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bunnysuit-femboy · 3 years

Text

Slumber Party

Pairing: Sasha x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Implied Praise Kink, Cunnilingus

Quick Summary: Sleepover with Sasha turns sexual.

Notes: This was inspired by the song Slumber Party by Ashnikko, I hope you guys enjoy!

6:13 PM

Your feet ran down the stairs quicker than you could keep up with after you heard the familiar ding of the doorbell. You ran through your living room, and right to the front door. You knew who waited on the other side - since she waited there every Friday night - but you were still filled with excitement at finally seeing her again.

Once you had unlocked the door handle, you swung the door open immediately, taking no time to think about what you were doing. Light flooded in from the outside, the sun setting in the distance and Sasha’s shadow laid on the living room’s carpeted floor.

Sasha stood in front of you with her duffel bag over one shoulder and her phone in the opposite hand. She wore jean shorts - since today had been one of the hottest days all summer - and a grey tank top. She also wore a pair of flip flops with a bright blue anklet around her pale ankle.

Sasha glanced up from the messages open on her phone, “Hi.”

You smiled wide at your best friend, “Hi.” Sasha quickly locked her phone and dropped her bag, opening her arms wide for you and you walked forward to accept the hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. We haven’t seen each other in like-” Sasha took a second to think about her next words- “Two days?”

“Three,” You said against her shoulder, “If you don’t count our FaceTime calls.”

“Right,” Sasha said into your hair, “‘Cause if we were counting those, I saw you two hours ago.”

You took a step back from Sasha, “Well, I needed somebody to tell me my makeup was pretty.”

“That’s not fair.” Sasha grinned. “You always look pretty.”

You playfully pushed Sasha’s shoulder, trying to distract her from seeing your obviously embarrassed face. Your face and ears were heating up with blood and you couldn’t wipe the wide smile from your mouth. You didn’t want your best friend to see how physically embarrassed you got from hearing her compliment you; you refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing how high you hold her opinion.

It wasn’t strange to hear Sasha compliment you - in fact, it would have been weirder if she hadn’t complimented you - but hearing Sasha say a sweet word about your person always made you crawl back into your metaphorical hermit shell. You never knew how to respond to Sasha’s kind words about your appearance because they always felt genuine instead of a way of being generally nice.

“I was thinking we could order pizza later,” You said, “And I have ice cream in the freezer and I made sure to buy some soda for you-”

“Did you remember my favorite kind?” Sasha’s face was taken up mostly with a wide smile as she awaited your answer.

“Of course.” You grinned softly to the brown haired girl in front of you. “I always remember everything you tell me.”

Sasha giggled before taking your distance from the door as a way of entrance. She walked inside the apartment she’s been to a million times. But, this time felt different almost - as if she could feel the impending series of events for the next day and a half playing out in front of her already.

8:47 PM

“Well,” You said as your hips shifted closer to her hips, “If you stop squirming, then it won’t be so hard to get the eyeliner just right. Got it?”

Sasha furrowed her already filled eyebrows at you, “But, I have a cramp in my hip. I can’t not shift when all I’m feeling on my left side is pure pain.”

It wasn’t completely a lie, Sasha was in pain but not exactly how she had disclosed to you. Sasha could feel her stomach inflating with nerves the longer you leaned in to be so close to her. She was used to you deciding to do activities in the spur of a moment, but she wasn’t expecting you to beg her to let you do her makeup if she showed you that picture - she wasn’t really sure why you chose this way to do her makeup either.

Usually, when a person gets their makeup done, the makeup artist will be sitting right beside them, leaning in close and getting everything just right. Which is not at all what you’re doing at the moment, you’re leaning in close - sure, but that’s where the similarities in the two scenarios end.

You were sitting on Sasha’s hips atop of the neat covers of your bed. You were straddling her waist and pressing yourself deeper into her pelvis with each concentrated movement. She knows her hip doesn’t hurt as badly as she says - in fact, she could sit underneath you all day long if you’d have her - but, she feels her stomach flutter with butterflies the longer you’re on top of her, and she wishes she could touch you but she doesn’t know if the action will make you uncomfortable or not, so she doesn’t.

You sigh before picking up your hips from her hips, “I’ll move but I’m not finished with your makeup.”

“Huh?” Sasha asks with bright red cheeks and widened eyes. She thought complaining about her hip would surely make you scram but you almost seem determined to stay on top of her.

“Here.” You lifted your hips enough so that her’s could be free underneath you. You still straddled her sides, but now you situated your ass into the air and your shirt had shifted forward. Sasha wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she knew the situation had gotten worse - or maybe, better - for her. All she wanted now was either to look down your shirt, place her hands on your ass and grind you down into her or kiss you passionately from underneath you - but, she didn’t know how you’d feel about any of those options so she stays still in silent agony.

She closed her eyes when you asked, she blinked slowly when you asked, and she puckered her lips when you asked. And, even though she couldn’t do what she wanted to do, she still got a bit of pleasure every time she did as you asked. You’d make sure to tell her exactly how you felt about her submission, whispering praise into the space between your faces - each praise giving Sasha another thing to worry about between her hips.

11:24 PM

The blanket kept falling off of your shoulder, exposing the bare skin to the coldness of your living room. You snuggled your body in closer to Sasha, pressing the cold skin of your shoulder against her warm bicep. She leaned into your touch, gently laying her head on top of your own in order to trap your cheek to her body.

You could fall asleep where you sat, cuddled close to your best friend and barely listening to the distant sounds of the movie in front of you. The coldness of the room was working as melatonin to your already tired body. Your eyes fluttered closed, snapping open every few minutes once your mind realized you were starting to drift off.

“This is the best part,” Sasha suddenly said by your side. You nodded weakly against her arm which got Sasha’s attention. She glanced at you for a moment, watching you from the corner of her eyes. “Are you even watching?”

Sasha looked over to your partially open eyes looking up into her face through your thick eyelashes. You swallowed back the sleepiness that had crept so steadily upon you as you attempted to look awake. But, Sasha saw right through your poor facade, shaking your head from her shoulder with disappointment.

“You’re asleep!” Sasha turned to you, her eyes wide with shock. “But, this is the best part!”

“I’m sorry,” You groaned the words out, “I’m just so tired.”

Sasha pouted at you, “Do you not like the movie?”

“No.” Adrenaline shot through your body as you attempted to convince your best friend. “I- I really like this movie! I just need a cup of coffee or something! The movie’s really good, I swear.”

Sasha took a deep breath, “It’s too late for coffee.” Your eyes darted behind Sasha’s shoulder at the living room window. She was right, the moon was high in the sky and only darkness seeped in through the glass behind the curtains. Sasha's next words came out as a question, “But, it’s not too late for ice cream.”

Your eyes snapped back to Sasha’s filled with sudden excitement, “I do have ice cream.”

Sasha smiled wide, “Perfect!” She leaned over and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, swiftly pausing the movie.

You led Sasha from the living room and to the kitchen, and you could feel her eyes on your back as you walked. It was hard not to look at you, especially in the pieces of clothing you wore as pajamas. You walked around your apartment in a velvet pair of sleep shorts and a tank top that stopped right above your belly button, creating a stripe of soft skin between the hem of your shirt and the waist of your shorts.

You didn’t leave your apartment most nights, either by yourself or with Sasha. You preferred dressing scandalously to bed and cuddling deep into your blanket to keep your body warm. And, when Sasha slept over, you instead used each other’s body heat to keep warm during the night, snuggling close to each other under your thick blanket.

You felt Sasha’s gaze heavy on the skin of your back and then again as it moved to your hips and ass. She watched as your sides moved back and forth with each step. She stared mindlessly at the dimples that swayed on the small of your back.

You turned around to Sasha once you stood in the middle of the kitchen. Sasha’s gaze slowly found your face, instead running gently over the front of your body. Then, finally, Sasha’s light brown eyes stared into your own.

You looked away from Sasha’s peering eyes. Sometimes holding eye contact with her was too much for you, it all felt much too intense and overwhelming. Holding eye contact with her made your stomach turn with butterflies and made your mind go wild with random thoughts that you tried to ignore most days. Thoughts of something big happening, whether it be a long awaited simple kiss or an asteroid through the room you both sat in.

You instead stared at the tiled floor of the kitchen as she watched you, “I have rocky road and metropolitan.” You glanced back at Sasha to see her smiling at you. You furrowed your eyebrows at your best friend, trying to keep your body from feeling like static. “And sprinkles.”

Sasha grinned, “I’ll have some rocky road-” After you had turned around and walked off towards the fridge, Sasha added- “Oh, and with sprinkles on top.”

You grinned into the freezer, your skin erupting in goosebumps from the wandering cold air. You grabbed the two cartons of ice cream, placing them on the counter beside the fridge before walking towards the lazy Susan in which the sprinkles were.

You turned from the corner of the kitchen, now realizing the new obstacle in your way of the sprinkles. Sasha had found her normal spot in the kitchen, sitting on the counter above the lazy Susan. Her feet dangled in front of the cabinet, and her eyes watched you as you walked around the kitchen with a purpose.

You walked over to Sasha, grinning at her before glancing at the cabinet she sat in front of. You were hoping your best friend would get the message without you having to ask because you weren’t sure how to ask for permission between her legs without seemingly asking for everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Sash’,” You said sweetly, “Can I-?” You pointed at the lazy Susan, silently asking her the rest of the question.

All she did in response to your question was tilt her head and grin playfully. She seemed to be playing a game - and it made your heart skip a beat - but you weren’t completely sure if she was. You were crazily rash sometimes, but when it came to friendship, you wouldn’t take a risk unless it was a heavily calculated move.

“What’s up?” Sasha asked innocently.

You grinned, “I need in that cabinet-” Sasha glanced down at the cabinet and then back at you, all without moving her body. “The sprinkles are in there. I need between your legs.”

Oh shit, there it is, the words you didn’t want to have to say. You couldn’t help how uncomfortably hot your body got after saying them, shifting from one leg to the other as if that would cool yourself down. And, you wished you hadn’t seen Sasha’s sudden surprise at the request, her eyes widened and her mouth in a permanent smile.

“Oh,” Sasha said with a tone dripping with cockiness, “You need between my legs? Then, what’s the password?”

You stared at Sasha with squinted eyes, “You have a password for between your legs? Are you wearing a chastity belt or something?”

“I guess that’s the only thing that would make sense.” Sasha giggled before raising a single eyebrow at you. “But, what’s the password?”

“You were serious?” Sasha nodded before you started thinking about what this mysterious password could be. “Is it 0-7-2-6-0-1?”

Sasha raised her eyebrows, “Huh?”

“Is it the same as your phone password?”

Sasha grinned, “Oh-” Sasha looked around the kitchen for a few moments before finally answering. “No.”

You sighed and thought again about what Sasha could make as a spur of the moment password. Obviously she didn’t have a leg password before this moment, so it had to be something she made up on the spot. And, a lot was on the line for you knowing this vital part of information - not only would it prove how deeply you knew Sasha, but the damn ice cream was starting to melt.

“Okay,” You said as you crossed your arms against your chest. “I’m going to spitball some out, and you tell me if I get it right, okay?”

Sasha nodded, “Alright, deal.”

This game was harder than you originally thought it would be, maybe you didn’t know Sasha at all. You thought you’d be able to guess it almost immediately, you thought you knew nearly everything about the other girl. But, she must have the most obscure leg password ever, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were in a different language altogether.

“French fries,” Sasha shook her head. “Hamburgers,” Shake. “Sausage,” Shake. “Pork,” Shake. “Milkshake.” Shake. “Is it-?”

“Why are you only guessing menu items from a diner? I like other things, you know?”

You shrugged, “I know, you just really like diner food.”

She likes other things, huh? Sure, she likes food - more than anyone you’ve ever seen in your whole life. But, it must be something outside of food, what else does Sasha like?

She likes cats, and she likes hunting and fishing with her dad, and she likes roller coaster rides that go backwards. She likes a vast array of things, so to choose just one she would think of in the matter of a few seconds seemed almost impossible.

Except, there was one thing you knew she liked more than any of those other things. She talked about it all the time, from conversations that were progressively led to the subject to randomly texting you another fact long past the time you had gone to bed and she should have gone to bed as well. She talked about it almost all of the time, how could you forget?

It was alcohol, it had to be alcohol related!

So, you thought of anything under the category, anything at all. You thought of vodkas, and rums, and whiskies - but you know she prefers mixed drinks so you switched to those names. You couldn’t think of many drinks that would make sense as her password, except for maybe strawberry daiquiri - though, that one didn’t seem to be right.

In a second, you thought of the one drink she always asks for. She asks for them no matter who the bartender is, whether it’s Jean or Connie that week. She asks for them when she sees your bottle of peach liquor sitting on the floor of your closet. She even asks if you think a place will have them when you walk past a bar you can’t get into yet since you’re both underaged. It was the only drink that completely made sense for it to be her legs' password, she loved them too much.

In a moment of adrenaline pumping through your veins at the realization of what the password must be, you screamed the drink name louder than you needed to.

“Sex on my face!” You yelled, your body going hot with the realization of what you just shouted at your best friend.

Sasha raised her eyebrows at you, “You want me to what?”

You tried to laugh off the embarrassment, but it didn’t work properly. You instead decided to smile into your hands as you covered your face. This moment wouldn’t have been embarrassing if it were anybody else, there was just too much sexual tension between you and Sasha for this conversation to be normal.

“That’s my next guess, I’m guessing the password is sex on my face.” You took a deep breath between your palms, embarrassment finally settling in and even beginning to fade the longer you didn’t think about what happened.

“It’s not,” Sasha said with a grin. “But, it was a good guess, so go ahead.”

You nodded as Sasha jumped from the counter, allowing you access to the lazy Susan. You made the adventure quick, not wanting to dwell on what you said in order to be allowed to grab the sprinkles. It was even embarrassing to feel Sasha’s eyes on your body as you crouched over and into the cabinet, something that otherwise wouldn’t have openly bothered you much.

“Do you want to know my real password?” Sasha asked as you scooped the half-melted ice cream into a bowl. You nodded, not wanting to say much of anything after what happened. “My real password was peanuts, because you have peanuts on the counter.”

You glanced at the bag of peanuts near the sink and then back to the bowl. “I guess I shouldn’t have put much thought into it, since it took you a second to even think about it.”

“You were smart with the game,” Sasha admitted, “You thought of passwords I wouldn’t have thought of in a million years, but not smart enough, I guess-” There was a moment where the only thing that could be heard was the buzzing coming from the working fridge. “Even though I do love sex on my face - take that however you want to.”

You felt your body heat up again, even as Sasha walked away from beside you. Take that however you want to. Oh my god, was Sasha hitting on you?

2:22 AM

If you moved your foot just an inch to the right, you’d be able to feel Sasha’s shin. You almost wanted to move your foot forward and finally touch her. You wanted to scoot your body across your sheets, to feel her body close to yours and feel your skin ignite with a new passion you hadn’t let out in a very long time.

You opened your eyes to see Sasha’s brown eyes staring into your own. You grinned at the girl, feeling like speaking was the only way to eliminate the awkward tension now present in the air. Part of you wished her eyes hadn’t been open, you were okay with watching her in silence - something about her knowing you liked looking at her made your stomach turn with nerves.

“Hey,” You whispered into your partially dark bedroom, “Are you tired?”

Sasha shook her head against the pillow, smushing her cheek even deeper into the plushness, “Not even a little bit. How about you?”

You sighed, “Nope.”

The silence was back, but it wasn’t awkward like the last time - this was a new comfortable silence. In the moment, all you could do was watch Sasha and all she could do was watch you right back.

You wondered what the brown haired girl was thinking about. Your first assumption was food considering the girl’s eating habits, but after a second thought - you knew better than to guess that. You then assumed that maybe the girl was thinking of you.

Sasha was probably tossing and turning the idea of you in her head, or at least you hoped she was. You hoped she was thinking about the way you look right now with the moon shining in through the window behind you. And, you hoped she thought about how warm you felt on the couch, pressed up against her earlier. And, you hoped she thought about how warm you would feel underneath her, completely naked and-

Not now. You closed your eyes to hide the thoughts in your head, and you hoped covering your irises would keep Sasha from knowing what you were thinking about. Now wasn’t the time to think about your best friend that way, not when the option was so possible.

“Hey,” Sasha whispered into the quiet space between you, “What kind of car would you be, if you had to be one?”

You opened one of your eyes, “What?”

“You heard me.” Sasha grinned as she watched you think of the few types of cars you could actually name off of the top of your head. “I think I’d be a pickup truck-” Sasha ignored your loud snort- “Because I’m tall, kind of. And, I like carrying things, I don’t really know why - I guess I like being helpful. And, my dad’s got a farm, so it’s perfect.”

You smiled wide at Sasha, “Do you want to try again and maybe pick any other car on the planet?”

“What’s wrong with pickup trucks?” Sasha tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “Pickup trucks are cool, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” You said sarcastically.

Sasha playfully pushed at your shoulder, “Alright, if I have to choose a different type of car, then I guess I’d be a-” Sasha took a second to think- “A tractor.”

“Shut up,” You spoke through a loud fit of laughter.

“I’m serious.” Sasha giggled with you. “I’d either be a pickup truck or a tractor - I mean it.”

“One,” You said with a grin, “Tractors aren’t even considered cars. And, two, no you wouldn’t be a tractor because they are loud and dirty and-” You shrugged- “Actually, that kind of works for you.”

“Hey!” Sasha's voice had gone up a few octaves for that one word. She pushed at your shoulder again, this time her hand lingering on your body.

You giggled, “You’re the one who said it, Sash’, I was only repeating it.” Sasha grinned at you, her hand still on your shoulder and now making its way down your bicep. “And, I think I’d be a mustang. One, I’m sleek and luxurious. And two, I like to go fast.”

“Really?” Sasha’s fingers drew invisible circles above your elbow. Her fingers were slender and warm and the circles were drawn in a smooth and consistent motion. “Could you have picked a more cliché type of car?”

You wrinkled your nose at the girl, “At least I chose a car.”

The room grew quiet again, but the silence was different from the last two times - neither awkward nor comfortable. Instead, the silence was full, like there were so many words being spoken into the space around you. The darkness of the room told each other your deepest, darkest secrets and part of you knew Sasha could hear your every thought that kept you awake at night.

She could hear what you thought about before eventually falling asleep. She could hear your mental grocery lists about the things you needed to pick up the next evening. And, she heard your mental relivings of memories you only thought about when nobody could see the pain written across your face. And, she heard the feelings you had bottled up for so long - feelings all about how badly you wanted to feel her hands all over your body.

And, what was so wrong with wanting your best friend on top of you, honestly? Everybody felt this way at least once in their lives. And, what was so wrong with finally going for it? Every single sexual or romantic relationship started with one of the people taking a chance, and it seemed you just had to be that person.

“Sasha,” You whispered into the dark space between both of your faces.

“Mhm,” Sasha mumbled back, her hand finally reaching your wrist.

You took a deep breath, “Do you ever think of me at night?”

Sasha grinned, “All of the time - why do you ask?”

Sasha’s fingers now found your palm, the tickling motion causing your own fingers to jump. Her hand was so warm against your hand, and you didn’t want her to stop touching you. You would prefer if she touched you all over your body, but you were willing to settle with just holding her hand in the darkness, if that’s all she wanted.

“Because,” You said with a smile, “I think about you too - at night, during the day, in the mornings, in my dreams - all of the time, like you said.”

Sasha’s fingers intertwined with your fingers, her palm resting gently against your own. Sasha didn’t need to say anything for you to suddenly hear her thoughts. She must have felt the same way considering her hand stayed against your own even when she leaned in to kiss you.

Sasha’s mouth was soft, and you could taste the ghost of her strawberry chapstick still on her lips. Her mouth moved gently at first, metaphorically testing the waters before diving in. Her kisses were merely innocent pecks for a moment, until she leaned back and whispered to your mouth.

“Was that what you think about all the time?” Sasha’s breath fanned across your face with her words.

You grinned to yourself, “I’ve thought about much more than just that.”

Sasha’s lips were back on yours, her mouth making up for wasted time. You had felt this way about her for as long as you’ve been her friend, and for just as long, she’s felt the exact same way. And finally, months longer than you’d have liked, Sasha is actually kissing you.

Sasha removes her hand from yours and instead brings them to your sides. She feels her way up your hips and ribs, her fingers gently tickling the skin she touches. Her fingertips play with the hem of your shirt and the waist of your shorts, teasing you with the idea of her removing your clothes from your body.

You moved your arms around her neck and brought her face closer to yours. Her tongue was warm when it swooped into your mouth, licking across the roof of your mouth in one swift movement. Her tongue was so warm and arousing in fact that she drew a soft gasp from your mouth which only encouraged her further.

Sasha’s hands found your hips just before you rolled up on your knee, now straddling her lap. You were in the same position as earlier, sitting gently on her hips as you lean downward towards her face. But, instead of carefully applying eyeliner to her eyelids, you now kissed Sasha so roughly that your front teeth chattered against her front teeth.

Sasha ran her hands over your hips and ass, touching the places she had wanted to, but didn’t, touch earlier. Her fingers moved gently against your thighs, digging her nails into the plush skin. Her hands pressed onward, hellbent on finding their ways under the bottoms of your sleep shorts.

You let out a short gasp when you felt Sasha’s smooth fingers find the soft fabric of your panties. She grinned once she felt your surprise and whispered into your mouth.

“Did I shock you?” Sasha asked with a smile, “Did you expect me not to touch you when you’re on top of me like this?”

You breathlessly mumbled against her mouth, “‘Guess I didn’t expect you to be so determined.”

“Let me show you just how determined I am.”

Sasha pulled on the bottom of your shirt and you raised your arms, letting her remove the fabric from your body. Sasha throws the shirt to the ground, taking in the new sight in front of her - you sitting on top of her in only your sleep shorts and panties. Sasha had seen you in a bikini and even in your bra plenty of times but nothing could have prepared her for how beautiful with a bare chest.

You leaned down and pecked Sasha before your mouth traveled past her mouth and down her body. You kissed her jaw, the side of her neck, and behind her ear. The kisses that you left on Sasha’s skin tickled her body, causing her to let out breathy pants and soft giggles from between her lips.

Sasha arched her back towards you before suddenly switching positions with you. She pushed you onto the bed beside her, your back now against the comforter you were formerly lying underneath. Sasha sat above you, leaning back on her calves on the right side of your legs.

Sasha quickly pulled her shirt from her body, throwing it thoughtlessly to the ground. You reached towards her, placing your hands gently against the smooth skin of her stomach. Your fingers slowly made their ways up her ribs and to her chest, letting your fingertips rub gentle shapes into the sensitive skin of her tits.

Sasha bent down towards you, pressing her lips to yours as your hands continued to palm her. Sasha moaned into your mouth in between kisses, feeling herself growing hotter with every second your hands were on her. Sasha moved an inch back from your lips, whispering heavily into your mouth.

“Can I taste you?” Sasha came back in for another kiss.

You nodded against her face, “Yes, please.”

Sasha moved back onto her calves, smiling down at you for a second before moving her hands to the waist of your shorts. She pulled your sleep shorts down your thighs and legs, shoving them off of the bed and out of the way.

Sasha moved in between your legs, wrapping her hands around your body before leaning down. She spread a kissing trail from your navel down to the waistband of your panties. And once she reached your panties, she looked up at you - silently asking for permission to proceed.

“Please.” That one word came out in a desperate squeak.

Sasha giggled into your body, “‘You really that excited for me?”

Sasha slowly pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor as well. You felt the heartbeat between your legs pound as Sasha kissed slowly down your leg: a peck to your ankle, to your calf, to the side of your knee, to the inside of your thigh and finally to the most sensitive skin right beside her destination.

A loud moan erupted from your mouth when Sasha’s mouth found the place you needed her most. Her tongue licked against the slick that had collected in the area, drinking it into her mouth which only caused you to create more. Sasha’s mouth moved expertly between your legs, her tongue moving itself in and out and around your entrance.

You arched your back into the air as Sasha’s hands moved from your back to your ass and hips. She moved her fingers against your hips bones, squeezing the skin and pulling your body closer to her mouth until your thighs were practically suffocating her. But, Sasha didn’t stop, the possibility of death only encouraged her further - Sasha supposed if she had to die anywhere, she’d prefer to die between your thighs and tongue deep in your pussy.

Deep within your folds, Sasha used her tongue to write the same thing over and over again. Silently communicating with you through her movements, and even marking the area as her own. S-A-S-H-A, her tongue spelled out her name for you, each time driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, S-A-S-H-A.

You felt your legs shake on either side of Sasha’s face, your whole body jumping with arousal. You pushed your fingers into Sasha’s hair, fisting the strands into your palm in an attempt to alleviate the pressure growing in your stomach. Sasha moaned into your pussy, aroused by the idea of just how much pleasure she was giving you.

The growing pressure in your stomach started spreading to your entire body, causing your hips to buck forward from your impending orgasm. You pushed Sasha’s face deeper into your body, silently influencing her to continue exactly what she was doing. All it took was one more swoop of her tongue and you were unraveling into her mouth.

Sasha licked up every single drop of wetness, slowly bringing you back down from your high. Sasha sat up from between your legs, looking at you from where she sat on her calves. She grinned at you, her chin and cheeks drenched in what remained of your orgasm.

“So,” Sasha said with a large smile, “How was that?”

You giggled breathlessly into your hands, suddenly feeling the need to cover your face. All you could remember was just how loud you got while she was between your legs, the room echoed with the sounds of every moan that came from between your lips. You felt embarrassed by just how much you enjoyed Sasha’s tongue because what if she now knew how much you like her?

Sasha’s hands gently removed your palms from your face. You looked intently into her eyes and cursed just how deeply the other girl knew you. She’s your best friend and a good one at that, of course she can read the embarrassment written so obviously across your face.

“Hey,” Sasha said delicately, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, babe. I enjoyed it just as much as you did.”

You sighed, “How about I give you something to enjoy? Wanna’ let me return the favor?”

“Oh?” Sasha raised a single eyebrow at you. “Hell yeah.”

You pushed Sasha into the bed the same way she had to you. You placed your thigh between her legs, pressing down into her before giving her a passionate kiss. Sasha groaned against your lips which only encouraged you to give her just as much pleasure she gave you. You stayed up all night with her, your lips against her lips and your thigh between her legs as you drank down every moan she gave you until the sun eventually came up on the other side of your bedroom window.

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somnambulants · 3 years

Text

see where you’ve been

summary: Natasha is a tease and she likes to see you flustered. 18+ word count: 1.6K.

Spending time with Natasha is the best and worst thing in the entire world.

The best because she’s the single most interesting person you’ve ever met and any time you spend in her presence feels like the ultimate gift.

(You may be slightly biased, considering your overwhelmingly large and borderline schoolgirl-esque crush on her but that was another matter entirely and one you’d firmly decided you were not going to be addressing any time soon)

But, while you coveted every second spent with her like a kid would covet candy, it could also be the worst at certain times.

Times like now.

With her pressed up so close to you that there’s not not even an inch of space between you.

Usually you’d be face down on the mat as she dug a knee into your spine by now.

This is the first time you’ve been able to pin her down and it was almost entirely by accident.

So it’s probably not surprising that you freeze up but it doesn’t make it any less mortifying.

“Okay good….You would probably make a move on the target now, though,” she teases lightly after a second of you just gaping down at her. “Not just grope them.”

Letting her go, you swallow roughly, heat crawling up your neck as you realise your hands are on her chest. God. “R-right. Sorry.”

She winks at you playfully. “Not that I mind.”

You squeak, lips moving soundlessly as you try desperately to think of something to say and come up empty.

The only other occupant of the room -- thank god, you don’t know what you’d do if all the avengers had witnessed this -- Clint makes no attempt to hide his snicker as he does a set of pull-ups in the corner.

As you scramble off her, she gives you a small, slightly amused smile and accepts the hand you hold out to help her up.

You make your excuses and book it out of there the second trainings over.

And If you take a longer than normal shower that night, definitely not doing what you’d normally do in the shower well, then, no one else has to know about it but you.

Still, you know you’re going to have a hard time meeting Natasha’s eyes tomorrow.

And you definitely do. Have a hard time meeting her eyes, that is.

You don’t know how but you somehow make it through your whole workout without once looking her in the eyes.

If you had looked though, you would have seen the speculative, knowing look in her eyes as she watched you fumble your way through training.

And then throughout the rest of the week, too.

And the week after that too.

Of course, you’re no expert in body language, but if you had just looked properly, you would have clearly been able to tell that she was planning something.

And something devious, at that.

The universe hates you. So hates you. Thats all you can think.

You really must have accumulated some major karma to have deserved this.

It’s like Natasha’s taken your normal workouts and upped them by three hundred in their intensity.

You’d thought you’d been a pretty decent fighter before this but you’re quickly realising she’s been going easy on you this entire time.

And it’s also like she knows how much her touch affects you because all of a sudden she’s always touching you.

Every-time she takes you down, her hands are on you. Lingering.

Every. single. time.

You’ve had so many cold showers over the last month, you’re surprised you haven’t picked up hypothermia.

In short, as time passes it just gets worse and worse until eventually you’re just a human ball of tension.

Like an elastic band that’s been pulled too far.

And even though you don’t realise it yet, it’s about to snap.

You yelp as she throws you down again, shoving you onto the floor and leaning down, pinning you there so you’re forced to just look straight up at her.

No matter how hard you struggle, she’s firm, holding you down, and pressing her knee against your stomach as she leans in closer.

Your heart picks up even more, rabbit fast.

“I thought I taught you better than that,” she teases you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up as you feel her lips brush slightly against the curve of your ear.

You then let out an audible squeak as she lets you go, pulling away with this look on her face you can’t quite decipher.

You must imagine it but for a second you swear that as she goes to move off you, she grinds her hips down against your own ever so slightly.

And all of a sudden, all you can think about is her doing that. All the time. Sans the workout gear she’s currently wearing and on a much nicer, softer surface.

Like a bed.

She’s going to be the death of you. You just know it.

You feel flushed, trembling a little. If you looked at yourself in the mirror right now you’re sure you wouldn't even be able to see your irises from how dilated your pupils must be.

There are times you swear she must know how she affects you. She’s literally trained to pick up on every single thing; there’s no way she couldn’t see your pathetically obvious attraction to her.

Sometimes you’ve thought that maybe she’s just being nice and politely ignoring it, others you’re not so sure.

Other times you think she knows and she likes it.

“Damn,” Natasha is chuckling, taunting you as she throws you down again less than five minutes later, her knees on either side of your waist as she holds you down, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re really off your game today, aren’t you?”

The elastic band snaps.

Looking up at her infuriatingly attractive face as she hovers on top of you, victorious smirk on her lips -- god, it’s so attractive, she’s so attractive -- you just stop ...thinking.

You crash your lips to hers before you can stop yourself.

Surprisingly you don’t get punched in the face. No. What happens is much weirder.

She’s kissing you back.

"Finally,” she breathes against your lips. She’s smirking as she says it. You can feel it.

Why is she smirking?

What she says is confusing enough that it sticks in your head, even with the confused state of mess that your own mind is right now.

“I -- what?”

Natasha jerks your head toward her, pulling you into her as she kisses you again, more roughly this time.

“It took you long enough,” she pants, pulling away to breathe and ripping your shirt off you. She pulls it over your head and throws it on the floor. “I’m a little insulted, actually.”

You stare at her, hands freezing where you’d been fumbling with the zip on her jeans. “You...knew?”

“Obviously.” Natasha smirks down at you as you dig your nails into the flesh of her hips harder in response to her mocking tone. “You’re kind of slow, you know that?”

She lets out a surprised sound as you abruptly flip your positions.

Unconsciously, you must have picked something other than frustration from all these practices because she looks genuinely taken aback with you hovering over her all of a sudden.

“You could’ve said something.”

The look on her face fades away into amusement at your words. She hums a little. “I could’ve. But watching you squirm was more fun.”

With a growl, you pull back a little, forcing yourself between her thighs that she gladly parts for you, wrapping them around your waist loosely as you settle your hands on her hips, jerking her towards you as you kiss her again, nails digging into her skin.

This is where what little control you have ends.

In the next breath, she’s manoeuvred you both so that youre now flat on your back beneath her, gazing up at her as she looks down at you, chest heaving a little.

Not even bothering to pull your panties down, she just shoves them to the side as she enters you quickly with one, then two fingers.

You inhale sharply and then whine out loud as she removes her fingers completely after a couple of thrusts, snickering at your clear disappointment.

She brings them up to her mouth and you watch as she laves them with her tongue before pulling them out with a pop, moaning quietly to herself.

“Nat,” you plead, breathing heavily. “Please.”

Natasha smirks. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

Your hips buck up against her as she enters you again. Rougher than before.

With her free hand, she presses down on your throat ever so slightly: not enough that you can’t breathe but enough that it’s harder for you to suck air in between your moans.

“Oh my god,” you pant heavily, your eyes rolling back a little as you adjust to her pace, which is sharp and unrelenting and already dangerously close making you fall apart with the first few thrusts.

Her hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly as you close your eyes.

“Look at me,” she demands. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”

Struggling to obey, you train your suddenly blurry vision on her face and watch as Natasha’s lips curl in a slow, satisfied grin in response.

“Good.”

#natasha romanoff x reader

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thinking-mans-submissive · 3 years

Photo

Omega Heat, Part 1

A Paranormal Omegaverse Story

i’d been hoping to get His attention, but when He finally acknowledged me i was suddenly dumbstruck. Now what, dumb ass? i’d been trailing Him around the gym like a creeper with no real plan in mind other than to hope for a miracle; Men like Him just weren’t interested in effeminate guys like me.

The miracle was an almost immediate physiological reaction that started seconds after we locked eyes. His face was impossible to read, but the longer He held my gaze the more impossible it was to look away. i’d never felt such yearning in my life. i don’t know when it happened but i was suddenly aware that my ass felt wet.

What the fuck??

After a few seconds of utter shock, i bolted for the locker room as casually as i could, but not before i saw His nostrils flare and His ambivalence change to astonishment; suddenly i had His undivided attention. His massive body went rigid as He sat upright. But i turned and left before He got up.

i went straight for a bathroom stall and slammed the door behind me. Yanking down my shorts, i was dumbfounded to discover that my underwear was completely soaked and my rear end was wet. If i didn’t know better, i’d swear lube was coming out of my ass! i was freaking out, but then a chill went up my spine and i froze.

i could feel Him approach before i heard Him. A cold sweat covered my body as He stopped outside the stall, His breathing labored and heavy. My heart pounded in my ears as i waited in silence. With a violent shove He easily broke the flimsy bolt lock and pushed the door in. Yelping in surprise, i nearly fell into the toilet as i frantically backed up with my underwear still bunched around my ankles.

The look on His face was pure lust and determination as He instantly squeezed His way inside - a towering hulk of muscle that gave me no room to move. Or escape. Wedging the door shut behind Him, He grabbed me by the front of the shirt with one enormous hand and pulled me up against His hard chest.

And then He did something very strange: He took a deep whiff of my neck and held it, as though savoring it. The stubble on His beard made me shiver as His lips brushed softly against my tingling skin.

With a slow exhale, He stared into my eyes with a ferocity that made me moan. My face flushed red in embarrassment at my inability to show any self control. i flinched when His other hand grasped my bare ass and shivered uncontrollably as a long, thick finger dipped unceremoniously into ... more wetness??

A deep, primal, fearsome sound reverberated in His chest as His full lips parted to show large, glistening-white teeth. i whimpered helplessly as i started to gush something over His hand as though a dam had broke inside me.

He wasn’t surprised at all by what was happening and sank another finger into my spasming hole. i bit my lip to keep from crying out as i ground myself onto His hand, humping like a whore as i placed my trembling hands on His broad shoulders to steady myself.

He had the same hard to read look on His face, but was clearly in control of the situation; i, on the other hand, was coming undone.

“You’re going into heat.” He said matter-of-factly. His deep voice was surprising calming. i stared into the dark pools of His eyes looking for an explanation. “I can’t claim you here, but my knot will make you feel ... better.”

Nothing He said made any sense, but with three fingers now drilling my ass, i wasn’t exactly acting rationally, or normally, for that matter. His body radiated heat and i didn’t want to let go.

“Your knot??” i asked, hating the sound of desperation and confusing in my voice.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He replied, as factually as though i’d asked Him for the time. “Is this the first time this has happened to you?”

“Whaaa ...?”

“The slick. Your body’s natural lubrication.”

I nodded incredulously.

If it was possible, His urgency and tension seemed to amplify with my response. He seemed to be losing control, so He spoke faster.

“Your body is reacting to being near me. The slick will help. But not much.” i was attracted to Him, sure. But this was just crazy. What was so special about Him that was sending me into “heat”? And did it even matter, because as scared as i should have been by the ominous warning, it had the exact opposite effect; the promise of pain caused by His dick made my eyes roll back in my head as i convulsed over His hand.

He abruptly yanked His fingers from my ass and stilled me with a vice-like grip as i literally tried to crawl onto Him. My hole felt so empty and i wanted His cock inside me. i could barely hear His next words.

“Follow me outside to my truck and get in. I live nearby. I should be able to hold off until I get you home. Just try not to touch me. Do you understand?” His tone left no margin for disagreement.

“Yes, Sir.” Sir?? Could this get any weirder??

i don’t remember leaving the gym or the short ride to His home. The bright sunlight and heat of summer did little to warm the chill i felt as i shivered. By the time He led me inside my shorts were soaked.

He was on me so fast that it felt like i’d been hit by a train. When i felt His teeth biting hard at the base of my neck i groaned loudly and my vision went dark. i felt my feet being lifted off the floor as He carried me to a bed and heard cries and moans of distress that i realized were coming from me.

#paranormal #shifter #omegaverse #alphas knot

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let-it-raines · 3 years

Note

Prompt: we met each other while each doing the (separate) walk of shame after a night out with other people.

Just a continuous shoutout to @shireness-says for sending me the most random but best prompts and also for only judging how bad of a cook I am a little 😘

on ao3 | here | if that’s how you want to read!

-/-

Emma doesn’t have rules about a lot of things in her life, but she has rules about this, about one-night stands.

Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.

Rule 2: They never come back to her place.

Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.

It’s not the nicest move in the world, but, well, Emma isn’t hanging around with these guys to be nice. She’s not there for the small talk, for the sink sharing as she brushes her teeth with a little toothpaste on her finger. She’s definitely not there for the breakfasts. She’s sure that they’re fine, that some of them are more than good, but, well, she doesn’t really care enough to get to know how the guy likes his eggs. The guy definitely doesn’t care how she takes hers. He probably just wants another fuck, and no matter how good the night before was, Emma doesn’t do more than one time.

Rule number one and all that.

And it’s not that she’s going around having one-time things all the time, and it’s not that there would be anything wrong with that if she was. But she’s been around the block enough times to know to come up with her rules.

Right now, she hates herself a little for falling asleep, but she’s become a tad bit rusty on this whole thing. It’s been awhile since she’s done this. She was with Walsh for a year, and, well, it took her awhile to need to scratch the itch after that ended. But last night…let’s just say she needed to last night, so she put on some mascara and a red lip, found a dress that was a little too tight and a little too low cut, and she went to a club for the first time in ages. She nearly texted Ruby and Mulan and asked them to come with her, but she chickened out at the last minute.

Emma Swan: catches bad guys for a living, chickens out asking her friends to go drinking and dancing with her.

The cold morning air nips at her legs and her shoulders, and she wraps her arms around herself as she dodges a sewer grate to keep her heel from getting caught. She’s nearly to her apartment door. She won’t freeze before then. Still, next time she’s remembering a jacket.

Emma speeds up when she’s a building away, especially as more people start leaving their apartments and heading for work or the gym or wherever else people go on Saturday mornings, and just as she’s reaching for the side door of her apartment building, someone else’s hand touches it first. She watches it, taking in the dark hair over the knuckles and up his forearm, and Emma’s eyes follow up his arm. He’s wearing a dark gray shirt that only has one or two buttons down at the bottom in order to show off an impressive amount of chest hair, and when she looks at his face, the first thing she notices is how messy his hair is and then the red pillow creases on his cheek.

Oh.

Emma blushes, but she doesn’t know why. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially since they’re both coming home from the same exact thing.

The man flashes a smile, bright white against the black of his slightly overgrown stubble, and pulls the door open before gesturing for her to move forward.

“After you, love.”

“Thanks,” Emma mumbles.

She ducks her head and walks inside the building, reveling in the heat that immediately comes down on her skin. She walks down the hallway, and the guy’s footsteps follow behind her. She gets into the elevator. He does too. If she didn’t slightly recognize him, her shoulders would tense and her nerves would stand on edge. She does recognize him, though, from around the building. She’s sure she’s seem him once or twice before.

“Cold out there this morning,” he whistles as his fingers begin to toy with his shirt, one more button closing, not that it helps.

“Yep.”

“Almost makes staying until they wake up worth it.”

“Or paying for a damn cab.”

He huffs and tilts his head back to scratch his jaw. That is an unfairly sharp jawline. “Killian Jones. Floor seven.”

“Emma.”

“No last name? Or floor number?”

“Oh Jones,” Emma sighs, twisting toward him. She crosses her arms under her bust despite knowing it will draw attention to her boobs, and sure enough, he glances down. “You’re going to have to watch me do the walk of shame a few more times before you get any of that.”

There’s that smile again. The door opens on his floor, and he steps through the opening but still places his hand on the door to keep it from closing. “It’s only a walk of shame if you’re ashamed of it. I prefer to think of it as a stride of pride. Or perhaps, just a very satisfied walk home.”

And then he’s gone, and the doors close behind him as Emma goes up one more floor.

-/-

“Well, you certainly look different.”

Emma’s shoulder’s tense, and slowly, she turns on her head to see what jackass is talking to her. It takes her a moment to recognize him, a moment of cold weather and tired eyes and the slightest bit of a hangover, but she rarely forgets a face. Or a man who displays that much chest in nearly freezing weather. Then again, she was doing the same. She notices he seems to be doing the same thing now while she’s got on a shirt that covers almost all of her.

“Yeah, well, I find flannel is much more comfortable than skin-tight sequins.”

She’s in her pajamas in the lobby of her building getting the mail. Yeah, most people are just now getting home from work and are in real clothes, but when you have the day off, there’s no reason to put on real pants.

“Oh, I agree. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it is when I have to wear sequins, Swan.”

She fully turns. “I never told you my last name.”

Killian leans forward and taps on her mailbox where E. Swan is written. Just below it, there’s a K. Jones. Oh.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Emma locks her box and steps to the side so Killian can get his mail. There are only two envelopes in there, and one of them is a slip to pick up a package from the front desk. Emma swears it’s the only reason they still have these mailboxes. She realizes she’s standing there staring at the back of his head and at the suit he’s wearing even though she has no reason to still be there. She needs to be back up in her apartment getting dressed to go to the gym since she’s neglected it all day today. She should have gotten up this morning and gotten it over with.

Idly, she wonders what he does for a living, but then she remembers she needs to go before she seems weird.

Weirder.

She’s definitely already weird.

-/-

He’s at her gym.

Granted, it’s literally the gym in the building next door to her where all of the residents go, but still. She’s never seen him in there before.

She also rarely goes at this time.

He’s running on the treadmill in a fitted shirt and pair of joggers, and she’s on the elliptical behind him, warming up before her Pilates class. Emma ducks her head and focuses on her music and her movement, trying not to draw his attention.

When he winks at her in the mirror, she knows she’s failed.

When she nearly falls over on the elliptical, she decides she’s going to have to move apartments.

(Not really. She’d never leave this place, not when it’s a damn good apartment.)

-/-

Emma hates doing honeytraps. They feel demeaning and a little sexist, but they work. She puts on a skintight dress, pushes her boobs up, combs out her hair, and she can get the guys she needs to pay her enough attention that she can easily handcuff them and bring them down to the closest precinct.

Tonight, it went fine. It took her longer to curl her hair than to get the guy to flirt with her at the bar, but on her walk back to her car from the precinct, someone drove by and splashed dirty water all over her. It was a good dress. She should have worn the cheaper one.

It’s long past midnight when she gets back to her apartment, and even though she looks like she’s the one who got arrested tonight, she walks through her lobby, nodding at the night guard, and then heads toward the elevator with her wet shoes in hand. It’s amazing that no one complains about her and gets her kicked out. There’s a group of women in this building who take pride in judging anyone who isn’t just like them, and Emma avoids them at all costs.

Who she can’t seem to avoid, however, is Killian Jones, because he comes sulking in the side door and gets in the elevator at the last moment, sticking his hand through the closing doors until they open back up just for him.

“We have to stop meeting here,” he teases.

“I believe last time we met at the gym.”

“Well, I’d say we’d have to stop meeting there as well, but I’m sure you had a grand time staring at my ass as I ran.”

“Are you always this conceited?”

“Confident.” Emma rolls her eyes as the elevator doors finally close. “Rub some detergent on your stain and then scrub it with a toothbrush before washing it. The stain should come out.”

Emma looks down at her outfit. It’s far beyond the point of repair, especially with a toothbrush. “Uh, thanks.”

“And maybe don’t sleep with a man who ruins your dress like that.”

“Oh, this is from work,” she laughs, adjusting her heels in her hands.

“What in the bloody hell do you do?”

“Bounty hunter, bail bonds, things like that. A little bit of everything. This,” she gestures to her dress, “was an accident from a reckless driver speeding outside the police station.”

“Just who are you, Swan?” Killian asks with a smirk and raised brows. She has a feeling he does that a lot.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles at her teasing, leaning in that little bit closer to her, and she’s reminded of how small this space is. Emma wants to change the subject from herself, so she quickly asks, “aren’t you a little too overdressed to be coming home from your…stride of pride?”

He smiles and scratches behind his ear. “Coming home from the office, actually.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

The doors open again on his floor and he steps outside, holding his hand to the door. “Work never stops when your boss is an asshole who thinks contract negotiations cannot be handled during normal business hours. See you around, Swan.”

Emma waves and smiles as the doors close again.

-/-

Emma goes weeks without seeing him, and she nearly forgets about the man who keeps seeing her at slightly low points in her life. It all goes on. She goes to work, and since the scumbags are out in full force, she makes enough in a month to cover rent for six months. It feels damn good to be that secure in her life when half a decade ago she never would have been able to consider living in a nice place and knowing she could pay for it. She goes out with her friends, sometimes stays in since David and Mary Margaret are homebodies ever since they decided to try for a baby, which Emma knows way too much about – seriously, Mary Margaret shares details about the positions and tracking apps and womb temperatures, and it’s a great way to make sex seem unappealing – and things get back to normal as winter melts into spring and the miserable chill of Boston fades away.

But then she has a bad day.

“What do you even know about family?”

The words were spit at her as the man ran out of the restaurant in the same way that he’d run out on his family, and even though he’s now going to be held accountable for his actions, nothing about it sat right with Emma. How can you have a family and just leave them? Why do people keep doing that?

So instead of going home, she goes to a bar, ordering a drink and sitting in the corner as she watches other people drink and talk and, quite frankly, dance poorly. It’s entertaining if only because it keeps her mind off her own life, and then she sees him.

He’s in dark jeans and a button-down, black leather jacket still on, and even though he seems to be in a group of friends, Emma walks over to him, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns to look at her with a smirk and a raised brow.

Yep, he definitely does that move a lot.

“Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“I could say the same to you.”

The smirk widens to a smile, and he has ridiculously blue eyes. She didn’t even know that kind of blue was possible in such dark lighting.

“Swan, this is Rob, Will, and Eric. Mates, this is Emma. She lives in my building.”

They all mutter different versions of ‘nice to meet you’ and Emma returns the platitudes. Then Killian orders her another glass of wine while ordering himself some more rum, and instead of sitting alone all night, she sits with him.

And his friends. But she kind of forgets about them as she talks to Killian. He’s charming, funny too, and while she tends to think corporate lawyers must have had their soul sucked away at some point in their lives, she doesn’t think that about him.

She likes him.

It’s a weird feeling after going so long floundering around after Walsh, not sure that any man is capable of keeping her genuinely entertained for more than an hour, but it’s three hours later, and her jaw hurts from smiling. After earlier, she definitely didn’t think she was capable of smiling that much.

Or at all.

At some point, she tells Killian her guilty pleasure food is grilled cheese, as greasy as you can get, and they end up in a small diner with grilled cheese and cups of coffee in front of them. It’s damn good grilled cheese, and after she finishes chewing, she covers her mouth and laughs.

“What?” he asks with his mug in front of his lips.

“You really took me to get grilled cheese as if me liking it was a personality trait.”

His brows raise, little lines raising with them, and he takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t know about you, but a night out drinking now isn’t the same as when I was twenty-two. You have to do the hangover prep beforehand.”

“Old man.”

He shrugs. “I imagine I’m not much older than you.”

“Yeah, but I can handle my alcohol better.”

“We’ll have to see about that another night.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They leave the diner and the neon signs behind sometime around three in the morning, and when they get back to their apartment and into the elevator, Emma gets off on the sixth floor instead of the seventh.

-/-

Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.

When Emma opens her eyes, she knows she’s failed herself.

The sun is shining through his curtains, indicating that it’s long past her normal escape hours, and even though the view outside is the same as her apartment, she knows that she isn’t in her apartment. Not even close.

Well, geographically speaking, no, she’s actually very close. She’s only one floor below. Her bedroom is right above this, and her bed is in the exact same place.

But her bed is empty, the covers still pulled up, and there isn’t a naked man in it.

Or a naked Emma.

Shit.

Killian’s hand is on her boob, his leg half-draped over hers, and slowly, she moves them both off. She has to go, to get out of her, but just as she’s moving him, he moves himself.

Closer. He moves closer.

“Hmmm, morning,” he hums, flicking his finger against her breast before moving it down over her side and to her hip. His hands are surprisingly calloused for someone who spends all day in an office, but she likes it. She remembers thinking that last night too. “Do you want breakfast? Or do you need to go? Either is fine with me.”

She’s almost offended he gives her choices, but then she realizes what he’s saying. He doesn’t care if she stays or goes, and that makes the ball of anxiety in Emma’s chest get smaller. Emma flips over to face him. His hair is a mess and a red mark is on his cheek. He sleepily grins.

“I need to go. This was great, but it was a one-time thing.”

He flips over on his back and crosses his arms behind his head. The comforter is pulled just low enough on his hips that she can see just enough to entice her to stay, but she doesn’t. She goes, getting dressed as he watches her before awkwardly saying goodbye.

“It’s a stride of pride,” he yells out, his accent thicker than usual, and Emma finds herself smiling as she closes the door behind her.

-/-

Rule 2: They never come back to her place.

Okay, so the thing about Killian living in the apartment below her is that he knows where she lives. And that’s fine. She’s pretty good at reading people, and she didn’t peg him as someone she needed to worry about. From their first meeting, she knows he’s comfortable with one-time things. He’s not going to be someone who tries for more, which is what she’s like.

But now he’s at her door, take-out bag in hand, saying he stopped by after work but decided he didn’t want the grease. Is there any chance she’d like it?

She would.

And despite the fact that she practically raised herself and didn’t exactly teach herself manners, she does have some. So she lets him in, offers him some coffee that he takes, and they sit and talk for awhile, about nothing and everything and all of the other things in between. It’s nice, and it’s not until he takes off his suit jacket and undoes the buttons on his shirt that she remembers that they slept together.

Several times in one night.

Because she’s, well, an idiot.

And now he’s at her place drinking her coffee while she eats food he brought her. It’s all a little too domestic for her, a little too comfortable, so instead of water, she grabs wine to dull her mind.

“You like wine?” Emma asks.

“Love it.”

“Good. Let’s drink.”

Killian chuckles. “Let me finish my coffee first, and then I’ll join you. Mind if we move to the living room?”

She absolutely minds. That’s a horrible, horrible idea.

“Not at all.”

-/-

Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.

She messed up.

Big time.

Okay, so she’s messed up big time, multiple times.

Because Killian is asleep in her bed with only his boxers on, she’s wearing his shirt like some kind of movie cliché, and there’s a mark on her neck that’s going to require some makeup to hide.

Great. Just great.

It can’t get any worse.

-/-

She offers him breakfast.

He accepts and stays.

Shit.

-/-

Emma’s life is pretty unpredictable. From her job hours to her appetite to the outfits she’s going to wear. She likes it that way. It keeps her from getting bored or thinking too much. She likes not having a routine.

She likes it, and plans on keeping it that way.

But little by little she starts to notice a routine forming.

He’ll show up at her apartment with food. She’ll show up at his with nothing most of the time but sometimes a bottle of wine or rum, since she now knows that’s what he prefers. They talk, they laugh, maybe they watch a little TV, but it always, always, always ends up in the same place.

In bed.

Or on the couch. Once or twice in the kitchen even if that is the devil on her ass and her knees, but in the moment, she’s not thinking too much about that.

Or about how she’s broken every single one of her rules more than once. They are gone, out her window, and she doesn’t know how to get back to them.

Emma doesn’t think she wants to. She likes this arrangement. She’s got a friend and a fuck buddy all in one, and she doesn’t have to go out to find someone. There’s no lingerie or hour’s worth of makeup or heels that hurt her. It’s pajamas and whatever unmatched underwear she happens to have on that day. Killian doesn’t care, and she likes that.

She likes spending time with him.

That was not in the plan.

-/-

There’s a tap on her bedroom floor. Then another one. And another.

Emma picks up her phone.

ES: Are you hitting a broom against your ceiling?

KJ: Yes, come down here.

ES: You come up here.

KJ: No. I need to show you something.

ES: If it’s your dick, I’m not leaving my apartment. I’ve seen it.

KJ: And it’s very impressive, I know. But no, that’s not it.

Emma laughs and rolls off her bed, pulling on boots with her jean shorts and t-shirt. She looks ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. When Killian opens his apartment door, he glances down at her for a moment, but then he’s ushering her inside and shoving a stack of paper in her face.

“What’s this?” Emma asks.

“Read it,” he insists, bouncing on his feet.

Emma reads it, doesn’t understand what the hell any of it means, but there are two very clear words written at the bottom.

Junior Partner.

Holy shit.

“They’re making you partner?” Emma gasps, looking up at him. “Holy shit, Jones!”

“I know,” he laughs. “Who would have thought the arrogant, Navy-educated asshole would make Junior Partner at the ripe old age of thirty-five?”

“Hey, you’re only, like, a minor level asshole.” He rolls his eyes, and Emma drops the paper down before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“Oh, I definitely don’t, but if I’ve fooled them into it, I won’t correct them.”

Emma laughs and hugs him tighter as his hands move up and down her back, settling just above her ass. “Should we celebrate?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Go out? Or stay in and eat cake? Sex?”

“There’s a company party at my boss’s house if you’d like to come.”

“All for you?”

“No,” he laughs, kissing her forehead and patting her back once more. “For the fourth tomorrow, but it’s free booze and free food.”

“Then I’m there.”

-/-

Even with the free booze, free food, and ridiculously gigantic pool, Emma kind of regrets coming to this thing. She doesn’t know anyone but Killian, and every single person keeps calling her his girlfriend even when he corrects them.

Emma is definitely not his girlfriend.

But after awhile, there’s only so many times you can deny it, and Killian starts telling people different stories of how they met, making them more ridiculous as he goes along. She doesn’t know how this won’t backfire since he has to work with these people, but he assures her they all work in different departments. He never sees them, and they never see each other.

To one man, they met on a cruise. To another, it was in the buffet line at a shopping center. To someone in accounting, they met at a cooking class where Emma was just struggling so much that he had to come help her out.

She’s offended even if that’s totally what would have happened had she gone to a cooking class.

There are so many different stories and meetings that Emma can’t keep up, especially as she tries to remember names. Eventually she gives up and laughs along at how good of a liar and storyteller that Killian is. She could listen to him do this for hours.

And she does.

The sun starts to set, and they settle on a swing in the backyard, his arm around her shoulder as they sway back and forth. Her skin is sun-kissed, her eyes tired, and she hasn’t felt as content as she is right now in a long damn time.

“This was fun,” she tells Killian.

“Aye,” he agrees, kissing her temple and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m sure you had better plans than to come to this.”

“Not a one.”

He raises his brow. “No?”

“Nope. I can’t think of anything better than drinking free alcohol and lying to your coworkers about how we met. None of them know it was because both of us were coming home from one-night stands.”

“And that’s the most romantic one.”

Emma tilts her head back in laughter. “Ah, yes, the old ‘we met after fucking other people.’ A classic love story.”

Killian kicks at the ground to keep them swinging, and Emma pulls her legs up, curling them underneath her. “You know, Swan, that was the best one-night stand of my life.”

“She that good?”

“I don’t even remember her, but I remember running into you. You were, are, gorgeous, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Believe it or not, I do fancy you from time to time.”

Emma’s heart is doing something ridiculous, and she doesn’t think she can stop it.

“Is it all the orgasms?”

He laughs at her joke, but he pulls her closer, resting his cheek against her head as they keep moving. “Those are bloody fantastic, but I like other things about you too. I like doing things like this, talking, having a cuddle, watching my boss make an idiot of herself on her diving board. I’d like to do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She’s half-joking, but when she twists her head to look at Killian, she sees that he’s not.

Oh.

“Aye, I am. If you’re amenable to that.”

Emma gulps to get air down in her lungs, and before she can think too much about it, she nods her head and leans up to kiss Killian in a way that she’s never really kissed him before – with no intention of it leading to something more than this, the two of them swaying on a swing wrapped around each other. “I would definitely be.”

“Good. Tomorrow?”

“I’m busy. Going out with a new guy. But maybe another time.”

She knows his eyes roll as he kisses her, and Emma could get used to this.

-/-

New rule: Never, ever, ever kiss anyone but Killian Jones ever again.

Emma thinks she can definitely stick to that rule.

#stride of pride #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #shireness-says

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petersasteria · 3 years

Note

💌- sam holland//mad hatter

I don’t write for Sam Holland, but I’ll make an exception.

𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 - "𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢'𝐦 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠"

Warning: it gets weirder and it’s not for the fainthearted. Probably not for minors as well. There’s no smut tho... only mentions of sex. You have been warned. Welcome to the weird side of my mind. 2.5k words

“Hello, Sam.” The psychiatrist greeted with a smile. Sam looked at her and only gave her a nod. “Is there any reason why you’re here today, Sam? A little birdie told me you needed some help. What happened?”

Sam looked at her with fear in his eyes as tears clouded his vision. He shakes his head and whimpered, “I’m not crazy. I’m normal! I swear, I am! I’m not crazy, but she is.”

“No one’s saying you’re crazy.” The psychiatrist smiled. She had a kind face and she was mother-like. The job suited her because her voice is calm and soothing. “Who is she?”

Sam closed his eyes as vivid flashbacks replayed on his mind. It flashed in his mind like it was being played on a projector and he was the only audience. He took a deep breath and said, “She lived two streets away...”

Sam never really went out a lot, but when he would go out, he’d stay out all day. The rest of the family wouldn’t question him as long as he got home safe and sound and unharmed. When he received a bike from his uncle, he thought it’d be best to try it out. After all, it’s been years since he rode a bike and this way, he’d be saving the Earth from pollution if he biked to work instead.

He popped his earphones on and got on his new bike and pedalled. He had no destination in mind and he was confident that he wouldn’t get lost because he grew up in the area and he knew a lot of places like this back of his hand. It was safe to say that he trusted himself and that was important.

He went through a few turns until he reached the other street. There wasn’t much to see, but he waved at a few of the neighbors he knew. When he turned again, he reached another street. It was at this time when he figured that he should go home. Instead of going back the way he came, he just biked straight ahead. He can’t possibly get lost. The streets have names and he knew what his street was and he knew how to get there from different ways.

He eyed at some of the house and inwardly judged at which house he liked best when suddenly he saw an abandoned house. He stopped in front of it and realized that not only was it abandoned, but it was also ruined.

The windows were no longer there and there were shards of glass on the ground. There was no grass and the steps of the front porch were broken. The second floor of the house was nonexistent, but two pillars were there. The walls on the ground floor were destroyed and it looked like the whole place was burned down.

Sam was in shock. He had never seen a house like that before. What he failed to notice was a girl about his age emerging from the bushes that had no leaves anymore.

“Hi there!” The girl grinned. Sam didn’t want to comment about her fashion sense and the way she grinned, so he gave her a small smile and said hello.

The girl moved and stood next to Sam as they faced the ruined house together. No one said anything for a while, but the girl broke it.

“What a shame.” The girl said. She was dressed in quite fancy yet eccentric clothing. She even had a fancy hat and laced gloves on her hands. She was wearing socks on top of her boots as well; another thing Sam failed to notice.

“Yeah, a shame indeed.” Sam nodded. “D’you know the person who lived here?” The girl nodded. Sam asked, “Who lived here?”

“Me.” The girl giggled. “I burned this place down because I’m having a party.”

“I’m sorry. WHAT?” Sam shrieked. He’s never met anyone who would burn the whole place down.

The girl laughed, “All this for a party. How extravagant!”

“What’s the occasion?” Sam asked.

“My whole family died in a tragic vacation accident. I felt the need to celebrate.” The girl grinned.

“Celebrate? Why would you celebrate? You lost your whole family! That must be so traum-”

“It’s the most tremendous news I’ve ever received. They think I’m crazy and I’m glad they’re all gone. That way, no one would judge me and my eccentric ways of living anymore.” The girl clapped happily.

“What’s your name?” Sam looked at her. Despite her weirdness, she was pretty.

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Sam.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sam.” Y/N grinned. She shoved her hand in her pocket and fished out a crumpled card that had very fancy printing. Sam took it from her and he tried to read it, but failed. It was crumpled up really well.

“That’s an invitation to my party later tonight. Wear your BEST attire.” Y/N looked at him up and down, “Don’t wear any of that garbage.”

He was dressed casually. He wore khaki shorts, white sneakers, and a long sleeved shirt, the type of shirt Troy Bolton would wear. On top of that was an old jacket that never closed anymore because the zipper is missing.

Sam nodded and said, “I’ll, uh, do my best then.”

Night time came and he wore a button up and some pants and old sneakers. He hoped it was eccentric enough for the party. He told his family that he was invited by a friend and he went to the party.

Upon arriving at the house, he parked his new bike outside and saw fairy lights everywhere: on the trees, around the two pillars on the second floor, the grass-less ground, the wires and just- everywhere. The party also had balloons, streamers,

He walked to the backyard because he saw that everyone was there. Y/N saw him and grinned, “Sam, you made it! You’re just in time for musical chairs.”

‘Musical chairs?’ He thought to himself. ‘The last time I played musical chairs, I was about 10 years old.’

Y/N grabbed his wrist and led him to the long table. She made him sit next to her and just when he got comfortable, Y/N and the person on his right grabbed his hands as they all got up and moved around the table as if playing “Ring Around The Rosie”. They all sang a song for about a minute and sat down again. Only this time, on different chairs.

Sam looked around the table and he saw everyone eating and talking. He figured he’d do the same, so he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He hummed in delight as the sweet flavor of the cookie swirled on his taste buds. When he looked up from the cookie, he saw everyone looking at him.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked Y/N.

“You ate the cookie.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that I saw everyone eating and I figured I should... eat as well.” Sam explained. He felt foolish and embarrassed.

“Only females who have the red tide can eat the breast cookie.” Y/N said.

‘Did she fucking say ‘breast cookie’?!’ Sam asked himself while maintaining a cool expression.

“What’s a breast cookie?”

“The one you just ate. It’s made of breast milk. Regular milk is overrated. We all thank Madame Amanda for providing us with such great breast milk.” Y/N smiled towards a lady who sat a few seats across from her.

“And because Y/N’s guest ate the wrong food, we must fix the curse. Move!” One of them said.

Before Sam knew it, his hands were grabbed and they moved around the table once more. When they got comfy on their new seats, Y/N handed him the food he’s allowed to eat. An hour and 5 more times of switching seats later, ‘musical chairs’ was done.

Everyone stood up from their seats and moved to the center of the backyard. Sam followed Y/N’s actions and was surprised to hear that it was time to drink.

‘Finally some alcohol!’ Sam thought.

He was wrong. He seemed to forget that the people around him weren’t like him.

“What are we drinking?” Sam asked.

“It’s actually a drinking game. We’re all split into three groups and whichever group finishes the fastest, wins.” Y/N grinned and clapped her hands excitedly causing Sam to be excited too.

While everything was being set up, Sam conversed with Y/N a bit and then Amanda, the breast milk lady, said, “Split yourselves into three groups! If you wish to not join, you may watch at the side.”

Sam looked around and saw a few people moving to the side. He saw them having a look of pure disgust. He was about to approach one of them when Y/N grabbed his attention, “Sam, it’s rude to stare. The cum shots are ready.”

‘The cum shots? What?!’ Sam inwardly said to himself. Surely, he heard his wrong.

“The what?” Sam asked.

“The cum shots. Alcohol is overrated and this solves over population. Besides, it’s not just anyone’s cum. They’re from the guys here and some of the girls. It’s a wild card.” Y/N said with a grin.

“I’ll pass, then.” Sam said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Pass? Why?”

“I’m, uh...” He thought of a lie quick. “I have a fatal cum allergy.” Sam said and pretended to be upset.

Y/N laughed and said, “A fatal cum allergy? I knew I liked you. Guys with that allergy are so rare to find. Go and stand over there, then. Have fun watching.”

Sam wanted to vomit as he watched everyone down the shots like there was no tomorrow.

“Disgusting, innit?” A guy next to him said and Sam nodded.

“Very.” Sam said, looking away from it all.

“Run while you can before your mind gets ruined forever. Whatever you do, never come back here after this. People like you end up in The Pod.”

“The Pod?” Sam asked in confusion.

“That’s what we call a mental hospital.”

“Why would they end up in The Pod?” Sam asked, afraid.

“They told everyone what happens here and no one believed them. These people that you see right now? They’re not like this sometimes. They’re actually normal people. Sometimes too normal it becomes creepy.” The guy explained.

“You’ll go insane if you tell anyone because no one will believe you. Run while you can.” The guy said and walked away when he saw Y/N approaching.

“What did he say to you?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing.” Sam lied. “We just talked about my fatal cum allergy.”

“Ahh, yes.” Y/N nodded. “Anyway, it’s time for my favorite part. Popping the balloons.”

“Okay.” Sam said, thankful that there’s a normal activity. Sam went back to the center of the backyard with Y/N. She handed him a gun and said, “Since you’re a guest, it’s your job to pop the biggest balloon.”

Sam eyed the gun and the biggest pink balloon. ”The prize is inside.” Y/N giggled like a high school girl.

Sam nodded and gulped. He aimed at the biggest balloon and pulled the trigger. Lucky for him, the bullet went through the balloon and it popped causing the contents of the balloon to fall.

Inside the balloon were: confetti, condoms, tea bags, heart shaped candies, pregnancy tests, and a small flashlight.

“Go on and pick the ones you want, Sam. You’ll definitely need the flashlight later for another game.” Y/N said as she picked up a few things.

“What do I need the flashlight for?” Sam questioned.

“Us girls are hiding something inside us and you boys have to find it. That’s what the flashlight is for.” Y/N explained before leaning in to whisper, “I’m hiding a small ring inside me.” She winked and smiled.

“What happens after that?” Sam asked.

“Sex.” Y/N shrugged. “It’s not just any sex, though. All the fair light will be closed and we’ll all have sex out here in the dark. The best part is we wouldn’t know who we had sex with. It’s a wildcard.”

“Just like the cum shots?”

“Just like the cum shots.”

Sam never thought he’d say words like that. In fact, he knew he should’ve declined the invite in the first place, but he figured it’d be nice to meet new people. He knew Y/N was weird, but he didn’t know she was bonkers.

“I actually have to go home now. I’m not feeling well.” Sam said politely.

“Oh, what a shame.” Y/N pouted. “I hope you’ll join the orgy next time you’re back and healthy. We’ll be painting white roses with blood on the next party. See you there.”

Sam gave her a tight-lipped smile, bid her goodbye, and left. He never came back, but the thought of keeping everything to himself made him antsy. A few days later, he finally cracked and told everything to Harry.

Then Tom.

Then Harrison.

Then Tuwaine.

The 4 men were concerned about him. After all, who wouldn’t be concerned? Sam told them the most absurd thing. Sam went as far as taking them to the house and sure enough, it was still ruined just like the day he saw it.

The only difference is, Y/N is nowhere to be found.

“I swear she’s here! You have to believe me.” Sam pleaded.

Tom looked at him and asked, “Sam, are you on drugs? If you are, that’s so unlike you.”

“I’m not on drugs! I’m telling the truth!” Sam said. He looked around and he saw Y/N wearing normal clothes and she seemed to be walking her dog.

“That’s her!” Sam pointed.

“Excuse me, miss!” Harrison called out causing Y/N to look over. He motioned for her to walk closer and she obeyed.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know him?” Harrison nodded his head at Sam as Sam looked at Y/N with pleading eyes. “He claims that you drank cum shots and have orgies at your party the other day. He also claims that you threw a party because your family died in a tragic accident. And is it true that you burned your own house down just for the party to make it extravagant?”

Y/N smiled sadly and said, “It’s true that I lost my family, but I would never throw a party to celebrate such loss. I would also never burn down my only living space. It was an accident; I left the oven on and it burned everything.”

“I’m so sorry.” Harrison said. “You may go now.”

Y/N nodded and left without sparing Sam one more glance.

“Liar!” Sam screamed and lunged towards her. Before he could do anything, Tom held him back and nodded at Harry.

“We’re scheduling you with a psychiatrist. You need help, mate.” Harry said, tapping away on his phone.

“That’s why I’m here now.” Sam said and finished his story.

The psychiatrist nodded and told him that it could be a realistic dream or something that linked to his past. To Sam, the psychiatrist didn’t make sense. He nodded along nonetheless. He wasn’t prescribed with anything, but he was told to stay away from the ruined house.

When Sam got home, he checked their mailbox and saw nothing except for a note. He grabbed the note and it read:

‘I hope you learned your lesson from silently judging people. Just because someone else’s normal isn’t your kind of normal, doesn’t mean it’s less normal.

- Y/N x’

* * * *

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (bc he’s the twin so why not): @sufwubi @abrielleholland @purplepizza-summerrain @euphorichxlland @marshxx @lizzyosterfield @justanamesstuff @croissantwriting @blueleatherbag @givebuckyhisplumsnow

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @pearly-pisces @theonly1outof-a-billion @u-rrose @speedymaximoff @theliterarymess @beequeen8020 @justafangirlduh

add yourself to my taglist if you’re cool x

#k's 1k sleepover #k's 1k 💌#sam holland #sam holland x reader

46 notes · View notes

kate837 · 3 years

Text

I Love You

I completely recommend watching 2x14 Borrow or Rob, and the beginning of 2x15 Draw O Cesar Erase a Coward, before reading this fic. While this fic is AU it does have many similarities and minor details that it couldn't hurt to watch the episode first! Anyways enjoy!!!!!

#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:#:

Kurt had a day.

Not bad. Definitely not good. Just... A day.

A day he'll never forget actually. It was so full of ups and downs. From Shepherd plunging a knife into Sean's heart, to joking with Jane about whether or not he could handle Rich Dotcom. From shooting Rich to... Jane's date. That hurt. When Shepherd shoved a knife through Sean Clarke, Kurt's adrenaline spiked, he felt so alert for so long, he thought he would throw up. He got the same feeling from Jane. Except it was everytime she moved, spoke, brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, etc. Her admission of her date was too much. Kurt went straight home, got a damp rag, and laid down. Staring at the ceiling.

Though he did have to say, it still wasn't the worst part of his day. He felt bad. Witnessing first degree murder should automatically be the worst part of your day.

But when it comes to Rich.....

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Kurt and Rich were sneaking through the secret underground tunnels of Jamison College, in order to get into the Deadalus gathering.

"This is interesting." Rich says, while coming to a stop.

"What?" Kurt replies shortly.

"Well this is the door, but the handle's different."

"Different how, Rich?!"

"Wel- well it's not there anymore?? Probably on account of all the hookers I snuck in it." Rich gestures to the handless door.

"Ok, so what's behind this door?" Kurt inquires, looking around.

"The closet. What are yo-"

"Stand back."

Kurt, with a running start, kicks the door in to find himself deep within the walls of a massive walk in closet.

"Aaaaa just how I remember it."

"SHHHHH!" Kurt puts his ear to the door, the one still on it's hinges, just in time to hear the gasps of attending guests and a soft female voice hushedly asking someone to notify security of the discrepancy.

"Shit."

"What?" Rich asks, genuinely confused.

"The guests are getting security to come check out 'the noise in the closet'."

"Oh. What are we gonna do Stubbles? I'm a sly guy but how do we explain that?"

"Oh God, why do you hate me?" Kurt says looking towards the ceiling.

"What? You're acting strange Stubbles, like weirder than normal. I mea-"

Rich was cut off by Kurt's large hands cupping both sides of his face, to kiss him. Without separating he backs Rich against a near wall, mimicking the earlier noise. Rich squirmed at first but expectedly went along with the unexpected.

"Come on Stubbles, you can at least use some tongue!"

"Shut. Up." Kurt snarls. "Actually. . . I need you to make some. . . noises." Kurt says while blushing furiously.

"Security is on their way." Tasha notifies through comms.

"Yeah you guys better get out of there." Reade warns.

"And say what? Oh hey haven't seen you in a while, please excuse my entering through a closet?!" Rich whisper-yells.

"Everyone shut up!" Kurt also whisper yells. "Now Rich I need you to moan a lot. Loudly."

"You could always make me Stubbles!"

"Rich!"

"Kurt what the hell are you doing?" Reade asks, growing increasingly concerned about his teammate's mental health.

"Rich just do it!"

"OOOOH! STUBBLES, YES!" Rich practically screams.

The party guests turn a side eye. But the security, like Kurt hoped, were turning away, figuring that the noise came from two enthusiastic partygoers. Or if the other patrons were anything like Rich maybe more.

Of course Weller didn't know that yet.

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

"Ohhh. Now i get it, I can't believe this is working." Reade says, half laughing at the ridiculous noises coming out of his earpiece. "Hey Kurt it's work-"

"Will you shut up?!" Tasha butts in.

"What are you tal-"

"He doesn't know that they stood down yet." Tasha says wriggling her eyebrows. "Hey Kurt most of the security guards stood down but you still have a couple incoming. . . You might need to amp it up a bit!"

Her and Reade try and fail to stifle their laughter after Rich let's out a completely overexaggerated 'UNGH'!

"Come on Stubbles, they're not buying it, you're gonna have to join me if you wanna get out of here."

"Why me? God why me?" Kurt says again looking up.

Kurt let's out a loud and breathless 'Oh God' that completely undoes all of Tasha and Reade's composure. They are hysterical by now. They completely lost it when Rich and Kurt started harmonizing!

"Stop! Stop!" Tasha said. "I can't take it anymore." She pulls herself up from the floor of the van, where she fell from laughing so hard.

"Yeah guys, the security's gone. They're long gone." Reade adds, clutching his stomach.

"Yeah Rich so goo- wait what?!"

"Yeah you're clear." Tasha clarifies.

"You could have compromised this entire op!" Kurt says furiously.

"We all know that's not why you're mad Stubbles. And as the bible states-"

"I swear to God Rich, if you say another word I will shoot you."

"Another word."

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Kurt flushed red just thinking about it. What was he going to put in his field report?!

He turned to lay on his side to take in the fresh scenery of the wall instead of the ceiling. After laying there for about two minutes, he finally got up to fix himself dinner.

While gathering ingredients, Kurt's mind inevitably wandered back to Jane's date. Everything about it tore at him. What she'd be wearing, what she'd eat, would she cover her tattoos, would she wear makeup. . . . . . . .

His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call.

It was Jane.

A million questions ran through his head. Why is she calling him? Shouldn't she still be out on her date?

He lunged for the phone but then. . . He stilled. Didn't move a muscle. He picked up his phone, turned it over, and resumed gathering ingredients.

Once the phone eventually stopped buzzing, Kurt's inner turmoil came to play.

'Why didn't you answer?! Jane could be in trouble!'

'Be rational Kurt. She's on a date, probably just calling to let you know that she'll complete her paperwork tomorrow, since she's busy.'

'Look, everyone knows you're in love with her, but you can't act like some overprotective boyfriend whenever she's around.'

Kurt shakes his head. He wasn't in love with Jane Doe. Was he?

'Of course you are! That's why you lunged for the phone as soon as you saw her name, but put it down when you realized she was still on a date.'

'No. If I was in love with her, I would have immediately answered.'

'No. You love her so much that you realized that if she's having fun, even with another man, you wouldn't want to ruin that. That's love.'

'What am I supposed to do? I can't love her from afar.'

'This may be selfish but what if I proposed the idea that Oliver is Sandstorm?'

'It could work. But why not just tell her how you feel?'

"Because I'm just not ready yet." Kurt voiced sadly.

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First thing the next morning, Kurt was walking up and down the hallways, over and over again. In order to 'accidentally' bump into Jane on her way to Patterson's lab.

After three consecutive minutes, Jane appeared. She was wearing this loose, pastel green shirt, that roughly covered all of her upper body tattoos as well as bringing out her eyes. She paired it with tight blue jeans, which she almost never wears, and a few silver rings on her right hand.

"Wow." Kurt whispered. What looked like any other outfit, looked stunning on her. He almost forgot to 'bump' into her.

"Jane!"

"Oh, hey!"

"You get Patterson's text yet?"

"Yeah, heading there now."

They walk in silence for a few heartbeats, until they turn into a secluded hallway.

"Jane wait." Kurt says while gently grabbing Jane's arm.

"Kurt, what is it?"

"After you told me last night, about your date. I started thinking. . ."

Jane subconsciously starts to hold her breath. Her expression wreaks of hope.

"Hey! Glad I found you two, Patterson's got something." Tasha pops in.

"Yeah." Kurt says releasing Jane.

Saved by the bell.

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The debrief, while no longer than usual, felt unbearably long. The charged energy from Kurt and Jane's previous conversation still radiated off of them.

While any hope of continuing it was completely shut down by the tattoo clues pointing to three different entities, causing the team to split up completely. Kurt with Roman, Jane with Tasha, and Patterson with Reade.

This was going to be a longgg day.

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The team finally reconvened at about 5pm. They had just finished the field reports. All three of them. It was exhausting.

Fortunately for Kurt his adrenaline spiked right back up about an hour later when Tasha, so graciously, reminded the group that they never filled out the field report for their Deadalus mission. Which caused Reade and Patterson to burst out into a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?" Jane asked, looking to Kurt, smiling.

Kurt goes wide-eyed. She doesn't know.

This was going to be a long night.

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

The team had just finished catching Jane up while writing the 'going to be extremely redacted' field report.

"Wait I'm still confused. If you just wanted Rich to moan, why did you kiss him?"

All eyes look to Kurt.

"We- well I was under the impression that security was going to be charging through the door at any second." He says glaring at the pair of agents who were strategically avoiding his gaze. "And when they did, if they saw us. . . you know-"

"We don't know, Weller!" Patterson howled.

Kurt glared.

"Yeah I kind of want to know how far you were willing to take it Assistant Director!" Reade joined in.

"We're done here." Kurt said as he walked out.

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Jane had just walked out of the locker room to be met head on with Kurt.

"Kurt, hey!" Jane says, surprised.

"Hey."

"Umm. . . I actually wanted to talk to you."

Kurt raises his eyebrows in obvious confusion, cueing Jane to continue.

"When we were. . . Uh you know- outside of P- Patterson's lab. You didn't finish." Jane stumbles through her words as a new wave of nervousness hits her with full force.

"Oh that." Kurt says, grabbing Jane's arm, mirroring his earlier gesture and leading her away from the locker room door.

"Jane, I was up all night and I couldn't stop thinking about it. We need to be careful. Sandstorm feels like it's everywhere."

"You think Oliver is Sandstorm?"

"Yes. . . No." Kurt shakes his head.

"Kurt you're not making any sense." Jane says studying him.

"I know. I know. I just- no I don't think he's Sandstorm."

"Then why did you-"

"I've been trying to come up with reasons of why you shouldn't date him for the better part of 13 hours."

"Kurt wha-"

"And I got nothing, because the only reason is that I love you."

Jane goes wide-eyed. It was as if all the air was sucked out of her.

"I love you Jane."

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#part two?#ILY #ily #I Love You #im back #blindspot au fics

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

100% Professional (Eight)

MASTERLIST

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

"I'm surprised you wanted to meet here." Peter glanced around the coffee shop and then slid into the chair across from Wade. "Not that this isn't a nice place, it's just um--"

"--just that I usually don't take my fucked up face out into pubic places?" Wade finished, and when Peter's eyes opened wide in horror, Wade waved him off. "Don't, Pete. Don't stress out about it. I know that's not what you were going to say. It's my new thing, cutting people off with something self deprecating to take the awkwardness out of the minute. It's fine."

"I was definitely not going to say something about your face." Peter finished slowly. "I was uh-- I was going more for the 'wow Wade, I didn’t think hippies were your people'."

Wade chuckled and Peter relaxed a little more. "Yeah, this is a little granola crunching and Birkenstock wearing for my usual taste. Close to home though, and I'm too lazy to walk much further, so here we go."

"You're walking places now?" Peter smiled when a waitress put down a pot of coffee. "Since when?"

"Group therapy." Wade said shortly. "One of the guys said it helped to walk places because they could focus on the number of steps instead of who may or may not be watching them, and then once they made it about the halfway point, why bother turning around, right?"

"Group therapy." Peter repeated, obviously trying to find the right way to respond to that information. "So um-"

"I didn't ask to see you cos I wanted to talk about therapy." Wade interrupted. "Or about how I'm making an effort to better myself or anything like that."

"Then why'd you want to see me?" Peter poured a cup but didn't take a sip, just cradled the warm cup in his palms instead. "I can't imagine it's to ask me out on a date."

"No." Wade huffed a laugh. "Uh no. That's not it. But I did want to see if maybe you wanted to go to a movie or something, just as friends."

"Friends."

"Something's here, Pete." Wade drummed his fingers on the table, fidgeted at his jacket, scratched at the drawn on eyebrows. "There's something between you and I and even though it's pretty fucking obvious I might never be ready for actually dating, I don't want to lose you completely. So. Friends?"

Peter was quiet and Wade cleared his throat to add, "It's fine if you say no. I get it. It was a weird start because I was basically paying you to hang out with me, then it got worse when I had my breakdown and then it got weirder when I panicked about the date and stopped talking to you for a couple months and--"

He stopped when he realized Peter wasn't even listening. "Pete? What are you doing?"

"Hm?" Peter looked up from his phone. "Sorry, what?"

"You're not listening." Wade tried and failed to keep the shock and hurt from his voice. "Well shit Pete, I knew I made shit weird but I thought I deserved a conversation without the phone out, huh?"

"Oh!" Peter brightened into a smile and turned his phone around for Wade to see the screen. "The theater down the street as an all day marathon of old school horror films since it's Halloween next week. Sound good? They have that pizza joint inside and we could just eat pizza and drink beer and watch terrible horror films all day."

Wade blinked at him and Peter clarified, "I was listening Wade. There's something between and it might not ever be dating but I don't want to lose you either. So let's get some pizza and beer, talk through old movies and figure out when we're going to do it again."

"Just like that?" Wade took a sip of his coffee so it wouldn't be quite as obvious how badly his hands were shaking. "You don't have any questions for me? Or need to say anything?"

"How's your new massage therapist?" Peter pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the table, holding out his hand to help Wade up. "Do you like them?"

"They are 100% professional and very ugly." Wade confirmed. "Super boring and never lets their hands stray anywhere close to inappropriate."��

"Wow, they sound terrible."

"The worst." Wade confirmed and when Peter laughed out loud, something wonderful loosened in his chest. "It's good to see you again Pete."

"Mm-hmm." Peter pushed Wade down the street towards the theater. "You buy pizza and I'll buy beer?"

"Sounds good."

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

First it was movies, Peter and Wade taking advantage of all the Halloween hoopla to watch special showings of classic horror films. They laughed at the terrible effects and cackled at the cheesy lines and got into arguments about whether or not the always blond girl was only hired for the size of her rack or if there had actually been a screaming audition.

"There might have been some screaming but it probably wasn't for the movie." Wade decided. "I feel like her audition took place on a couch, ya feel me?"

"Oh ye of little faith." Peter snorted. "She's obviously talented and was definitely cast for her--" the woman on screen stumbled for no apparent reason and fell into a strategically placed puddle, soaking her white t-shirt clear through. "-- you know what? Comment withdrawn."

The movies were fun, and from there they moved on to grabbing lunch together a couple times a week. Wade got more comfortable using light make up to cover the worst of his scars, he manged to find eyelashes that didn't made him look ridiculous and his drawn on eyebrows no longer rubbed off if he wore a beanie, so he headed down towards the Daily Bugle on Tuesdays and Thursdays to meet Peter at a sandwich shop and talk about their days.

"J Jonah Jameson is without a doubt the crankiest guy in the world." Peter said around a mouthful of meatball sub. "His wife came in and gave him a kiss and he complained about how her chap stick tasted afterwards. He has a beautiful wife who visits him at work just to give him a kiss and he complains about her chap stick? That guy would piss off the Pope, I swear."

"I think the doorman in my building is sleeping with the receptionist." Wade said the next time around, picking at his Italian sub with a suspicious expression. "And I don't mean dating. I mean I went to take the stairs, heard noises I've only heard on the Discovery channel--" Peter snorted soda up his nose when he cracked up laughing and Wade grinned. "--so I took the elevator and lo and behold, no one was at the desk or the door. "

"Oooh sexy." Peter leaned over and snagged one of Wade's fries. "But I got one better. Gwen was protesting at Hammer Tech the other day...

*********

The only natural progression from lunch was dinner but Peter came towards Wade side of town for that so they could try a new Thai place one week and then something Greek another and repeat their favorite taco stand at least six times in between.

Sometimes they met at Wade's apartment and walked together, other times they just met at the restaurant and snagged a table by the window. Sometimes the conversation stayed to light topics, other times Wade would open up about what they were talking about in therapy, or Peter would talk about Gwen and Flash and things would get serious and thoughtful and Peter always had to stop himself from reaching out and trying to hold Wade's hand.

Things were bound to change at some point, they were bound to slip over that line from just friends and give in to the attraction still simmering beneath the surface and it was one night at their favorite taco stand that it finally happened.

"If this kills me, I'm coming back to haunt you." Peter warned as Wade handed him a spicy chicken taco. "I swear."

"Quit being such a puss and just eat it." Wade said impatiently. "It's spicy chicken Pete, quit staring at it like I'm serving you salted dog or something."

It might have been the over whelming spice, it might have been Wade's salted dog comment, but either way, Peter took a bite of the taco and promptly bent over trying to cough his lungs up, gasping for air and chucking the taco to the side so he could hold onto the cart and not collapse.

"Ignore him." Wade told the vendor. "He's a drama queen. Your food is delicious. C'mon Pete, you're embarrassing me in front of the taco guy, pull it together."

"I'm dying." Peter wheezed, clutching at Wade dramatically until the big solder finally laughed and hauled him up, pounding at his back good naturedly. "Wade, save me! Save me!"

Peter finally got his breath back, finally got over the eye watering seasoning and managed to breathe without wanting to choke and straightened up to his full height, wiping at his eyes and scolding, "Do not hand me something new to eat and then hint that it may or may not be dog meat!"

"Sorry, Pete." Wade grinned unrepentantly. "I'll wait until after you swallow it next time."

"Fuck me, I hate you." Peter coughed again and Wade rubbed at his shoulder. "Jesus, that was-- no offense man--" he waved at the taco vendor. "--but I'll stick with the usual if that's okay with you? Spicy chicken is not my thing apparently.”

"One usual coming up." he promised and Peter turned back to Wade, leaning in and resting his forehead on Wade's shoulder without putting any thought into the motion.

Wade apparently didn't think anything about it either, since he slid his arm tighter around Peter's back and held him close, turning his nose into Peter's hair and inhaling the scent of his shampoo. "Sorry about the fireball chicken taco." he muttered, then oophed when Peter pinched his side savagely. "Ow! Damn Pete! Let's work on a safe word before we start getting kinky!"

Peter laughed hard enough to make his entire body shake then, and neither one moved away until the taco vendor cleared his throat and announced, "I have your usual, Mr. Parker."

"Thank you." Peter reached for his food with one hand and linked his other fingers with Wade. "So, ridiculous chicken aside, what else do you want to do tonight? I hear they are putting up lights in the park since Christmas is only a few weeks away? That could be fun, or if if’s not fun, at least it will be sparkly which is just as good right?"

"Pete." Wade looked down at their linked hands and then up at Peter nervously. "What are you doing?"

"Oh." Peter dropped Wade's hand immediately, and even backed up a step. "Sorry. I just um-- sorry. I wasn't trying to pull anything. We're friends, Wade. Just friends."

"Just friends." Wade repeated and Peter added, "100% professional."

"Friends don't have to be professional." Wade pointed out, fighting a smile and the overwhelming flare of hope when Peter lit up into one of those beautiful grins.

"I guess you're right about that. Friends don't have to be professional." Peter inched closer, and then closer again and reached for Wade's hand. "This is okay?"

"Yeah." Wade swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, this is okay."

"Lights in the park?" Peter pressed at Wade's palm. "Or do you want to call it a night?"

"...I'm not ready to say good night to you yet."

"Oh good." Peter flushed a little when Wade squeezed his fingers. "I'm not ready to say good night to you either."

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

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

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

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#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

Text

LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP: CHAPTER 7

cw: cursing, panic attack, anger, nonsexual nudity, extremely dubious/lacking morals, nonspecific mentions of unethical experimentation/vivisection, threats of violence towards loved ones, past child abandonment, nonspecific death threat mention, non-specific mention of human experimentation

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // read it on ao3!

word count: 7821

Logan cannot stop staring at his legs.

They’re so strange.

He pokes them with his finger, and then he pokes them again. And then he pokes them again, just for good measure, because what the fuck. They’re long and strange and the same color as his arms, which is weird, and instead of fins they end in weird, flat hands with small, flat, useless fingers, which is weirder. He can wiggle them if he really tries, but he doesn’t have anywhere near the same range of motion as he does with his hands.

He hates it.

Virgil quickly dumps his brother into the tank and hurries off, presumably to get his father and the other human, and Roman quickly pushes up above the edge of the tank. “Logan?! Are you okay?!”

Logan is shaking. “Roman, what’s happening to me?! Why am I like this?! I look like a human , I don’t understand - what’s happening?!”

“Sharkbait, hey, hey, breathe, it’s okay!” Roman reaches out and grips his hands tightly. “Sharkbait, you’re gonna be okay. I’m here, I’m right here and so’s Dad. The humans are bringing Dad right now, he’ll know what’s happening, he’ll sort all this out and you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine , okay?”

“What if this is permanent?! What if I never get my tail back?! What if I have to stay on land forever?!” Roman’s eyes blow wide with horror, and Logan feels his chest begin to tighten and seize up.

“That - no, that’s not going to happen, Lo,” Roman says. “We’re going to save you. We’re going to bring you back to us. We’re not losing you. We’re not, do you hear me?”

He sounds completely convinced. Logan isn’t convinced at all, but seeing his brother’s conviction still reassures him. He grabs at his brother’s hands, trying desperately to hold on to this little piece of his family. “I . . . I -!”

“Hey, shhhhhh, don’t worry. I’m here, I’m here. Dad’s coming, and I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.” Roman leans up to press his soaking forehead against Logan’s newly dry one, and Logan leans into the soft touch. “I’m here. You’re our pod, Sharkbait. Even if the human legs are permanent, we’re not gonna just ditch you. You’re my brother. You and Dad are the only family that I have left anymore.”

“You and Dad are the only family I have ever had,” Logan says. He can feel a strange type of water on his cheeks, and when he touches his face he realizes that he’s leaking too, just like Virgil had been earlier.

“We’re not abandoning you.”

Something clatters in the hallway, and he whirls around. Roman’s spines stiffen and flare out defensively, and Logan tries to prepare himself to flood the room with electricity before realizing with a sudden sinking feeling that he no longer has his electricity. He’s completely defenseless if he gets attacked right now.

He thanks the Seven Mother Goddesses when he realizes that it’s just Virgil and the other human, coming with his dad in one of those little mobile oceans. They slide the mobile ocean to a halt next to Roman’s tank, and Patton launches himself in with a splash before reaching up to touch Logan’s hand.

“Dad . . .” Logan says. He hates the way his voice trembles. “Dad, I . . . wh . . . what’s happening to me?”

Oh, guppy, his dad says. I never wanted you to find out this way.

“Wh - what? What do you mean, find out this way, Dad? What am I supposed to find out?”

“Um, would someone care to fill us in, please?” Virgil asks. Roman starts to translate for them, but everything that isn’t his dad’s voice fades away to static buzz in Logan’s ears.

You weren’t born a mer. Not like Roman was, guppy. Haven’t you ever wondered why you only have one set of these? His dad’s gills flare out as he breathes, and Logan’s vision begins to blur.

“Wh . . . what?”

You were born as a human. You had a normal human life with normal human parents and a normal human family. But you were killed at sea, and your body was thrown into the ocean. It must have been a full moon, and the Seven Mother Goddesses must have taken pity on you and transformed you into a mer. It is rare, but I have heard of it happening. I had thought that you would spend your whole life in the ocean, and never know of your true origin, but it did not turn out that way.

“I . . . I used to be . . . a what?”

Roman’s eyes are wide, jaw slack. “You . . . Sharkbait, Dad says . . . he says . . . you were a . . . a human . . .”

“What?” Virgil whispers, eyes wide. “That . . . what?”

Logan stares at his father. The water rippling above his face creates a distortion, but Logan swears that his father looks sad. Regretful.

I am so sorry, guppy. When we found you, you were miserable. I knew that telling you what you had lost would only make you more so. I did not want that for you. I have never wanted that for you. For either of you .

Logan runs his free hand down his leg again. It’s one of the weirdest physical sensations he’s ever encountered. “I . . . I used to be . . . human?”

Not for centuries, guppy. You have been mer for far longer than you were ever human.

Roman stares at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Logan reaches for his brother, and Roman hesitates for just a moment before reaching back to take his hand.

That moment is enough to break Logan’s heart.

“Are - will you kick me out of your pod now?” he says, not even daring to refer to it as his pod. “Since I am not a real -”

A loud, furious screech rises up from the tank where his father is, and Logan gasps when he sees all of the little lights on the edges of his fins begin to flare so brightly he can’t bear to look. Roman shields his eyes, and Logan notices the two humans ducking down. Thomas throws his body over Virgil’s protectively, and the water in the tank begins to churn.

DO NOT EVER PRESUME TO UTTER SUCH BLASPHEMIES AGAINST ME AGAIN, his father thunders, water surging up around him in a column as he rises up. YOU ARE MY SON, AND ANYONE WHO TELLS YOU OTHERWISE WILL FACE AN UNTIMELY END AT MY HANDS. The captured stars that illuminate the room begin to flicker, and Logan hears the humans whimper.

“Dad! Dad, you have to calm down!” Logan shouts. “Please!”

The figure in the column turns its glowing eyes on him, and Logan reaches a hand up. He doesn’t know if he can still speak his native tongue in this fragile human body, but he’s sure as hell going to try.

“Dad! Please!” His voice is harsh and grating, and when he tries to speak his words all come out mangled and broken. “No fight! Stop! Please!”

The water hovers in the air for only a moment more before abruptly falling back into the tank. His father coils around the bottom of the tank, regretful. I am sorry, guppy. I did not mean to get so . . . out of sorts.

“It’s alright, Dad,” Logan says.

You and your brother are my pod. You are my guppies. I have known you since you were no bigger than my fin. I will not allow anything to threaten or harm you. You will always be a part of my pod, no matter what happens.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asks, still crouched protectively over Virgil. “Logan, is your dad okay?”

“Yes, Thomas, he is.”

Apologize to him for me?

“He apologizes for terrifying you. It was not his intention. He simply gets . . . protective.”

“Understandable,” Thomas shrugs. “I get the same way around my protege here.”

“Doc!” Virgil hisses, face rapidly turning that strange red color humans sometimes turn. Logan notices that Virgil refuses to look at him, and he frowns. It feels as though his heart has been replaced with a sea urchin.

“Are you upset with me, Virgil?” he says.

Virgil blinks. “What? Why would you think that?”

“You are not looking at me. You have not looked at me since I gained these human appendages. Have I angered you in some way? I do not understand, but I apologize for whatever I have done to -”

“No!” Virgil yelps. “God - no, Lo, I’m not mad at you,” he says. “I’m not mad, I promise. I’m sorry, I’m not mad, I just - you - you’re not wearing any clothes.”

“What is ‘clothes’?” Roman asks. Virgil tugs at the coverings he wears. “Logan hasn’t worn those since he’s been here! None of us have!”

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t - your lower halves - I -”

Logan blinks. “You are referring to my exposed genitalia?”

Virgil turns even redder and makes a very strange squeaking noise, burying his face in his hands. “Yes! You need to put some clothes on, Jesus Christ, where were you even hiding that?!”

“We have an area in our -”

“It was a rhetorical question and I very much do not want to know the answer!” Virgil shrieks.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” Thomas says. “Virgil, can you -”

“I will go get the clothing!” Virgil says immediately, standing up and staring very fixedly at the floor. “I will get the clothing. I will go now.”

“Get him a pair of my sweatpants and a t-shirt, okay?” Virgil nods, hurrying out of the lab as fast as Logan has ever seen him move. Logan squints after him as he goes. “Are you okay, Logan?”

“I find that my vision is somewhat impaired,” Logan says. “I do not like this.” Thomas makes one of those strange human thinking noises and peers at Logan closely. Logan does his best not to flinch away from Thomas, peering back at him. Roman growls at Thomas’s proximity to Logan, but Logan doesn’t protest.

“You had electroreception to help you see, right?”

“That is correct.”

��You don’t have it anymore, do you?”

“I do not currently have access to my electricity.” Thomas makes another thinking noise and pulls a small white object from his pocket. It looks like the thing that Virgil makes his draws on, but when Thomas produces his stick he doesn’t make draws. He makes interesting-looking squiggles on the white thing.

“I wonder if glasses would help you,” Thomas says. “We’ll have to explore that later, depending on how long you’re human like this.” Logan looks at his dad as a sudden burst of terror spikes through his chest. He hadn’t considered that this might last.

“How - how long will I be like this, Dad?” he asks. Roman is staring at their father with a terrified anger painted openly across his face. “Will this be permanent? Will I have to stay here without you?”

“Never,” Roman snarls, spines ruffling and standing on end. “I don’t care if you have legs forever, there’s no way I’m leaving you here with these humans! You’re not a human, you’re my brother!” Logan looks at his Dad, refusing to look anywhere else. He wants to hear the answer more than anything. He never wants to hear the answer.

It has been a long time since I encountered a human-mer that changed frequently, his father says wearily. My memory of those times is fading now. Logan forgets, sometimes, how old their father is. But if my memories are correct, you will retain this form irreversibly for a full day and night. After that, you will regrow your tail and gills when you touch the water of the sea. Once you fully dry, your legs will return.

“What did he say?” Thomas asks gently. Logan feels something wet on his face, and lifts his hand up to feel it. “Are you okay? You’re crying.”

“Is that what this is?” Logan asks. His voice sounds thick and far away, distant to his own ears. “I . . . I am leaking?”

“You’re crying,” Thomas says. “It’s what humans do when we have so much emotion we don’t know how to express it properly. You’ll be alright.” He gently touches Logan’s shoulder, and such a simple gesture should send sparks shooting through Logan as though he’s accidentally shocked himself, but it does. “What did your dad say?”

“I - I will have these legs for a full day and night. After that, touching seawater will allow me to regrow my tail, and drying completely will allow me to grow legs again.” Thomas smiles, broad and happy, flashing his teeth as he squeezes his shoulder.

“That’s amazing! So you’ll be able to rejoin your family and go home once your injuries heal, that’s good!”

“What’s good?” Virgil calls, hurrying down the stairs with a bundle of strange objects in his arms. Thomas takes them from him, shaking them out and laying them over one of the nearby tables.

“Logan’s gonna have his legs for a day, and then he’ll get his tail when he touches salt water. Once he completely dries off, he’ll get his legs back.” Virgil smiles at that, cheeks still pink, and Logan has to stop himself from reaching out to touch him.

“That’s good. I’m glad he’ll get his tail back. But for now, we should get him into some clothes.”

“Agreed. Logan, can you stand up?” Logan blinks at Thomas.

“Can I . . . what?”

Thomas gestures to the way he and Virgil are currently positioned. “Stand up, like this. Can you do that?” Logan tilts his head, frowning at the humans. They both move so easily through the air, the way that he and Roman and their dad move through the water. Logan’s never tried to do anything like that before - he’s never had legs before, no reason to think he would ever have them. But now that he has them, now that he’s stuck with them for at least the foreseeable future, doesn’t he owe it to himself to at least try?

Something presses close in the back of his mind, sliding into the front and winding its way around his train of thought like an eel, like a tangled piece of seaweed, like the tentacles of an enormous squid: if he grows legs again and learns to use them properly, there is potential to come and visit these humans again, to visit Virgil again, and he cannot shake the way his entire body lights up with electric fire at the thought of regular visits and Virgil teaching him to make more draws and Virgil’s smile and Virgil’s quiet, stifled laughter and Virgil’s everything -

Logan’s not used to having two appendages below the waist. He’s used to just his tail, which moves all at once in a smooth, fluid motion. When he tries to turn, he’s shocked to see that the leg on the right moves, but the one on the left does not. There’s a painful tugging sensation between them when he spreads them too far apart, so he carefully moves his other leg. They swing over the edge of the table, dangling the way his tail sometimes does, and experimentally leans forward.

The weird hands at the end of his legs touch the ground, and Logan frowns at the sensation. It’s cold, smooth stone - no, not stone, something else, something hard and smooth but decidedly not stone, something human-made - and he shivers a little. He’s unsure how to proceed until Thomas sits down next to him.

“You’ve never stood up before, have you?”

“I have never had legs before, to my knowledge. I mean . . . I must have had them when I was a human, but . . . but I do not remember that time.”

“Not at all?” Virgil asks. He’s looking in Logan’s direction now, although his eyes appear to be fixated somewhere above Logan’s head. “Nothing of your human life?”

“No,” Logan says softly. “I have no memories of my human life. I did not even know I had a human life, before recently.” Virgil makes a noise that might be sad, might be angry, might be confused, might be a million different things. Before Logan can even blink, Virgil is standing in front of him, holding his hands out, eyes staring straight into Logan’s.

“Here,” he says softly.

“Here what?”

“Here, take my hands. I’ll help you.”

Logan hesitates for only a moment before reaching up and placing his hands into Virgil’s. His hands are broad and warm, and there are rough patches around his fingers and the parts of his hand where they connect, but they’re also soft and comforting. He squeezes Logan’s hands and smiles gently at him. “You’re gonna be alright,” he says softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall and get hurt. Well, more than you already are, anyway.” Virgil huffs out a soft laugh and takes a step backward, pulling Logan along.

Logan manages to stand for a few precious, wobbly seconds, holding Virgil’s hands tightly all the while, before wobbling and pitching forward. Virgil surges toward him, and Logan closes his eyes to brace himself for an imminent collision with the floor.

Instead, his face presses into something soft and warm and still strong, and arms wrap around him, and he hears Virgil make a soft, almost wounded noise. “Gotcha!” Logan opens his eyes to find himself slumped against Virgil, having all but collapsed into him, and Virgil’s arms are wound around him tightly. Logan looks up, and Virgil’s face is close, closer than it’s ever been. His eyes are bright and wide, and his little brown face scales (what had Virgil called them? Freckles?) are prominent against the pink of his cheeks, and his mouth is open in a soft little pink round shape that Logan wants more than anything to touch.

They stare at each other for a time that could be forever or fantastically short. Suddenly, Virgil’s face jumps from pretty pink to burning red, and he begins to sputter. Logan blinks at him, and then he realizes what Virgil has noticed. Virgil’s position is changed now that he’s caught Logan, now that he’s holding Logan, and his hands are dangerously close to Logan’s exposed genitalia.

Virgil pushes forward, shifting Logan’s body along with his own, and Logan lets him without resistance. He lets himself be maneuvered into a standing position, and even though Virgil has returned to not looking at him, he keeps Logan’s hands tightly in his own. “Let’s get some clothes on you before we try walking, okay?”

Logan nods, letting Virgil change and adjust his positioning to keep him steady. Thomas hands something to Virgil, who reaches out and carefully pushes it over Logan’s head. “Here we go . . . let me help you, let me move your arms. This way, through this hole . . . careful, I don’t wanna get your head stuck . . .”

Before Logan knows what’s happening, the clothes has been securely pulled around the upper half of his body. Thomas holds the other clothes, crumpling them up strangely and wrapping a hand around Logan’s leg. “Lift . . . here, through here . . . good, now put that one down, you’re gonna lift the other one . . . whoa, don’t lose your balance now, Virgil, catch him -! There we go, you’re all suited up! Just gotta pull these up, aaaaaand . . . done!”

Logan pulls at the clothes around him. The one over his chest is loose and baggy, and the ones around his new legs pool around the strange flat hands. “What are these?” Logan asks. Virgil touches the clothes over his chest.

“This is a shirt.” His hand travels down to point to the one around his legs. “These are called pants.”

“Oh - thank you, but I - I meant, what are these?” Logan lifts his leg and carefully wiggles the flat hand on the end of it. Virgil tilts his head, leaning down to poke it.

“Your feet?”

“A feet?”

Virgil laughs, and Logan wants to hear that sound forever. “Feet is plural. You have two feet, one foot on each leg.”

“They look like flat hands,” Logan says honestly. “And the fingers are more terrible than my other ones.” Virgil laughs more, one hand coming up to cover his eyes.

“Those are called toes, Logan, they don’t have the dexterity of your fingers. They’re mostly there to help you balance while you walk.”

“I do not know how to do that.”

“What, balance?”

“No. Walk.” Virgil smiles at him, soft as sunshine filtering through the warm spring water.

“I can teach you, if you’re interested. I know you won’t have legs for very long, but -”

“I am,” Logan blurts out. “Interested. Very much so. I dislike being immobile in any context. Would you be so kind as to teach me?”

Virgil smiles, and Logan wants to see that sight forever. “Of course, Logan.”

*~*~*~*~*

“You can see here, ma’am, that our section D nets have been overwhelmingly productive this month. We have acquired many fine specimens and -”

“What of your progress in locating net 17-C?”

“We . . . have not yet located it, ma’am.”

“And are you still trying to locate net 17-C?”

“I . . .”

The scientist quails under the icy weight of her stare. “You do understand that when I specifically request something done, it is because I consider it to be of the highest priority, do you not?”

“I do, ma’am.”

“And you do understand that I am in control, not only of your gainful employment, your livelihood, but also your very life at this present moment.”

“I - I do, ma’am.”

“You have a husband and a young daughter at home, do you not?” She stares at him, and he does his very best not to flinch. He swallows, hard.

“That - that I do.”

“Such a shame, wouldn’t it be, if they were to receive a call that you were never again to come home?”

“It - it certainly would, m - ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you divert all available resources to locating net 17-C. I will not let whatever it captured escape me a second time. I want that net found and I want whatever it captured in my labs as soon as possible, or I will have to make a very unpleasant phone call - well, unpleasant for you, at the very least.”

The scientist nods, swallowing, and watches her walk away, shoes clicking against the floor. He downs what’s left of his morning coffee and pulls up his screen again, combing through drone footage by hand.

She makes her way back to her office, where her secretary waits with a tablet in her hand. “I tire of constantly reminding them their priorities,” she sighs, slumping onto the couch. The secretary smiles sympathetically, pulling up a screen with a string of ominous red text.

“Would you like me to terminate him, ma’am?”

“No, not yet. For all his incompetence, he is a decent scientist, and I do not feel like searching for a replacement. Besides, now that he has been reminded of his proper task, I have hopes that he will perform as expected.”

“Would you like me to update you on the progress of our experiments in the labs, or would you prefer that I continue to monitor the search for net 17-C?”

“There will likely not be news of net 17-C for a while, since I had to kickstart the research myself. Inform me of the progress on my experiments.”

“Of course, ma’am. Let me pull up the data. Which experiment would you prefer to receive an update for first?”

“Oh . . . how is the toxicity of that jelly-pufferfish hybrid coming along? Any promising results?”

“Efficacy appears to have increased by twenty percent since implementing the use of CRISPR technology you recommended, ma’am. You were correct, as always. The final round of animal testing is scheduled for later this week. Is this acceptable, or should we push it forward?”

“Hmmm . . . that timeline is acceptable, for now. Am I correct in assuming that plans are already underway for human trials?”

“I have reached out to the usual suppliers with our demands, ma’am. Still waiting for response.”

“How long?”

“Approximately twelve hours. I anticipate a response before twenty-four.”

“Satisfactory. If you do not receive one within that time frame, you may begin to initiate appropriate measures. On to the next.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The secretary dutifully runs through four or five more experiments in progress, most of which are still in the midst of animal testing, and a few experiments revolving around live specimens in captivity. “That just brings us to the results of the weather analysis you requested.”

“Ah, yes.” She sits up, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The weather patterns from the night that net 17-C was disrupted. Have you tracked the tidal movement?”

“I have, ma’am.”

“Accounting for wind and wave conditions?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What have you found?” Her eyes burn with the intensity of a supernova, and it is only through experience and practice that the secretary does not flinch under such a sight. She only swipes across the tablet to pull up a map of the shoreline and turns it around.

“With the greatest possible degree of scientific certainty, we believe that this area is the most likely place for net 17-C to have washed up.” Red slashes denote a stretch of beach around three miles long. She hums, poking at the tablet in the secretary’s hand.

“I trust you have done the cursory research? Who owns the property?”

“I encountered a brief legal snafu, but it was nothing I could not overcome. If I am not mistaken, the results should be coming in riiiiiiiight . . . now.” The tablet dings, and the secretary turns it around to inspect the property report she has received. She is unable to control her disgusted expression.

“What? You seem distressed.”

“It appears, ma’am, that the property in question, as well as all surrounding areas, is under the direct ownership of one Doctor Thomas Sanders.” She scowls, reaching to the bun in her hair and pulling out a hairpin. With precision efficiency, she whirls around and throws it towards the far wall. It impales itself neatly in the center of a cluster of small holes.

“That man has been a thorn in my side for far too long,” she snarls. “What with his insistence on preservation and rehabilitation and other such nonsense. The earth is at our disposal! Do we not have the right - nay, the responsibility - as scientists to advance human progress? If other creatures must suffer, they lack the cognizance to understand that they are sacrificed for the greater good. Humanity above all must progress.”

“Do you think he found net 17-C?” the secretary asks carefully.

And whatever it caught, she doesn’t say.

“It is possible. I know that he beachcombs with that brainwashed doctoral student he keeps on a leash after storms. It’s pathetic. The larger your heart, the smaller your brain. How that man acquired a doctorate will forever remain a mystery to me.”

“Would you like me to increase drone patrols near that section of ocean?”

“It can’t hurt. He doesn’t do enough deep-water research to notice them, as long as we are clever about it. Increase the frequency, and set up remote surveillance on his property. It’s fairly secluded, but we should be able to glean enough data if we’re careful.”

“And what sort of data are we looking for, ma’am?”

“I want the schedule of comings and goings from his house. If we can isolate times when the house is empty, it will allow us access to his laboratory. I am certain that if net 17-C truly did wash ashore on his property, Sanders will be attempting to rehabilitate whatever specimen we acquired. He is too soft for science.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

“I want you to set up the lab to receive new specimens.”

“Which lab, ma’am?”

“My personal lab. Whatever net 17-C managed to catch, it is clearly troublesome. It will require a firm hand to manage.”

The secretary is stunned, but doesn’t show it. “As you wish, ma’am. What type of specimen shall I prepare your lab for?”

“Anything in the sunfish to great white range. And prepare it for human containment as well.”

“Moving straight to human testing, ma’am?”

She grins, teeth flashing in the harsh afternoon sunlight. “Sanders stole something precious from me when he took net 17-C and whatever it contains. Let us see how well his soft heart reacts when he loses something precious to him, hmm?”

The secretary makes a note. “Shall I prepare the room for vivisection, ma’am?”

“Hmm . . . not yet. We shall hold off until we discover what exactly net 17-C caught. You are dismissed.”

“As you wish, ma’am.”

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil definitely feels much more comfortable now that Logan has clothing on. He also feels much more uncomfortable, because Logan and Roman are now fighting loudly. Patton is swimming around in his tank, fins swishing irritably, and the occasional grating melody floats up from the water, but neither merman seems to be listening.

“You seem to be doing just fine!” Roman snarls. All of his spines are standing straight up on end, and he looks like a sea urchin or a particularly enraged porcupine. Virgil would be laughing if he wasn’t completely terrified. “Not a care in the world about your precious fucking legs, is there?”

“I am just as upset over this as you are!” Logan snaps. He’s returned to sitting on the lab table, legs neatly folded underneath him (not without a significant amount of effort), and his hands are shaking as he balls them into fists. He’s staring in Roman’s direction, but his eyes are unfocused, probably due to his poor eyesight.

“Really? Because you certainly seem to be perfectly fine with the situation! You like the humans well enough to abandon your own pod for them?! Were you ever even part of this pod to begin with?!”

Logan’s spine stiffens, ramrod straight. Patton stops moving in his little tank. Virgil holds his breath and stands silent, making eye contact with an equally silent Thomas. “What?” Logan’s voice is so quiet that they can barely hear it, barely more than an exhale, but it echoes like a gunshot in the silence.

“You heard me,” Roman bites out viciously. “What would you know about pod? What do you know about family? Dad gave you everything and you’re willing to throw it away for - for these humans?! I guess it takes a human to know one, doesn’t it? You have a pod already, one that loves you more than anything , one that would have given up their own lives to get you back and then you abandon us for strangers?! How dare you?! How dare you give up on a pod that actually fucking wanted you?!”

There are tears streaming down Roman’s face; he grips the edge of the tank so hard that Virgil is legitimately concerned he’ll crack the glass. Water roars up from Patton’s tank in a coiled stream and smacks Roman’s head. The music picks up in tempo and volume, almost drowned by the harsh rasping undertones, and Virgil fights not to cover his ears.

Roman whirls around to stare at his father. “Dad, what the hell, what are you -”

A tail appears from Patton’s tank, light blue that shimmers rainbow beneath the fluorescent lights, and it slaps down against Roman. Virgil can’t stop himself from whimpering nervously when Roman’s agitated spines prick Patton. One spine even remains stuck in Patton’s tail when he pulls back, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

“How,” Logan says, “could you possibly interpret my curiosity and gratitude towards the humans who saved my life and my interest in a culture I know nothing about as abandonment? You have no idea how distraught I was when I realized where I had woken up! Just because these humans turned out to be relatively harmless does not mean that I do not still need my pod!” His voice is getting louder and higher and angrier, and he swallows hard before speaking again with a distinct tremor.

“I still need my big brother and my father, Roman. I was so happy when you and Dad came for me, I was so happy to know that my pod was going to protect me and bring me home. Are - are you telling me that . . . that I will not be able to return home with you after all? Are you kicking me out of -”

“NO!” The noise tears its way out of Roman’s throat, strangled and unnatural, and he grips his own hair so tightly he’s practically tearing it out. Logan reaches down hesitantly, gently touching Roman’s hands, and when his brother doesn’t react negatively he carefully disentangles Roman’s fingers from his hair.

“Roman,” Logan says softly. “I am right here. I will not leave you, Roman. I promise. I am sorry I scared you, but I will not abandon you. Not like they did.”

“Who?” Virgil asks softly. Roman’s spines ruffle again, but they soften enough for Logan to lean in and hug his brother. Roman pushes his face into the curve of Logan’s neck and shoulder, and a keening wail escapes the tight embrace. “Is he alright?”

“He will be,” Logan says softly, stroking his hand through Roman’s soaking wet hair. “And to answer your question, Roman has a . . . somewhat complicated past.”

“You don’t have to tell us anything that you don’t want to,” Thomas says. “You know that, right?” Logan nods, gently touching Roman’s shoulder.

“Roman? Thomas and Virgil are asking questions about the manner in which you found Patton when you were young. May I disclose this information?” Roman makes another sad noise, but he nods into Logan’s shoulder.

“Roman was born to a pod of mer with similar physiology to his own as far as coloring, build, size, detachable spines, and the like. Unlike them, however, Roman’s spines are poisonous. This is a rare trait, thought by his birth pod to be a curse from the Seven Mother Goddesses for some failing on the part of the guppy or the parents. Roman managed to successfully conceal his toxins for a while, but . . .”

“But not forever,” Virgil says softly. He rubs his left wrist, where a small rainbow-patterned bracelet is tightly tied. “Eventually, they found out. They always find out.” Thomas shoots him a concerned look out of the corner of his eye; Virgil steadfastly ignores it.

Logan nods quietly. “When Roman’s so-called ‘curse’ was discovered, his pod cast him out. They believed that getting rid of him would lift the curse the Seven Mother Goddesses had placed on them. All things considered, he was relatively lucky that his mother was the daughter of their pod leader.”

“She was? Does that make him some kind of prince or something?”

“No, but it did accord him a status and prestige that most mer do not have. The standard penalty for poisonous spines on a mer is death in Roman’s part of the ocean.”

“Death?”

“Indeed. Roman’s mother pleaded for leniency for her son, and Roman’s lucky to have received it. They abandoned him to fend for himself as a guppy. He was barely old enough to fend for himself, barely old enough to hunt and catch his own food, he - he was a guppy. He was just a guppy.” Logan’s voice shakes with anger as he speaks.

“How did he find Patton?”

“Dad was injured,” Roman rasps, face still hidden in Logan’s neck. “Humans on a boat. They - they fired a harpoon at him. It went through his chest, he - he couldn’t move to hunt. He was injured, he was dying, he . . .”

Patton rears up out of his tank, water surrounding his head and neck, and reaches out to touch Roman’s shoulder. Virgil can’t tear his eyes away from the pale starburst scar covering Patton’s chest. He’s littered with scars, some bigger than others, but the starburst on his chest is the most prominent, raised and ropey.

“I helped him,” Roman says. “I brought him food, I bandaged him up, I scared away as many predators as I could . . .”

Patton responds, squeezing his shoulder, before he sinks back into the tank. “When Dad recovered, he . . . he told me that he wanted me. I told him I was cursed, and he told me that . . . that I was special. That he wanted me. And he . . .”

Roman touches the band of light blue scales on his left bicep, the band that matches Logan’s arm and Patton’s tail. “He told me I belonged to him. That I was part of his pod now. Dad and Lo, they’re the only family I’ve known for centuries now. I love them. I . . . I can’t lose them. I can’t.”

“You will not lose me,” Logan says firmly. “I swear that I will not abandon you or Dad. I have never had a family before the two of you, and I never will again. You are so indescribably important to me that I cannot possibly begin to put into words how devastated I would be if I were to wake up and find out that you had abandoned me. I love you, Roman, and Dad.”

“I know that,” Roman rasps quietly. “I’m sorry I implied that you didn’t. I - I just - I was so -”

“I know,” Logan says. “I am not mad, Roman. Not anymore.”

“That’s why this whole thing happened,” Roman says. Virgil watches his hand curl into a fist on Logan’s back. “We were fighting, and I . . . made you mad at me, and that’s why you swam off. I . . . I can’t . . . I can’t wrap my head around losing you again, and having it be all my fault, again .”

“It was not your fault the first time,” Logan admonishes. “We were fighting because we can both be stubborn and hard-headed and unable to recognize the truth in the words of another. We are both to blame for the argument, but neither of us is to blame for what the humans did to me.”

Virgil’s gaze lingers on the freshly re-wrapped bandages covering what’s visible of Logan’s arms and legs and torso. When he’d grown legs, the wounds on his tail had transferred, and some of them had been reopened. Virgil had very deliberately not looked at Logan’s face when he cleaned the wounds.

“This is not your fault,” Logan says firmly, holding Roman tightly. “You are not to blame for what happened to me. I did not die, and I was not captured by humans who seek to exploit me. Thomas and Virgil rescued me.”

Roman turns his head from where it’s hidden in Logan’s shoulder to look at Virgil. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For saving my brother’s life. For bringing him off the beach and wrapping his wounds and cleaning the poison from his body. He would have died if you hadn’t saved him. I - I know that I’ve been . . . less than happy to see you, to be in your little fake oceans. I’ve had . . . bad experiences with humans in the past, so many, with so many different humans. But I . . . you . . . thank you. You and Thomas both, but . . . but I understand that you were the one who found him first. That you’ve been talking him through all of this. Thank you.”

Virgil reaches a hand forward. Roman flinches a little, but he slowly takes Virgil’s hand. His hand is wet and scaled, but when Virgil squeezes he squeezes back.

“You’re welcome,” Virgil says.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas says. “And all three of you are more than welcome to stay here in our lab until we catch whoever it is that set the net. You’re welcome to go and hunt in the waters off our property, and you can bring it back here for Logan to eat or we can bring in fish to feed him.”

Patton’s voice floats through the air again. “We . . . we think we would like that,” Roman says softly. “Very much.”

“Roman,” Logan says. Roman turns to look up at his younger brother, and Logan quietly says, “I intend to return here, once I am fully healed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Virgil is different to any other human I’ve ever encountered. Thomas as well. They are . . . strange. Tolerable. I would like to learn more about human customs, and I think that they can teach me. I would like to practice using my legs, so that I can interact more efficiently with humans. They can teach me to blend in more efficiently.”

“You would willingly come back here?” Roman says. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Sharkbait, what if something happens to you?”

“I would never let that happen,” Virgil says. Thomas raises an eyebrow, and Virgil quickly amends his statement. “ We would never let that happen. Doc and I, we won’t let anything happen to your brother.”

Roman frowns. “I still don’t like this. I don’t like the idea of you coming back to the human world, especially after what happened to you. Dad, what do you think?” Patton is quiet for a moment, swishing around in his tank, but when his voice is audible again it sounds firm, determined.

“What?!”

“What?” Virgil asks. “What did he say?”

“He . . . agrees with me,” Logan says, eyes wide and stunned. “He thinks it is a good idea that I learn to stay here and blend in with the humans. It would be a good idea in case we need to know what is happening in the human world. And he . . . he thinks I am capable of making my own decisions.” Roman looks extremely upset, but Patton is still speaking. He sounds a little softer now.

“Dad says that if you are agreeable with it, he and Roman might also return to visit,” Logan says. “He wants to know more about humans as well, and he trusts the two of you since you took care of me and helped him find me again.”

“I’m not opposed to it,” Thomas says. “We can learn from each other - we teach you about humans, you teach us about mer. Roman, we could start with you.” Roman tenses up immediately.

“Me? What do you mean, me?”

“The poison in your spines,” Thomas says, He turns to Virgil, a familiar didactic twinkle in his eye. “Any speculations, Virgil?”

Virgil hums, stepping over to the whiteboard and pulling a marker from his pocket. “It could be Mendelian inheritance. Poison could be a recessive gene, something that only occurs under a very specific set of genetic circumstances.”

“What does that mean?” Roman says, sounding a little less suspicious than before.

“There’s something inside you called DNA,” Virgil says, drawing a very basic helix on the whiteboard. “It makes up your blood and your cells and stuff, and it’s basically the pattern that your body uses to make itself. Your parents had the potential for poisonous spines, and the majority of your birth pod probably had it, too.”

“But only I have poison,” Roman says. “Why is that?”

“Look at it this way,” Virgil says. “You need at least two copies of a certain sequence or pattern in order to have poison in your spines. Your parents each had one copy, and most of the other mer in your pod either had one copy or no copies. You were born with two copies, so you have poison.”

“So . . . I’m not cursed?” Roman sounds like a small child, painfully hopeful, eyes wide and flickering between doubt and happiness.

“No, you are not,” Virgil says firmly. “You are not cursed in the slightest.”

“I never believed that you were cursed,” Logan says firmly. “Your poison is a gift, just like my electricity. It makes you a more efficient predator and offers you more protection.” Roman rolls his eyes and scoffs, but he still hugs Logan more tightly.

“Would you permit us to study your spines?” Thomas asks Roman. “I want to analyze your poison.”

“Will it hurt?” Roman asks.

“No. Your spines are detachable, right? You can fire them at will?”

“I can.”

“All you would have to do is fire a spine or two, and we could analyze it. It doesn’t have to be right now, you can think about it, but I promise you that it wouldn’t hurt you anymore than firing your spines normally would.” Roman nods at him, and Patton speaks again.

“Dad says you are more than welcome to study him, if you wish, so long as you tell him what you are doing beforehand and ask his permission.”

“Same goes for me,” Roman says quickly.

“Of course,” Thomas says. “We would never perform any sort of science without your explicit consent. That’s not how we operate. We’re ethical scientists. I’d have you sign consent forms if, y’know, you knew how to write.”

Virgil laughs a little, but Roman and Logan seem genuinely reassures. Roman presses close to Logan with a soft noise before slithering back into the water and submerging both of his sets of gills again.

Logan shifts his attention to Virgil. “I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like to see what my face looks like. Is there a way in which that could be made possible? I have seen my face when I still had my tail, in reflections on the surface of the water, but I can no longer feel the scales on my face. I suspect that my appearance has changed in more ways than just my legs.”

“I can get a mirror,” Virgil says. “Wait here, okay?” He hurries to his bedroom and grabs the small mirror he uses to put on his eyeshadow before running back down to the laboratory. “This should work.”

Logan takes the mirror and holds it close to his face, squinting. “He’s definitely nearsighted,” Thomas mutters, poking at his phone screen. “I wonder if there’s anything we can do about that . . .”

Virgil is distracted by the soft happy noise that Logan makes, nose pressed so close to the mirror it’s almost touching. “Virgil! Look at my face! We match now!”

“What?” Logan looks up, eyes gleaming, and touches his cheek and nose. Where he’d previously had a mask-like band of dark blue scales (which Virgil suspects might double as electroreceptors), there is now a band of dense freckles. They thin on his forehead, clustering thickest under his eyes and splashed across the bridge of his nose.

“I have brown face scales just like you!” Logan’s joy is almost palpable, and his eyes are wide and sparkling. He is full of a pure, childlike wonder, and Virgil can’t stop the laughter bubbling up in his chest from flying through his throat and spilling into the air.

“They’re called freckles,” Virgil says happily, “and you’re right. We do match.”

“I am very happy that I match the first nice human I have ever met,” Logan says, grinning widely. Virgil can’t stop himself from smiling back, even with Thomas’s mocking facial expressions in the corner of his eye.

Yeah, he’s pretty damn happy about it, too.

#starshinewrites #lovely dark and deep #ldad #romantic analogical #sanders sides #platonic TLAMP

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years

Text

Just this one time (Steve Rogers x Reader - College!AU)

Request: Hey love I see that you are taking requests and I’m just in desperate need of a college au Steve Rogers moment lmaoo💀 maybe they’re best friends and there’s like this party that’s coming up and she dresses to the nines and was planning to confess her feelings there but sees him with another girl but happy ending and lots of fluff please | Or maybe a steve Rogers fic based on the song are you bored yet by wallows (by @jazzzhargrove), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Steve & you have been roommates for two years now. You were best friends even though you have started to develop a crush on him. One day, Steve asks you to accompany him to a party of one of your friends. You agree, planning on confessing your feelings for him. At the party, a bad surprise awaits you…

Words: 4,310

Warnings: slow burn? (idk man, I didn’t mean for it to be this long), lack of experience when it comes to college (pls don’t blame me), Steve going from angel to devil to angel, a bit of angst, happy ending (I swear)

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

College. You imagine something when you hear this, am I right? Like, the cliché teenage movies with not enough budget that make you think you know what college is like. You were thinking the exact same not too long ago. Now you were here & nope, it was nothing like you ever imagined.

A bit over 2 years ago, you graduated from high school. Finally. You hated that place. The only reason you continued going there was because you wanted to get a well paid job in the future. Yeah, it was a hell ride but you made it out alive. Time to focus on college.

The first real problem had begun before your actual classes had started. Living far away from college meant that you had to live somewhere on the campus. You looked at the rent & almost shitted yourself. There was no way you could pay for this on your own. Your parents already made sure to pay your college tuitions so you could not ask them for more. So you decided to use your twitter account for something important for once. You sent out a tweet, asking if anyone would be interested in sharing an apartment near your college, preferably someone who studied there as well. Not too long after that you got a private message from the account @steve_rogers. He said that he was interested in moving in with you since he could not afford an apartment himself. Before you wrote him back, though, you checked out his account, making sure it was not a kidnapper or someone like that. His tweets seemed truthfully & he was of equal age. Perfect, right? You replied with an address of a coffeeshop near the campus & told him to meet you there. Two days later, you guys were sitting there, drinking a coffee & planning everything out. You were happy that he really was a Steve Rogers who would be studying at a college & not a…50-year old creep. What was even better was that this Steve was handsome as hell & had the personality of an angel. You also found out that he would be studying the same thing as you, Fine Art. He would be a good roommate. The two of you exchanged numbers before saying goodbye so you could stay in contact & ask if more questions appeared. You were happy. You found someone trustworthy who would share an apartment with you. That meant that both, Steve & you, had enough money to pay for the rent & to have leisure, too. You could not wait to move in & start your college-journey.

A month later, your parents rented you a truck to move all of your stuff into your new apartment. You were so excited. Not only for your new home but also because you would be meeting Steve again. Ever since the coffeeshop, the two of you had been texting & calling each other all the time. At first, it was simply because of your apartment but after some time, you just started talking casually & became fast friends. Steve told you he was already at your new home & told you you would love it. The drive seemed to last forever but eventually, you arrived. Steve was already waiting for you outside, wanting to help you with all of your boxes. You got out of your car, sprinted towards him & hugged him like you had known him forever. Weird…you had never had such a connection with someone. This was the start of a great friendship, you were sure.

*Present Day*

What's wrong? You've been asking but I don't have an answer How come? I'm still thinking, let's pretend to fall asleep now When we get old, will we regret this? Too young to think about all that shit And stallin' only goes so far when you've got a head start

“(Y/N)?“ Steve screamed from the bathroom. He always did that. “You know you can still ask me when you finish showering, yeah?“ you screamed back. “That’s not as much fun, though.“ he answered. You shook your head & let out a low chuckle.

A few minutes later, Steve exited the bathroom, wearing just a white towel which hung low on his hips. He did that so casually, like it was the most normal thing on earth. You wished he would not have this effect on you. When did you catch feelings for him? You were not sure. All you knew was that he acted like the best friend you had always craved. Why did you have a crush on him? You would never make a move though, not wanting to ruin your friendship. He did not like you that way, you were certain. He was just nice, that was his personality. He treated everyone like that.

“(Y/N)?“ Steve asked again. “Yeah, Steve, I heard you the first time.“ you said, trying to look at his face ,& not to his white towel, which was incredibly hard at that moment. Staring would make everything even weirder. “Trevor is having this big party tonight & he asked me to come.“ Steve looked into your (Y/E) eyes. Why did he tell you? It was not like you attended parties that often. He was someone who enjoyed these “college activities“ but you always got overwhelmed with big crowds. Steve knew this though. Usually, whenever someone had asked him to come to a party & you had told him you did not want to go, then he had always stayed with you at your room.

'Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset But I can't help from asking, "Are you bored yet?" And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me Before this ends up as another memory Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie? Will you tell the truth so I don't have to lie?

“Um…okay? And?“ confusion was written all over your face. What was his intention? The two of you made plans earlier, wanting to stay in to study together. “Well, I wanted to ask you if you wanna accompany me. Trevor would be fine with it, I’m sure.“ he scratched his neck, knowing damn well that you never were in a party mood. “Are you serious? I thought we’d study tonight? We have very important exams coming up, y’know.“ you tried reasoning. “I know, I know & I’m sorry but I canceled Trever so many times & he insists on me coming.“ Steve came a little closer, your eyes still focused on his. “Okay, then go? I’m not gonna force you to stay with me. Go & have some fun, we’ll study on another day.“ you tried to keep up your strong voice but deep down you were kind of disappointed. You were looking forward to tonight. Your late night study sessions always ended with extremely serious conversations & then with popcorn & a movie. “Nah…um, I actually want you to go with me. I really don’t wanna show up alone. Come on, please? Just this one time, I swear!“ he pleaded. Steve said he did not want to show up alone but in reality he just wanted to spend time with you & wanted to show you off. You guys were not a thing yet but every person saw that you were pretty close & assumed that you soon would be dating. Maybe you were just too oblivious to see it. “I haven’t been to a party in forever. I don’t even know if I have the right clothes. I don’t wanna look like an outsider.“ “You always look perfect, though.“ the second he said this, he started blushing. You did not realize & he continued. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Besides, I’m not gonna leave you there alone. We’re gonna stay together & if you wanna go back to our apartment, then I’m gonna go with you.“ you smiled at his words. Did he even know that his words affected you that way? Maybe he was being sincere & you were the only person who heard him say such cute words. On the other hand…was this not just his personality?

You agreed on accompanying Steve but only because of one reason. Tonight was finally the time you would confess your feelings for him. The party was in a few hours & Steve decided he would go back to the library for a while to start studying. He needed a bit more time to get everything into his head than you. “See ya!“ you screamed at Steve while he left your apartment. Enough time to make yourself look presentable for tonight. You wanted to impress him, to let him know you were this dressed up only because of him. Still, you could not exaggerate. Staying true to yourself was one of your priorities but you got this.

At first, you took a long shower, washing your hair. Stepping out, you dried yourself off with a towel. For now, you stripped over one of Steve’s shirts. Sometimes, when he was not looking, you would go to his dresser & grab some shirts. He never cared too much, saying they looked better on you anyway. After the bathroom, you went over to your bedroom. Back then, Steve let you grab the bigger room because he knew how much you loved a lot of space. You sat down at your white dressing table. It was a mess, as always. You put makeup on every single day, there was no need for you to move the stuff back to its place. This way, you could find the needed products faster. You wanted to impress Steve, yeah, but you never went crazy with your makeup so you would do a tiny bit more than your daily look. It took you longer than usual, wanting to make everything as perfect as possible. In your eyes you succeeded. For your hair, you decided on (fav/hairstyle). The mirror showed your reflection & for once you were content with what you saw. Steve had come back by now but he did not want to bother you in your room. He simply went back to his own bedroom, deciding it would be time to get ready for the party himself. Now, you were standing in front of your closet, unsure of what you wanted to pick. You searched through everything but nothing seemed to fit. Great, what would you do now? Shortly before you wanted to give up & tell Steve you could not go, your eyes skimmed over a black dress at the back of your closet. You almost forgot about this one. Your hand grabbed the hanger & examined the dress. It was short but not too short. You had worn it once, when your mom went shopping with you & kind of forced you to try it on. She bought it for you, saying it would come in handy one day. Bless her, she was right. You stripped the black fabric on & went over to your floor-length mirror. The dress hugged your figure perfectly. You almost could not believe that the person in the mirror was you. A smile spread across your face. Tonight was your night.

“Sweetheart? It’s time. Trevor called me. He said there are already a bunch of people. Are you ready?“ Steve knocked at your door. He was not sure if he could come in or not so he stayed outside. He did not want to walk in on you changing or something. “A second!“ Steve heard your hurried steps. You grabbed your black shoes, put them on & walked over. Then you opened the door & he was shocked. He had seen you in dresses & all but this time? This felt different. You saw his stare & smiled at the floor, suddenly not sure if you looked good anymore. Steve answered your question before you could say anything. “Wow…You look…You look gorgeous. I mean, you always do but this, um, you know I-“ he stuttered. Did you just make him embarrassed? To stop him, you simply answered. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.“ you smirked & looked him up & down. He was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, a pair of jeans & his go-to black vans. How did he look this good while literally wearing the most basic clothes on earth? “Ma’am?“ he faked an accent, holding out a hand for you to grab. You laughed at him, took his hand & let him lead you to his car. Trevor’s party was at his house, his parents were away on a business trip. Arriving at Steve’s car, he opened your door because, duh, he is a gentleman. All you could do was smile at him. The butterflies got more & more present. Stupid, stupid crush. You did not even noticed that Steve got in the car too, starting it & driving away. He was never the biggest fan alcohol & neither were you so you trusted him with driving. Shortly after, you came to a stop in front of a big house. Even though Trevor & you had been friends for some time now, you had never been to his home. You were impressed. Steve helped you out of the car but he did not stop holding your hand. He was the cutest. This had to mean something, right? As the two of you walked in, hand in hand, you could already smell the alcohol from everywhere. Looking around, you saw many people already being too drunk to realize a thing. It was barely 10 pm. That was one reason why you did not like parties. There were so many people, you were glad Steve was still holding your hand, otherwise you would have lost him. Where he was going? You did not know. Though he turned around, screaming something at you, you could not hear anything. The music was blasting way too loud. People really liked that? Suddenly you came to a stop. The music was a bit quieter, thank god, & Steve talked to someone. You looked over to find Trevor. As soon as he saw you, he took you in for a hug. Yeah, he had been drinking. He was not someone who would hug you. Nevermind, you still hugged him back. Trevor said how happy he was that you both could make it & that you should feel like home. Feeling like home? That was a bit hard with this crowd around but you tried. You looked over your shoulder for a second, thinking you heard someone say your name. Apparently you misheard someone because nobody was behind you. Turning back, Trevor was gone. Where did he go? It did not matter. At least you had Steve next to you still. You would literally die without him here.

“Hey, let’s head outside, yeah? Trevor said it’s more fun out there.“ Steve looked at you, letting go of your hand. Suddenly you felt cold. Why did he let go? “Um…sure.“ you followed him outside, making sure not to lose him. You were not sure anymore. Did he like you more than a friend? Maybe you were too embarrassing to show around at a party. He said he wanted you to come, right? You should not stress about it too much. Arriving outside, you could feel a cold breeze hitting your skin. It was quite nice though, fresh air. You could not help but feel a bit lost, even next to Steve. You went to grab his hand again, wanting to feel his comfort but as soon as your fingertips touched him he moved his hand into his pocket, avoiding your gaze. Was that a coincidence? Or did he not want to hold your hand anymore? You were confused & you frowned. Maybe tonight was not your night after all. You were lost in thought until someone bumped into you. “Ssssorry.“ a drunk male said, well…tried to, at least. You were glad he did not have a drink he spilled over you. Your dress, your look in general, was still intact. “No problem.“ you hoped he would just leave again. You definitely were not in the mood for this. As soon as you turned around to tell Steve you would like to leave you were shocked to not find him next to you anymore. Where was he? He promised you to stay with you the entire time. Great. Just great. Looking around, you tried finding him which was a bit hard because of the large crowd. He was not outside. Walking back inside, you tried finding someone you knew from your classes but without success. Trevor was not in sight either. You started panicking. Steve knew how much you despised this.

Feels like I've known you my whole life I can see right through your lies I don't know where we're going But I'd like to be by your side If you could tell me how you're feeling Maybe we'd get through this undefeated Holding on for so long

You had been looking for him for 30 minutes now. He did not pick up his phone & neither did he answer your texts. Deciding you would give it one more try, you started wandering around inside the house yet again. At the corner of your eye you saw a broad figure, a dark blue sweatshirt. Finally, you thought. You took a closer look. No, this could not be. This was Steve, locking lips with some bitch. Was he serious? Tears started welling up in your eyes. He wandered off to kiss a random girl? You thought you knew him well but apparently you were wrong. Steve tried fighting off the girl who just came at him & started kissing him. What the fuck? She obviously never heard of consent. He opened his eyes to push her away only to find you a few feet away from him, obviously upset. He could see your tears. No, no, no. By the time he managed to push the girl off & told her it was completely dumb what she just did because she was obviously drunk, you were already out of sight. Fuck, he lost you. Of course it looked like he was kissing her. He needed to explain himself but he could not find you anywhere. Your phone was not on, making it impossible for him to reach you. After seeing Steve kissing this girl, you started running. You did not want to cry but you were so angry at him & yourself. He saw you as a friend, that was it. Why could you not see this before? Before you even knew where your feet dragged you, you were stood in front of your apartment door. Did you just run the entire way back home? You were tired, you wanted nothing more than to take off your makeup & that stupid dress. Your bed was waiting for you. After ridding yourself from your shoes, makeup & dress, you threw on your pajama. You usually wore Steve’s shirt but tonight, you did not want to smell his cologne. All you wanted to do is put your blanket over your head & try to forget all that had happened. No matter how hard you tried, the tears kept streaming down your cheeks.

Steve searched the entire house & the garden for you but you where nowhere to be found. He knew how you acted at parties, especially when you where alone so he started to panic slightly. Trevor was in the entrance hall & Steve walked over to him. “Dude, hey! Why did (Y/N) leave earlier? I thought you drove her here?“ Trevor managed to speak out. He was done for tonight, that was sure. “Fuck.“ Steve whispered. “She ran outta the door? Did she say where she was heading?“ Steve’s heartbeat got faster & faster. He fucked up big time. “Yeah, sure, because she had the energy to talk to me while she was literally bawling her eyes out.“ Gosh, Trevor’s sarcasm when he was drunk was the worst. Steve wished he could slap him but there were more important things to do. You. The only thing that made sense to him was you running back to your shared apartment. Even though the both of you had been living there for two years, you still were not that familiar with the neighborhood. You would never run into the dark without knowing where to go. Steve was still sober, he got into his car & drove back home, hoping he would find you there. There was light radiating from your windows which meant that you where inside. Steve let out a sigh, his heartbeat slowly going back to normal. Now the only thing he had to do was explaining himself to you. He had to confess, otherwise you would think the absolute worst of him, if you did not already.

You did not hear the main door opening, too lost in your thoughts. Your tears had dried by now but you were exhausted. Falling asleep was not an option though, you were overthinking. A knock on your door startled you. “(Y/N).“ Steve whispered, leaning his forehead on your door. He closed his eyes, hoping you would answer. Hell, he would wake you if you were asleep already. His instinct told him that you were not but he did not get an answer either. Nevertheless, he slowly opened your door. You thought that if you kept silent he would go away again. There was no way you could face him right now. Steve knew you better than anyone. You were not sleeping so he walked over to your bed, sitting down at the edge of it. It was now or never. Steve’s hand moved to your blanket, pulling it off of you. His heart broke at your sight. You had been crying because of him. You were feeling like this because of him. Your eyes were open, looking up at him through your lashes.

„Sweetheart?“ one of his hands started caressing your cheek & you were too tired to tell him to stop. “Please don’t sweetheart me. Not after what happened.“ your voice broke while trying to talk to him. You hated being so weak in front of him but you could not hide anymore. He had hurt you, a lot. “If you could just let me explain…“ “Go ahead then, it’ not like I should care, right?“ you slightly chuckled but Steve could hear the pain behind it. “I know you wanted to hold my hand back then. I only put it in my pocket because I didn’t want it to happen at a crappy party with drunk crackheads everywhere.“ that made you smile a bit so Steve continued. “I looked around for a nice, quiet place & then suddenly Dylan dragged me back inside even though I told him you were still outside. He told me it wouldn’t take long but I shouldn’t have trusted him.“ you rose up to sit in front of him, feeling a bit better. “It’s Dylan, what did you expect?“ you told Steve with a chuckle, an honest one this time. “You’re right…“ Steve chuckled. “Anyway, he simply wanted me to meet his new boyfriend aka a complete stranger he had met 2 hours prior. When I told him I need to head back to you I couldn’t find you anymore. So I assumed you went looking for me so I went looking for you. Now, sweetheart, I need you to look at me when I say this.“ he lifted your chin so your (Y/E) were locked on his blue ones. You nodded for him to continue. “Suddenly, this drunk girl came running at me, saying how much she missed me. She called me her boyfriend, Max, so I knew she was completely wasted. Before I could tell her that I am not her lost boyfriend, she started kissing me. She caught me off guard but as soon as I realized what was going on, I tried pushing her away. You had already seen me, though. (Y/N), I didn’t kiss her. Why would I ever kiss someone like her? I only wanna kiss one person & this someone is sitting right in front of me.“ he finished. Did he just? “W-What? Did yo-“ but before you could finish, Steve pulled you closer to him, putting his lips onto yours. You had dreamed for so long & it was finally happening. Steve & you were kissing each other & it felt like everything the two of you had ever imagined. As you broke apart to breath again, he kept staring into your eyes & rested his forehead against yours. “(Y/N), sweetheart, I love you, only you.“ his voice was barely above a whisper, making sure you were the only one who heard him even though it was just you two. Your eyes filled with tears again but this time because of pure happiness. It was your plan to confess to him tonight but who thought this night would end this way? “I love you too, Steve.“ you kissed him again, this time with more passion to let him know how long you had waited to do this. He stripped off his sweatshirt & jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. At first you were confused. What did he have in mind? But the second he laid down next to you, spooning you, you new what his intention was. He wanted to stay with you for the night & you were not complaining. Steve & you fell asleep, cuddling, relieved that this night, in the end, would be life-changing for the both of you.

Published 04/15/2020 by Cathy

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matildashoney · 4 years

Text

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Six

MASTERLIST

MOODBOARD // PREV/IEW(S) // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @cock-a-doodely-doo

WARNING: CHAPTER INCLUDES SEXUAL CONTENT.

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

Sunday Dinner.

One day a week that was designated for the family to gather around – especially now that two out of three of the children have left the nest – and have a nice, home-cooked dinner and dessert and a film that everyone has seen one too many times.

Mom and Dad’s house never changed. Always the same tinted beige on the siding, a gentle baby blue shutter outside every window, the colourful florals filling the boxes on the top floor. Dad wanted the Southern Charm. Mom wanted a taste of Paris. They settled on something near California twang. On the interior, Mom made home. All of the walls decorated with family portraits and your paintings and the photographs that Grandma gave her on her very last visit. All of it – the cracks in the wood, the chips in the paint, crooked frames – was home.

Dad and Brandon are in the living room, Mom outside tending to the garden of vegetables that would begin blooming in the near future, Phoebe in her bedroom talking about something One Direction-related obnoxiously.

Hiding Harry – and the relationship she has with him – away from Phoebe might be the hardest part.

“Hello, hello,” Mom quips as Amelie walks inside, toeing her shoes at the carpet and laying her bag on the makeshift table, the golden trotting to her side to greet her. “Dad’s in the living room with B. Phoebe is upstairs. Have everything almost done!”

Mom is clad in her favourite Sunday Outfit – the necessarily painted jeans, a white blouse, and her favourite slippers that she purchases from a tiny shop in the outskirts of Paris every time she visits home. Her hair is greying ginger, and although she loves it, she refuses to colour it. Makes me feel wise, sweetheart.

“Mama,” Amelie says hesitantly, kissing her cheek, sitting on the chipping barstools – her idea was that every year her children would repaint their barstool, and eventually all the paint would become an eclectic memory – and taking a sliver of the tomato chopped on the cutting board, “j'ai besoin de votre aide pour quelque chose.”

Mama, I need your help with something.

Mom sets the knife down, her palms flat on the counter, her light green eyes staring into her daughter’s. “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”

“Know how I told you that I started seeing someone,” Amelie begins, her heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks flushed with her anxiety and the anticipation. “He’s in Melbourne, right now. He’ll be there for Valentine’s Day.”

“Okay,” Mom urges, her attention moving to the exaggerated shouting in the living room from her husband and eldest.

“I,” she stutters, her palms sweaty and sticking to her jeans, her tongue wetting her chapped lips, “I think I want to go see him.”

“Chéri,” Mom coos, walking around the counter and settling on the stool nearest to her, taking her hands in hers and drawing circles with her thumbs, “qui est ce garçon?”

“His name is Harry,” she murmurs, laying her phone on the counter and showing her their favourite picture from his birthday a week earlier. “He’s on tour.”

Mom’s eyes are wide, fully aware of who Harry is. Her mouth is slightly agape, her hand covering her parted lips as she stares at the picture – Harry kissing Amelie’s cheek, his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands covering her eyes. Her cheeks shade a light pink, her sigh sounding in a tone of awe.

“That’s the Harry from Phoebe’s band, yeah? One Direction,” Mom says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, ensuring that her youngest wouldn’t hear and interrupt the conversation. “Comment as-tu réussi ce coup, mon amour?”

“No idea, Mama,” she sighs, a smile tugging at her lips as his contact swipes across the screen with a message. “He’s so good to me.”

Good morning, doll. Have fun at family dinner. Call me when you’re home. x

“You love Harry,” Mom smiles, kissing her hair sweetly, standing from the crooked stool and reaching for her laptop, opening the screen and gathering all the information for a flight. “Nona did this for me, especially when Dad flew to North Carolina for that film. Great Grandma did that Nona when she wanted to take the train to Papa in Paris for the weekend.”

“Didn’t know that Nona took a train to Paris for Papa,” Amelie murmurs, typing in the information for the airport that Glenne had given her the day before. “You flew to North Carolina for Dad.”

“Il faut savoir ce que tu veux et aller le chercher, chérie.” Mom pokes her head into the living room, Dad grinning ear to ear to see her, Brandon waving towards her as Daisy nudges at his hand to pet her. “En utilisant la carte de crédit, mon amour.”

“Okay,” Dad hums, standing to give her a kiss. “Guessing by how quiet you are, I shouldn’t say anything to Phoebe or B.”

“Our secret,” Mom smirks, kissing his cheek sweetly. “Doing what Mama asked us to do like they did for us. Giving her a chance.”

“Good.” Dad squeezes her into a hug, Mom melting into him. “Hi, honeybee.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Oh mon Dieu,” Mom squeaks, rushing to the stove and quieting the heat, ensuring that the meal wouldn’t burn. “All the time.”

“J'ai failli brûler sa cuisine la semaine dernière,” she giggles, shaking your head at the memory. “Not fully burnt down, but I definitely burnt our chicken and ordered us pizza, instead.”

“Happens to the best, and worst, of us.”

“No longer allowed in his kitchen unless I’m supervised,” she laughs, her attention turning to the doorway where her youngest sister stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “Oh, what’s wrong, Pheebs? You look like someone told you a concert got cancelled.”

“Have a show on Valentine’s Day and Cassie was supposed to livestream and apparently the internet in the arena is being worked on,” Phoebe sighs, hugging her momentarily and settling onto the stool beside her, her eyes squinting suspiciously as she closes her phone and lays it beneath her thigh. “Cancelled going to a party so I could watch with Cass.”

“Can’t you still go to the party? Not like you were uninvited,” she reasons, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest with anxiety.

Does Phoebe know already?

“Guess so,” she sighs frustratedly, shaking her head and heaving a breath with annoyance. “I’ll probably stay home and wait for updates, anyways.”

Mom’s eyes meet hers, Have you told her?

Of course not, she mouths, forcing a smile as her younger sister takes the cutlery and sets it along the table.

“God, you’ve gotten weirder since you turned twenty.”

Have to tell her soon, Mom whispers, kissing Phoebe’s hair as she takes the decorated plates and begins laying each on their designated mat – the ones that we painted every year that we needed a new change in the kitchen aura – to accompany the meal.

Know that and I will, she swears, her eyes meeting her younger sister and opening her arms for a hug, smiling as she stalks towards her with a pout on her lips. “I’m sure someone will livestream the show, Pheebs.”

“I’m just annoyed,” she grumbles, leaning her cheek on her sister’s shoulder and having her arms hang loosely around her torso. “Can I be an adult already and get to travel to see all of my favourite shows whenever I want, already?”

“Don’t think that’s how it works,” Amelie hums, stifling her laughter against her hand, her lips tucking into her mouth to mask your smile.

“Harry would probably pay for his girlfriend’s flight to visit him. Niall, too,” she groans. “That is such an unfair thing. There is someone out there that gets to love Harry Styles.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Enough with the impending doom until after supper, Phoebe,” Mom muses, shaking her head and walking into the living room to tell Dad and B. Her wink towards her telling her that she could see the anxiety on her face, encouraging her to relax.

Having – more or less – hippies as a mother and father, Family Dinner is certainly something other than functional and orderly.

Mom talks about the novel she sent to the editor earlier in the week, one more approval needed to finalise one section of the publication contract. Dad mentions in passing that he has to be at a film set early in the morning for the promotional campaign shoot. Heads turn as Brandon brings up asking Autumn – his girlfriend since the age of thirteen – to marry him. Phoebe complains about not seeing Harry and Niall as soon as she wanted. Congratulations ensued as Amelie mentions that the mural at the bakery is complete and perfected.

I’ll take you to the airport, Mom whispers as Amelie hugs her goodbye. Her petite body wraps tightly around hers, squeezing her tightly. You should tell Phoebe before someone else tells her.

Calling Harry on her way home, her mind is racing with all that her mother said, all that her sister said, all that she has to be done before she leaves in a mere three days.

Harry talks quietly in the background as she readies herself for the night, her hair strung in a towel and one of the band’s tour shirts clinging to her damp skin, her lips coated with her – and his – favourite chapstick. He mentions the flowers that are outside his hotel, how the season is so much brighter than London. He asks about Mom and Dad, Phoebe and Brandon. One day I’ll bring you out here, Harry says.

All that replays in her mind is her mother’s words, and the flight confirmation sitting in her email.

Have to know what you want and get it, honey.

/ / /

“Welcome to Melbourne,” the flight attendant announces on the speaker, the lights slowly beginning to brighten and wake the sleeping guests scattered about the plane. Amelie’s carry on is tucked in the overhead bin, an older gentleman offering to get it for her as she struggled to reach.

If Harry was here, he’d be making fun of you for being too short.

Amelie sinks into Harry’s sweatshirt, smirking at the fact that her father would be seething with her wearing a Greenbay Packers anything. Her fingers quickly type on the screen, Harry’s name with an accompanying picture at the centre.

Need your hotel and room number, please and thank you. Don’t ask questions.

Harry takes a minute to respond and Amelie can see the expression on his face, the furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, his bottom lip pulled between his fingertips.

The Langham, Room 702. I’m about to get in the shower. Should I stay out a bit longer?

Her mouth curves into a smile as she notices a bouquet selection near the exit. Her attention immediately goes to the sunflowers and daisies in the corner, paying and quickly making her way outside to meet the security guard that Niall arranged with her.

Give it like twenty minutes.

His response comes immediately, the suspicion evident in his text. He doesn’t question her, simply responding and taking a seat on the unmade bed. He shuts the water in the shower, heaving a breath and sinking into the mattress, trying to think through everything.

Alright.

Laying there is unbearable, Harry standing up and beginning to pace around his bedroom nervously. He can’t quite grasp the idea of her coming to Melbourne. That would be simply impossible with university and the artwork projects and family dinners.

That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?

Although unlikely, twenty minutes felt like hours. Harry wasn’t a patient person. He became bored easily and the idea of having to wait for something his girlfriend was surprising him with, and being without a single idea, gave him a headache.

His ears perk to the knocking on his suite door, quiet chatter outside, his feet padding against the carpet and his hands yanking a stray shirt over his naked torso. His chest deflates at the sight of Niall holding a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies – certainly from her.

“How–”

“Quite the selection they have at the airport,” Amelie squeaks, laying her miniature knapsack against the wall and smiling, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his arms circle her waist, squeezing her into him as tightly as physically possible. “Harry, I can’t breathe.”

“Bye, you two,” Niall smirks, handing Harry the bouquet and turning to return to his suite.

Harry chuckles, releasing his grip on her slightly, taking the bouquet from his friend and nudging her bag inside with his foot, his arm continuing to stay wrapped around her and hugging her to his chest. “Sorry, I’ve just missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” she whispers, closing the door behind her, his cheeks taken in her hands, her lips moulding to his and soaking in his kiss, the bouquet set on the nearby table, his fingertips gripping her hips. “Glad you didn’t shower and leave me out there.”

“Would never do that to you,” he smirks, his thumbs tracing her bottom lip, stealing a kiss innocently. “Can’t believe you’re here.”

“One very long flight later,” she smirks, kissing his cheek and jaw sweetly, her arms squeezing him tighter in her embrace. “Good thing I sleep on planes.”

“Forty fucking hours, love,” Harry whispers, gently nudging her cheek, his mouth moulding onto hers and savouring the way she kisses him.

Amelie smiles against his lips, obsessed with the way his reaction made her heart swell against her chest and heat radiate on her skin. “Considering I can wake up with you on Valentine’s Day, it’ll be worth it.”

“Tell me you didn’t bring that knapsack and that’s it.”

“Had to check into m’room and shower, first,” she says, lightly tugging on the curls and kissing the vein in his neck, smiling at his moan as her lips touch the centre and nip at his skin. “All of m’stuff is there.”

“You’re not staying in another room,” Harry breathes shakily, his hands travelling across her hips and squeezing her bum. “You’ll stay with your boyfriend.”

“Know that but I needed to get here without you finding out,” she smirks, a heavy breath leaving her lips as his mouth begins mapping kisses along her neck, biting into the skin and marking her, their bodies walking backwards into the bedroom, his hands gently nudging her against the wall.

“Must’ve cost loads,” Harry mutters, his lips sweetly kissing her jaw. “You’re not allowed to buy another plane ticket to see me. I’ll get it.”

“Can thank Mom for me being here,” Amelie sighs, adoring the feeling of his mouth on her, the way his fingertips dig into her hips, holding her tightly to him. “Bought m’flight and all that. Came from a whole story about women in m’family travelling for their men. Apparently, it’s a thing they do. Take chances on nice guys, and all that.”

“Oh,” Harry smirks cockily at that, his teeth dragging her bottom lip as he kisses her hungrily, the briefs beginning to feel all too tight against his cock and tensing thighs. “’m a nice guy to take a chance on, then?”

“Think so,” Amelie moans, her eyelashes laying against her cheeks, all her thoughts hyper-focused on Harry’s hands trailing beneath her – his – sweatshirt, his thumbs tracing over the curves of her breasts. “Can feel you trying to distract me about the flight.”

“Give up on paying for your next flight,” Harry says sternly, silently praising the way there wasn’t a lacy bralette to get in his way. “Quicker you do that, quicker you’ll have the best shag of your life on that unmade bed, over there.”

“Fine.”

“My sweatshirt, hm?” Harry smirks, gently taking the material and tossing it onto the carpet, the cotton leggings adoring her hips rubbing uncomfortably against his hips. Her lips suck at the skin on his collarbone, the skin bright red and adorning a temporary mark.

“You left it,” Amelie mutters against him. Her thighs tense at the feeling of his fingertips ghosting across the lace waistband of her panties, his thumbs tucked into the material and dragging it slightly. “Harry.”

“Did it on purpose.” Harry nudges Amelie against the mattress, her cheeks flushing as his eyes travel along her body, taking in every inch of her figure, the curves and the tattoos and the lines that make her. “Up,” he murmurs, smiling as she lifts her hips and her panties accompany the clothing on the ground.

Harry kisses her inner thighs sweetly, coaxing her to relax with his touch. He gently massages her hips, smiling against her skin as she breathes out an airy moan, her fingertips curling through his hair, his arms tucked under her bum to have her core meet his mouth. He lays his tongue against her heat, savouring the way she tastes so sweet, his lips suckling on her clit the way she loves.

Amelie’s moans spur him further, the moans vibrating against her making the orgasm overwhelm her senses. His fingertips tease her heat, gently inching into her and curling against the velvet walls that squeeze him, the sucking against the nerves between her thighs having her chase her orgasm with white vision and moans.

His tongue continues to lay on her heat, taking her orgasm and humming with the taste, his fingertips between his lips to have all of her. His smirk is enough to make her squeeze her thighs together, the way he is so happy to please her making her want to have him again and again and again. He sponges kisses along her inked thighs and belly, teasingly biting her nipples as his mouth works his way back to hers.

“Get on the bed,” Amelie tells him, her jaw clenched as Harry smirks and tosses the remaining clothes on his torso. “Don’t smirk at me like that.”

“Not doing anything,” Harry smirks, his cheeks tinging pink as Amelie manoeuvres around him and settles between his thighs. “Gon’a kill me looking at me like that.”

Her fingertips ghost across his thighs, her lips touching his skin, smirking against him as his hand gently takes her hair away from her face. Her tongue wets her skin, her hand gently wrapping around his cock, her thumb spreading the arousal around his shaft, his breathy moans echoing around her.

Amelie slowly eases over him, hollowing her cheeks and sucking, her tongue swirling around his throbbing tip the way he loves, her hand pumping all that she couldn’t take. Her fingertips squeeze his hip, his arousal and orgasm beginning to taste on her tongue.

“God, this is so much better than me trying to pretend it’s you,” Harry moans, his head rolling onto the pillow as her innocent eyes meet his.

“Oh, baby, you think about me,” Amelie hums, the vibrations making his hips ache and thrust into her mouth.

Harry groans as she takes all of him, his cock hitting her throat and her tongue taking his arousal. “Certainly, don’t think about m’hand.” His orgasm is reaching him quickly, his panting rapid and causing his chest to heave. “Need to be in you, doll.”

Amelie smirks, kissing the inked thigh and laying her lips across his heated skin. Harry squeezes her hips above his waist, making her pause, her breathing shaky as she realises what he’s implying. “Are you sure? Don’t wan’a hurt you.”

“Love, I promise you won’t,” Harry says shakily, moving beneath her and laying his back against the wooden headboard, his lip taken between his teeth as she gently settles on his thighs. “Go slow, I’ve got you.”

Amelie nods nervously, smiling shyly as Harry squeezes her thigh encouragingly. His hands hold her hips, coaxing her forward slightly, his cock hard and throbbing against her heat. He nudges her to lean onto her knees, his skin prickling with bumps as he gently eases into her, her warmth surrounding his shaft and squeezing him in her velvet walls.

Amelie intertwines her fingers with his, her pelvis rolling and grinding, his knees tucked behind her, his hips thrusting to meet her. Her mouth parts with her moans, the friction against the nerves between her thighs making her legs shake. Harry leans forward, his lips sponging kisses along her jaw, suckling a mark on her chest. His hands take her hips, smiling as her arms circle around his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. His thrusts meet a rhythm with the way her hips beginning rotating, a heavy moan leaving his throat as she squeezes him, easing him out inch by inch.

“Want you deeper,” Amelie moans, meeting his mouth with a chaste kiss, his knees parting her thighs, his figure laying over hers.

Harry sinks into her, her warmth soaking him in, squeezing him tightly. He kisses her jaw, her thighs wrapped around his waist, his cock bottoming out and reaching her hit with every thrust. His orgasm is heating in his stomach, sweat sticking the curls to his forehead, her moans in his ear making him want to bust. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, holding him in her, her climax warm and milking around him. His orgasm spills inside her, his panting hot against her neck. His mouth breaks into a smile as her hands take his cheeks and her lips kiss his sweetly, her ankles slowly unlocking around his bum and laying lazily on the bed.

“Good, you’re so good,” Harry hums, gently sliding out and lying beside her. His arm slings over her waist, pulling her into his chest, his cheek laying against her shoulder. “Have you spoken to your mum since you got here?”

“Oh fuck,” Amelie swears, snagging her sweatshirt and tugging it over her torso, pulling her phone out and sending messages to her mother and best friend. “Done.”

“Care to leave the pants off for the evening,” Harry winks, laughing loudly as Amelie rolls her eyes at him. He takes his phone, smirking and beginning to type against his screen, hiding the phone away from her obnoxiously.

Laying her head on his chest, she presses a kiss to the butterfly adorning his abdomen, her cheek resting on her forearms. “What are you doing?”

“Making a list of all the places I want to shag you in.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“That wasn’t telling me to quit.” Harry grabs her cheeks and kisses her, smirking at the way her lips perfectly adorn his at every angle. “Got to check off Aus, thank you for that.”

Amelie hides her face in her hands, trying to mask the smile that is etched into her features. Only a few weeks ago she was telling him that she couldn’t understand why he stared at her in such a way, and now she can feel herself doing the same. “Have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Mr Styles?”

“Considering m’girlfriend is here,” he hums, carding his fingers through her hair and delicately brushing the stray hairs away from her forehead, her fringe freshly cut and swaying beneath her eyebrows, her lips tinted red with the kisses. “Have a few thoughts in mind.”

“Dirty thoughts, I’m assuming.”

“Could be,” he drawls teasingly, his eyes narrowing at her as she pinches his hip. “Have a show on Valentine’s Day, so could we makeshift tomorrow to be our Valentine’s Day? Have breakfast and an early swim, avoid all the crowds. Only us.” His eyes brighten with her smile. Harry loves seeing Amelie happy. “Can plan something special for dinner, later on.”

“Good thing I brought something nice to wear," Amelie smiles, heaving a sigh as she straddles Harry’s thighs and slips off the bed, giggling at his groans and complaint of her leaving. “Have a dress for tomorrow.”

“Ooh,” Harry hums, following her into the bathroom and leaning against the wall, admiring away she mills about the space, gathering her toiletries and pyjamas for the night. “Haven’t seen you in a dress before.”

“Only on special occasions.”

“Love that you consider me a special occasion,” he says, walking towards her as she turns the water on in the porcelain bath, testing the temperature with her fingers. He wraps his arms around her waist, kissing the sweet spot at the nape of her neck, smirking against her skin as she shivers. “What are you doing?”

“Need a bath, I’m sticky.” Her words spew out without thinking and her eyes roll as soon as she feels Harry’s smirk against her skin. “Harry, don’t you dare say something.”

“Didn’t say a word, doll.” He kisses her shoulder, releasing her from his grasp and walking to the shower, the water sputtering against the glass. “Want to take a shower with me? Warm in there.”

“Having you as a distraction in there? No thank you.”

“And you think I won’t distract you in the bathtub,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, walking to the tub and turning off the faucet, taking her hand in his and smirking as she reluctantly walks with him. “Think very highly of me, love.”

“Hope to have a minute of peace, in here, that’s all,” Amelie moans, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as he kisses her cheek, patting her bum to get into the shower.

“Not gon’a happen,” he chuckles, shutting the door as he steps inside. He smiles widely, taking in the way the water falls over her and her fringe clings to her forehead. They’ve not showered together before, only staying in the bathroom while the other bathed, and there was something intimate about the experience and the way Amelie trusts him enough to do so. “Did you have a nice flight, at least? Layover somewhere, I’m assuming,” he says, taking the shampoo and squirting the liquid into her hand.

“Mhm,” she hums, lathering her hair and soaking in the warmth around them. Harry is the first man she’s ever showered with, and the thought about how much she truly trusted him made her anxiety heighten. Begging her brain to quiet down, she asks the thoughts to leave her alone and have her enjoy the moment. “Slept everywhere I could.”

“Knowing you,” Harry winks, nudging Amelie’s hip and rinsing the soap smoothly, his eyes drifting across her body as her sponge coats her skin with bubbles, “that sounds about right.”

“Brought a bathing suit with me,” Amelie mutters, playfully pushing his chest to move under the water. “Only go to the beach a few times a year so you better take your opportunity to see me in a swimsuit and run with it.”

“Happily.” He kisses her cheek, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, grabbing a new one for her from the stack near the sink. He admires her as she wraps the cotton around her figure, her hair clinging to her skin, her face slightly flushed from the heat. He tugs her into a hug, smiling as she wraps her arms around him. He’s learnt that she loves the unexpected hugs, the affection that is genuine and means something to the other person. His nose smells her hair, the scent that he could only describe as her lingering in the air. “Ooh, you smell good.”

“Compliment central, over here,” she smirks, kissing his shoulder and squeezing his hips. Amelie presses her lips to his cheeks to compensate for the lack of touch, his lips pouting as she shuffles into the bedroom to grab the sweatshirt and panties from her knapsack, her towel strung around her hair to dry.

“Can’t help a crush, love,” Harry says, yanking a pair of sweatpants up his legs, the waistband low on his hips and displaying the ferns that she loved to trace. “Huge one at that, doll.”

“Hm,” Amelie hums, taking her hairbrush out and beginning to comb through the ends. “You’re staring.”

“Le’ me brush your hair,” he says, coaxing the brush and nodding towards the mattress with messy sheets and a duvet. They couldn’t be bothered to make a mess beneath the comforter, too caught up in the moment. He smiles at her, taking in the way she situates herself between his thighs as he centres himself on the bed. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Okay,” she agrees, tilting her head back and smiling, her heart swelling in her chest as he gently kisses her lips, her nose, her forehead. “Hi.”

“Hi, love.” Harry turns on the television, delicately combing through her wet hair and soaking in the simplicity and intimacy of the moment. He never envisioned himself the kind to desire the moments like these, the ones that were simply him and the one he adores – loves – taking in the silence around them. “You look beautiful.”

“Currently in pyjamas,” Amelie says, shocked in the way that Harry could be so easily impressed by the simplest of things.

“Okay, and,” he says, setting the hairbrush on the bedside table and running his fingers through her hair, smirking as he notices her closed eyes and parted lips. He kisses her cheek, his thumb drawing a line along her jaw. “Don’t nod off when ’m talking to you, you cheeky thing. You’re gon’a kill m’ego."

Amelie squeezes his knee, barely opening her eyes to meet his stare. The way Harry looks at her makes her want to melt. No one has ever looked at her like that. “Your voice is soothing; I like listening to you.”

“Can read to you if you wanted,” Harry offers, moving his arm to have her manoeuvre onto her side, her hair tucked into the hood of the sweatshirt as she shares his pillow. Amelie isn’t a fan of cuddling at night, especially when she’s feeling far away, but she never strays too far. “’m halfway through your book.”

“Are you? How are you feeling about it?” she wonders curiously, her voice quieting as she begins to drift to sleep. “Careful, this is my favourite book you’re about to bash.”

“Like it,” Harry assures her. “Quite fitting with your fucked-up romance theme you go for.” He chuckles quietly as her chest heaves with heavy breaths. “Are you going to fall asleep while I read to you?”

“Most likely,” Amelie murmurs, taking his hand and squeezing it, kissing his palm sweetly before letting go, her hands tucking under her cheek as she snuggles beneath the duvet. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Night, love.”

Harry opens the novel besides the bed, the cracked spine folding beneath his fingertips. He opens to the bookmarked page, smiling as a highlighted quote catches his eye.

“And then she kisses me. It's the kind of kiss that makes me lose track of everything, and so it may take hours or minutes by the time we break apart.”

Harry admires the waves crashing ashore, the sun shining brightly in the sky, the golden hue tanning their skin as they lay peacefully and privately on their towels. He found the perfect spot – so he believes – away from the suspecting and invading eye, secluded and private to allow them to simply be alone. Amelie lays beside him, her sunglasses tucked on her nose, her cheek resting on her forearms as she stares at him, taking in the olive tone and tinted tattoos.

“Could you put more sunscreen on me, baby?” Amelie questions, handing him the bottle and smiling as the top clicks open.

“Mhm,” Harry hums, squirting the cream in his hands and beginning to rub it into her skin. His hands go beneath the band, his fingers searching for a clasp to unhook. “Can’t unclasp the top, love.”

“Not meant to,” she smirks, shaking her head and clicking her tongue disapprovingly as his bottom lip juts into a pout. “Know you, Styles. Knew what you were going to do.”

“I am insulted, love.” His voice feigns his innocence, the glimmer in his clearly displaying his true intentions. “How dare you think so lowly of me!”

“Mhm,” Amelie muses, playfully smacking his thigh as his hands travel closer to her bum. “Hands above the waist in public.”

“Have to ruin our makeshift Valentine’s Day, huh.”

“You got laid two hours ago! How am I ruining Valentine’s Day?”

“Wan’a see your boobies,” Harry mutters, gently tugging at the edge of the bathing suit, his lips tucked together to stifle the laughter.

“Harry, boobies, really?” Amelie groans, nudging his hand away from her chest, rotating her head slightly to stare at him. “Are you thirteen?”

“Find that saying, ‘wan’a see your tits’ is quite crude to your girlfriend, so,” he muses, smacking her bum playfully as he stands on his feet, his toes tucked in the sand, his hair shaking out on her freshly coated skin. “Okay, I’m going for a swim. Have fun without me.”

“You’re unbearable,” she grumbles, trying to hide her smirk through a bitten lip, her heart sinking as he begins to walk away. “Wait.”

“Hm,” Harry hums, turning around and walking back to her, leaning down to meet her.

“Kiss?”

“Always,” he smiles, kissing her lightly, her strawberry chapstick lingering on his skin.

She admires him as he treads into the water, the clarity of the water exhibiting the tattoos that marked his skin, the way his eyes reflected through the sun. Her forehead lines with sweat, her body begging to have the relief of the cool water around her. She hesitates though, the idea of showing her body so freely intimidating and making her question her apparel choice. Harry looks perfect in the infamous yellow trunks, the colour bright on his skin and simply great on him.

Her eyes couldn’t leave him.

“Come in here, Ames,” Harry calls, his eyes travelling around the area to make sure attention wasn’t called on them. He didn’t want her to be intimidated by a crowd and the rumours and headlines that were bound to come about. He lowers his voice, his words only travelling to where she could hear. “Water is so lovely.”

“Fine, fine,” Amelie concedes, standing up and beginning to walk towards the water, shaking her head and hiding her face in her hands as he whistles. He would never whistle at a woman; however, it was apparent that her confidence was weary. He would do anything to make her feel like the most confident woman. “Ames, hm.”

“Ames,” he says confidently, taking her hand and bringing her to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands holding her waist tightly. “You like it?”

“Never had a nickname before,” she mentions, pursing her lips as she traces through her memories and searching for anything that her family or friends might have called her beyond her name. “Only nicknames m’family has given me are honeybee and chéri.”

“Honeybee for the flowers, right?” Harry asks this for confirmation, the way he pays attention to every detail Amelie tells him, butterflies swirling in her belly at the thought. “And the other.”

“Chéri means honey or darling,” Amelie tells him, her accent rhythmic as the words roll off her tongue. “Mom likes using names like that.”

“Cute,” he smiles, kissing her cheek and hugging her tighter to his chest, waves lightly crashing into their backs, barely reaching his hips. “Happy you’re here, doll.”

“Me too.”

Harry presses his lips to Amelie’s, smiling as her arms hug tighter around his shoulders. He is grateful for the privacy, wanting to show her that she deserves to have someone that loves on her around anyone. He is nervous though, he would have to admit; media can be absolutely brutal, and the last thing he would want is to have someone hurt her through a lousy magazine or social media posting. He cherishes the kiss, the easiest affection. He could kiss her for hours.

“You seem to really love it here,” Amelie says, kissing his cheek, her legs quickly moving to her chest as a jellyfish moves past them. Harry gently grabs her thighs, trying to coax her into circling around him completely. “Harry.”

“Hm,” Harry sighs, his thumbs gently rubbing her skin as he awaits her answer – although he is sure he already knows.

“Don’t.” Her voice is quiet as she shakes her in disapproval, her eyes scanning beneath them for the fish, her legs slowly slinking towards the sand. “’m too heavy.”

“Says who?” he wonders, his voice slightly exasperated and confused. He is angry, frustrated with whoever would tell her such a thing, make her believe that there is something about her that would make her not fit enough for affection. “Doll, who said that? They’re wrong.”

“I –” Her voice cracks and Harry knows exactly who’s done this. He would do anything to have a talk with Jack, to really get inside the boy’s head and see how anyone could treat another human this way, especially one that deserves nothing but love.

“Hey, you don’t need to think about that with me.”

Let me love you, please.

“Harry, I’m trusting you,” Amelie breathes, taking a deep breath and releasing the tension in her muscles, allowing Harry to coax her thighs around his waist, his arms tucked under her bum and holding her to him. He kisses her cheek a smile on his lips as she begins to relax.

“Appreciate that more than you know,” Harry says, his lips delicate on her skin. “I’ve got you. Always do.”

In that very moment, Amelie chooses to believe him.

Amelie paces around the bedroom, her suitcase strewn across the lounger, her outfit for the evening set out neatly on the made bed. Her anxiety is echoing in her brain, her heart pounding heavily against her ribcage, her jaw tense as she stares at the multiple ignored calls with her sister. Harry is partially undressed, getting ready to shower, leaning uselessly on the mattress. He absolutely hates seeing her this way. He would love to take the stress and negative thoughts away.

He sighs, walking over to her and gently grabbing her shoulders, his hands cupping her cheeks and making her meet his stare, his lips touching her forehead to calm her. “Don’t worry, love,” Harry says softly, trying his best to calm her. “Aren’t Phoebe’s friends coming to the show, tomorrow? Maybe they’re all talking.”

“Guess so,” Amelie sighs, leaning into his chest, his arms embracing her. He taps her spine lightly, nodding to the vibrating phone set on the dresser behind them. “Maybe that’s her.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Quickly taking her phone, she sighs heavily, sliding her thumb across the screen and waiting to have the video connect to speak. “Hey, Phoebe.”

Hi, Phoebe, Harry whispers, nodding towards the shower and walking into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him and turning on the vent, the water sputtering on and hitting the tiles.

“Hey,” Phoebe murmurs, her lips pursed together, her cheek leaning against her fist.

“Are you alright? You’ve been avoiding my calls,” Amelie says, her voice barely above a whisper, the anxiety beginning to overwhelm her.

Phoebe found out. Phoebe found out and now she’s mad at you. You’re the worst sister. She’s going to hate you.

“You’re there, in Melbourne,” Phoebe sighs, blinking slowly and taking a deep breath, trying to gather all of her thoughts and emotions. Phoebe wasn’t mad at Amelie. How could she be? Her sister fell in love, that was obvious. Having a relationship, after everything, is what she deserved. Her lying about it, that’s what upset her. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.”

“Not sure what you’re getting at.”

“At dinner, on Sunday, you said you were seeing someone.” Her voice is flat, lacking all emotion, her eyes a bare blue, lacking their shine and glimmer that light everyone’s day. That breaks Amelie’s heart. “It’s Harry. You’re seeing Harry Styles.”

“Phoebe,” Amelie begins, quickly quieting as Phoebe opens her mouth to speak. Her intention was to listen, to not upset her any further.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Wanted to tell you, I did,” Amelie says honestly, tears prickling her eyes as she takes in the hurt on her sister’s face. “How did you find out?”

“Cassie is a barista at the café on the private beach,” Phoebe sighs, running her fingers through her hair and shaking her head. “Could see Harry a mile away with those yellow trunks. On the way out, she wanted to see if he was still there, maybe she could say hello or something. There Harry was, standing over a girl, shaking his wet hair out, laughing. Cass took a picture and sent it to me. Whoever she is, Harry looks really happy, is what she told me.”

“Cassie posted it,” Amelie chokes, her anxiety rushing with thoughts that spring tears in her eyes.

Oh my god, everyone is going to find out. Everyone is going to find out and the bullying, the harassing, everything is going to start before you and Harry could even make it to two months together.

“Of course not,” Phoebe assures her, her heart breaking as soon as Amelie begins breathing heavier. “As soon as Cassie texted me the photo, everything made more sense. Mama showed me the picture you sent her of the beach, the hotel. All of it looked the same as the pictures people posted online. Knew it then. I told her that she could not post it.”

“Oh,” Amelie breathes, the sweat on her forehead beginning to dry.

“Hurts me that you didn’t tell me, Amelie. You’re my sister, my best friend. We tell each other everything,” Phoebe sighs,

“Phoebe, I.” Amelie has nothing to say.

“Are you happy?”

Amelie goes absolutely silent, pursing her lips together and lightly nodding her head. Harry steps into the room, a shy smile on his lips as he nods, telling her everything without a word.

“Are you happy? Are you and Harry happy?” Phoebe repeats, desperate to emphasise her meaning. Her sister deserves to be happy, whether she believes so or not. Phoebe could never be upset with her for that.

“I am,” Amelie smiles, genuinely smiling, taking a deep breath. Her honesty surprises her, the way the words are so easy to say shocking her. Happiness, like this, hasn’t been something she believed she could have. “For the first time, I am.”

“Then, I’ll be okay. You and I, we’re okay. I’m not upset.” Phoebe sucks in a breath, budding her courage in her chest. Phoebe never expected this to happen. “Put Harry on the phone.”

“Huh?”

“Tu m'avez entendu, Amelie.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the statement. He gulps, taking a deep breath and walking towards Amelie, nodding approvingly and settling on the bed beside her.

“Um, Phoebe wants to talk to you,” Amelie mutters, giving him the phone and nodding towards the bathroom. “’m gon’a go take a shower.” Grabbing her towel and nervously treading into the en-suite, she shuts the door slightly, barely enough space to hear.

Harry clears his throat, taking a deep breath before beginning. He can see that Phoebe is shaking. “Know that you’re mad at us, and I’m sorry.”

“Not mad,” Phoebe says nervously, her thoughts jumbled and trying to comprehend who is speaking to her on the screen. Never would she have thought that this would be the way she would him. “Just a little upset.”

“Understand if you are mad, because Amelie and I made the decision not to tell anyone, and that included you,” he sighs, scratching his neck nervously. “’m sorry you had to find out by someone else, but you should know that you not speaking to her is making her really upset.”

“Has Amelie gone in the shower yet?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods, unsure where the conversation is heading, accepting it, nonetheless.

“Do you know about Jack?” Phoebe murmurs, her voice growing quieter to ensure that Amelie wouldn’t hear. Upsetting her about him is not what she wants to be doing.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry mutters, desperately trying to not become angry. Hearing his name makes Harry furious.

“Amelie thinks I don’t know, and I don’t remember what happened, but I do, and I don’t ever want to see her that upset, that bad, again, okay?”

“Of course.” Harry smiles softly, admiring the way she so openly cares about her sister.

“Know you’re you and all, but that’s my sister. You can’t hurt her, okay?” Her voice is laced desperately, the concern evident in her eyes. Harry would never dream of hurting her, and he has to make sure she knows.

“Phoebe, I promise you, I won’t.”

Amelie’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as Harry says that, her towel tucked around her hair and her body clothed in simply her panties and lace bra that he loves. Harry pats the bed, encouraging her to come closer to him.

“Not a bribe, but ‘m gon’a need you to tell me the shows you have tickets to,” Harry says, smiling as Amelie settles in the open space that he’s made for her.

“Um, San Diego and Santa Clara,” she stutters, her fingers shaking over her mouth as he hands her sister his phone and she typed in the dates for him.

“Alright. Talk soon,” Harry smirks, squeezing his girlfriend’s thigh and setting her phone in her hand, kissing her cheek, his body moving away from the mattress and taking his phone into the bathroom to busy himself until the call is over.

“Phoebe,” Amelie teases, mouthing a quiet, thank you, as Harry tosses headphones to her to talk, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Don’t be mad.”

“Ugh,” Phoebe sighs, knuckling her eyes and taking a heavy breath. “I’m not mad. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Amelie, you deserve to be happy, even though you think you don’t.”

“Love you, Phoebe.”

“Love you, too,” Phoebe says quietly, turning her light off and settling under her comforter, her eyes beginning to close. “Don’t fuck this up for me, Amelie. Don’t fuck this up for you, either.”

“I’ll try not to, Pheebs, I’ll try.”

Harry reserved the most secluded section on the beach. Quiet waves crashing against the sand, twinkling lights around the posts, blankets and stray towels accompanying their picnic to lay on the cushion of the cabana, the sand slightly damp beneath their feet. Amelie can make out the chatter of the crowds in the distance, the sidewalk much too far for them to be seen.

“Like this,” Amelie smiles shyly, taking a bite of her sandwich and taking a swig from the wine settled between herself and Harry. “Quiet and very us. Nothing flashy and extravagant. That’s something I always wanted, y’know – to be happy, simply me and the other person.”

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her lips, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin, nosing her jaw with a kiss and squeezing her hand.

“Harry.”

“Hm.”

“Do you think that the stars align a certain way to make things happen? Don’t know, like, the universe wants something good to happen to someone, so the stars and the planets and moon move a certain way to make it happen,” she wonders, laying her sandwich down and leaning back on her hands, her head turned over her shoulder to look at her boyfriend, his body resting peacefully on the blanket, his head tucked on a folded towel.

“Jovian-Plutonian Effect,” Harry smirks, his eyes shining beneath the moonlight. “Think you’re mine if that counts for anything.”

“One thing I was thinking about the other day –” she begins, her eyes narrowing as his voice cracks to interrupt.

“You think about a lot of things.”

Amelie lightly smacks Harry’s arm, his laughter airy and making her heart swell against her ribcage. Her love for him is growing every day, and there is one moment every so often that makes her want to mutter the words that she swore she would never say to a man, ever again, the words that would break her heart eventually.

But you do love him, Amelie’s heart incessantly reminds her. That is something that happened. You fell in love.

“You and I,” she whispers, trailing her attention from the crashing waves to the moon lingering above them, the light casting above their illuminating skin, “whenever we’re apart, we’re staring at the same moon. It sounds stupid, I know, but there’s something comforting about that. You,” she hesitates, frightened by the words falling so easily from her lips, “you’re one of my closest friends. Don’t know, it’s just nice never feeling that far away.”

“Nothing you say is stupid. Don’t say that,” Harry sterns, gently poking her thigh to have her attention. “Only a phone call away if you need me, love,” he murmurs, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “Always looking at the same moon.”

“Know that I’ve only known you a month, but I’m proud of you. Not many people would have the courage to go on stage the way you do, travel so many weeks and months away, work the way you do. I admire you, Harry. There are so many people that you inspire, every day. I’m one of them.”

“Gon’a be honest, it’s hard sometimes, and it’s one of the only things that are truly hard. Missing m’family, you. Hope that you’ll come and join tour eventually, see what it’s like. ‘s my dream. ‘s like when your work is in an exhibit, y’know, the one place where everything makes sense. All the adrenaline and the screaming and everyone singing back to you. Nothing like it,” Harry rambles, moving the covered wine aside and kissing your knee sweetly. “Happy to make you proud, doll. You inspire me.”

“Hate being this, soft,” Amelie giggles, squeezing his hand and gently nudging their hands into his thigh. “Not very like us. Usually, you’re bothering me.”

“Don’t like sharing your emotions, I get that,” he sighs, turning over and laying his head on her thigh, smiling softly as she cards her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “Know that going through all that you did made you feel this way, and I’m sorry that it happened, but I want you to know that you can share things with me.”

Her eyes sting with tears, her lips pouting as Harry wipes a stray from her cheek. “Hate that Phoebe was mad at me. Honestly, it makes my stomach hurt. Didn’t want to hurt her by hiding this, us, you know? I just didn’t know how to tell her. Hard to really understand this all sometimes,” Amelie pauses, trying to find the proper wording to express herself.

Expressing yourself is hard enough on a good day.

“C’mere, baby,” Harry sighs, situating on the blanket and opening his arms, smiling as her body settles on his thighs, her arms tucked around his shoulders, his lips touching light kisses on her shoulder. He barely makes out her mumbled apology, his head moving away from her shoulder to stare. “Amelie, why are you apologising to me? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Crying into you because of my anxiety on a Valentine’s Day date,” Amelie laughs wetly, tears staining her cheeks, her eyes glossy as she stares into his, his thumbs drying her skin. “Hate me.”

Harry’s heart twists in his chest. He absolutely hates that Amelie feels this way. He isn’t quite sure what anxiety entails, the details and intricacies, but knowing that all of her thoughts and emotions are so deeply impacted by it hurts him. He would do anything to take it all away. “Don’t say that.” He nearly wants to mutter the three words they’ve been waiting to say. He hesitates, taking a moment to gather his thoughts back. “All I want is fo’ you to feel okay. You have me, I’m here.”

“Harry Styles.”

Her voice is airy, her hands clasped together around his neck, fingertips twirling the curls at the nape, her thumb tracing the cut of his jaw softly. Her mouth sponges kisses on his cheek, her breath hitching in her throat as his mouth steals her lips, his kiss gentle and lingering on her skin.

Harry knows that Amelie won’t verbally say more, yet the way her arms are tight around his shoulders, her mouth is rhythmic with his, their kiss taking their breath away, his hands squeezing around her torso to have her melt impossibly closer to him, tells him everything. Harry knows that Amelie trusts him, that eventually everything would be said.

All that was needed was time. Harry didn’t mind waiting.

His fingertips work at the buttons on her the dress – floral printed, naturally, his mouth kissing her shoulder as he nudges the jacket away from her torso. His mouth grew dry at the way her breasts accentuated the cut; the straps are sewn with thicker material for support beginning to slip off her shoulders. Her giggles echo in his ear, making his stomach swirl with butterflies and his heart beat so loudly he swears she could hear it.

“Quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had, Mr Styles,” Amelie smirks, manoeuvring her body beneath his and tugging the dress away, Harry’s shirt tossed somewhere near the basket, a sheet pulled over their bodies to hide them away, the cabana’s curtains tugged closed, the moonlight peeking through the slight cracks. “Don’t get us caught.”

“Don’t be loud,” Harry chuckles, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, her eyes rolling at his comment. “May or may not have a crush on you.”

“Considering you say that quite a bit, I think you do.” Her mouth moulds against his perfectly, a giggle leaving her lips as he fumbles to work his jeans down his thighs. “That’s what you get for wearing jeans.”

“Quit teasing me.”

“Make it so easy for me, though.”

“Quite lucky the way you flirt with me is endearing, Ames,” Harry teases, laying his jeans along with their clothes and straddling her waist, one knee tucked between her thighs, his forearms around her splayed hair.

“Call this flirting? Oh, this is nothing.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head and laying his lips on hers, soaking in the way she tastes faintly of wine and the swollenness of her flesh, her fingers lacing through his, squeezing his hand for comfort. He adores this, the way he can feel her calming. Harry savours the moment, the way their skin is clammy against each other and her thighs are wrapped around his waist, the way his heart is heavy in his chest because everything feels right.

Harry and Amelie couldn’t have pointed out the planets or the stars or the constellations underneath their makeshift blanket, their attention too obsessive with each other and the way they feel.

Although, Harry could have sworn that this is what it felt like to have Jupiter and Pluto align.

129 notes · View notes

almostkoo · 3 years

Text

pairings: jung hoseok x oc

summary: oc notices something strange about hoseok, their friend who’s normally upbeat and cheerful suddenly things start going left quickly in the middle of using a ouija board for fun with friends things get really weird really quick

word count: 2.0k

warnings: language, mentions of wine, a switchblade is mentioned a few times, demon possession

authors note: fifth story!! of spooktober i hope you guys don’t mind i threw in one of my favorite kpop girlies, i love her so much. this is my first time in general really trying to write something “scary”, i hope i did well i didn’t want to overdo it! i hope you guys enjoy !

link to main masterlist

You, Hoseok, Jungkook and Nayeon stood outside the door leading to the basement of you and Hoseok’s shared house. Anxiety washed over your being and clung to you like a wet blanket. You couldn’t shake the fear that something bad was going to happen. Standing in the back of everything gave you a better view of everyone. Jungkook was dressed in all black (with the exception of his pink bunny slippers on his feet), Hoseok dressed in his pajamas and Nayeon dressed comfortably in an oversized shirt and joggers.

The impromptu “seance” that was about to be performed in the basement interrupted everyone. Nayeon and Hoseok who were in the middle of doing sheet masks and you in the kitchen pouring up refills of wine for everyone while Jungkook had disappeared moments before only to return with a ouija board.

Now here you were Jungkook with the ouija board tucked under one arm and his hand on the door knob waiting for everyone’s approval to open the door.

“Jungkook, why are we doing this?” Nayeon asked.

“Why not? Y/n and Hoseok say their house is haunted. What better time to investigate than at a slumber party with their friends? Especially during spooky season? The more the merrier!” He smiled.

“Our house isn’t haunted. Ghosts don’t exist, you clown. It’s probably old water pipes or some shit making all those weird noises.” You grumbled.

“Water pipes? Okay what about all the moaning Hoseok heard? Or the last time Nayeon was here and someone wrote in her lipstick on the bathroom mirror while she was showering?” Jungkook questioned. You sighed loudly to make a point on how exhausted you were with the back and forth discourse between you and Jungkook on whether or not the house was haunted.

“I feel like you want our house to be haunted.” you said.

“No but if it is you both need to get the hell out of dodge before shit starts getting real. The lipstick on the mirror would’ve been enough to send me flying out the house.”

“Same and I normally stay out of this whole ghost discussion but.. that’s really odd Y/n you can’t even lie.” Nayeon stated. You glanced over at Hoseok who was turned away from you, picking at the hem of his shirt. You and Hoseok had been living in your current home for three months and about two weeks into your stay things started getting extremely weird. From you finding him standing out on the balcony in the pouring rain, the weird arts and crafts figurines he would make and that one time you found him ready to take a bite out of a raw steak out the fridge.

But he passed that last one off as him being drunk.

You didn’t believe in ghosts or demons or really too much supernatural stuff. But the strange behaviors that Hoseok had been portraying alarmed you. You weren’t quite sure what exactly was going on. You hadn’t seen him smile in weeks and it was worrying.

“Fuck it. If we’re doing this can we go on and do it because I really wanna get back to my wine.” you whined. Jungkook opened the door, reaching for the light switch. Only to flick it and realize the light in the basement wasn’t working.

“How much weirder could this shit get.” you heard Jungkook mumble under his breath, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. You all slowly stepped down the stairs. Taking a look around the basement it was fairly empty except a pair of skis and other miscellaneous belongings split between you both.

Jungkook cleared a spot in the middle of the floor. The only light was from the small basement windows lining the walls.

“Do you not owe any candles or a lantern?” Jungkook asked.

“Hoseok has some of those boring non scented ones in the kitchen cabinet above the stove.” You glanced over at Nayeon who quickly started shaking her head and waving her hands.

“No. Hell no. Don’t make me go up there.”

“Nayeon please.”

“What if I run up there and then the spooky ghost haunting you gets me ?”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But like we haven’t been harmed yet.”

She stomped her feet. “If something happens I’m haunting everyone here.” Nayeon dashed up the steps. Hearing a little bit of shuffling before she came back carrying as many candles as she could.

“You’re lucky I remembered the lighter while I was up there because that trip wasn’t happening again.” You lit all of the candles before settling and sitting down. Hoseok, blank faced had already sat down as soon as you all made it down the steps scooted closer to you all.

“Alright let’s get it.” Jungkook took the ouija board out of its box, putting the planchette on the board. You eyes the box.

“A fucking ouija from mattel is supposed to potentially tell us if this house is haunted?” You questioned.

“Where did you get this from? Target?” Nayeon asked.

Jungkook sighed, scratching at the sides of his hair.

“And if I did? Where else would I get it from? Amazon? Jeff Bezos isn’t seeing a dime of my Starbucks checks” He scoffed “look I'm sure you know how this whole ouija thing is supposed to go. Just like in the movies two fingers on the planchette. We say hello and don’t finish until we say goodbye. No moving the planchette for fun. I will have a heart attack and Jeon Jungkook will no longer exist. Alright?” Jungkook stated. You and Nayeon nodded.

Placing your two fingers on the planchette, followed by everyone else. So it began.

“Hello. Hi spirits we have questions.” Jungkook said, looking around the room. Nayeon hit his arm. Jungkook gave a quizzical look.

“Is that really how you’re gonna ask the higher powers?” she asked.

“I don’t know how the fuck else to address them. Hi spirits. Are you there?” he questioned. You looked around the room, watching your friends facial expressions. The mild drunk feeling that was over you quickly made you sober up as the air seemed to get colder around you.

The planchette slowly started moving towards the top left corner, the small glass hovering above the “yes”.

“Before we continue. Is anyone fucking with me right now?” Jungkook mumbled.

“No I swear I’m not.” Nayeon stated.

“No.” You all looked at Hoseok who was staring at the board blank, as if he wasn’t looking at anything in the first place.

“I think he’s drunk. Maybe he had too much wine. You know he’s a lightweight.” Nayeon cracked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Hoseok lacked the permanent blush he seemed to have when he did drink too much. But the glossy look to his eyes still remained. You shrugged it off but the look he had was eerily similar to the one he had on the night you found him on the balcony.

“Ask another question, Jungkook.” you said.

“Okay umh. Let’s just get to it. Are there any spirits lingering in this house?” The temperature dropped, causing a slight shiver to escape Nayeon. The planchette jerked back and circled back around to “yes”.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Nayeon whispered. “Jungkook are you fucking with us?”

“What? No! I swear to the heavens I wouldn’t fuck with you guys on something like this! I’m not moving it.” he said, both sets of eyes laid on you.

“Now y’all both know good and well I don’t even believe in this shit why would I fuck with you with this?” You said, borderline offended at them.

“Because that’s what non believers always do.” Jungkook stated.

“I’m a non believer not an asshole. Keep asking it questions.” you grumbled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Is there anything you want from this house?” The planchette pushed back, before slowly moving back to yes. You started sweating and the basement getting chillier by the second didn’t help as you tried to resist the full body chill that threatened to shake through you.

“What do you want?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. The planchette moved slow once again, going from letter to letter. You, Nayeon and Jungkook looked on.

H-O-S-E-O-K

You heard Nayeon gasp from the side of you. While your jaw just parted. Jungkook froze in his spot, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

“I don’t think I want to play this anymore.” Your eyes shot up to Hoseok, who looked at Jungkook with a wicked grin on his face.

“Uh Hobi. We can wrap up. But can you stop looking at me like that?” Jungkook said, a shake to his words.

Nayeon stared Hoseok down. “Something’s not right here.”

“What’s the matter, Nayeon? Aren’t we all playing a game?” Hoseok turned in her direction.

“Jungkook, wrap this shit up now.” You instructed, keeping your eyes on Hoseok.

Before Jungkook could open his mouth, he suddenly flung backwards into the wall. The candles went out.

“I said I didn’t want to play anymore.” through the soft moonlight filtering through the windows you could see Hoseok stand up. You and Nayeon shuffled back against the wall. A few feet away from where Jungkook laid unconscious. Nayeon shuffled with her phone, the screen light illuminating her features. You could see the tears streaking her cheeks. The flashlight turned on shining on Hoseok; his soft brown eyes were now cold and empty, a black void.

“What the fuck are you?” Nayeon yelled, struggling to keep her cool.

“What do you think I am?” He questioned, stalking towards you.

“Stay the fuck away from us! I mean it!” You shouted. The fear you felt ran through your veins icy and cold. Making you want to curl up and wish the situation away.

Hoseok reached in his pocket, pulling out a small switchblade.

“I think it’s time to slice, I’m sorry I mean spice things up.”

You threw yourself in front of Nayeon, remaining firm despite her protests asking you to move.

“Aw isn’t this cute? You want to protect your friend.” Hoseok’s lips curved into his signature heart shaped smile. One that normally wanted your heart, filled you with even more dread than possible. That smile didn’t belong to him. It. Whatever was in your best friend.

Hoseok rolled his eyes, the smile dropping from his face as quick as it showed up. “I don’t even remember the last time I had friends.” He walked towards you and Nayeon, who’s hands gripped your shoulders. Preparing for the worst you closed your eyes.

Suddenly another voice filled the basement. You opened your eyes, there stood Jungkook your knight in shining armor. Well more like knight in plaid pajamas but attire was besides the point. You watched as Jungkook held his hands up muttering words in foreign language as Hoseok froze rigid, slowly lifting off the ground. The switchblade falling from his grip. A dark purple smoke escaped his mouth before shattering one of the glass windows. Hoseok’s body slumped to the ground and Jungkook dropped to his knees.

You got up running to Hoseok to check him out. Holding a finger up under his nose to feel soft air leave him. You draped yourself over him as he slowly stirred.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jung Hoseok never in your life get possessed by a demon again. I’ve never been more fucking scared before.”

Hoseok looked at you confused as he sat up, rubbing at his head.

“I don’t even know what’s going on. Last thing I remember was trying to figure out where to hang my jackets in my closet.” He said. That must mean he was possessed for a while. You frowned at the thought.

Jungkook and Nayeon walked over to you. Jungkook wiping his bloody nose on the back of his sleeve.

“You mind sharing where you learned that neat little trick?” You asked.

“My grandfather is a priest. Stuff like that kinda runs in the family.” Jungkook tilted his head back pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Am I going to be fine?” Hoseok asked, fear laced in his words.

“Yeah you might just not remember the past few months. But that demon is gone. Sent back to where the foul bastard came from.” Jungkook said.

“I am literally never spending the night here ever again. Not even for a million dollars.” Nayeon said.

“That’s a lie you’ll be back.” You chuckled.

“Make it two and maybe I will.” She smiled.

#hoseok drabbles #hoseok fics #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts drabbles #hoseok x reader #bts fic recs #hoseok fic recs #bts fanfic #bts reader insert

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rdmdani · 4 years

Text

Heaven Sent a.i.

word count: 2522

---

Usually Y/N would stay in her room during her older brother Luke’s band rehearsal, but today she had no other choice but to go in the garage. She was in desperate need of a hammer to finish up her room and she really didn’t want to wait two hours for his friends to leave. Luke wasn’t too fond of the idea of her meeting his friends, mainly because they’re boys and he's always been overprotective of her. So as she approached the garage, she hoped that Luke wouldn’t be mad at her for coming in.

She waited until they finished the song they were singing before tentatively opening the door, automatically catching the attention of all the boys in the room. Luke looked at her with his eyebrows raised, she could easily see that he was not happy to see her at that very moment. The rest of the boys stared at her like she had three heads, causing Luke to clear his throat and grab their attention once more, “What’s up, Y/N?” he asked it sweetly, as if he was speaking to a five or six year old girl. Her palms clammed up at the attention she was getting, making it difficult to speak.

“I-I needed the hammer,” she practically whispered, keeping her head low and eyes off of the strangers. She heard footsteps and immediately presumed they were Luke’s, but when she looked up she saw a cute boy with curly brown hair, a hammer in his outstretched arm. She kept her eyes locked on his for a few seconds before taking the hammer from him.

“What project are you working on?” he asked in a nice tone, a cheesy smile on his face. Y/N looked to Luke with a panicked look but he didn’t make a move to help her. She should’ve waited until they left and they both knew it.

“I’m hanging my paintings,” she said to the attractive stranger, “I had the nails but forgot to get the hammer before everyone got here…”

“Why didn’t you ask Ben to get it? He’s in the living room with mum,” Luke asked her, walking over to the two and giving a look to Ashton to step back a little, not enjoying the small space between them already.

“He was talking to mum, I didn’t want to bother anyone,” she told him, swinging the hammer by her side slightly, “I waited outside the door for about five minutes so I wouldn’t bother you mid-song…” Luke smiled down at her before ruffling her hair playfully.

“Well you didn’t bother anyone in here, we were just about to start working on a new song,” he told her before kissing her forehead, “Why don’t you go hang your paintings and then after rehearsal we can make popcorn and watch Harry Potter again?” Y/N gave him a giddy smile as she nodded her head.

“Can we have hot chocolate too?” she pouted her lip, knowing that Luke would always say yes to her pout. It was the power of the younger and most innocent sibling.

“Of course, now go on or it’ll take longer for us to get done,” he joked before poking her nose.

As she was leaving she heard the curly haired boys voice again, “Your sister is adorable, Luke.” This caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach and a smile to etch itself onto her lips. She liked him. He was nice.

Y/N started showing up at their rehearsals quite often after that, which Luke slowly got used to. Calum and Michael took to her kind of like a little sister, but even Luke could tell that his little sister had a crush on Ashton. Ashton never really confirmed or rejected the idea that he might like her back, but he definitely acted like it. Luke hated it at first, naturally, but then he saw how much she laughed when Ashton was attempting to teach her how to play the drums. He had never seen his little sister look so happy and comfortable with anyone aside from him, not even Ben and Jack could get her to laugh so much. So little by little, Luke got used to the idea of his sister maybe getting into a relationship one day.

“How old is Y/N?” Calum randomly asked one day while Y/N and Ashton were in the corner talking about her paintings. She was talented, there was no doubt about it, but she was never one to show her art off to anyone. Ever.

“Same as me,” Luke said nonchalantly, causing Michael and Calum to look at him weirdly, “What? She’s about… ten minutes younger than me?” He dismissed it but smiled to himself. He had never told his friends that Y/N was his twin. It never really came up because she was rarely brought up into any conversation until recently.

“Y/N!” Calum called out, causing her to jump, “Is Luke fucking with me or are you two actually twins?”

“Fraternal twins,” she shrugged, “But yes, we are twins.”

“I guess Y/N got the attractive gene,” Michael joked, bringing bright red blush to the girl’s face. Ashton watched her with a content smile on his face, completely taken by her. He wasn’t too fond of Michael making flirtatious jokes about her, but he loved the outcome.

“Shut up, asshole,” Luke scoffed, shoving his friend.

“Luke,” Y/N chastised with a displeased frown, “Language mister!”

“Sorry!”

“It is just a party, Luke,” Y/N whined as she walked to her car, her brother following close behind her, “Mum said it was fine, why can’t you just back off a bit?”

Luke looked at her with widened eyes, she never acted like this towards him. They were always really close and usually she wouldn’t go anywhere without him. But here she is in a short dress and heels, getting into her car and going to some party a guy invited her to.

“Because unlike mum, I am a dude and know what dudes think. Can’t you at least change or something? Or let me come with you?” he plead as she threw her purse into the passenger side window.

“No because when you go away on tour and leave me behind, I’ll have to do stuff alone anyways,” she said stubbornly, getting into her car without another look at him.

“Y/N get out of the car or I swear to God I will lose my mind,” he said sternly, standing in the yard with his arms crossed, staring down at her. She paused for a second, not liking the fact that their fighting for the first time in their life. But she had to do this for herself. She had to try to get out there and make friends that won’t be getting famous and leaving her behind for months on end while she sat at home all by herself.

So instead she looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Then lose it,” before driving off.

Yeah she regretted her decision. She was never a party person and she knew it. Y/N realized the second that she walked into the house that this entire thing was just some cry for help about Luke getting more and more famous. She thought that they were going to be around each other forever but with each passing day she realized that was probably not going to happen in this lifetime. So here she was at this strangers party, surrounded by people who smelled like marijuana and alcohol, feeling like the walls were going to close in on her at any moment.

She took a breath and then stepped forward towards the kitchen, she counted each step she took, wanting to know the exact number of steps it took for her to feel like she could breathe again. The kitchen was just about empty, only two or three people in total. 23 steps to the kitchen and she could finally breathe again. She opened the cooler on the counter and pulled out the first drink that she could reach and gulped it down as quick as she could. The taste was almost sour, but it was bearable. So once it was finished, she chugged another. Then some weird beer… and then she felt fine.

She stepped out of the kitchen with glossy eyes, feeling like she was floating five inches above the floor (it was just her heels). People looked at her weirdly, knowing her from school as the quiet innocent girl. Seeing her here was odd, seeing her drunk and wearing a short dress was even weirder. Y/N couldn’t care less at that moment. She just wanted to dance.

She grabbed the closest person that she could and let loose for once in her life. They danced for what seemed like hours before he tugged her hand, asking if she wanted to talk upstairs. Y/N, the innocent girl that she is, agreed and followed along with him with bleary eyes. Honestly she had no idea what she was doing at this point. Whatever she drank earlier was finally getting to her and she was definitely going to crash soon. So when they got to an empty room, she laid on the bed and laughed loudly.

“My brother’s going to kill me when he finds out I got drunk,” she couldn’t stop giggling, which made the boy look at her with a creepy smile. Then, when she saw his unbuttoned shirt and unzipped jeans, she sobered up and realized what the fuck she just got herself into.

“Oh…” she gulped, looking up at the boy with lost eyes, “We are not on the same page here. We’re not doing...that.”

“You just grinded on me for the last hour and you’re going to tell me you’re not going to do anything about this?” he gestured to himself, which caused Y/N to drunkenly giggle.

“Yes,” she said in a slur, “That is exactly what I am saying. I guess we are on the same page!”

The boy groaned before dropping himself on the bed beside her, “Can we pretend you did so I don’t have to admit to myself it was actually the boy dancing beside us that got me hard instead of you?” Y/N made eye contact with the boy before they both burst out laughing.

“I knew it! I knew that I would pick the one gay guy in the entire party!” Y/N snorted as the two of them struggled to catch their breaths.

“I’m actually bi, thank you very much,” he said in a sassy tone, flicking his non-existent locks. Neither of them believed that, but they didn’t speak on it any further.

“We stan a queen,” she giggles, “So you’re into the boy who was dancing beside us, and I’m into my brother’s best friend. Aren’t we the lucky ones?” Suddenly tears were brought to her eyes, “And both my brother and his best friend are going to leave me because they’re stupid talented and have a cool band!”

The strange boy’s eyes widened at her before enveloping her in a tight hug, “Oh honey, it’ll be okay…” he cooed into her hair.

“What’s your name?” Y/N hiccuped as she looked up at the boy.

“Alec, you?”

“I-” suddenly the burst down, revealing Ashton and Micheal behind it. They stormed into the room and pulled Y/N and Alec apart. Ashton held her to his chest, worriedly checking her for bruises while holding her face in his hands. Michael was threatening Alec in the opposite corner which caused Y/N to struggle against Ashton.

“Hey! Leave my friend alone, Mikey!” she shouted, surprising the intruders.

“We thought you were-”

“Yeah yeah. You thought I was in trouble,” she scoffed at Michael, “For a second I thought I was too, but Alec isn’t into me. He likes the dude who was dancing beside us!” it was clear to everyone in the room that Y/N was way too wasted to be having any conversation at the moment, so Ashton tucked her underneath his arm and smiled down at her nicely.

“Hey sweetie, want to go get chicken nuggets and I take you home?”

“Guessing you’re the brother’s best friend?” Alec asked Michael, checking him up and down before looking at Y/N, “I approve.” Y/N shook her head at him, “No no,” she slurred, “Not that one, this one!” she pointed up at Ashton who continued to look down at her with soft caring eyes. When she looked up at him she couldn’t help but awe at him, “He’s just so gorgeous, don’t you think Alec?” Ashton giggled at her and poked her nose.

“You need to sober up, love,” he spoke, starting to walk her out of the room.

“Mikey! Get his number for me! We are going to be best friends Alec!”

She could hear the laughter of her friends, but at that moment all she cared about was how good Ashton smelled at that very moment.

She passed out in his car before they even got to McDonalds. It was already 4am so he texted Luke asking what he should do. Luke obviously didn’t want Ben, Jack, or their parents to wake up and find out that his little sister got blackout drunk at some party and was found in the bed with a half naked guy (but don’t worry he wasn’t into her!), so he told Ashton to just let her crash at his place because it was easier to sneak people into Ashton’s house rather than his, plus everyone was coming over in the morning to Ashton’s and Luke could play it like she left early.

So Ashton did as he was told and placed Y/N softly on his bed before grabbing a pillow and starting to lay on the floor.

“Ashton?” Y/N called out with the most innocent tone he’d ever heard, “Can you lay with me please? I usually have a teddy bear or something…” she did, but that wasn’t the reason she wanted him to lay with her. She wanted to cuddle him. It was her dream to cuddle Ashton.

“Of course, baby girl,” he laughed before crawling into bed with her. The way he spoke made chllls go down her spine. His voice was heaven sent… God took his time making sure that every last thing was perfect about this boy and she knew it. He laid on top of the covers and kept his shorts and shirt on, knowing that Luke would murder him if he found them otherwise. Y/N snuggled to Ashton, feeling herself losing consciousness faster than she ever has before. But she had something to say before the drunk confidence wore off.

“I really like you,” she said, “Like wanna kiss you like you… have since we met.”

Ashton giggled, “I know,” he admitted, “I like you too.”

She shot up and looked at him, “You do?”

“Of course I do, now go to sleep.” She didn’t protest at all, instead she just laid her head down and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

He liked her too.

----

Also when she woke up, she had a message from an unknown number that said, “Yo I fucked the other friend is that cool?”

#ashton 5sos #ashton fletcher irwin #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fluff #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings #5sos #5 seconds of summer #fanfiction #calum hood fanfic #calum hood #michael clifford fanfic #michael clifford #writer #romance #writers of tumblr

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chaptersinprogress · 4 years

Text

if I bleed (you’ll be the last to know)

Khai had been acting weird. Well, weirder than usual at least. They all had noticed it. And it had started not long after Third had learnt what Bone and Khai were up to.

Rating: T

Warnings: mild swearing

Pairings: Khai/Third

It took him far longer than it should have to realise that something was wrong.

"Third..." Khai whined, draping himself over the smaller boy. "Won't you come to watch a movie with me?"

Third ignored him. He continued working on the script; there were a couple of minute changes that he thought he could discuss with Un. Crossing out a few lines, he bit the end of his pencil. Would it be better to replace them or simply delete them entirely?

Khai dropped his chin onto Third's shoulder. "Third...Third, Third, Third" came the insistent call, each word punctuated by him thumping his chin.

Said boy let out a frustrated groan and threw his pencil down. "What?"

"Come watch a movie with me, hmm?"

Third twisted his body away forcefully. Khai let out a tiny yelp as he fell forward, barely catching himself in time from bashing his face into the wooden counter-top.

"I'm busy, Khai! Go be clingy somewhere else," Third snapped, turning back to the drafts.

Scribbling an idea down, he steeled himself to not react to the dawdling that would follow. He tapped his fingers impatiently. After a minute or two of anticipation, he looked up to see precisely what the boy he was trying to get over was up to. Except, Khai wasn't there at all. Third scanned the coffee shop in confusion.

"He left a few minutes ago," called out Bone, as he attended to the various orders he received. "Two followed him out."

"Huh," exhaled Third.

A small ache gnawed at his chest. He scoffed. Surely he wasn’t missing being annoyed by Khai. And he certainly wasn't feeling guilty. No, he was not. He shook his head roughly and turned back to his work.

There were moments when Khai seemed almost normal. But other times...

Third stopped abruptly. Two and Bone almost crashed into him.

"What's going on?" asked Bone, looking around in confusion. "Why did we stop?"

Two followed Third's gaze. "Ah," he said quietly. He shoved his elbow into Bone's side and thrust his head in the direction of what had caught Third's eye.

Bone squinted against the glare of the sun. At the bottom of the steps a few feet away, Khai was facing a girl.

"Shit," Bone whispered. He side-eyed Two, "What do we do?"

Two looked back at him with a matching expression of dread, "We can't do anything now. Third won't move even if we tried to distract him."

They turned back to the scene at hand, bracing for the fallout that was sure to follow.

Third felt numb. This situation was all too familiar. And it hit way too close after what happened with Ching Ching. But he found himself unable to look away. He had to know. If he was worth more than a fling to Khai or was merely a flight of fancy. He had been rebuffing all of Khai's advances; it wouldn't surprise him if Khai had moved on to people who were easier to deal with. He never stayed long with people who didn't give him what he wanted.

"Please don't fuck up, please don't fuck up," chanted Two under his breath, wringing his hands anxiously.

They watched as Khai replied to the girl. She tucked her hair behind her ear and took a step closer. Khai hastily took a few steps back and repeated something.

Bone frowned. "Two, Khai's acting a bit strange, isn't he?" he asked quietly. "I've never seen him react to a girl this way before."

Khai seemed tense. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, eyes darting to the girl, their surroundings and back again. When the girl attempted to speak again, Khai shook his head vehemently.

"Yeah," replied Two, in disbelief. "He almost seems to be frightened of her." He tugged Third, who looked like he had been hit in the chest, to face him and Bone. "We should leave - "

"No!"

The trio spun back to the scene below in shock.

"I'm not interested! Leave me the fuck alone!" yelled Khai before spinning and stomping off, shoulders shaking.

The girl he had been talking to burst into sobs. The rest of the Gangsters stared at each other with wide eyes. Khai had never brutally rejected a girl before. Hell, even Third - who was literally known for his harsh rejections - had never reacted so explosively.

Of all of them, it was Bone who recovered first. "I'll go check on Khai," he said. "Two, you take care of Third. I'll see you both tomorrow."

The little things became more evident after they had cemented their relationship.

The cleaning.

Third walked into Khai's apartment and stumbled to a halt. He eyed his boyfriend warily. Had he hit his head recently?

"What are you doing?" he asked slowly.

Khai cracked his back and leant his weight on the mop. He grinned at Third dopily. "I'm cleaning!"

Third nodded slowly. "I can see that. But why?"

Khai tilted his head, "Because the room's dirty?"

"Yeah, but you never mop."

The smile dropped off Khai's face. "Do...do you not want me to?" he asked quietly.

Third stared at him in confusion. What on earth did he mean by that? "Of course you can. You certainly shouldn't leave it for the cleaner who comes only every 2-3 months. Or for when I help out."

Khai visibly relaxed. "Oh. Well yeah, that's why I'm doing it now."

The cooking.

"So," asked Khai excitedly. "How is it?"

Third poked the mish-mash of roughly chopped vegetables which made up the stir-fry with his chopsticks. Hesitantly, he took a bite. Eyes widening, he looked at his boyfriend in shock.

"It's delicious," he said. "I didn't know you could cook."

Khai averted his eyes. "Ah, well, I don't actually. Only learnt how to make this one thing. I just…you always make dinner for us. So I thought I should help out a bit and make you something too."

A small frown crossed Third's face. Taking Khai's hand, he pulled on it gently till they were once again looking at each other.

"You don't have to. I like making dinner for you," he said. A fond smile grew on his face, "But I definitely don't mind you making things for me too. It really is quite tasty."

Khai beamed at him.

The tiptoeing.

"Third, are you ok with this movie? We can choose something that you like."

"Ah, this queue is very long. Do you want to go somewhere else? I'm sure this must be boring you."

"Is this ok?"

"We can do something else, no worries."

"Are you ok with...?"

"Is this...?"

"Do you...?"

"Third...?"

"Third...?”

Khai was slowly turning into someone he could no longer recognise.

At this point, Third wanted to scream. Khai refused to make any decision without his explicit permission and even then, would ask him over and over again if he was ok with it. He wasn't Khai's jailer, dammit! He didn't need Khai to tell him who, what, when, where and why for everything. And he wasn't going to be inconvenienced by every little thing Khai wanted either. They were in a relationship for goodness sake, he knew how to compromise. Khai didn't have to bend over backwards for him. He didn't want him to.

He missed his Khai.

Two and Bone glanced at each other. They too, had noticed the changes.

"Maybe you should ask him directly," suggested Two.

Bone nodded. "It's strange; seeing him like this. Hopefully, you two will be able to sort it out. If you need anything, we'll be there."

Unsurprisingly, the intervention blew up in their faces in a spectacular fashion.

Third waited for Khai to come home, sitting idly on the couch with Love Actually playing in the background. He smiled, recalling his failed confession as well as Khai's declaration of his feelings. Huh, turns out he really did help Khai confess to the person he was interested in. And Third was so, so grateful that that person was him.

The sound of the door unlocking jolted him out of his thoughts. He watched fondly as Khai kicked his shoes off at the side messily before dumping his bag near the dining room table. Khai met his eyes and grinned, hurriedly making his way over and draping himself over Third's shoulders. The latter huffed lightly and pressed his nose into Khai's hair. The two of them stayed like that for a while, basking in each other's presence. But they really did need to address the issue of Khai's strange behaviour.

Shaking his head, Third pulled away slowly before meeting Khai's gaze, "We need to talk."

Khai froze. The blood visibly drained from his face. "What?" he choked out hoarsely.

Third frowned and tapped Khai's arm worriedly, "You ok?"

He pulled the stunned boy onto the couch and gripped his clammy hands tightly. Was it low blood sugar? Perhaps he should bring over a drink and snacks or something?

"Khai, I-"

"No!" the word tore itself out of Khai's throat.

He grabbed desperately for Third's shirt, fisting the fabric. Third stared at his boyfriend in shock.

"What's gotten -"

"Please!" Khai begged, eyes reddening. "I'll do anything! I swear! There's no one else but you! I'll stop bothering you while working, I'll clean and cook and...and...I'll-" he looked around frantically. "I'll keep my shoes neatly, and I won't throw my bag around and I'll -"

"Khai!" Third interjected. "Khai, listen to me!"

"I swear I won't be a burden! I'll keep all my promises, and I'll do whatever you want me to and -" Khai continued babbling, tears starting to track down his face. He let go of Third's shirt and threw himself on his knees at Third's feet. "I'll do anything," he promised, the words coming out in harsh sobs. "I swear, I'll do anything. Just please, please don't leave me, please -"

"KHAI!"

Said boy fell silent as if struck. Third sank to the floor beside the boy he loved so dearly. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

"Khai," he whispered, lifting a trembling hand to press against his boyfriend's cheek. "Khai, I love you so damn much."

Glassy eyes stared right through him, the words going unheard. Tears still made their way down his beloved's face, dripping down his chin. He barely seemed to be breathing. Third felt his own eyes well up. He cradled Khai's face in his hands and ran his thumbs across Khai's cheekbones, gently brushing away the liquid even as more spilt over.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I'm not going to leave. I'm never leaving you."

At the lack of response, Third dropped a hand from Khai's face, grasping a limp hand instead. He squeezed, exerting pressure but careful not to hurt. He had done too much of that already. Letting his own tears flow, he pressed his lips to the side of Khai's head. "I love you." He kissed the tip of Khai's nose. "I adore you." His cheekbone. "You're my everything." His chin. "I'm not leaving." His forehead. "Never leaving," Third promised.

Leaning back, Third scrubbed his own face harshly with his sweater sleeve. Khai remained worryingly still. "Come on," Third murmured thickly. "Let's get you comfortable on the couch." He manoeuvred both of them onto the sofa with some difficulty. Propping Khai up halfway using the cushions, he clambered onto his boyfriend's lap and tugged the throw blanket over them. He tenderly wiped away the traces of tears from Khai's face, grateful that at the very least, no more were taking their place.

Winding his arms around Khai's middle, he pretended that it was enough to hold the shattered pieces of the love of his life together. He would give anything for it to be enough. To mend all the cracks that had formed without his notice. Third let his full body weight rest on Khai, hoping that it would ground him and prove that Third had no intention of going anywhere that wasn't beside Khai. He tucked his head into the crook of Khai's neck and continued pressing little kisses onto his jaw, breathing apologies, promises and declarations of love.

The sun had set by the time Khai took in a shuddering breath, his sole movement since the explosion earlier. Third remained quiet, merely stroking the back of Khai's hand with his thumb, fingers intertwined. After another quarter-hour had passed with no further change, Third risked pulling away to study him.

Khai's eyes flickered to meet Third's. Third's heart broke further at the confusion and disbelief he saw in them. As if Khai couldn't believe that Third was still there with him. Keeping a firm grip on their intertwined fingers, Third swung himself off the couch and tugged at Khai to stand up before pulling them to the dining table.

"I'm just going to heat up dinner, ok?" he said softly, watching carefully for any adverse reaction to the statement. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here the whole time."

Taking the lack of reaction to be agreement (because what other choice was there at this point?) he made sure Khai was seated comfortably at the table with a good view of the entirety of the kitchen before untangling their fingers to head to the fridge. Pulling out the congee he had bought earlier that day and a bowl to heat the food in, he could feel the burning intensity of Khai's gaze on his back the whole time. He bore the discomfort quietly. If it helped to settle some of Khai's uncertainties, it was the least he could do.

Heading back to the table carefully, he sat next to Khai and hooked his feet around Khai's ankles. With a bit of prompting, he fed Khai their dinner while taking bites for himself intermittently. The bowl was barely half empty when Khai pulled back, shaking his head. Third took the hint and scarfed down the rest of the food quickly before depositing the used cutlery in the sink. Those could be dealt with later; Khai was more important.

"Let's head to bed," he said, grasping Khai's arm lightly.

Khai allowed himself to be pulled into the bedroom and tucked into bed. Third snuggled into his side, throwing an arm and leg over Khai, all but crawling onto him.

Tracing little hearts on Khai's chest, he breathed out, "I hadn't realised. I had noticed that you were behaving strangely, all of us did really, but I never thought that I had given you cause to doubt my love for you. I'd loved you for so long, it seemed obvious."

He felt Khai tremble under him. "Khai. Khai, I love you. And I'm so lucky that you love me too. I'd never want to leave you."

"You don't have to change yourself. My love for you isn't conditional on you behaving the way I want you to." He huffed a laugh, "If it was, I'd never have fallen in love all those years ago."

He continued softly, "Yeah, I appreciate all that you've been doing lately. Because to me, it's like you're expressing your love for me in other ways, and I love it. But you shouldn't do it because you think that I'll get sick of you or something if you didn't do it. I chose you, Khai, flaws and all. You don't have to change yourself to fit the ideal that you think I'll love. Ok?"

They lay together quietly. Third felt a smile grow on his face as Khai turned to his side and drew closer, resting his chin on Third's head.

"Ok," let out Khai shakily.

It would definitely take them time to heal the wounds they had left to fester. But it was time to face them and hopefully come out the other side stronger.

Together.

#chaptersinprogress #theory of love #theory of love the series #khai x third #khaithird #fanfiction #fanfic #if I bleed (you'll be the last to know)

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bevvydraws · 5 years

Text

Vacation for Adrien (AdriNoire)

This one-shot is Adrien x Lady Noire! Also, Adrien really needs a vacation, you guys.

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

“School starts tomorrow, Tikki, and it’s been yet another summer with no vacation time,” Adrien leaned his head back against his desk chair. He decided to post a picture on his Instagram stating how much he wished he could take a vacation next year, knowing that Nathalie constantly monitored his social media. Maybe she would pass the word along to his father. Deep down he knew it was a fruitless venture, but he thought it was worth a shot.

“It’s going to be okay, Adrien,” Tikki snuggled into his cheek affectionately, “Just think, you’ll get to see all of your friends tomorrow!” She moved to where she was floating in front of his face.

“You’re right,” he managed a small smile, “Things will get better tomorrow.” He gently rubbed the top of Tikki’s head with his finger. She giggled and zoomed around his head, only stopping when she gave the tip of his nose a little kiss. Adrien laughed. He was about to suggest watching a movie together, but before the words could leave his mouth, there was a knock at his window. He was so startled that he jumped, causing his rolling chair to shift and move out from beneath him. “Shit!” He heard Tikki gasp and watched her zoom off to a hiding spot. When he stood up, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Lady Noire was knocking at his window, perched delicately on her staff. He rather ungracefully scrambled to the window.

“Hello there, kitten,” she said through the glass, her lips pulled up in an all-too-knowing smile. She definitely knew that her affectionate nickname for him made his heart rate spike and his knees weak. “Mind if I drop in?”

Adrien quickly opened his window and stood back as she gracefully landed on his floor infront of him. “Lady Noire, what are you doing here?” He was staring at her wide-eyed, “N-not that I’m complaining! I’m really happy to see you! I mean who wouldn’t be? You’re amazing! And-”

In two strides, the feline superheroine was startlingly close to him, a gloved finger coming up to his lips to hush him, “Slow down, kitten. I’m just here to do a little hero work. Is that okay?” Her striking green eyes shone with playfulness. Adrien nodded, and she giggled a bit before stepping back from him, hand moving to rest on her waist. “Good. Because a little birdy told me that you’ve never had a vacation. And that is a crime that I cannot let go uncorrected.”

“H-huh?” Adrien was dumbfounded.

“I’m going to take you on a mini-vacation. And that’s that,” she grinned at him.

“But it’s the middle of the day, and there’s no way I’ll be able to sneak out…” Adrien’s heart was both soaring and breaking at the same time. Here was the girl of his dreams, offering to take him out and he couldn’t even go. He was supposed to be lucky. “And even if I managed to sneak out, people would recognize me..”

“Not to worry, Adrien. I have this all covered,” she waved her hand dismissively, “Just tell your father you’re finishing up on a summer assignment and then going to bed early for school tomorrow. And then we’ll pick a disguise for you and we’ll hit the town.” She placed a hand on his cheek, “You’ve been working all summer. Don’t you think you’ve earned a break?”

Looking into her eyes again, he no longer saw the playfulness from before, but instead saw gentleness and concern. He straightened up and nodded, deciding that he did deserve a break, whether his father was going to give him one or not. “Alright, give me 30 minutes.”

“Wait,” Lady Noire showed him a mask he didn’t realize she was holding, “Put this on with your outfit. Don’t worry, I’ll be wearing one too when I de-transform.” Adrien didn’t have time to ask questions, as he was quickly pushed towards the direction of the door.

30 minutes later, Adrien had convinced Nathalie to leave him be for the rest of the day and had changed into a green shirt and black over-shirt where Tikki was now hiding. He had put on the black mask, moving it around until it felt comfortable. It was a lot weirder to wear than his magic ladybug mask. He stepped out of his bathroom to see his Lady staring out of the still open window. “I’m ready.”

She turns to look at him, “My my, don’t you look meow-velous,” she grinned, walking over to him and circling him, Adrien felt his face heat up as he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. Her smile then turned sweet as she offered her hand to him, “Shall we go then, kitten?” He took her hand and nodded. Her grin returned just as quickly as it had left as she scooped him up bridal style. His arms wrapped around her neck and with surprising skill, she held him secure with one arm launched them off with her staff.

After a minute of leaping and bounding, Lady Noire had lowered them into an alley. Adrien stood, looking around in confusion. Why would she take him here? Not that he was really complaining, he didn’t care where he spent his time with his Lady, as long as she was there with him. “I’m going to de-transform now Adrien, okay?”

“What?! That’s dangerous!”

Lady Noire laughed, “You sound like Monsieur Bug,” she shook her head, “No worries, kitten. I have a disguise on as well. I just thought it’d be less conspicuous than going on a date with me in my full hero suit.” Adrien’s face was bright red at the mention of it being a date but didn’t question in fear of her changing her mind. He simply nodded.

“Claws in,” she said before a flash of green light enveloped her. Adrien closed his eyes, but when he opened them he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Her hair was not as long as her costume suggested, which made sense. Instead, her braided pigtails reached her shoulders. Her black sundress flowed around her and looked positively adorable. She had a little green purse that fit over her shoulder, which was likely where her kwami went to hide, not that Adrien would question her. But what was most striking were her eyes.

She still had a mask on, but without the magic mask her natural eyes were able to be seen. And they were the most startlingly beautiful blue that he’d ever seen. “You’re so beautiful,” Adrien blurted out before his brain could stop him.

Lady Noire’s face turned pink at the sudden compliment, “Why thank you, kitten.” her tone was gentle and shy, “Shall we get your vacation started?” She walked over to him and looped her arm carefully through his.

“Y-yes of course, Lady Noire.”

“Hmm.. you can’t call me Lady Noire, that would give us away.”

“So what should I call you then?”

“Ma-” she stopped herself, looking as if she almost let something slip. She gave him a sheepish smile, “Just call me whatever you’d like, as long as it’s not my superhero name.”

“Very well then, my Lady,” he grinned, “Where to first?”

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

The day went very well. They went to a cafe, had a nice walk along the Seine, went to see a movie, and even had their pictures drawn by an artist who had their stand set up. The entire time was spent laughing, enjoying the sounds and sights of the city that he spent far too much time protecting. His heart had never felt so full.

His Lady had done everything she could to make sure he enjoyed himself. Sure, they got a few looks for wearing masks, but she had simply talked loudly about how “amazing their top of the line superhero chic masks” were. Adrien had laughed so hard that he had snorted, which had caused both of them to laugh even harder.

Through the day, they had gone from her holding his arm, to the both of them holding hands. Adrien was silently trying to memorize the shape of her hand without the glove, because who knew when he would get to spend time with her like this again.

And now, the sun was setting, and the two of them were sitting on the steps of the Trocadero, which she claimed was her “secret spot of inspiration.” Lady Noire was leaned comfortably against his shoulder, both of her hands holding one of his. Adrien looked at the ring on her finger, the object looking oddly familiar. But he was on too much a happiness high to really think too hard about it. Everything was calm, and today had been better than he could have ever hoped for.

“Thank you,” Adrien said, breaking the silence that had settled around them, “For today, I mean.” he had to pace himself so as not to start crying. “You have no idea how much this means to me, my lady.”

“Oh Adrien,” she whispered, peering up at him with her bluebell eyes. In the back of his mind, he mused how he definitely had a new favorite color. “You deserve a break every now and then. And you know, today has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I’d be happy to do it again whenever you want.”

His heart was soaring, “So, does that mean I scored myself a second date?” His smile was shy and he could feel the blush staining his cheeks.

His Lady giggled, then gave him a cheeky grin, “Adrien, you’ve scored yourself as many dates as you’d like. All you need to do is post a distress signal on your Instagram and I’ll be there faster than Monsieur Bug can say ‘Lucky Charm!’.”

“And if I’m always in distress?” Adrien didn’t realize that they were slowly leaning closer together, but neither of them seemed like they were going to stop.

“I’m a superhero, kitten. I’ll always be there to rescue you,” her voice was softer now, the lilt of playfulness barely present.

“Promise?”

“I swear on all of my nine lives.”

And suddenly her lips were on his. It was a shy, sweet kiss. One that lead to another, and another, and another, until they were breathless and giggling and red-faced. Both of his arms were around her now, and his forehead was pressed against hers, “I’ll hold you to that promise, my Lady.”

“As long as you’re holding me, I don’t care,” her smile was blinding and in the rosy rays of the sunset, she looked like an angel. Adrien realized then that the temperature was cooling, and soon it would be too cold for her to stay out here in her sundress.

“It’s getting late,” Adrien’s voice couldn’t seem to get over a whisper, too terrified that it would somehow break the spell that surrounded them if he spoke any louder. “And I do have school tomorrow.”

“I know, kitten,” her hand gently cupped his face, “Just a little longer, please.”

“Anything for you, my lady.”

“How about another kiss, then?”

He was more than happy to oblige her.

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

It was dark by the time she had brought him back to his room, and she had bid him sweet dreams and farewell with one last kiss, before leaping back off into the night. Adrien fell backward onto his bed, a smitten expression on his face as he replayed the day over and over in his mind. She’s an angel.

“I’m glad you had such a great day, Adrien!” Tikki cooed, happily munching on a cookie from his stash he had for her. “She seems really taken by you!”

“I just wish I knew who she was behind the mask…” he sighed dreamily, “She’s the girl of my dreams, Tikki. And she actually kissed me!”

Tikki giggled, “Well, now it’s time to get ready for bed Adrien. You have school tomorrow afterall!”

Despite the busy day, Adrien still had trouble drifting off to sleep. But he when finally did, he dreamt of his Lady.

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The next day at school, Adrien was waiting on the steps for Nino when he spotted Marinette and Alya coming up the stairs. He waved to them, and the two waved back. “Hey, Adrien!” Marinette greeted him with a smile, “How was your last day of vacation?”

He smiled, “It was the best I’d ever had, but I’m happy to be back in school so I can see my friends again. And yours?”

She moved her hand to clutch at her backpack strap, repositioning it on her shoulder. The glint of her ring catching his eye. His breath was caught in his throat. That was definitely Lady Noire’s ring. He spent long enough staring at her hands while she was holding his that there was no way he could mistake it. Adrien looked Marinette in the eyes, and there he saw his favorite color once again.

“Oh you know,” she said with a knowing smile, “I just spent the afternoon chasing around a kitten.”

Alya looked between the two, about to ask what was going on, when Nino rushed up. “Sorry I’m late, dudes! I completely forgot about the essay that was due and had to print it out.”

“That’s right!” Alya snaps, “Marinette did you ever finish it?”

Marinette laughed guiltily, scratching the back of her neck, “Not yet. I’m just going to turn it in tomorrow. I was really busy yesterday.”

Alya shook her head, “Let’s just get inside before we’re late to class.” Marinette and Nino agreed and the group made their way up the steps, leaving behind Adrien, who was still processing everything. When he finally snapped back to reality, he had to rush to class so he wouldn’t be late.

And everyone was curious as to why he was looking at Marinette with the most dopey love-sick expression any of them had ever seen.

#my writing #AdriNoire #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #Vacation for Adrien #Adrien x Lady Noire #Adrien Agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lady noire #kwami swap au #kwami swap

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