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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

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Merry Christmas, Darling

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Author’s Note: This is one of my contributions to @notroosterbradshaw’s #hello december playlist challenge! It’s inspired by the song Merry Christmas Darling by The Carpenters!

Warnings: Angst related to an unexpected deployment, brief language, brief and subtle innuendos, lots of fluff.

Greeting cards have all been sent The Christmas rush is through But I still have one wish to make A special one for you Merry Christmas, darling We're apart, that's true

But I can dream and in my dreams I'm Christmasing with you

Phoenix had been impatiently watching the minutes tick by all day, willing time itself to move faster as she attempted to keep herself busy around the house, cleaning the kitchen for the third or fourth time that morning, throwing some ready-to-bake Pillsbury cookies in the oven, rearranging the ornaments on the Christmas tree—anything to make the hours slip by.

When 4:15pm finally rolled around, she scrambled into the living room, where she’d left her laptop sitting on the end of the coffee table nearest the tree, fully charged and ready for her scheduled video call. Setting her wine glass down on a coaster and nibbling anxiously on one of the snowman sugar cookies she’d made earlier in the afternoon, Phoenix sat down cross-legged on the floor and logged in, staring at her own reflection on camera as she awaited his virtual arrival.

It was only 4:18pm. She was early. They were supposed to be meeting at 4:30pm her time, 11:30pm his time. She would just wait. He’d be on soon.

She ate another six cookies in the meantime.

She was just lifting cookie number seven to her lips when her laptop suddenly started beeping, indicating that someone else was joining the video call. Throwing down the cookie at once, she tried not to look too eager as she leaned in closer, desperate to see that face that was far too handsome for its own good, but which she loved more than life itself.

“There’s my Minx,” Jake grinned, his bright smile suddenly filling the screen. He looked exhausted—the lines on his forehead and around his eyes were a dead giveaway to her—but his enthusiasm was obvious nonetheless.

“Well if it isn’t Bagman,” Phoenix smirked in return, swallowing a couple times to hold the explosion of emotion she was feeling at bay. “Right on time, too, I might add. Very impressive,” she grinned.

“I had to fight like hell to grab a free computer,” he told her, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure there’s a few ensigns who aren’t too happy with me right now, but I’ll smooth things over with them tomorrow. Nothing was going to keep me from seeing my girl,” he added with a wink.

Phoenix laughed at that, easily able to imagine her husband pulling rank to grab himself an available carrel. This was one situation where she wouldn’t scold him for being a cocky son of a bitch. “I’m glad for that,” she said, brushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Minx,” Jake murmured, sobering slightly. “So, so much. I wish you were here. You’d put most of these guys they’ve got us flying with to shame.”

“Hmmm, I’d rather you were here,” Phoenix replied, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The living room was cozy with the lights twinkling on the tree and soft Christmas music playing in the background, but the house felt cold without him in it.

“I know. Me, too,” he nodded, lifting a hand and resting it on the computer screen, as if reaching out to touch her.

She mimicked his movement, lifting her hand as if she could press her palm against his and feel his touch, despite the thousands of miles that separated them.

Being in the Navy for as long as she had been, especially since becoming part of the special detachment at North Island, unexpected missions and deployments shouldn’t have surprised her anymore. In fact, they often seemed to crop up at the most inconvenient times, if she was being honest. So it shouldn’t have shocked her when Jake was called upon at the last minute for a month-long mission in the Middle East.

But even though it shouldn’t have surprised her, it still hurt like hell when she learned that they’d be spending their first Christmas as husband and wife apart from one another.

She wasn’t normally one for tears, especially when it came to matters of duty and obligation, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t shed many of them when that bomb had been dropped on her.

“It isn’t fucking fair!” she’d sobbed angrily, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulled away from Jake as he tried to reach out to hold her, simultaneously craving his touch and needing to put as much distance between them as possible before she completely fell apart. “Why do they have to send you? It’s Christmas!”

“I know, Minx, I know,” Jake whispered calmly, pulling her into his arms despite her protests and holding her close, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “I hate it,” he admitted, his jaw clenching as he gazed stoically above her head, trying to hold it together for the both of them. “But…I don’t have a choice. I’ll be home as soon as possible.”

But it wouldn’t be soon enough. He was missing Christmas and New Year.

When they learned that Jake would be deployed on a mission for the holidays, Phoenix’s family had tried to convince her to fly out to New York to spend Christmas with them.

“Please, Tasha,” her mom had begged on the phone. “I hate the thought of you being cooped up all alone at Christmas.”

“I won’t be alone, Mom. A bunch of my friends will still be here,” Phoenix demurred, knowing the Dagger Squad wouldn’t let her spend the holidays alone even if she had wanted to. “Maybe next year we’ll fly over for Christmas.”

“Minx, I think your Mom is right,” Jake said as soon as she hung up the phone. He lifted one hand, stroking her cheek gently. “Spend Christmas with your parents and your brothers. I can’t stand the thought of you being here alone, baby.”

“I don’t want to,” Phoenix insisted stubbornly, shaking her head. “I want to be here. I want to be in our house. It’s our first Christmas here and I just—”

She hadn’t even been able to finish her sentence, the damn tears spilling over once more as her throat closed up with emotion.

“Hey, hey, shh,” Jake whispered tenderly, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her softly. “It’s okay,” he went on reassuringly, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “If that’s what you want, Minx, then it’s what I want, too.”

That matter settled, they’d then set about trying to cram as many holiday activities into the time they had left before Jake had to leave. Christmas markets, ice skating, the cookie decorating party at Penny and Mav’s place, game night at the Bradshaws’—they did it all.

But it still wasn’t nearly enough.

When Phoenix drove Jake to base the week before Christmas, she felt like her heart was being pummeled inside her chest. It was the hardest goodbye she’d ever had to say, clinging to him and kissing him for a long time before he finally had to let go.

“I’m going to do everything I can to see you on Christmas, Minx. We’ll talk. I promise,” Jake had whispered in her ear, kissing her one last time before being pulled off towards the carrier.

And so here they were, spending Christmas Eve half a world apart, Phoenix sitting on the floor of their living room in her Christmas pajamas, while Jake sat on board an aircraft carrier, still in his flight suit.

“How has your Christmas Eve been? Tell me everything,” Jake urged, his hand still resting against the screen, almost absent-mindedly, as if he really did think he could keep himself anchored to her that way.

“Oh, you know. A little boring,” Phoenix admitted with a laugh, reaching for her glass of wine and taking a sip. “Honestly, I was so anxious about watching the time for our call that I just ended up cleaning the kitchen and rearranging the decorations,” she chuckled. “Oh, but I did also make some cookies,” she added quickly, holding up one of her Pillsbury sugar cookies.

Jake groaned. “Don’t make me jealous, Minx. The food on board is crap, as usual. What I wouldn’t give for the taste of a Christmas cookie right now,” he sighed. “Actually,” he added, glancing over his shoulder and then raising a mischievous eyebrow. “What I wouldn’t give for the taste of a lot of things right now,” he said, winking suggestively.

“Bagman, I will literally end this call right now,” Phoenix told him, though she couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips at her husband’s innuendo.

“Aww, no, don’t do that. Let me look at that beautiful face for a little while longer,” he smirked, resting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. “Those pajamas are looking pretty sexy, babe.”

“Oh, shut up,” Phoenix laughed, rolling her eyes. “They’re the most comfortable pajamas I’ve ever worn, even if they do make me look like a five-year-old,” she joked.

“The dancing reindeer really bring out your eyes,” Jake snorted. She could tell his own eyes were sparkling with amusement, even through the computer screen.

“You know, that’s what I’m really most disappointed about—that I don’t get to see you in your dancing reindeer pajamas,” Phoenix smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ever since she was a little girl, the Trace family had had a tradition of getting a new pair of matching Christmas pajamas each year. Even as an adult, it was a tradition Phoenix had always looked forward to, and one she eagerly roped Jake into once they got engaged. Once again, she had to swallow her disappointment that he wasn’t home to take ridiculous selfies with her in front of the Christmas tree in their matching ensembles.

“Well, you know I would never want to disappoint you, Minx,” Jake replied, leaning forward in his seat as he began unzipping his flight suit. “And so…just for you…” He pulled open the suit to reveal what he’d donned underneath—his dancing reindeer Christmas pajamas.

Gasping excitedly, Phoenix nearly toppled her glass of wine as she scrambled to her knees, leaning in closer to her laptop screen to get a better view. “Oh, babe! You really brought them with you?” she asked, resting her hand over her heart. It honestly touched her more than words could say.

“Of course I did,” Jake smiled. “Wouldn’t be Christmas if I wasn’t wearing matching pajamas with my sexy wife,” he winked teasingly.

Phoenix laughed, beaming despite herself. “I love you so much,” she murmured, reaching out to press her hand against the screen once more.

“I love you, too. More than words can say,” Jake told her. He leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the desk of his carrel and gazing at her. “God, I wish I was holding you right now.”

“Me, too,” she whispered, her heart aching with missing him. “But you’ll be home soon.”

“Really soon,” Jake nodded, the quality of his video connection starting to lag slightly. They were lucky it had lasted for as long as it had. “We’ll celebrate when I get back, baby. I promise. I know it won’t be the same, but—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phoenix cut him off, shaking her head. “I’ll celebrate Christmas with you any time you want.”

Jake smiled at that, glancing down for a moment and then lifting his gaze back to her. “Speaking of which, it actually is Christmas here right now,” he smiled.

Phoenix glanced at the clock—5pm, which meant that it was midnight where Jake was currently stationed.

An unintelligible voice suddenly sounded in the background behind Jake, snagging his attention for a couple minutes. His expression deflated slightly, and Phoenix knew that it was time to say goodbye once again.

“I’m sorry, Minx. Apparently I’ve spent too much time with you, even though I say there’s never enough time,” Jake tried to joke, though his smile was tinged with sadness. “I love you. I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you, too,” Phoenix said softly, blowing him a kiss through the screen. “Merry Christmas, Bagman.”

Jake’s expression softened, his eyes filled with so much love that Phoenix thought her heart might just burst inside her chest at that moment.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve I wish I were with you

#hello december playlist challenge #hannix #hangman x phoenix #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #top gun #top gun: maverick

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kjack89 · 1 year

Note

E/R 38 pls

38. "Jet Lag" by Simple Plan and Natasha Bedingfield.

E/R, modern AU, established relationship.

Just as he had done for the past few mornings, as soon as his phone alarm went off, Enjolras rolled over to grab his phone, silence the alarm, and immediately FaceTime Grantaire. Unlike the past few mornings, however, his call went unanswered, and Enjolras frowned. He sent a quick text. You up?

No flashing dots appeared indicating Grantaire was replying, and Enjolras sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. He was just about to toss his phone aside and get up to shower when it rang and Enjolras let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. “Hey,” he said, as Grantaire’s face swam into view on the screen. “Were you asleep?”

“Barely,” Grantaire said. “But, uh, I actually had my phone charging in the other room and lost track of the time.”

Even though he had no reason to think so, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel like that was a lie, and he frowned slightly. “Everything ok?”

Grantaire flashed him a tired but genuine smile. “Everything is fine,” he assured him, and Enjolras relaxed, just a little. “Other than the fact that it is, like, 2 in the morning here. And this late night shit is not for me anymore. Five years ago, this would have been a typical Tuesday. Now, I’m gonna need, like, six weeks to recover.”

“You and me both,” Enjolras sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be really glad to get out of Switzerland and to a more reasonable time zone. Especially one with far more reasonable prices.”

“That sounds like a story,” Grantaire said with a grin. “Protesting the World Economic Forum at Davos not everything you dreamed it’d be?”

Enjolras groaned. “Hardly,” he said. “I paid $17 for a tuna fish sandwich yesterday. And it wasn’t a fancy sandwich. It was on white bread.”

Grantaire nodded appreciatively. “A fact that I’m sure was easier for you to swallow when you remembered that you don’t like tuna fish,” he said, sniggering as Enjolras gave him the finger. “So, uh, why exactly did you get a tuna sandwich anyway?”

“I thought it was turkey,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “My French isn’t what it used to be.”

Grantaire looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Don’t they mostly speak German in Davos?”

“Shut up,” Enjolras groaned, and now Grantaire did laugh. After a moment, Enjolras reluctantly joined, barking a laugh before hesitating. “I miss you,” he said. “And not your German is better than mine.”

“If it’s German you’re looking for, you should be FaceTiming with Marius,” Grantaire teased, though something sobered in his expression. “But I know. And I miss you, too.”

Silence fell between them, and Enjolras hesitated again, not wanting to ruin what had otherwise been a fairly drama-free phone call. “Should we talk about last night?” he hedged finally.

Grantaire groaned, running a tired hand across his face. “Only if you force me to,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I really am—”

“I know, Enjolras told him quickly. “And it’s ok, really, I just—”

“I fell asleep during FaceTime sex,” Grantaire interrupted, his hand still covering his face. “There is absolutely nothing ok about that.”

“At least you fell asleep before it got any good?” Enjolras offered. Grantaire just snorted and Enjolras sighed. “It’s the jet lag, I’m sure.”

Grantaire lowered his hand to give Enjolras a look. “Babe, you’re the one in a different time zone.”

“And you’re the one living your life like you are,” Enjolras countered.

Grantaire sighed. “I know,” he murmured, something darkening in his expression.

Enjolras worried his lower lip between his teeth before saying bracingly, “But hey, after Switzerland, it’s just a quick stop in Germany and then a short jump down to Peru for a couple days—”

“Peru?” Grantaire interrupted, his voice strained. “When the hell did Peru get added to agenda?”

Enjolras had the sudden, horrible realization that while he’d let Combeferre and Courfeyrac know about his plans to meet with the protestors in Peru, he’d forgotten to include Grantaire on that particular email. “Well, seeing as how there’s been widespread state violence against protestors—” he started, a defensive edge creeping into his voice.

“All of which is being thoroughly covered by folks on the ground,” Grantaire said, his voice tight.

“I know that, but—”

Grantaire sighed. “But what?” he asked tiredly.

Enjolras shrugged. “But it’s important,” he said quietly.

There was a long pause before Grantaire jerked a nod, not quite meeting Enjolras’s eyes. “I know,” he said. “I just miss you.”

“I know,” Enjolras echoed. “I miss you, too.”

Silence again stretched between them, but Enjolras didn’t try to interrupt it this time, just watching as Grantaire forced his expression into something neutral before finally meeting Enjolras’s eyes again. “Listen,” he started, “I hate to do this given the timing of the conversation we just finished, and I really don’t want you to read too much into it, but can we cancel our standing call before you go to bed tonight?”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, feeling his heart sink to somewhere near his stomach. He scratched the back of his neck before admitting, “It’s a little hard for me not to read into that, given everything.”

“I know,” Grantaire said heavily. “I just really need some sleep.”

Though Enjolras nodded, he couldn’t help but ask quietly, “At, what, 4:30 in the afternoon?”

Grantaire sighed again. “If that’s what it takes.”

Enjolras nodded again, even though he was the one who could no longer quite meet Grantaire’s eyes. “Ok,” he said. “Then I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He hesitated before adding, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Grantaire said before ending the call, and Enjolras stared down at the screen of his phone for a long moment, trying very hard to resist the sudden, inexplicable urge to hurl his phone against the wall.

— — — — —

Needles to say, when Enjolras woke up almost 24 hours later in a terrible mood, it wasn’t just because he’d somehow managed to wake up before his phone alarm went off. In fact, it took him a long moment of glowering up at his ceiling to realize what exactly had woken him up in the first place: the sound of knocking on the door of his AirBNB.

He lay there for a moment longer before finally getting up, willing himself not to bite the head off of whichever fellow protester had the misfortune of knocking on his door that morning. He yanked the door open, ready to tell whoever it was that he needed another hour, but instead, he found himself face-to-face with—

“Grantaire?”

“Hey,” Grantaire said tiredly.

Enjolras stared at him as if he might be imagining him. “What– how?” he croaked.

Grantaire shrugged, the movement slightly hampered by his backpack and puffy green coat. “Had to use basically all your frequent flier miles, but I got the last seat on a flight to Zurich, and then had the misfortune – I mean, uh, luck, to split a cab with some Politico reporter to Davos.” Enjolras just stared at him and Grantaire continued, slightly uncomfortably, “Then, because your AirBNB is like 18 years away from the actual event, I took the world’s most expensive Uber, which, don’t worry, I charged to your AmEx, and now, well.” He shrugged. “Now I’m here.”

“You’re—” Enjolras cut himself off by surging forward to kiss him, cupping his unshaven cheek with one hand, the other hand balling in the folds of his coat, tugging him even closer.

When they broke apart, Grantaire was grinning, though his smile looked slightly dazed. “So I’ll take it you’re not mad that I’m here?”

“Mad?” Enjolras repeated, incredulous. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well, other than because I spent a small fortune here, because your work is important,” Grantaire said. “Which I know as well as if not better than anyone else.” He shrugged again. “So I could understand that my showing up here unannounced may not have been entirely appreciated.”

He was eyeing Enjolras with something like wariness, and Enjolras’s expression softened. “It is very appreciated,” he assured him, kissing him once more. He hesitated before adding, “Though it does make me wonder, why, y’know, you’re here.”

“Well—” Enjolras shivered and Grantaire broke off. “How about we move this conversation out of the doorway?” he suggested and Enjolras barked a laugh.

“Good call,” he said, stepping back to let Grantaire inside.

Grantaire glanced around the place as he dropped his bag before shedding his coat, scarf and mittens. “Heckuva place,” he said mildly.

Enjolras made a face. “Sorry, all the chalets were being rented by the billionaires,” he said sourly.

Grantaire laughed. “Shame.” He held his hand out to Enjolras, who took it, lacing their fingers as he trailed after Grantaire to the couch, Grantaire automatically shifting so that Enjolras could pillow his head against his chest as if they were back home and not in some stranger’s house 4500 miles away.

“So,” Enjolras said, his eyelids fluttering closed as Grantaire automatically started stroking his hair, “why are you here?”

Grantaire laughed lightly, the sound a low rumble against Enjolras’s ear. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “Because I fell asleep during FaceTime sex.”

Enjolras frowned and pushed himself upright. “What?” he asked, searching Grantaire’s expression, half-expecting to see that he was teasing. “Why—”

“Enjolras, I fell asleep during sex,” Grantaire interrupted impatiently. “That’s never happened to me before. Embarrassingly soon afterward, sure, but during? With you?”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “So you thought, what, I would be upset about this enough to merit a little hop, skip and a jump across the Atlantic Ocean?” he asked skeptically.

Grantaire shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to be upset at all.”

“Well, good,” Enjolras said. “Because for the record, I’m not. And I wasn’t at the time.” He hesitated, feeling like he was missing something obvious. “So then why—”

“Because I was upset!” Grantaire told him, all hints of amusement gone. “Because when you’re halfway around the world, I get you for, charitably, half an hour a day. And I fell asleep and wasted that.” He paused before adding, a little pointedly, “Especially since I just found out you’ve added a stop to your itinerary.”

Enjolras winced. “I know I should’ve cleared it with you first—”

“You never need to clear things with me,” Grantaire told him. “But a head’s up would’ve been nice.”

“I know,” Enjolras said quietly, “and I’m sorry.”

Grantaire nodded. “So since I figured it’ll be at least another week until you’re home, I figured I owed it to both of us to make sure we had more than a half hour together.”

Automatically, Enjolras glanced over at the clock on the wall. “How long do we have together?”

“My flight leaves at 3 tomorrow afternoon<” Grantaire told him. “So, basically tonight.”

Enjolras made a face, even though he had suspected as much. “And that’s enough to make it worth it?”

“For you? Always.”

Grantaire said it easily, like it was the simplest declaration in the world, and Enjolras reached out automatically for him, kissing him gently. “I love you,” he murmured.

Grantaire tugged him back down against him. “I know. I love you, too.” He tugged lightly on one of Enjolras’s curls. “And it’s really fucking good to see you in person.”

Enjolras traced a finger lightly against Grantaire’s chest. “About Peru—”

“You don’t need to explain,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras shook his head. “I wasn’t going to. But I had a thought.” He took a deep breath. “How about after Peru, we meet in Mexico for a little together time?”

For a moment, Grantaire lit up. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why Mexico?”

Even after all this time, Enjolras would never get over how quickly Grantaire could see through him. “Well,” he started, a little weakly, “there’s rumblings about the government reneging on their tentative deal with the ejidatarios who were protesting at Chichén Itzá, so I figured—”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “Kill two birds with one stone,” he muttered. “Why am I not surprised?” He bent to press a kiss to Enjolras’s forehead. “How about you just come home?”

Enjolras smiled at him. “That I think I can do.”

They could have stayed like that for hours, but then, from the bedroom, Enjolras’s phone alarm went off and Grantaire’s hand stilled in his hair. “Duty calls?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We’ve got time.”

A small, sharp smile tugged at the corner of Grantaire’s lips. “How much time?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

Enjolras laughed. “Probably not enough time for that, especially if I want to shower before hitting the protest.”

Grantaire didn’t look disappointed. Instead, he looked almost contemplative. “How about we kill two birds with one stone?”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

Grantaire shrugged, his smile widening. “Well, you need to shower, and after about 12 hours of traveling, I definitely need to shower.”

It was hardly the most subtle suggestion, but Enjolras didn’t care. They were together, no matter how briefly, and he had never been one to waste time. Or water, for that matter. He grinned and stood, offering Grantaire his hand. “That I think I can do.”

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #established relationship #ask #answered #futurecomet #spotify wrapped meme #ask meme #fic meme

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g0ttal0ve101 · 4 months

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Confession

Note: RIAM ATTACK 💥💥 ok but seriously I haven’t written anything in weeks bc I’m deathly ill soooo here’s this to make up for it! TW: domestic abuse, kidnapping, obsessive behavior.

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“You fucking anorexic whore!”

One more drink should cast the thought away for good this time. At least, that’s what Riley kept telling herself. Cup after cup, song after song, she found herself almost too drunk to even think straight. That was fine. It was better than thinking about him going off with another girl.

The booze took away from the pain of her bruise planted underneath her eye, but it didn’t help her escape from the looks she kept getting from the other guests at the party. She figured she must have looked awful — Many others would beg to differ. Even with that nasty purple wound on her pale complexion, she was one of the prettiest girls of Woodlyn High. With eyes that resembled a meadow after sweet spring rain and hair the color of ravenous flames, it was hard not to spare a glance or two. Although, Jordan didn’t seem to think that. And if he didn’t care to look at her, she knew that she wasn’t worth looking at.

“Hey.”

God, that voice was painfully familiar. Turning her head in the direction of the sound, she let out a soft groan. “Huh?”

There she saw Thomas Hall — The valedictorian of her grade and host of this party. He leaned over her like a hawk preying upon its next meal with a sick grin plastered on his face. She knew whatever was going to be said or done wasn’t going to be good. Trying desperately to think of a way out, she notably took in her surroundings again. He chuckled from the sight.

“You single?”

“Fuck off, Thomas…”

“No, seriously. Did Jordan break up with you?”

There was a pause for a brief moment or two. Putting the brim back to her lips and chugging down the rest of the alcohol contained within it, she prayed to God that she wouldn’t say something she’d ultimately regret.

It was almost inevitable once she opened her mouth. “For now, yeah…mmh, to go out with ‘nother bitch tonight. He’ll be back tomorrow…” Her words slurred together miserably as she became almost incomprehensible.

Thomas sat down beside her, presumably locking into the conversation. Only then did she see his three friends behind him; David Nixon, Freddy Brooks, and Charlie Allen. It seemed like her future was getting darker and darker as time progressed. It wasn’t a good idea to get involved with these guys. Once they have even a little piece of information to hold above your head, they’ll be able to control your every move. That must be what they’re trying to accomplish right now. Riley scoffed from the thought.

“Well, y’know…I’ve always had the hots for you, Riley.” Thomas hummed, grabbing her empty cup to pour stronger alcohol inside. She had almost forgotten she was sitting in the kitchen by herself where all the drinks were. However, she didn’t recognize this brand. It must be expensive. “My door’s always open.”

“Fuck you and your door.” She spat right back at him, snatching the cup from his hand and taking a hesitant sip. “I won’t fuck on a pussy ass momma’s boy. Skip me on that.”

That description he heard of himself made his smile widen. She rejected him. That made this even more fun. “Isn’t Jordan a momma’s boy? I figured you just had a type. Anyway though, wanna go bust him and that slut?”

Her eyes turned to saucers. “What…?”

“They’re fucking in her car right now.” The rasp in his voice grew thicker as he grew more eager for her reaction. “Don’t you wanna show them who’s in charge, Riley? Don’t you want him back?”

All those words rubbed her in all the right ways. If she were sober, she could’ve seen through his cunning tactics. However, she couldn’t even see straight anymore, so there was no way of indicating anything was astray. She believed him without a second of a doubt.

Standing up wasn’t so easy. Placing her weight on her feet and stumbling forward, she crashed into a chair immediately. It wasn’t until Thomas grabbed a hold of her that she managed to fix her posture.

“Get off me.” Riley snapped, shoving him away as harshly as she could in the moment. It felt like her body was moving in slow motion. The alcohol surely did numbers in her. Once she felt his hands on her again, she raised her voice. “I SAID GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU STUPID MANWHORE! GOD!”

His laughter indicated he got the reaction he wanted all along. It made her sick to her stomach to think about. The trek began shortly after without another word exchanged between them.

People. Lights. Music. Everything disorientated the drunk girl entirely. She made sure to keep her eyes on Thomas while navigating her way through the crowd, but every now and then she believed she spotted Jordan in the crowd and lost her focus. When that happened, Charlie continued to shove her forward. She was too tired to scold him. Besides, she knew that he was only doing that because he wanted Thomas’s approval.

“Where’s the car?” Her voice murmured as she nearly knocked into an innocent bystander. “Mmh…I don’t gotta nice knife on me…only this shitty pocket one.”

The back door opened. December air smacked against their faces as they stepped out onto the porch. Although it was so cold, Riley felt warmer and lighter than ever. The thought of killing this bitch became more prominent and exciting to the point she trembled a bit with each step. Bliss that overwhelmed her systems suddenly grew sour as Thomas turned to face her, clearly having some sort of ace up his sleeve. She was too drunk to care. All she wanted was to beat this girl’s ass for touching Jordan in ways Riley could never hope to.

“Okay, I’ll deal with the bodies after you’re done.” Thomas bubbled as the two of them started down the steps. It was only then that she noticed the other three guys weren't following along. It freaked her out a little but the alcohol in her system, again, drowned out the worries. “I mean, you’re gonna kill Jordan too, right?”

With a scoff, she flicked out the pocket knife. “No.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Raising an eyebrow and scanning the driveway area for her car, he pondered his thoughts out loud. “But he cheated on you and beat your ass. Don’t you think that's—?”

Sticking her index finger against his chest and getting in his face, she drunkenly blabbered. “Shut the hell up, Thomas! Having sex with some girl don’t mean shit! He still loves me! He still loves me...” Her voice trailed off as she desperately tried to convince herself that was the case. Thomas simply observed her behavior with a smug grin.

“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t and that’s okay. I have a client who’ll be more than willing to show you the love you deserve.”

Her eyes darted toward him and in that second, she almost saw the look of empathy on his face. However, as quickly as that expression came, it went. David snatched her up from behind and shoved a cloth drenched in chloroform across her mouth and nose, tightly gripping her so she couldn’t squirm away. Thomas had thought she was pretty before but with that horrified expression, she looked absolutely stunning.

“It’s okay, don’t fight it! David’s not a pervert or anything. Well, at least not toward girls—!”

“Shut the fuck up before I knock you out next...” David grumbled, knowing damn well she might be acquainted with Lucian. (Which was more or less the reason why he was being so gentle with her.)

With a harsh shove to the back, Riley found herself being throttled into the backseat of a beat-up car. Only then did she understand that this was all a set up. Jordan wasn’t out here at all. In fact, he was probably at home with a bitch he found at the party already. Tears welled in her eyes from the thought. Although, it didn’t do her any good to cry.

████████████████████

By the time Riley regained consciousness, she had forgotten what happened. She figured she was in her own bed, falling behind on making breakfast for her little brother. For that reason alone, she got up despite her rough hangover and began stumbling around the dimly lit room to get changed. She reached for her dresser only to see her reflection staring right back at her — A mirror.

But she didn’t have any mirrors in her room.

“You’re awake.”

Riley let out a sharp gasp and nearly collapsed onto the piece of furniture, trying to decipher the dark figure standing by the door. The sound of its lock sealing echoed throughout the room.

Her immediate response was to grab the pocket knife from her jacket. However, when her hand went to tuck itself away and search for it, she found that her jacket was missing. Not only that, but so were her pants and shoes. Her heartbeat rang throughout her eardrums.

“A-Are you scared?” The voice grew soft and shaky. All the fear that she felt once before became a bit muffled whenever hearing the silhouette’s tone. “D…Don’t be scared. I hope T-Thomas didn’t hurt you…” Approaching her, Riley finally saw his face.

“Or he’d be breaking the deal.”

Beyond confused, Riley’s shoulders drooped and her eyebrows furrowed. “Sam…? Sam, is that you?”

Sam, one of Riley’s only friends, stood before her. Grasping onto his sweater and swallowing against the lump in his throat, he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s m…me.”

There was a brief pause. Sam’s mind spiraled in circles as he tried to muster out the words he wanted to assure her with. Even knowing that this could be Sam’s doing, Riley waited patiently for him to get out what he needed to say. And for that reason, he couldn’t help but feel more attracted to her.

“I-I want y-yuh…you to be m…” Clenching his eyes shut and lowering his head, he couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. “…my girlfriend! Please be my girlfriend, Riley!”

Her eyes widened like saucers. This was the first time she had ever received a confession like this. The only reason she and Jordan were dating was because she begged him to be her boyfriend. That’s why whenever she saw Sam like this, she couldn’t help but see herself.

“Sam…”

“I put poison in Jordan’s drink last night. He’s in critical condition at the hospital.” His voice went monotone, thick and dull. All emotion he once had completely drained away. “I’m the only one with the antidote. If you don’t break up with him I-I’ll let him fucking die. I’ll let him die, Riley, and he’s gonna hurt.”

Even when saying such horrible things, Riley was astonished by the glint of pure obsession embedded in his irises. He loved her. Even if they hardly spoke before this, even if this was the first time she truly locked eye contact with him, he loved her more than Jordan ever did.

“…Okay.”

“Wh…What?” Sam’s voice shook as he snapped out of his state of delusion. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No, not even that — He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Riley was smiling ear to ear. She didn’t look hurt or upset or anything. Rather, she appeared to be in utter bliss from the threat. Laughter escaped her throat as she held herself tight. “Okay! I’ll break up with him and get with you. That’s fine. So, get the antidote to him.”

Blinking in utter disbelief, Sam took a step or two backward. “A-Are you ser—?”

“You have no idea how serious I am.” She hummed, closing her eyes and lowering her head. “I’d do anything for him. Anything at all. So if that means I have to break up with him to save him, I will. So, please. Please give him the antidote, Sam.”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. Balling his hand into a fist instinctively, repulsion overwhelmed his system. “Do you really love him that much e-even after…all he’s done to you?”

“I do.” Riley murmured, almost ashamed. “Is that really such a bad thing? Everyone treats me like a whore because I let him do whatever he wants to me, but isn’t that what love is? To sacrifice and devote yourself to them? Wouldn’t you do the same?”

Sam blinked in disbelief for a moment or two before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I wouldn’t h-hit you, Rie.”

Those words sent a shock wave through her system. Even if he avoided her eyes, she stared through his soul and listened intently.

“I’d never hit you,” he continued while clenching at the ends of his sweater. “I’d never call you names, I’d n-never make you cry, I’d never abandon you, a…and I’d never let anyone hurt you! When was the last time he’s h…eld you, that he told you how p-p…pretty you are? Riley…Riley, that’s what love is!”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, although she wasn’t sure why. All she could do was laugh and wipe them away, knowing that what Sam had said was the truth. It hurt. But in the same breath, she was in pure bliss knowing that someone cared enough to answer her.

Wiping away her tears with the sleeve of his sweater, Sam leaned in close to her figure. “I want to show you th…that, Riley. Please let me treat you h-how he should’ve been treating you this entire t…ime.”

Riley couldn’t help but blush whenever he progressed toward her. If he kept it up, they’d be in kissing range sooner than later. She wasn’t opposed to the idea. Although, she was a bit nervous to be jumping from one man to the next.

Sparing a glance or two at his lips, she found her self control and took a step back. When seeing his stunned expression, he avoided his acid eyes at all costs. “Sam…”

Respecting her boundaries and laying off the pressure, he rewarded her with personal space and tried his hardest to keep the disappointment off his face. After all, he understood it wasn’t her fault. Jordan was the one to blame for her hesitance.

“Sorry. Sh-Sh…ouldn’t rush things.” Sam murmured, although his face told another story.

While she knew she wasn’t in danger, Riley couldn’t help but feel the heat against the back of her neck growing in size. Wanting to clarify her reasoning behind not indulging in his affection, she found herself stammering just as he does. “If Jordan ever found out…”

Jordan. Jordan, Jordan, Jordan. That’s all she ever wanted to talk about. Had he really captivated her heart that much? There weren't any redeeming qualities Sam could pick out for a reason as to why Riley would care for him so dearly; He had an average face, a horrible attitude, and no sense of loyalty whatsoever. So, why? Why did Riley love him so much?

Lost in thought, Riley remained quiet. It wasn’t until Sam grasped her face and caressed the wound underneath her eye that she snapped out of the delusion.

“You deserve so much more than that, Riley. Don’t you get it?” His voice was gentle and reassuring. Despite knowing that he wasn’t going to hurt her, she still couldn’t help but flinch from his words. “I’m sure you don’t. That’s why I’ll…I’ll…I’ll teach you.”

“T-Teach me?”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds.” Sam chuckled, releasing her from his grasp and gazing at his shaky hands. “As long as you trust me.”

#oc: sam vega #friend’s oc: riley morgan #riam ❤️🩷#wpw #101’s wpw

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transtundras-fr-archive · 2 years

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Tell me when,

When the end is nigh,

I’ll sober up and come down in time

— Pillar of Na by Saintseneca

——————

The sun had not yet set, but in the thick of the tangled wood, it mattered not. Danny hoisted his torch and followed the marked path known only to him and few others, in runes long forgotten. It had been about four years since he had last visited his friend, but it could have been merely a day for all he knew. The smell of wet tar and petrichor was enough to flood his mind with memories, making his last conversation seem much more recent.

He paused as his paw hit something… wet. Holding it up to the light of his torch, he squinted, recognizing the telltale shade of iridescent midnight. He was getting close. Wiping his paw off on his shawl, he carried on, the scent of tar and rain becoming more intense. It got so dark he soon could not see even a few feet in front of him. Only his sense of smell to guide him, he grimaced as the wetness did not abide underfoot. It caused him both disgust and concern; the ichor had never flowed out this far. It made him wonder how the others were fairing.

Finally, he approached a tall, imposing arch, the stone comprising it existing from before the third age. He chuffed, setting his lantern down as he waited, knowing better than to enter without permission. The stench of tar was overwhelming, encouraging him to break out his smelling salts to help him not be overloaded. Danny briefly mused as to why he did not brink a mask to filter the smell, but then realized it would be harder to find his way with one. Shrugging, he wiped his paws on the rocks, waiting.

He almost fell asleep when he finally registered a new smell, one that was old and familiar. Even after all this time here, he could still tell her distinctly from the stench of ichor. A musk of pine and saffron approached, and he could hear the clicking of a crossbow drawn.

“State your name and purpose, whelp.” Her voice was thick in the old Shadow accent, one not commonly heard anymore. Danny chuffed again in amusement, turning to face the two pale purple eyes peering from the darkness.

“Danny, traveler. You know why I’m here, Dryd.”

There was a pause, a tension, before he heard the crossbow lowered, followed by a chuckle. “You could try to lie sometime, you know. Would be funny. Besides…” she struck a match, lighting the lanterns on the stone arch. With the newfound light, it revealed a tall, limber guardian, clad in crimson and with shimmering blue scales. Her gaze flickered back down at him, cracking a smile with her jagged mouth.

“If you were someone else, you’d be dead before you got this far.”

——————

“… and so we still have no report on her whereabouts. I still think my theory stands.”

Danny paused to sip his coffee, finding the inside of Drydwen’s lair much cozier than trudging through the damp undergrowth. He cleared his throat, watching the guardian check on the stew she began a few hours ago.

“I mean, don’t you think we would have heard from her by now if she still was alive?”

Drydwen shrugged, gazing over her shoulder as she tasted her stew again.

“I don’t know, Danny. It’s best to keep on guard in case she still is out there. Either way, I don’t think about it much, not when I have my own charge.”

“Ah, fair enough. I suppose it’s a timely topic change anyhow.” He leaned forward in his chair, refilling his thermos and locking eyes with her.

“I noticed the streams have begun to spread out more.”

Drydwen’s expression turned from neutral to clear frustration, making a deep guttural sound and looking down at her stew.

“I know. The pool is beginning to overflow.”

“What? I thought it was supposed to be bottomless, what with the spell—“

“Well apparently it isn’t! Or it stopped working. Either way, it’s a problem. It won’t be long before some clueless bushwhacker stumbles along, and then—“ She paused, taking a deep breath, looking down at her tundra houseguest. Her expression was twisted, conflicted, and Danny could smell her heartache.

“Listen, I know she wasn’t good, none of them were, but I don’t want the same thing to happen to her that happened to him. It doesn’t feel right.”

Danny nodded solemnly, rising from his seat and approaching her, taking his much larger hand in his own.

“I agree completely. It’s why we do what we do.”

She bowed her head, exhaling and holding his hand quietly for a moment. Very few left in the world could empathize with their struggles, with the burden unwillingly placed upon them.

Danny eventually broke the silence, never one to idle long.

“Tomorrow I will make for the Ruins. If anyone could help push back the tide, I think it would be Zeziri.”

“You’re probably right.” Drydwen released his hand, looking out the window at the thick, bubbling pool of ichor, expression pensive.

“I wonder if they would have done what they did, had they known the consequences?” She pondered.

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think anyone could have told them anything to deter them otherwise.”

———

END OF PART 1

#flight rising #fr #my lore #Danny #Drydwen

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drabbleitout · 2 years

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Find the Word Tag Game

Tagged by: @andromeda-rising-897, @kaiusvnoir, & @spacetimewraithwrites (...I think that's everyone...) I took words from each tag to use My Words: Forgotten, Tear, Fire, Stay, Water, Weather, Work, Wince Tagging: @kcsmall, @stormbrightwriter, @druidx, @neshamahs, & everyone who tagged me AND anyone else who would like to join! (As always please don't feel pressured or rushed!) Your Words: Pillow, Slippery, Country, Frighten, & God Note: Stay hurts me, no matter how many times I read it. Also, this might be the first time Garnet's around & I don't have to put a language warning! What about that!

Forgotten

From somewhere out of view, Valetta approached, adjusting her hearing aid piercing and welcoming Lora back. A pass of words as she continued on to, Beau assumed, her desk. Lora watched her go, smile of her response sinking into something almost sad. Her every movement at her desk was forgotten in whatever thoughts she was having until her eyes blinked rapidly, jolting and returning to the dossier on her desk.

Tear

Ives blinked, gaze lowering to Ryker with an almost animatronic tilt of the head. “Good afternoon, officer. How may I be of assistance?” Ryker sucked in a breath, burning in his throat, unable to tear his stare away from Ives’ distant expression. No, not Ives. He wasn’t Ives anymore. Duras had gotten rid of him. This was GW-IV5.

Fire

Its body caught light, inorganic and matte, limbs gangly for its almost human-like stature. Massive shoulders with a torso largely out of proportion of its hips and legs. Angular, a number of cords hung from its limbs, faceless with a flat, diamond-shaped head. A deep rumble rippled the sludge around their legs, shaking into their bones. A shriek, a groan, not quite a voice as much as a sensation. It charged, bolting from one side of the tunnel to the next, leaping over their heads as one massive hand seized Garnet by the front of his vest. Before he could fire it slung him down the tunnel, into the dark, pinning Beau to the wall.

Stay & Water

But Garnet decided he didn't need a response, hugging him again to duck his face into the crook of Beau's neck and shoulder. "Oh –well… Okay," Beau tried not to laugh, patting him on the back. "How about some water? You want some water?" “No,” Garnet scoffed as if the idea were the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. And then, “I need you to stay.” Beau wouldn’t categorize it as normal, but he'd said it so clear Beau wondered for a moment if he’d miraculously sobered up. “That’s why I came with you, to make sure you’re alright tonight.” A hand slid up the back of Beau’s head, fingers filtering into curls as Garnet lifted his head, just enough to tilt their temples together. “I mean stay.” Not sober, far too low and rumbling. Beau caught a hand on the wall as his legs faltered, as if all the TLN suddenly rushed towards the points of contact like Garnet was electromagnetic.

Weather

“Hey Beauregard,” [Valetta] gently smiled, taking him from Lora to bring into the foyer. “Nasty weather, isn’t it? Come on, let’s get you into something warm and dry. Here,” she ushered him over to the bench that held their shoes, sitting him down to begin taking off his shoes. “I can,” Beau whimpered, making a half-hearted attempt to do so himself. “It’s okay, I gotcha,” Valetta shook her head, finishing them off. She stacked them neatly standing to offer out her hands, “come on, I’ve got just the thing and Lora has some Puerquitos you should try."

Work

Garnet came through the door, hands in pockets, strolling to his desk. He didn’t bother sitting down, opening a drawer to drop in his work phone and shut down his terminal. Beau noticed right away he was missing his work belt. Locking up his desk and grabbing the motorcycle helmet from underneath, he stepped towards the door. “Are you leaving for the day?” Beau called, causing him to stop. “Yeah,” he turned back, “think I’m gonna take some time off. Have a little vacation. So try and hold it down till I get back, alright?” Beau checked the squad’s calendar, unable to find any mention of anyone taking vacation time. Garnet wasn’t approved until June. “Alright…” Beau nodded, watching him go. He was lying.

Wince

|Can we help?| Beau asked noticing Midland’s eyes going heavy. |I would need a full OR. Oxygen at least—| [Mikki] pulled away from the connection, brow bending as hairline fissures emerged in her face. Her hands shook as she combed again at Midland’s hair, hesitating as he leaned into her touch. “You okay, Mikki?” He wheezed. “I… I don’t know,” static emerged in her voice, spreading her hand along the side of his face to cradle. “You’ll be okay,” drawing in for air he winced, attempting another more satisfactory breath making a frothing sound. Mikki sat him up straighter trying to help. |I want to tell him how stupid he was.|

#wip: tb #tag game #writeblr #writblr

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badbacksadsack · 9 months

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I woke up feeling nervous today. I know I want to be relaxing and I don’t have to do anything, except take care of myself. It feels a lot I’m over stimulated. There’s a repetitive car alarm noise in the background but I don’t want to let a noise out of my control be the reason I am stressed today. I am grateful for having my own space and that it isn’t construction noise.

I am grateful to have had breakfast, I charged my headphones last night and even though they were cheap, they still work after a year. I also am about to play dress up so I’m happy, and grateful. I am going to overcome the obstacle of the day being the energy being off but my energy is back on💡💫

Every time things feel off I’m trying to get back on track, get my self esteem up, stop chasing people who don’t love me or wondering where I went wrong. Shit happens, life happens. You do the test before knowing what you have to do but after it’s done, you made it, another day, another hour, another minute.

I’m grateful to be sober and actually be present enough to untangle the knot of not knowing what I could improve. Radical acceptance helps, accepting that I don’t know all the answers but I’d like to find out is giving me somewhere to begin from. Again and again whenever I need reminding, it’s okay baby, I don’t have all the answers and that’s okay. I don’t know what is coming next but that’s okay. I am safe in the here and now, in my own presence, comfortable, warm and fed.

Woke up without gas, mounted that molehill, I didn’t have energy to play dress up as a leisure thing, but that’s okay. I know leisure will feel uncomfortable until I keep allowing myself to enjoy myself without fear of being in trouble. I am warm, lovable and loving, kind and gentle, soft, loyal yet fierce and resilient all in one. I am falling in love with myself exactly as I am, not how others see me. With positive traits and negative too, I can’t change for the better without deep, unconditional love. When I shower or when I don’t feel able to, love myself extra gently when I wake up anxious or fearful. Love myself on days where I turn out a LEWK and days I’m in pyjamas exactly the same. I am not trying to get others to approve of me anymore, I am reclaiming my life for myself, to live how I want to live. Guided by love and respect for myself, and leaving if that’s what my gut is telling me. I am forgiving myself for leaving my toxic childhood house, for leaving the dynamic of oppression I could no longer rationalise, for leaving a person who wouldn’t or couldn’t love me the way I needed, for choosing myself, my safe space and my mental health over cohabitating with someone I couldn’t trust or feel safe around. I am me. I love me. I protect my best interests. I leave to stay safe. And I forgive myself for choosing safety. Dream skywards little mermaid, dream skywards

#loner #dysphoria #self deprecation #isolation #executive dysfunction #low self-esteem #depresso #anxious avoidant #isolated #actually bpd #sober journey #sobriety

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margawrites · 2 years

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Idk why I find it hard to keep myself sober since April 2022. I know I do not have any alcohol issues back then but lately, I’ve been drinking for like, every weekend now! I swear, this isn’t healthy and I swear I do not like the feeling.

But don’t you sometimes feel trapped? Trapped in a situation you really don’t know what to feel anymore?

I am very content and happy with what has been going on with my life lately. But sometimes, I just want to disappear so I would see how everybody (even my so-called “friends”) would react without me.

This alcohol madness has been going for weeks now and I don’t like how I am getting used to it. I need to re-charge and re-start. I need to get out of here. I love my demons but I guess I love myself more.

#margawrites #randomrants

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rafescoke · 3 years

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Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs.

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks.

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other.

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him.

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago.

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome.

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts.

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is.

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant.

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever.

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor.

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away.

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack.

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back.

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again.

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans.

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief.

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her.

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York.

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry.

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe.

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color.

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe.

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

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pingutats · 3 years

Text

wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

. . . . .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood.

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around.

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again.

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge.

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan.

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely.

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is.

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter.

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life.

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove.

“Hey, Jeff,” he says.

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it.

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation.

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone.

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps.

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends.

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes.

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos.

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world.

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her.

He scrolls down even further.

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera.

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all.

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh.

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is.

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying.

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly.

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods.

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview.

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries.

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word.

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand.

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

. . . . .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #fic

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-

The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia.

Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly.

“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”

“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m.

Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did.

Once.

She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her.

But this-

This wasn’t right.

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-

“Kara, this isn’t real.”

“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling.

Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-

A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.”

Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go.

“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”

She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief.

“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”

And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily.

“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”

Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’

She can’t.

“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”

It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back.

“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”

The question was asked with so much fear.

“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”

It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face.

Can’t forget the pleas.

“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other.

There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed.

A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck.

Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.

“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you. You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.”

Damn it, even here.

Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her.

The tears finally fall. The sobs come next.

“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”

“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”

“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real.

“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.

“But what?”

“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants.

It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.

“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?”

She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.

“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek.

“Where do you want to start?”

“Do we have a dog?”

“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”

“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is.

“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”

It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.

“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”

“Jacky’s alive here?”

“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”

And the crying fest begins anew.

“I miss him, so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.

At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.

“What about Lex and Lillian?”

“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”

So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.

“When did we get married?”

“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”

“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”

She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.

“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”

She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”

Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.

“Out there, are you happy?”

Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one.

“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.

Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own.

So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible.

“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?

But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?”

“I- I have no idea.”

Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara.

“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”

“Remember when I said I hurt you?”

Kara gives her a nod.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.”

She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but-

That’s not who she wants to see.

“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”

That has Lena speechless.

Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things.

Ever since Lena ended things.

“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.

“I- I don’t like that either.”

“I know.”

She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-

“Lena!”

The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-

Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.

“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together.

Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-”

“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?

That was asking for too much.

Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all.

“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.

“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”

“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room.

“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”

Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.

“Last question?”

“Hit me.”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this.

“Just like you promised.”

“Just like I promised.”

The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing.

“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”

“Always.”

Goodbye, darling.”

And then everything fades to black.

author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.

#supercorp ficlet #supercorp ficlet of sorts ig?#it's another black mercy au y'all #it's very angsty #the reckless writer somewhat writes??#the reckless writer writes #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp #rcklss writes

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

Kiss Me Again: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a summer fling is just that - a fling. Until it isn't.

wc: 1.1k

tw: none

masterlist

“You’ll get over him.”

Those four words ring in your head as you walk down the hallway to your first class of senior year.

“You’ll get over him.”

You’d hoped your summer fling would turn into something more, but… since you lived on opposite sides of the earth, it seemed like there would be no compromise. Not from Geto, not from you. Long distance didn’t work for either of you, but you hoped that the three months spent vacationing in London would be enough to satisfy your heart’s desires. But you ended up leaving the city with a broken heart and nothing to show for the summer nights spent pinned under Suguru’s spell.

“Hey,” your friend, Gojo Satoru, pokes you with his pen as you sit in front of him. “Why the long face?”

“No reason,” you mutter, and turn back to grab your summer reading project to place on your desk. “Just not feeling great today.”

The bell rings, and your teacher walks in, introducing himself a Mr. Yaga. He collects your reading assignments and asks each of you your names, pausing only when Gojo replies,

“Ima.”

“Ima what?”

“Numbskull.”

“Ima Numbskull?” The shit-eating grin Satoru gives you and the other classmates is enough to make them burst into laughter, and Yaga looks around, nostrils flaring. “For a bunch of seniors, you act like you have no home training!” The class is still roaring with laughter when the door opens and the Principal walks in, holding a clipboard to her chest.

You all sober up quickly, and face Principal Mei Mei, who clears her throat.

“We have a new transfer student, Mr. Yaga.” Gojo groans, rolling his ice blue eyes, but the Principal continues. “Mr. Geto, you can come on in.” You stiffen considerably when you see the tall, dark-haired boy walk through the door, holding the strap of his backpack with uncertainty. “I trust that you will all make him feel welcome in his last year of high school with us. Go ahead and take a seat, Mr. Geto.” You turn your head away from Suguru, hoping he wouldn’t notice you, and press your lips together.

Please don’t let him sit near me, please don’t let him sit near me, please

“Hey, transfer, you can sit next to me,” Gojo points at the empty desk beside him on your right, and Suguru takes it, sliding his backpack off his shoulder and settling into his seat. “Us tall guys have to stick together.”

“Right, so. Let’s begin with introductions. I’ll start with the first row. Stand up, say your name, your favorite color, and what you did this summer.” You’re on the third row, but it seems everyone in the class blows through their introductions, because before long, you’re up next.

You stand shakily, knees about to give out when you mumble:

“My name is y/n. My favorite color is seafoam green, and I…” You hesitate, wondering if you should tell the truth or just say you did nothing this summer. “I traveled this summer.”

You quickly take your seat and Gojo stands behind you, making his grand introduction to the class.

“My name is Satoru Gojo, my favorite color is sapphire blue - like my eyes - and I mastered ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ on the violin this summer.” You hear someone stifle a laugh, and Gojo turns towards the noisemaker, pointing a finger. “I’d like to see you play the violin with your sausage fingers, Nanami!”

Yaga sighs, shaking his head, then moves over to the next row. The only person on that row is Suguru, and he stands, adjusting his school uniform before saying,

“I’m Suguru Geto. My favorite color is dark red, and I actually spent the summer in London, where I met y/n.” Eyes turn towards you, and you feel Satoru’s hand creep up your shoulder, then grip it roughly.

“You didn’t tell me you knew Transfer Student,” he whispers, and you know you have a lot of explaining to do. Yaga moves on, but you’re left with a sinking feeling, praying that whatever god that’s in charge of death would snatch your soul before the end of class.

But they don’t and you’re left gathering your things, trying to leave class as quickly as possible. Gojo blocks your swift escape, sandwiching you between him and Suguru.

“Hey, transfer, we should have lunch together in the quad. Maybe I can show you a thing or two about our school, yeah?”

“My name is Suguru, and while that’s a kind offer, I’d prefer to have y/n show me around.”

“Uh--” you start, feeling heat creep up your neck, but Gojo cuts you off.

“Even better!” he exclaims, then looks at his schedule. “Well, I have to go, but I’ll see you at lunch!” You’re left walking with Suguru in silence, praying that he wouldn’t say anything about your summer or the way you both parted. He pulls out his schedule and looks it over, then announces,

“I have an off-period this hour. You?” You look at your own, and upon seeing the blank space, you panic.

“I… um… well…” Suguru looks over at your sheet of paper and notices the blank space as well.

“We should go to the library. I need to talk to you.”

_____________________________________________________________

You’re both standing in the reference section, which is blocked off by tall book shelves and rarely ventured into. It’s the perfect hiding spot.

“About this summer…” Suguru begins, rubbing his neck and looking away.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you breathe, shaking your head. “It was just a fling.” His black eyes cut to you and he frowns, opening his mouth to say something. “It’s fine. That’s what summers are for.”

“But I haven’t stopped thinking about you since then.” You swallow hard, and he places a hand on the bookshelf beside you, leaning in a little. “And of all the places to send me, I’m here. With you.”

“Well, the Nakamura school is one of the m-most prestigious in the country…” you whisper nervously as Suguru’s eyes rake over your body.

“You said you don’t do long distance.”

“I don’t.”

“And I’m right here in front of you. You don’t want me anymore?”

“I do…” you reply softly, hands running up his chest. “You still want me?”

“Of course,” Suguru exhales, his head dipping low. “Can’t get your pretty little face out of my head even if I try.” He kisses you, right there in the reference section of the library, holding you close against him as all of the memories from summer come flooding back.

When your mouths part, Suguru nips at your bottom lip, then pulls away. “That friend of yours is a real piece of work,” he chuckles, and you groan.

“He’s interesting; takes some time to get used to his antics, but he’s not a bad guy,” you reply, and Suguru leans down again, hiking your leg up around his waist.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now kiss me again. I forgot what you taste like.”

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”

Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?

“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”

“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”

“Sir?”

Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.

The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”

General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”

Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”

General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”

The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!

The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.

“What would the order make me...us...do?”

Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”

“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”

“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”

“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”

“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”

Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.

“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.

“I am. When do we start?”

It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”

General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?

Fuck.

“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat.

Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...

“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”

“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”

A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”

After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.

Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.

They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-

“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”

“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”

“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.

Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”

Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”

Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”

“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”

After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.

Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.

His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.

Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.

He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.

Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.

On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave.

“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.

Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”

Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”

“Of course.”

Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy.

‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered.

“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”

The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”

“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”

“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised.

“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”

An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay.

“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”

The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.

Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.

“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”

Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”

As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”

“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”

Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin.

Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”

Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”

Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”

“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”

Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”

The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.

The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”

Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”

“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.

Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”

Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.

“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”

Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”

“It’s been less than a minute!”

“Yes.”

“...We should go.”

“Yes.”

Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”

The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”

“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”

“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”

“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.

“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.

“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”

“I...is this a human thing?”

“No. What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”

“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”

“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Hm. I don’t.”

“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”

“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”

“FORCE”

“Quiet!”

“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”

“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”

“Not to mention the spice.”

“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”

“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”

“Oh Anakin.”

“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently.

The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.

“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”

“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”

“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”

Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly.

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”

“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”

“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”

“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.”

“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.”

A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”

“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”

“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.

“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”

Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.

“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”

“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.

A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.

“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint.

Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”

“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”

He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.

“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”

“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”

Part XXI

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au #starwars

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catboybinnie · 3 years

Photo

first date ━ seo changbin.

summary: part of the first date collection. on your way home from work, florist!reader notices changbin smoking a joint on his fire escape, and decides to ask for some. what ensues is an unexpected first date.

pairing | seo changbin x fem!reader

genre | alternate universe (non idol au), fluff & smut

wordcount | 4.7k

warnings | marijuana use, sex while under the influence of marijuana, oral (f receiving), nipple play, penetrative sex, protected sex

“Hi,” you call, tilting your head up towards the man on the fire escape twenty feet above you.

After a moment, he says, “hi,” back to you, but it sounds more like a question than a greeting. You can’t blame him. You probably wouldn’t talk to someone shouting to you from the sidewalk of your apartment either. He’s staring down at you, features fuzzy in the evening shadow, but your attention isn’t on his face, anyway.

“Can I hit that?” You gesture towards the joint in his hand. The siren call of weed makes you stupid.

The man doesn’t answer you. He sits up straight again, now out of your sight completely except for his feet dangling off the edge of the fire escape. A stream of smoke curls into the air from where you suspect his head is, and you wait a moment for a response before realizing, a little too late, exactly how stupid weed makes you. He’s not going to respond.

Just as you turn on your heel to continue your trek towards the subway station, his voice calls your attention back. You twist your neck around to look up at him, peering down at you from twenty feet above. “Can I make you a deal?”

“Sure,” you nod.

With an outstretched hand, joint resting between his index and middle fingers, acting like an arrow as he points towards the taco truck at the end of the block, he propositions you. “Grab me a number three from there and I’ll roll you your own.”

Well. Shit. That’s not the answer you were expecting, though you can’t say you were expecting an answer at all. It’s a fair deal. Whatever a number three costs is probably on par for a joint, anyway, so you shoot him a thumbs up and go get him a number three. You get yourself one, too, for the road.

Minutes later, he tells you to stand back so he can drop the ladder for you, so you do, and you wonder how the fuck you plan on climbing the fire escape with a burrito in each hand. He answers that for you by taking a couple steps down the ladder until his black vans are at eye level with you.

He’s a lot closer to you now than he was before, and a combination of shop lights, streetlights, and an apartment light leaking between curtains illuminate him. He looks around your age─ dark hair, dark eyes, intense, offset by fuller cheeks and plush lips.

One hand grasped around the rungs to hold himself up, the other hand stretched down towards you with a freshly-wrapped joint. You exchange one of the burritos for it, watching as he climbs back up the fire escape with a short thanks.

“Hi,” you call back up at him once he settles again.

“Hi,” he responds, setting the burrito down next to him as he goes to pull the ladder back up.

Weed makes you stupid, so before he can pull the ladder back up, you ask him, “can I come with you?”

“If you tell me your name,” he replies, so you do. He says it slowly, like he’s tasting it, and you like the way he says your name. If you had the ability to say someone’s name like it’s the most important word in the world, you’d probably abuse it for street burritos, too.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. Maybe you do have the ability to say names like that, maybe you don’t.

“Changbin,” he tells you, so you repeat it, and you try to say it like he did─ deliberately─ but you fuck that up completely. Sounds more like you’re teasing him for something, you sound like an asshole to your own ears, but he just grins down at you.

“Are you coming up?” He─ Changbin─ takes a bite from his burrito.

So you do.

xxx

Forty minutes later and your head’s heavy, but like the weight’s all cotton candy. It isn’t something that makes sense when you’re sober, but it does when you’re stoned out of your mind, so you tell Changbin that.

“My head’s full of cotton candy,” you state, plainly, sticking your thumb in your mouth to lap at the melted cheese that dripped out of your burrito.

“What color?” Changbin asks.

You hum, pondering for a moment as the two of you swing your legs over the fire escape, staring out into the city. You decide on, “blue, but baby blue, like… periwinkle,” and he laughs beside you.

He laughs nice. The thought makes you snort, and you turn to look at him just as he blows a cloud of smoke out and hides from your sight. It’s definitely the weed spinning the world more slowly but your ears cling to his laughter, replaying it like an echo. He laughs nice, and you need to let him know.

Before you get the chance, Changbin interrupts you to ask, “why are you hiding from me?” He swats at the air between you two where thick smoke streams from both of your joints coil together. He bats it all away and smiles at you, slow and lazy.

“I’m right here,” you reply.

He jerks his head in the direction of his apartment window. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

You crawl in the window after him, balancing the last bite of your burrito between your fingers like it's a precious gemstone, holding your joint between your lips and taking shallow tokes with each breath. Smoke spills from your nose and you feel like a dragon.

The window leads you directly into his kitchen. It’s almost entirely brick, with dark wooden countertops, black steel furniture, and high ceilings. Spacious─ this guy must have money─and leads into a larger living room with a massive black L-shaped couch, more brick walls, more wooden furniture, and a spiral staircase leading to a lofted bedroom.

“What do you do for work?” You ask.

“I’m a producer,” Changbin responds, now perched on his kitchen counter. He leans over to the ashtray at his right and puts the joint out in it, abandoning it altogether, before he leans back on his palms and tilts his head to keep looking at you. “I make music.”

“Anything I’ve heard?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He smirks. “What about you?”

“I’m a florist,” you answer him, shoving the last of your burrito in your mouth.

You spend the next fifteen minutes like this, getting to know each other. It feels like longer, like fifteen years, because even though you put your joint out in the ashtray next to his, you’re still higher than the moon and time has long since stopped moving linearly.

Somehow, you wind up standing between his legs with your hands on his knees. You don’t remember getting this close.

“Do you normally follow random men up a fire escape?” Changbin teases you with that slow, lazy grin.

“Fuck off,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Never.”

“What made you follow me? Besides the weed,” he adds. “You’re not going to rob me, are you?”

“I can’t even feel my legs,” you tell him. “If I tried to run right now, I’d fall over.”

“Is that why you’re holding on to me so tight?” Changbin slides his hands down his thighs until he reaches his knees with ease, but stops just short of your hands. His fingers barely brush yours, like he’s shy all of a sudden.

“Maybe,” you say, watching as your fingers tap up that inch of space and intertwine with his. Your head doesn’t feel heavy anymore, but the air around you does, like it’s charged with something volatile and massive where your skin meets his. For a moment, you wonder if you’re imagining it. You wonder if you’re suddenly being weird. You wonder if Changbin is going to kick you out of his apartment, and if your roommates are still awake because you definitely left your keys at work.

He gasps, grips your fingers right back, and the tension breaks. His heels nudge the back of your legs and you take the hint, stepping closer between his legs until your hips hit the counter and your face is inches from his. Changbin’s eyes are bloodshot and red, glistening with the effort of keeping them open to stare into yours. His pupils flick down to your lips real fast, and you lean in a little closer. Just a little closer.

“Do you kiss on the first date?” You ask.

He smirks again, tongue poking out to wet his lips, eyes still flicking down to yours like he’s waiting for the right moment. “Oh, so this is a date? You ask every guy out on a date by smoking his weed and inviting yourself over?”

“You smoked me out and I bought you food, this is definitely a date,” you smile back at him.

“More like a sesh,” Changbin responds.

Before you get the chance to say anything else, he closes the gap between you two, pushing his lips against yours. He kisses like he smiles: slowly, lazily, like time doesn’t exist and all he plans on doing for the next millennia is this. Slots your lips together and sucks your top lip between his, slips his tongue into your mouth to taste yours, nips at your bottom lip and down your chin until he’s sucking a line of sloppy, wet kisses down your jaw. All the while, you’re standing between his legs with one hand on his knee, still intertwined with his, while your other arm wraps around his neck in an attempt to fill each other’s space up with your bodies completely.

Changbin’s teeth lightly scrape your neck and you gasp. “You make the sweetest little sounds for me, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.

Your face flushes with the realization that you’ve been making noises this whole time. You rebel against this information by bringing your hand up to his face, guiding him back to your lips, taking a step back with each kiss so he follows after you. Changbin slides off the counter and crowds you into the corner of the kitchen’s entrance, capturing your lips again in the process. One of his hands grips your jaw, applying just enough pressure for you to open wider, giving his tongue better access to your mouth. His other hand reaches down to hook your leg up at the thigh, pushing his hips flush against yours and forcing you to wrap your leg around his waist for balance.

He tastes like weed and street tacos. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Changbin pulls his lips off of yours with a wet smack, nosing into your cheek to ask, “do you fuck on the first date?”

“So this is a date?” You grin. “Not just a sesh?”

It’s his turn to laugh now, mumbling for you to fuck off, before he gives you a series of languid kisses. “Yeah, it’s a date.”

You capture his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him back towards you for more kisses. You pull apart just to nod and say, “then yeah, I fuck on the first date.”

xxx

The walk up the spiral staircase to his lofted bedroom takes a little longer than it should, with the two of you giggling and crawling up on your hands and knees the entire time. Once the two of you reach the loft, he ducks quickly to scoop you up into his arms and carry you over to the bed, smiling at you the entire time. It’s romantic until his knees hit the edge of the bed and his smile turns devious before he throws onto the mattress. You shriek, gripping at his black sheets, already pushing him away with your feet as he crawls toward you.

“Stop kicking, Y/N/,” Changbin laughs. In the small moment that you falter, too wrapped up in the way he says your name, like it’s the most important word in the world─

Changbin manages to grab your ankles and spread them apart, effectively stilling your kicks even as you persevere in your attacks, cursing him out while laughing.

“Do you ever worry that someone’s watching you through a telescope?” You ask, gesturing towards the massive floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the loft. The back of his apartment provides you with a view of the rest of the city just beyond the river and the bridge that divide it.

“Not until now, no,” Changbin’s eyebrows furrow as he looks out at the city, and it’s obvious that he’s literally never even considered that. He sighs, then shrugs. “Well, at this point they’ve seen my dick from every angle, so what’s one more time.”

Before you push the subject further with something even more ridiculous, he slides up between your legs, forearms on either side of your head, and kisses you deep. Whatever it was that you were going to say dies on your tongue and disappears from your mind completely as your five senses are completely overwhelmed by Changbin.

The taste of his lips; the smell of marijuana mixing with his sheets; his fingers reaching down to skim your hip where your shirt’s riding up; the little sounds he’s somehow pulling out of you, like no one’s ever done before; he pulls back, and you open your eyes to take in his disheveled appearance, hair messy and lips kiss-swollen, and you think, proudly, I did that.

His fingers tug at your shirt, and you wordlessly reach down to pull it off. Changbin sits back on his heels, hands reaching down to run up and down your arms, your waist, the swell of your tits underneath your lace bra. He swallows, a small sound in the back of his throat, and his tongue pokes out again to wet his lips.

“You too,” you say, your voice breaking the spell he’s under, and he hastily pulls his own shirt off.

You sit up on your elbows, taking in the view of his bare skin; Changbin looks strong but still so soft, so you reach out to skim the pads of your fingers down his chest, down his abs, tracing the warmth of his skin and the vague line of his abs down to the waistband of his jeans. You hook your fingers in the band and look back up in time to see the way his throat bobs.

“Can I see?” You ask.

Changbin snorts. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Fuck you!”

“Isn’t that the point, too?” Changbin laughs, and dodges another kick you send his way.

“Shut up and take your pants off, Changbin!” You flop down onto your back, throwing your arm over your eyes and groaning just to be dramatic.

You hear him laugh again, more of a light, warm giggle, and then the sound of fabric rustling and metal unzipping. Moments later, he guides your arm away from your eyes and rolls his hips down into yours, kissing you again before you get a good look at the prize. You can certainly feel it, though, thick and heavy on your hip. Your heart stutters in your chest at its weight, and you’re suddenly very aware of the heat in between your legs.

“Why am I completely naked and all you’ve done is take your shirt off?” Changbin mumbles against your lips, squeezing one of your tits in his hand.

“Do something about it,” your voice is breathier than normal.

Changbin sits back again and you follow up on your elbows, finally getting a look at his cock springing up from between his thighs. Thick, long, and hard, and you bite your lip as you admire it.

Never in your life have you ever wanted a dick inside of you this badly.

“You’re drooling,” Changbin teases you, yanking your pants and your underwear down to your ankles. You kick around a bit until, with his help, you’re also (almost) entirely naked.

You sit up and reach for his cock, but Changbin backs away from your touch.

“Not until you take your bra off,” he says.

“Brat,” you roll your eyes but comply, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and pull it off your chest.

Changbin’s eyes are locked on your body, his gaze so intense that you start fidgeting beneath it. Your heart hammers in your chest. Any funny remark or weird comment you can make dies in your throat the second his hands travel up your legs, spreading them further the closer he gets to your pussy. Embarrassed, suddenly, you turn your head to stare out the window, fisting at the duvet beneath you.

“Hey, no, look at me,” you hear Changbin say before he grips your chin and turns you towards him. He swoops down to kiss you again (slowly, lazily) until you start making noises of contentment into his mouth.

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his fingers rubbing against your pussy, dipping between your folds, circling your clit, teasing your cunt as he smears your own slick around. Your hands instinctively come up to cradle his face and run through his hair, your lips chasing after his in a series of hot, open-mouth kisses.

Changbin breaks away first, sitting back on his heels again and pulling his fingers away from your pussy to hold in front of his face. He huffs out a laugh at the string of slick connecting his middle and index fingers, his eyes meeting yours. “Look how wet you are for me, Y/N.”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t fuck me already,” you growl, sitting up so you’re eye-to-eye with Changbin as you take his wrist and wrap your lips around his fingers, tasting yourself.

His eyes glaze over and his mouth drops open watching as you suck his fingers dry. Slowly, you drag his fingers out of your mouth by his wrist, letting them catch on your lower lip and pull a little, before smearing spit down your chin.

“You’re trying to kill me now, holy shit,” Changbin babbles and lets his hand grab your neck, not choking you, but to steady you as he kisses you again. Despite the urgency in his voice, he manages to kiss you slow, again, like time means nothing.

He guides you down onto your back again, kissing you the whole way down, before his lips start making their way down your jaw, your neck, your body. Once he reaches your hips, he glances up at you, eyes glazed and hooded, so you can watch him kiss a trail from your hip to halfway up the inside of your thigh. His other hand pushes your other leg up, hooking your thigh over his shoulder so he can shimmy up closer to your leaking pussy. You’re so wet, so hot, for him that his breath fanning out over your core feels cold. It sends shivers up your spine.

Changbin licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, making your back arch as you push your hips up into him, a deep groan coming from him. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he moans.

You can do nothing but whine as he sucks on your clit, his tongue rapidly flicking across the sensitive nub. You push your hips up again for deeper friction only for Changbin to push you back down, his forearm pinning your hips in place as he continues eating you out.

And he’s fucking messy about it, too. Alternating between kitten licks at your hole, sucking kisses up your pussy, flattening his tongue to catch as much of you in his mouth and the rest dribbling down his chin to mix with his own saliva. His spits on your pussy a few times, his thumb coming up to rub circles into your clit while his tongue fucks your cunt. You’re babbling his name, begging for more, moaning and gasping and grabbing your own tits with your own hand while the other rakes through his hair.

Then, Changbin adds two fingers. You gasp at the sudden intrusion so he takes your clit between his lips again as he fucks you with his fingers. Your eyes are half-lidded in absolute pleasure, blinking blearily at him while he busies himself pushing saliva out of his mouth again, coating your pussy in a mix of slick and spit. The added wetness makes it easier for him to finger fuck you, makes it easier to curl his fingers into your walls just right and find the spot that has you moaning his name loudly enough for the entire city to hear.

Heat pools in the bottom of your stomach and before you know it, your back arches and your body stills as you cum. Changbin licks you all the way through it, his fingers pressing against that spot inside of you that exploded from his touch, until you release one final moan.

Chest heaving, you look down to see him sit up from between your legs, smiling, lips and chin wet with spit and your own slick. You haven’t managed to catch your voice back yet, so you beckon him over with a lazy twist of your fingers. He rolls his body down to meet you and you hold your face in his hands, kissing him deeply, still moaning a little bit into his mouth.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” You murmur, dragging one knuckle down his spine.

He giggles against your mouth and ducks away from you, hiding his face in your neck. “The internet,” he replies.

“So are you going to fuck me now?” You ask, and smirk when he (with a swiftness) sits back and rifles through his bedside drawer.

Changbin pulls out a condom and a half empty bottle of lube, which you raise your eyebrows at. “Someone’s busy.”

“Fuck you,” he rolls his eyes but smirks, working at rolling the condom over his cock. “I’m a chronic masturbator.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but that’s actually the hottest thing in the world,” you reply, not even trying to hide the lust in your voice at the mental image of Changbin fucking his own fist in this very bed.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch sometime,” Changbin smirks again.

Before he can position himself, you roll over and push at his shoulders until he gets the hint to lie back in the spot you just vacated. “I’m going to ride you,” you tell him, swinging your leg over his hips until you’re straddling him, “until I physically can’t anymore. You deserve it for eating pussy like a champ.”

Changbin laughs, and it’s his turn to cover his face with his hands as a red flush spreads across his cheeks. You pry his hands away from his face, smiling as you plant kisses all over it (saving his lips for last) until you’re both laughing together. It’s sweet. It’s the best sex you’ve had in a while, and you don’t even have his dick in you yet.

Your fingers circle the base of his cock as you line yourself up with him. You look up to see his eyes staring as you lower yourself onto it, biting your lip through the stretch until you're fully seated. As soon as he bottoms out in you, Changbin groans, and his hands find your hips. After a few moments, once you get used to the stretch, you slowly begin to move. Your legs shake with the effort, your body still tired after your own orgasm and lazy from all the weed you smoked, but you manage to pick up a good pace. You roll your hips down as you fuck yourself on Changbin’s cock, relishing in the sensation of him throbbing inside of you, and butterflies erupt in your stomach once he starts moaning your name.

Absentmindedly, you press your hands down on his pecs and settle your weight into them for balance. Like the rest of him, they’re firm but soft, like he definitely works out and could probably deadlift you like it's nothing, but still soft enough to cuddle into for warmth. You quicken your pace a bit as heat starts pooling in your stomach again, his cock brushing that sensitive part inside your cunt that has you hurtling towards a second climax. One of your hands massages into his chest, your other hand tweaking at his nipples for something to do.

Changbin makes a strangled cry in his throat, like he’s trying not to let it out, as your fingers keep pinching at his nipples, rolling the buds between your fingers, while your hips circle an agonizing rhythm on his cock. Suddenly, his hands squeeze your hips to hold you in place while his hips buck up, burying his cock deep inside you as he cums with a loud groan.

Brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, lips red and kiss-swollen─ he is truly a sight to behold.

Even as he releases his death-grip on your hips, you don’t move to get up, opting to stare at the man beneath you as he slowly collects himself. Changbin notices you staring and the flush on his cheeks intensifies, his eyes suddenly looking anywhere but you.

“I─ sorry, that was… new for me.” He mutters sheepishly.

“Huh?” You tilt your head in confusion.

Changbin huffs in frustration, finally meeting your eyes. “I usually last longer than that, I mean. But, uh, the… you know.” He gestures between your hands and his chest, eyes shifty again.

Then it clicks for you. “Ooooooh,” you slap your hands down on his pecs, ignoring the squawk of surprise from Changbin, and press your tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and stop the spread of your smile. “The nipples! Was it the nipples?”

Changbin makes another sound in his throat, looking to his left and out at the city before he nods.

“Oh my god, you liked it!” You giggle with glee. You’ve never been with a man who liked his nipples played with, and if you have─ well, they certainly never let you know.

“Shut up about it,” Changbin mutters, crossing his arms over his chest to dislodge your hands.

You lean over, softly cradling his cheek in your hand as you guide him to look back at you. “I’m not making fun of you,” you reassure him with a kiss, “I think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Do you think you can cum without me ever touching your cock? Only your nipples?”

Changbin tries to hide his face again, but you gently take hold of his wrists and pin them to either side of his head. Instead of providing you with an answer, his eyes scan your face, like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he cranes his neck up to kiss you again (slow and lazy, just how you like it).

“Do you work tomorrow?” He asks after a while.

“No,” you answer.

He hugs you close to his chest, using the position to roll you both around until you’re on your back beneath him. Slowly, he finally pulls out of you, both of you hissing at the sensation after having been joined together for so long, and he ties the condom off and throws it in the little trash bin beside his bed.

“If you stay over, our first date doesn’t have to end,” Changbin says, casually, like it’s nothing, but there’s a lilt to his voice that makes you think he’s holding himself back.

“Are you not the type to fuck on the second date?” You challenge him. “Is that why you want our first date to last forever?”

Changbin laughs again─ warm, light; butterflies erupt in your stomach again─ and shakes his head, “Y/N.”

Your name sounds safe in his mouth.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hands up over your head, and kisses you again. Says your name a few more times, like he knows it makes your heart race.

“What if I promise to cum from you playing with my nipples?” Changbin asks between kisses. “Will you stay?”

“Oh, fine, I guess,” you huff, being purposefully dramatic even though you made the decision not to leave this man the second your fingers brushed on the fire escape.

xxx

In the morning, Changbin keeps his promise, and cums untouched after mere minutes of you pinching and sucking at his nipples. He says your name again, just to get your attention, just so you can kiss him, and it sounds safe in his mouth.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #changbin smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fic #skz fic #changbin fic #collection: first date

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