn fan fic #spn fanfiction #18+ only

436 notes · View notes

lifebeginsbyleaving · 4 years

Text

Making Friends Is Easy As Pie

Derek laid down with a heavy sigh.

Stiles let out a grumble of agreement as he untucked an arm from under his pillow. He blindly flung the arm back. Derek took his hand and they laced their fingers together.

He looked at the back of his husband's head fondly. It had been a long day and the kids had wanted story after story. Thomas even told him they didn't care if he couldn't do the voices as well as papa. Stiles would snort if he told him that. He would have to tell him when he wasn't feeling so tired.

Derek brought his hand up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Stiles let out a pleased hum and took his arm back to turn to face him. Stiles kept his one arm under his pillow as he faced the other way with his head resting down again. Derek turned to him too and he dug his elbow into the mattress to prop his head up with his hand. They stared at each other for a moment before Derek's' face broke in a soft tired smile.

"I love you."

Stiles smiled back and yawned. "I love you too." He reached out a hand and took Derek's free one again. "Are the kids asleep?"

"Finally."

Stiles nodded and gradually started blinking slower. "That's good." He let out another yawn and Derek couldn't help one escaping too.

Derek moved closer and Stiles laid his head on his chest. They both seemed to sink into the mattress as they released twin sighs of bliss. After a busy day the warmth of the bed soothed them.

Derek's soft snores filled the air and Stiles was about to drift off when a bang alerted them both.

Derek heard a giggle and a shh sound. "The kids are up, not it. Have fun with that."

Stiles smacked his chest as hard as his tired limb could. "You ass, you're the one who didn't put them to sleep correctly."

"Right. But I tried, your turn." Derek, like the asshole he was, closed his eyes.

"You're making breakfast then." Stiles grumbled as he threw the blankets off himself.

Derek's face was smushed against his pillow so his words came out mumbled. "Like you get up before five minutes we have to go out the door."

Stiles hit his leg on his way around the bed and out the door.

Stiles took a deep breath and tried to school his expression into one of a stern parent. He ripped open the door and turned on the light as he spoke in an accusing tone, "What are you doing?!"

Stiles watched as the chests of his two perfect little angels rose and fell. Parker had the blankets she normally kicked off tucked neatly under her chin. Thomas had an easily monster grabbable arm draped over the side of his bed. Damn they were good, but Stiles was their papa. "Alright, you little con artists, you aren't sleeping. I know you are still awake."

A loud highly and completely convincing snore broke out of Thomas.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Dad told on you."

They both groaned and sat up.

Thomas spoke with a furrowed brow, "Daddy is so mean."

Stiles put his hands on his hips. "You two are the ones breaking bedtime. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Parker rolled her sassy little nine year old eyes.

Thomas huffed after seeing his sister's attitude. "We were just talking."

"About something that couldn't wait till morning?" Stiles crossed his arms.

"It couldn't wait because it's a secret."

Parker whipped her head to Thomas and he quickly slapped a hand over his own mouth. She laughed at him as he looked guiltily away from Stiles.

Thomas obviously had something he was hiding. Stiles had an internal debate about what to do. He decided to not push. Thomas was a talker, if it was a real problem, they would hear about it. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but if it's something serious, I do want to know. If you did something bad, daddy and I would be happy you told us even if we are upset with you about it. And if it's something small, but important to you we want to know that too." Stiles walked into the room to sit on the edge of his bed. "You know nothing you do could ever make us stop loving you, right bubba?"

Thomas avoided his eyes and scrunched his brow in thought. His forehead unwrinkled after a moment. "I wasn't naughty."

Stiles nodded his head. "Okay." He felt guilty using his pop's interrogation techniques on his five year old, but oh well. He waited for Thomas to fill the silence.

"I didn't do anything."

"Okay."

Thomas let out a huff. "I like my chair."

Stiles tried to figure out what that meant in non kindergarten speak.

"Miss Berynell is really super nice."

"She is." Stiles looked over to Parker for help, but her lips were sealed in sisterly solidarity.

"Recess is so fun. I like the swings."

"That's good."

"Schoolwork is sometimes hard, but I like when we have reading time."

"I'm glad." Stiles sat trying to piece it all together. He was listing everything he liked about school, but why? Was he just wanting to talk about school? They asked and talked about it everyday since it started a month ago, surely he would've said something by now. Stiles was glad he liked all those things, but he couldn't figure out why any of them would be a secret. Unless, it wasn't about all the things he liked, but about something he didn't.

"They have awesome crayons. Lots of blue, I like the blue ones."

Stiles tried to speak delicately, "That's good honey. Are there any parts about school you maybe don't like?"

Thomas instantly squirmed and Stiles knew he was right on the money.

"Well, um, maybe. I don't know. I like school. It's not bad. I like going."

Stiles put a hand on his arm and rubbed soothing circles there. "I know you like school. But if there was a part you don't like as much, we wouldn't make you stop going. We'd figure it out buddy."

Thomas deflated and nodded. "I don't like when Miss Berynell makes us do art together. I don't like when we have to have a recess buddy either. I don't like when I'm alone in the halls. I don't like when we have to share desks."

He thought about what all of those thing had in common. Stiles asked what he feared when Thomas seemed to be done, "Do you not like some of your classmates? Do they not like you?"

Thomas considered for a second. "I like them, but I don't know if they like me."

Stiles was ready to show up at school the next day to get everything straightened out if his baby was really getting bullied. "Why don't you think they like you. Do they do mean things to you?"

Thomas shook his head and Stiles was relieved, but confused.

"Then what is it darling?"

Thomas looked shy and unsure, which was a drastic change from his ever bubbly and enthusiastic demeanor. "Well, it's just, when we do art together everyone has to paint together. And at the end you share with someone."

Stiles remembered the first day he came home pleased as punch with something he said was a butterfly. Their fridge was now covered in unidentifiable blobs of color from every day of their first month of school. The one two days ago was one of his favorites, it was all of them together.

"And um, no one gives me their art. And at recess I don't have a buddy that likes to play with me everyday. Michael and Adam play together everyday. And Keith and Lance play lions together everyday. And when they're in the halls they hold hands so they don't get lost." Thomas looked down at his lap and Stiles watched as he uncurled his fists.

His heart broke thinking about his son alone in the halls watching all the other kids swinging their hands together. Just then Parker crawled off her bed and onto his. She laid her hand in his tiny open palm and smiled at him. He returned it before frowning again.

"You have big girl classes Parker. You aren't in the halls."

Stiles wrapped his hands around their smaller ones. "You're never alone though, Tommy. You know that right?"

He nodded. "I just wish one of them would be my friend."

Stiles pulled Thomas a little closer and he easily climbed into his lap. Stiles rested his chin on Thomas' head as Parker curled into his side. "I know Tommy. Making friends is hard."

Thomas leaned back with high eyebrows. "Don't be silly. You've never made a friend."

Stiles was almost hurt by that, but he knew he had to listen to his son first. "What do you mean by that? Yes I have."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-uh. What about uncle Scott?"

Thomas looked at him like he was dumb. "You didn't have to meet uncle Scott. You've been friends forever."

Stiles fought a smile. "We still had to meet starling."

"No. You've been friends forever." He insisted.

"That's just something we say because it feels so long. We met in the sandbox at a park when we were four."

Thomas' eyes went wide. He scrambled off his lap to be able to look at him with rapt attention sitting cross legged in front of him. "Really? How'd you get him to be your friend?"

Stiles shrugged. "Your grandmas told us I sat down and fixed his castle so it wouldn't keep falling apart. But I don't really remember that. I just remember sitting there with him and liking how nice he was to me. We didn't really decide to be friends then, we just decided to play together."

"So I just have to play with them and they'll be my friend? You play with someone and they have to be your friend forever?"

Stiles smiled at his pure curiosity. "It's not always that simple. With your uncle Scott and I we just go along so well. Even then, we weren't friends right away, that happened later. But with your daddy and I, we didn't get along at all when we first met."

Thomas wrinkled his face again. "Daddy isn't your friend. He's your husband. That means he has to be nice to you."

"Daddy is my friend too."

"When did you make friends with daddy?"

Parker brightened and shuffled off the bed to grab her blanket. When she pulled it off the bed a thud, much like the one that caught his attention earlier, made them jump. It was a heavy book of pictures they most likely got off their bookshelf. She came back over by Stiles and covered them both with her blanket. She opened both hands and faced them towards each other. Her fingertips brushed each other as she brought them together. She did it with both hands a few more times before settling back against her father.

Stiles tried to think of a way to explain their journey to friendship while editing out the violence and fear boners. "Well, we met a long long time ago, but I didn't know your daddy then. I thought he was scary and bad." Both children giggled about the absurdity of their papa being afraid of daddy, even if he did look grumpy sometimes. "But then he started helping uncle Scott and I. We ended up saving each other from a lot of bad people. Slowly I realized that daddy wasn't a bad man, that he was actually a really good one. I found out I really liked being his friend. And then he kissed me and I found out I really liked that too. Then he asked me to be his friend forever and ever and I said yes. I also said yes to having two little stinkers who stay up past bedtime."

Stiles grabbed Thomas' ankle and shook his foot while he squished Parker under his arm. They giggled at him.

"So we didn't get to being friends for a long time, but I'm so glad we did."

Thomas huffed and threw his hands up before they smacked back down on the bed. "That won't work. I wanna friend now. When I'm little. How'd you make friends with uncle Scott? After the sandbox."

Stiles took a deep breath as he thought for a minute. Parker turned to look up at him and made the motion with her hands from earlier again. "Well, I guess there was this one time..."

Tears streamed down his face. He hiccuped out sobs and tried to see what he was doing through the blurriness in his eyes. He wiped his face and just ended up smearing more flour. He checked the clock and panicked more. His breathing was fast even as he tried to calm down.

There was no way he was going to get the pie done and clean up the disaster he created. The kitchen was covered in spilled flour and sugar. There was sticky strawberry syrup all over everything. There were so many dishes in the sink and bits of dough on the floor.

His father was supposed to help him make a pie for his mother today. He got off school that Friday excited to make the pie he'd heard so much about. His mother and babcia told him all about how his mother made it for her on mother's day when she was thirteen and then every one after that. Stiles had been obsessed ever since they left Pennsylvania after visiting babcia. Now with his mom in the hospital he just had to make it. His father said since he was only eight, he would need help. But his father got called in with an emergency. He could tell it was serious, but he didn't care. They had to make it today. They had to make it today because his dad worked tomorrow and his mom had tests. Sunday was mother's day and Stiles needed to make her the pie. He had to. So even though he was home alone he got started. His father told him to wait, but he also said Melissa would be there after her shift in three hours to watch him. That meant he wasn't coming home tonight. That meant they weren't making the pie. And he had to make the pie.

He wiped his eyes again and tried to press the pieces of the crust that were falling off back on to the pan. He sniffled and figured that would be as good as it would be. He turned and placed the pie in the oven, but as he pulled his arms back he touched one to the burning oven door. He shrieked and yanked his arm towards his chest. Tears sprung anew on his face as he felt the pain.

After a few moments the pain faded slightly and he shut the oven door and set the timer for thirty minutes.

He turned to the mess of a kitchen and tried to clean up, but every time he tried he just made more of a mess. He attempted to lift a pot he filled with water to move it out of the sink, but it was heavier than he thought. His arm went down and it banged his burn against the counter. He let go of the pot with a yell and water sloshed everywhere.

Everything was going horribly. He had to make this pie, but it was so hard. He wished his dad hadn't had to leave. He wished Melissa would come and help him. But most of all, he wished his mom was here to show him how to do it. He just wanted his mom. His mom would kiss his arm better and wrap it up. His mom would know how to clean up the mess. His mom wouldn't have let them forget graham crackers at the store even though they got extra of everything else. His mom would tell him it was okay. He just wanted her to be here. He just wanted her with him.

Stiles was crying on the floor curled into a little ball when he heard a knock on the door. He sat up and wiped his snot on his sleeve.

He decided to stay in the floor. He wasn't supposed to let strangers in. Unless, maybe it was his mom. Stiles stood up with a smile and hurried to the door.

There was another impatient knock.

"Stiles? Are you here?" A young voice called out.

The heavy wave of disappointment he felt crushed his face into a frown. Tears gathered in his eyes once again.

That wasn't her. She wasn't coming to help him. His mother wasn't coming home at all.

"Sheriff? Stiles? Let me in. My dad dropped me off early and mom's not home yet. Stiles? Stiles it's Scott."

Stiles wiped his face and unlocked the door.

As soon as he saw Stiles Scott's bright grin faded. "What happened?"

Just those two words said with concern and Stiles melted once again. He pulled Scott into a crushing hug. No matter what he wished for before, now he wanted nothing more than to be close to his best friend. He was sobbing into his neck as Scott tried to bring them both inside.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"T-the flour is-s on th-the floor an-and t-the water. And th-the crust! I-I-I did it wrong. St-trawb-berry pie ha-as graham crackers, n-not d-d-dough! The crust! I-it's wrong-g! Th-the crust S-S-Scott!"

"I'll help you, just tell me what happened."

Stiles spent the next ten minutes trying to explain everything to Scott while sobbing. Scott spent the next ten minutes trying to understand him while trying to get him to calm down.

When he was breathing normally and had explained everything, Scott just stood up from the floor they settled on and outstretched a hand. "I'm going to go over to Mrs. Sonner's house. I'll be right back."

Stiles stood up and held firmly on to his hand. He shook his head wildly. "No you can't. I have to make it! She can't help us!"

Scott nodded. "I know. I'm gonna just ask her for the crackers." He smiled at Stiles. "You can't make strawberry pie without graham crackers crust silly."

Stiles stood there in shock and awe of his friend. He knew he would help him, but he thought he would help by calling his mom or Stiles' dad. He thought he would help him clean up, but the determined glint in Scott's eyes told him he wouldn't be doing anything alone. This pie would be amazing.

"You're the best friend ever Scotty."

He gave him a crooked, dimpled grin. "I think you're the best too."

They giggled as they made a new pie, exactly how babcia and his mom had written it in the old cookbook. This time without baking it and the proper crust. They even cleaned the kitchen to a sparkle.

When Melissa walked into the house there were quiet murmurs and giggles coming from the kitchen. She walked in on a filthy kitchen and a slight trail of smoke starting to come out of the oven. But as she looked at the boys they had wide grins and were marveling at a red lumpy pile covered in what looked to be runny whipped cream like it had hung the moon. She helped them actually clean up the kitchen and take the forgotten piece of charcoal out of the oven after turning it off.

Stiles remembered having his father drop him off at Scott's house right after they came back from the hospital. He gushed about how his mother had loved the pie. The nurses raved about how good it looked and Scott was just as excited as he was about it as he told him.

Stiles tried to not dwell on the sad parts of the story and he made the disaster less desperate and more funny for them, but he still kept how relieved and comforted he was by Scott.

"Do you know what the thing I remember the most about making the pie?"

Parker shook her head and Thomas shouted out, "Eating it!"

Stiles grinned. "No. I remember being so glad Scott was there. Being so happy his dad brought him home early, even if it made your grandma mad. I remember being so grateful that Scott rang the doorbell at that exact moment. He wasn't too early, and he wasn't too late. Just like your daddy. We met when I was pretty young, but we didn't get along and that was good because it wasn't the right time yet. With auntie Lydia I wanted so bad to be her boyfriend for so long, but we weren't right for each other. By the time we became friends I realized we were better being friends. I didn't know auntie Kira as long as I have known most of my other friends, but still she came into my life when she was meant to. I'm really glad I have your daddy and uncle Scott and everybody else, but I don't wish I met them sooner. I met them right when I was meant to. Your uncle Scott built his sandcastle on the perfect day and he rang that doorbell exactly on time. Thomas you don't have to worry about making friends, they're going to find you when you need them to."

Thomas looked upset. "But you had so many friends. You weren't ever alone on the playground."

Stiles gaped at his child. It was true. He'd always had Scott. He didn't know what it was like to not have a friend.

They heard a creak and they all turned to the door.

"You're right, he wasn't. But I have been." Derek came in sleep ruffled, but with a easy smile.

He settled in the bed behind Stiles like he belonged there and Stiles leaned his back against Derek's front with Parker now tucked next to both of them. Thomas was still facing them. "I didn't have any friends growing up. We had such a big family, so I always had cousins over or my siblings to play with. But when I got a bit older, I became close with uncle Peter. He was near my age and we got along really well. I suppose in a way he was my best friend."

Thomas wrinkled his nose. "How come you aren't friends anymore? How come we go to uncle Scott's house, but we aren't allowed to spend the night with uncle Peter?"

Stiles leaned his head back and pressed it into the crook of Derek's neck. He found his hand in the blankets and gave it a squeeze.

"Well, your uncle Peter did something really bad. Actually he did quite a few really bad things, but there's one that I guess I haven't forgiven him for yet. Besides, I don't know how he would be with kids anymore. He used to be good, really good, but so much has changed. Now I don't know. I guess there's a lot I don't know about him anymore. There's so much that's different." There was a sadness starting to tinge his voice.

Stiles gave his hand another squeeze. "Daddy and I will talk about it more later."

"Right. But the reason we aren't friends anymore doesn't really matter. What matters is that sometimes you aren't always friends with someone. Your papa and uncle Scott are still best friends, but me and uncle Peter aren't. Sometimes people grow apart. It isn't always sad though. Just like people come into your life at the right time sometimes they leave it at the right time too. Even though I didn't want to lose him, he was dealing with some things, but he was hurting people he cared about. I couldn't have him around me because he was a bad man, but that doesn't mean I wanted him to leave. He was still my uncle Peter. Sometimes friends come, sometimes they have to go, but one thing stays the same. You will always find who you are meant to. And you don't always have to wait for them. Everyone can teach you something you didn't know before. Everyone has the potential to be your friend. Sometimes the thing that will mean the most to you is right in front of you and you didn't even know it."

Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, but he was already staring at him. Stiles smiled and kissed his husband.

"When I think back I never thought of uncle Peter as my best friend, but he was. He always got me just what I wanted for my birthday. He taught me all about different kinds of music. He even gave me my first leather jacket. He gave me advice. We did a different kind of baking together."

Stiles' elbow jammed back into his ribs.

"We fixed up old bikes and cars together. He actually taught me how to drive. Dad was too worried about me hitting something and mom accidentally used her alpha voice to tell me to brake, so instead of hitting the car in front of us, we got rear-ended because of how hard I stomped on the brakes. Peter was calm enough that I didn't get anxious, but cautious enough to make sure we were safe. He took me on all the back roads. He made sure I could parallel park under any circumstances. When I aced my test he took me out for pizza. Some of my favorite memories of high school aren't with my school friends or the basketball team. They're with him. Windows down, wind blowing and music blaring." There was a slight wistfulness in his eyes even if he was smiling.

Thomas put his small hand on Derek's. "I think you should be friends with uncle Peter again." Parker nodded her head sleepily.

Derek shook his head. "It's not that simple starlings."

Thomas gave him a blank look. "Why not? You said friends come and go when they're meant to. Maybe you're meant to be his friend again. I think you should be. Uncle Peter sounds cool."

Derek took a moment. "Alright, maybe I should. He was pretty cool."

Thomas seemed happy with that and let out a yawn. Stiles and Parker also let out one after him.

"Okay, monkeys time for bed."

Stiles nodded in agreement. "Yes bed."

Parker climbed out of Thomas' bed and into her own. They both stood up and tucked them in with kisses. Stiles smoothed Thomas' hair down and spoke to him, "Are you more okay with going to school and making friends now? Or were our stories too long and boring?"

He shook his head. "No they weren't. I get it. I'm gonna go to school and try to make friends, but if I don't I have Parker and you and daddy while I wait for more friends."

"Okay buddy. Get some sleep you two. We love you."

"Goodnight my stars." Derek was waiting for Stiles before turning off the light switch.

"Goodnight papa, goodnight daddy. Love youuu!" He turned his head to Parker and she nodded at him. "Parker says goodnight and she loves you too."

They smiled at them one last time before turning out the light.

As they walked back, just like every other night, he heard a soft, "Goodnight Parker. I love you." Followed by one soft tap to a pillow then four and finally three.

He climbed back into their bed with a softness in his full heart.

"I don't know how I can be so tired, and yet I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a bit."

Derek turned to face his husband in the soft lamp light. "I know what you mean. Being up for more than ten minutes destroys your ability to just fall right back asleep."

Stiles yawned. "Exactly. How long were you outside the door anyway?"

"Ever since the second thump."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows at him. "Why didn't you come in?"

Derek shrugged. "I like seeing you with them. I like hearing you talk to them. And I didn't want to interrupt your love poem about Scott." He had a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes. "It wasn't a poem. It was a story, so my love story."

Derek let out a small laugh. "Oh, my mistake." He stared at him for a moment before bringing a hand up to stroke Stiles' face. "What made you pick that story? I've never heard that one before."

Stiles moved his face to kiss Derek's palm before turning it back. "That was when I knew, no matter what, that Scotty would be there for me. I wasn't a dumb kid. I knew that she wasn't coming back from the hospital. I knew it was getting really bad. One of the nurses actually told me to make mother's day special because my mom wouldn't live to see my next birthday. Looking back I get why she said it, she wanted me to make the most of my time. And she was right, she died two weeks later. But I think that was the reason I needed to make the pie so bad. I needed mother's day to be special. I needed to make the pie and it needed to be right. Even if it turned out like garbage she made it seem like it was the best pie she'd ever had. I was so proud."

Derek was frowning. "Still, that's a horrible thing to say to a kid."

Stiles shrugged. "It helped me realize what Scott meant to me. When he helped me with that pie I realized that he was my best friend and he always would be. By that day I had already figured out that I was going to lose her, but I found out that he would be there for anything I needed. I knew that even if I lost her he would be there for me. And he always has been. Through every dumb idea or hair brained scheme, he was and is always there. He was with me through high school and college, through finding out about the supernatural, the nogitsune, everything. Scotty's been the one constant in my life. He's not really my childhood friend, he's my brother."

Derek wiped away a stray tear before kissing his nose. He resumed stroking Stiles' cheek. "I'm glad you had him. I wish I would've been there though. I wish I could've wrapped you in my arms to save you from that hurt."

Stiles smiled at the sentiment. They both said it often when they talked about their families. Stiles wished he could've saved him from losing almost his entire family and his best friend in one night. Stiles wished he could've gone back in time to kill Kate or to save Paige. Stiles wished he could've somehow figured out that Peter would kill Laura and save all three of them from it. At the very least he wished to hold Derek while he cried, but that wasn't important. "We met each other exactly when we needed to."

Derek smiled and turned out the light. "Goodnight, my brilliant sun."

"Goodnight, my dear moon."

Derek kissed him and they closed their eyes.

They faded off to sleep in each other's arms. Exactly where they were supposed to be.

This was for the lovely @sterek-bingo

162 notes · View notes

ikevamp-annalyne · 4 years

Text

Annalyne Sonata [IkeVamp OC]

Hey guys! I am so verry happy to finally being able to officially introduce my IkeVamp OC, Annalyne! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶

This is a very long post, but I hope you won’t be discouraged and will enjoy learning a bit more about her, and the story I imagined for her (^.^)ゞ

I also commissioned the MOST AMAZING ARTIST EVER @lemonsqueazie for drawing my baby OC! ღවꇳවღ She is my favourite artist, and also an amazing human being that I love very much. She is so attentive to what you tell her, always doing everything to meet your ideas and make the best art for you! I highly recommend to check out her blog @lemonsqueazie alongside her Instagram and her DeviantArt post about her commissions! You can also find all the infos here.

NOW, ON WITH THE OC! (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

Name: Annalyne

Last name: Sonata

Nicknames: Anna, Nana, Lyn

DOB: June, 19, 1995 (25 years old)

Origin: French

Languages: French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, Japanese, Korean

Height: 160cm (5.25ft)

Sexuality: pan

Job: freelance fashion designer, blogger, gamer

Passions: fashion, drawing, eating, baking, cooking, videogames, reading, music

Phobias: larvas and maggots, bugs (except ladybugs)

Lover: Leonardo Da Vinci

"Heh? What is this? Kinda like a storage room?"

Annalyne is a very chill woman, taking things at her own pace and working hard towards her goals and dreams. When she doesn't work, she becomes a lazy slug chilling with a good book or videogames -part of why she is also a gamer-.

Her most prominent traits are definitely: her kindness, her humour -made of bad puns and references-, her caring side, her clumsiness and her supportive behaviour. Number one fan of her family and friends.

She will always go out of her way to make her loved ones feel loved, supported or just important. She can also easily throw hands if needed. No one messes with her or her close ones without getting punished.

She has a hard time trusting people. It looks like she is close to everyone, but she hardly confides in people. It takes a hecking long time to build a relationship of trust with her -due to some childhood traumas-

She is strong-willed and -way too- a tad stubborn. But she compensates by being very sweet and cute. She can be very anxious but eating calms her, explaining her chubbiness. Also, count on her for helping everyone.

She is very good at cooking and baking, and loves making things herself. She loves dogs, but honestly, she loves almost every animal ever. She has a talent with them, understanding them beyond reason: animals love her.

"Call me the PUNisher."

She is easily triggered by disrespect, racism, homophobia, bullying and abuse. She can kick your ass off if needed, being very rude and violent when angry -she already broke the arm of a racist, and slapped Shakespeare...-

Comte is the one engaging conversation with her, asking her if she likes this painting. She is hyper excited talking about it and Comte cannot help but giggle, finding a Da Vinci's fangirl in modern days being pretty rare.

How she met Comte:

Annalyne lives near Paris and absolutely loves museums. Therefore she spends a hella lot of time in the Louvre, especially contemplating Da Vinci's works. She meets Comte in front of Da Vinci's painting Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

They spend some time debating and chatting over Leonardo Da Vinci's life, works of art and other controversies. He smiles a lot throughout the whole chat, since he wonders how his old friend would react.

How she ends up in Comte's mansion:

Comte bids her goodbye after they have finally seen Mona Lisa from up close. She thanks him for the delightful conversation, happy she has met someone as knowledgeable as him on her favourite historical figure.

She is taken aback, quite surprised, and thinks the mansion is a storage room. Maybe the man is actually an employee? She is curious though so she walks through the hall and stares at everything in awe.

When he leaves, waving his hand, his pocket watch falls and Annalyne picks it up. She chases after Comte all over the museum and sees him going through a door. She opens it and ends up in the mansion's hall.

Who she meets:

While discovering the hall, she stumbles upon Leonardo who's asleep. She doesn't want to wake him up but God, she stares for a good minute at the sleeping man. "I have never seen such a gorgeous man..."

She walks past him and continues looking for Comte. But then, Napoleon appears and asks her who she is, and what she does here. She tells him she wants to find the gorgeous blonde man to give him his watch.

He offers to give to him in lieu of her. But she is wary of him, a stranger. And Comte appears, the noise having caught up his attention. He recognises Annalyne and is surprised she is there. She gives him the watch.

The first dinner:

Comte gladly accepts the watch and asks her if she wants to dine with him and the residents of this mansion. Mansion? She stares at him, dumbfounded, and frowns. "Mansion? Isn't that a storage room or something?"

Comte giggles and promises to explain it all over dinner. Her trust for Comte and her love for food makes her accepting the offer. How surprised she is upon seeing all these people gather around a huge table!

She sits down and gets served by Sebastian, under all the surprised looks. Comte then proceeds on explaining it all to her: how all the residents in there are famous historical figures, and how she is the past.

How she reacts:

She is surprised, but she believes in timelapse, magic, etc. So she just stares in surprise and shock but is soon overexcited to meet all these people who changed history and inspired her throughout her whole life.

She will ask a bunch of questions to each of them, questions she has always been curious about, like the rumours and alleged controversies. Even when she hears about not being able to go back in her time, she is strangely chill about it.

"Well, there's no helping it! I will come up with a lie when I go back there!" But she will write letters and leave them -along jewels of hers- in places she thinks her friends or family could find them in the future.

Meeting her soulmate:

Sebastian shows her her room and then tells her to explore the mansion if she wants to. What she does! She then remembers the man sleeping in the hall? He must be a historical figure as well, but who can he be...?

She wants to know so she goes to find him and stumbles upon him, nearly falling on top of him. He seems awake since he is sitting on the floor. He had heard her footsteps so he smiles at her. "Well, who do we got there, Cara Mia?"

She smiles at the Italian nickname and tells him everything about her being here. He is surprised she is so chill about it but he smiles and introduces himself. "Well Cara Mia, nice to meet you. I'm Leonardo Da Vinci."

Upon hearing the name, her eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat. She stares, her heart beating faster every passing second. His smile is intoxicating and she cannot help but blush and stutter.

"W-well, nice to meet you, Leonar- huh Sir Leonardo? How, how should I call you?" He laughs."Leonardo is enough, Cara Mia." He smiles and pats her head before standing up. "Watch yourself, Cara Mia."

Her reaction upon the vampiric reveal:

After having talked with Comte and decided to stay in his mansion, she actually wonders how he could resurrect them. She decides to ask Sebastian, her new colleague, and he just shows her the Rouge and Blanc bottles.

"What's that?" She asks, pretty curious."Take a look and you will understand." She first goes for the Rouge and recognises the metallic smell of blood. She stares at Sebastian. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"They are all vampires. Except I, who is human." She widens her eyes, sueprised, and then goes "Aaaaah, that's how he did! Makes sense!" She smiles. "Is Comte the one who transformed them all or no?" "He did, yes."

"So, is he like, a pureblood vampire? A superior vampire who can turn humans into vampires?" "How do you know about this?" "Oh please, Sebastian. Cinema, animes, mangas and books are full of vampires."

Sebastian stares at her, bewildered. "And you are not afraid? They could easily feed off of you, even kill you." "Oh please Sebastian, they're more like puppies than wolves! If they were capable of this, you wouldn't be here!"

"Plus," she says while flashing a big dumb grin. "If they wanted to eat me, they would have already bitten me and emptied me of all my blood. They are not dangerous." Sebastian is shocked at how chill she is.

Her relationships with the residents:

She gets close to every resident ofthe mansion pretty fast, especially since she is not pushy, funny, kind, calm and knowledgeable on a lot of matters. They all grow a soft spot for her, even shyer and harsher residents.

Napoleon: they bond over cooking and baking. Also, since she is French, she can tell him about the impact he had on her country.

Mozart: music is common ground for them. She knows a lot about him and will sing for him, being allowed in the music room.

Arthur: writing sessions together, in his room or hers. They tease each other a lot and she is quick to react to his flirting.

Vincent: they are very close, bonding over drawing and painting. They talk a lot about art and have art sessions.

Theodorus: she doesn't let him win with his harsh replies and he likes that. She is strong and adores Vincent: he likes her a lot.

Isaac: she isn't pushy and gives him room so he likes talking with or teaching her a few things. They often meet in his room.

Jean: he likes how pure she is but she doesn't let him avoid her. She will do anything to befriend him and he gives in.

Dazai: sharing writing ideas brings them closer. They also laugh a lot because they are both airheads amd chaotic walking memes.

William: she likes his work but hates him. She will always avoid him, or shoot sharp daggers glares at him.

Comte: the father figure. She loves going to him to talk or when she needs some calm, and having tea together.

Sebastian: always laughing and teasing each other. She will flick his forehead when he assumes things for her.

Her relationship with her soulmate:

She is a Da Vinci's fangirl so of course, she is a mess around him. At first, she just blushes a lot, stutters a bit around him and she fangirls when he is not around. "Omg I can't believe I witnessed him sketching!!!"

They bond very easily since they both love arts. And Leonardo is very curious about her fashion style, her job, and basically how the world works in modern days -she spent an entire night talking about phones-

One day, he finds her sighing in her room: "what's the problem?". "Ah, nothing, I'm just, not comfortable in Comte's dresses. I'm more into trousers or skirts from my time." He is curious so she tells him about modern day fashion.

"Ah, so women wear pants and shirts. Whatever they want." She nods excitiedly."Yeah, and I hope one day men will be able to do so as well! Wear skirts and dresses and heels. But toxic masculinity is still pretty deep..."

"Wait for me, Cara Mia" and he dashes off the room, to come back later with a stack of shirts and trousers. "Here, take these. They're mine but for now, it will do. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for you."

And they do go shopping the next day, buying loads of men clothes alongside jewels and shoes. Also, they buy fabrics, needles and everything for Annalyne to sew her own clothes. He loves seeing her so happy.

She spends the next days adjusting Leonardo's clothes and the ones they bought to her chubby curves. And Leonardo surprises her by wearing a dress. They go have dinner like this: her in men's clothes, him in women's clothes.

Legend says every resident nearly choked themselves of either shock or laughter. And Leonardo and Annalyne really enjoyed it a lot and decided to do this at least once a week -Leo enjoyed the dress, actually-

The purebloodness revelation:

She catches very early on that he is a pureblood, without him even telling her. She is extra sensitive so she kinda feels auras and saw how Comte and Leonardo's eyes are similar. His genius made even more sense.

"Leonardo. Are you like Comte, a pureblood vampire?" She asked him while they were shopping for fabrics. Leonardo nearly fell out of surprise. "What are you talking about, Cara Mia?" "Well, you know..."

"Same eyes as Comte, genius who can do anything, super strong and intimidating aura. Open-minded as if you've already seen everything, and laziness that can be explained by already having done everything possible..."

He stares at her and then laughs, patting and ruffling her hair. "You're awfully clever and intuitive, Cara Mia. Yes, I am a pureblood. Does it change anything between us? "HELL NO!" she shouts. "But I've got questions!!!"

She drowns him under questions on everything he's done, seen, lived. They spend almost all of their time together, teaching each other about their lives and their knowledge. Residents are jealous of the Leonardo monopoly.

How it "ends" between them:

She is a strong woman and will go back to her time. But she promises Leonardo she will find him, right after returning to her time. He asks her what day it was, when she entered the mansion. "March, 15th, 2020."

When she leaves, while everyone is crying, Leonardo calculates. "Okay, gone for a month in her time, so she'll be in the Louvre in April, 15th, 2020. Ah. My birthday." He smiles. Almost 200 years, but it will be so worth it.

When she passes through the door, she is back in her time. Asking a guide what day it is. "April, 15th, 2020". The day they agreed upon, and Leonardo's birthday. She smiles and then proceeds to rush out of the Louvre to look for him.

But then she passes in front of Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Her favourite painting. A tall and gorgeous man is standing there, in a blue shirt and blue jeans. She feels it. She goes to the man, pats him on the shoulder, and asks: "Leonardo...?"

The man turns around, a huge grin on his face, bright golden eyes shining with love: "Was about time, Cara Mia..." she cries and throws herself at his neck; he spins her, crying as well, burrying his face in her neck.

"I missed you so much. Never do this again. 200 years was worth it but it was too long." She is a mess while crying. "I, I pwomiss Leo, I will neba leaf you again-" he laughs at her messy face. "Look at you, silly girl." He kisses her.

"I want you to see how much I love you in my eyes. They speak on my behalf."

Trivia facts:

She has a tiny water spray bottle she labelled as "Holy Water". Whenever a resident smiles or laughs, she opens it and "collects" their happiness. Thus, when one is talking shit about himself, she sprays the water on them.

"There, you have been blessed with Holy Water. Now love yourself or I agressively hug you." -the mistake on the label,on "thoughts" is intended, as it is is a mix between thots and thoughts, bitch thoughts she's gonna spray away.

She hates Shakespeare, Faust and Vlad. Whenever they pass by the mansion, she grabs the garden hose she labelled "Garden Hoes" and splashes water on them. "Oh no, you walking sin, stay away from my babies!"

She eats A LOT and puts shame on Theo when it comes to eating sweet things. They have pancake-eating competitions -and guess what, she wins-. She will be snacking 24/7 when nervous, anxious, sad and basically under negative emotions.

She listens to every type of music. She really enjoys any kind of rock music, and is also very knowledgeable on classical music. She likes to dance on Kpop and sing on Disney songs: her favourites are definitely I’ll Make A Man Out Of You and Why Should I Worry -in French-

She used to practice martial arts so she can beat the crap out of anyone being a little sh*t with her or her loved ones. She also has a very scary aura when furious, leading to most people just running away from her wrath.

She loves gossiping with Arthur. Whenever she knows about some rumours, or when she needs to talk about something that upset her, she goes to his room with coffee or tea. They both irradiate chaotic gossiping energy when together.

She is the mom friend, and becomes the mom of the mansion. She already told Jean to “get his bottoms in the living room to eat with all of them”, else she was going to kick his butt so hard he would be unable to sit or practice fencing.

All the animals LOVE her. Chérie is missing? She is cuddling with her in the patio. Lumiere is not under the bed? He is sleeping on her laps while she reads. King is nowhere to be found? She is playing with him in the garden. Snow White vibe.

She loves flowers and will put some all over the mansion. She puts one every day in front of every resident’s door, with a message written on a tiny piece of paper, something like: “You are a sweetheart and you deserve the best, keep going, dearie!”

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevamp oc

59 notes · View notes

hatsukeii · 4 years

Note

hi hi, i have a levi scenario request! so, the reader is known to act on an instant, driven by intuition, which makes her valuable soldier. but when she meets her crush levi at night while they both can't sleep she just suddenly kisses him without thinking about whats driven her to do that. and idk, levi's just perplex but he didn't dislike it. dk how to wrap it up, so u can choose! i hope this is alright! :)

Yoo that’s acc a really good prompt thank you!

I’m naming the fic after a song and YOU CAN’T STOP ME-

Scrawny// Levi x reader

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: Mild swearing

Summary: Due to severe insomnia, you decide to wake your captain up and make him spar with you.

“Captain. Caaaaptainnnnnn. Leeeviiii. Levi Heichouuuu. Captain Leeeeeeevi-” An irritated grunt sounded from inside the room. “Name and business. Make it quick.” You gave yourself a little victory pump, an idiotic smile now plastered on your face. “(Y/N) sir! I need some help!” The door was whipped open by none other than your fuming captain, his permanent scowl looking extra pissed. “What in the actual name of hell are you doing here? It’s past midnight, get your ass back to bed, and out of my office.” The wooden door was slammed in your face, startling you a bit as you let out a yelp and jumped. You huffed out, pouting a bit as you placed an elbow on the door, continuing to knock relentlessly. “Heiiichouuuuu. Pleaaaaaase help meeeeee. Levi heichouuuuuuuuu. I can’t do it aloneeeee, it’d be pointlessssssss.”

How did you get into this situation?

Well.

You were initially going to stay put and just roll yourself to sleep, or at least try to. But the boredom became way too much for you to bear very quickly. Your mind debated between the sensible option, which was to just wait for the sun to rise, or to just get some training in. Specifically, get someone to spar with you. Everyone in your cabin was fast asleep at this ungodly hour, soft snores from the girls filling up the cozy space. You continued to toss and turn, forcing your eyes shut and trying to relax. You stayed still for about five minutes or so, before a loud snort resonated throughout the room, jolting you awake from your short lived peace. Groaning in annoyance, you glared towards the direction of the unwomanly sound, landing your eyes on Sasha, who was sound asleep in a weird position. It was already 1am. You had to wake at 5am. You weren’t about to get any sleep anytime soon. Insomnia’s an actual bitch. Following your thoughts, you practically rolled out of your bed, trying to comb down your terrifyingly disheveled hair, before changing into some workout clothes, slipping on your shoes, and waddling towards the office of one person you were certain would be awake at this time- Captain Levi. Everyone in the Corps knew of his terrible sleep schedule, so you were positive he was still awake and working. In addition to that, you would rather die than admit it to the other cadets, but you were completely whipped for Levi, so just getting any form of time alone with him would be a blessing to you. Even if it was just to spar.

“Heichou please help me, I can’t stand it any longerrrrrr, I’m gonna die of boredom, do you feel me Levi heichouuuu-” The door you were leaning on so comfortably swung open, catching you off guard. You started to fall, nothing around being useful in supporting you. All Levi did was walk out of the way and watch your tiny body fly towards the hard wooden floor. “Jesus brat, what the hell do you want from me?” You stood up rapidly, dusting yourself off, before scratching your head. “Can you spar with me?” Levi’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open. “Are you serious right now?” You timidly nodded, chuckling dryly in a terrible attempt to alleviate the tense and awkward vibe of the situation. “(Y/L/N). You disturb me, at 1am, while I’m doing paperwork, to spar? Couldn’t this wait for tomorrow? Go back to sleep, this is an order.” He proceeded to walk back into his office, hand reaching out for the door handle. You laughed lightheartedly, keeping the door open with your foot. “Levi heichouuu, I’m sure you know how big of a bitch insomnia is, will you help a fellow poor sufferer out? Pretttty pleaaaase?” There was no way Levi was about to reject that request. How could he when you were acting so cute? Your whiny ass could melt even the coldest of people, himself included.

The minute you joined the Survey Corps, Levi already had his eyes on you. According to the information Shadis gave him, you were an extremely valuable asset when it came to scheming and fighting. Your intuition was like none other. It was impressive. Perhaps even more impressive than Sasha’s. During battle, your pure gut instincts have saved many soldiers. Most of them knew the name (Y/N) as the insanely accurate fortune teller. You knew exactly where titans would be, and how they would attack. That combined with your logic, made you an excellent tactician. What brought you down, were your physical skills. You were never the fittest person, often times collapsing after only five laps around the training area. You barely passed the ODM gear test, and almost broke a bone sparring with Connie. CONNIE. Since then, Levi has noticed you skipping dinner and training in your free time, whether it was just normal working out, or practising punches and kicks. He had initiated conversations with you before, usually starting off serious, but those talks usually turned into dumb arguments over questions like whether you could eat medicine with tea, or whether Eren was actually dysphoric. As months passed by, you became one of the few people that managed to get close to Levi. Although the captain may not show it, he had to admit, he has grown quite fond of you with time too.

“Good lord, fine, you scrawny ass brat. I’ll spar with you for an hour and an hour only. No buts. Consider yourself lucky I’m actually giving into your ridiculous request.” You beamed, jumping up and down like a child seeing a cotton candy machine, then crossing your arms over your chest, giving Levi a fake pout. “Thank you so much cap! For the record, I’m not scrawny!” He only grunted in response, letting you drag him to the training grounds. On the way, you sensed something off. No, scratch that, there was just a weird vibe. It was like something waiting to happen, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was exactly. You were skeptical for a bit, before you let it go and took it as sheer paranoia.

“(Y/L/N), you’re getting better.” You were completely drenched in sweat at this point, your muscles aching like crazy. You two had been sparring for about thirty minutes only, and somehow you were already worn out, whilst Levi was still completely fine, not a single drop of sweat evident. “C’mon cadet, you can do better than this. You asked me to spar with you, bring it.” You huffed out, panting like a thirsty dog, arms on your knees. “Yeah, hold on, just give me one second to just-” You took in a few deep breaths, before stretching your arms and legs, getting into a fighting stance again. “Okay, I think I’m all good captain.” Levi sent out a tiny smirk, charging towards you without warning. He sent a punch toward your jaw, missing by mere centimetres as you dodged it, grabbing his arm, knocking him off his feet, and throwing him to the ground. “Whooo! I finally won! Once!” You cheered a bit too early. Within seconds, you were flipped over again, the captain’s lean figure now hovering over you in a straddle. “Guard up until the opponent either passes out, dies, or surrenders. That’s rule number one of fighting. That was a pretty impressive throw though, I’ll give you that.” You sighed in defeat, tapping out quickly. “Seriously? You’re going to give up like that? That’s not the (Y/N) I know.” You thought about that for a second. “You know what captain? You’re right.” Smirking evilly, you got into a guard position, kicking your legs up to wrap around his chest as you rolled over, hovering over him in a mount.

Maybe you were dumb. Or maybe you were too immersed in the fight. But you didn’t realise how close you and Levi were until then. Your face burned multiple different shades of red as you went silent for a few moments, Levi staring at you in confusion. “Oi, what did I tell you about not being distracted during a fight?” He tried to shift into a better position, when your hand came down onto his collar. Should I do this? You were about to take a huge risk. Your brain was desperately trying to stop you from doing god knows what next. However your heart was throbbing, messing with your thought process. You felt that weird, tingly vibe in the air again, this time paying close attention to it instead of just ignoring it like the last time. Maybe this is the world’s way of telling me to do this thing? Is it? You pondered over the thought, staying as still as a statue. “(Y/F/N)? Did you listen to a word I said-”

You know what? To hell with your doubts and worries.

Grabbing the soft fabric of his shirt, you harshly pulled him towards you, attacking his lips with your own as you refused to let go, squeezing your own eyes shut. He was audibly shocked, giving out a tiny yelp as you continued to kiss him. His hair tickled your forehead, his breaths tickled your face, the fact that you were kissing your captain tickled every single little thing inside of you. For a few moments, you could hear your embarrassment buzzing in your own ears, before you finally pulled away, lowering Levi back down to the ground as you let go of his shirt. Your eyes widened at what you just did, your entire body going hot as you took your time to let the fact that you just kissed your hot, badass, midget captain sink in. Your hand went up to cover your mouth as you gave a muffled scream, getting off of him immediately and apologising profoundly. “U-uh I think that’s probably enough sparring for tonight, I’ll go see if I can go back to sleep now. Goodnight cap!” You screamed as you ran back to the cabin, completely flustered and feeling very hot. Slamming the cabin door close, you looked around, to see a tall figure sitting up from her bed, turning on a lamp. “(Y/N)...? What are you doing in workout clothes? And… why are you all red and sweaty?” You jumped, cursing a bit at Mikasa’s question as the other girls started to wake up from the noise that you made. “I- uh, it’s a long story….” Ymir smirked, before placing an arm on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. Get changed, and we’ll have all night to talk about it.” The other girls agreed, sending you evil looks as you grabbed your sleeping clothes and proceeded to clean up and change, your risky move from just now still circling your mind like a hive of annoying ass bees.

Meanwhile, Levi could not comprehend what the hell just happened. Did she just kiss me? He fixed his collar, which was now dirtied and wrinkled as he scrunched his nose at the disgraceful sight. “Tch, that brat, running away as if I would be on her ass for the rest of her life as a soldier after she did that.” He let his hand go up to touch his lips, seemingly fascinated by how he didn’t resist or anything. He was beyond confused. Never in a billion years did he expect to be kissed by someone in the military, let alone someone in his own squad. He tried to ignore his cheeks that were feeling warm as he dusted himself off, standing up and walking back to his office, mumbling to himself.

“Why’d you run away so quickly (Y/N)? I didn’t say I disliked that or anything.

Hoe hoe hoe I have finally finished this req! This was so fun to write oh lord I was laughing to myself-

This one goes into the short kings clan👑👑

Hope you liked it anon🥺👉👈💕

Tags:

@burnt-tomato @lydzisanerd @bokutokoutarou @trashcanweeb @izzyphantomgamer @artsamber @ewfilthymundane @macaronnn @sunshines-and-tatertots @for-ests @inlwlevi

Idek why I can’t tag @ewfilthymundane but I’m soRry

56 notes · View notes