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pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Tetsurō Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Consensual non-con (reader and Kuroo have agreed together to engage in a consensual non-consensual situation), degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, biting, choking, hair pulling, mentions of blood, spit, and smoking cigarettes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is a collab piece for the The Smut Pile Mafia Collab hosted by myself, @present-mel, and @linestrider

You can find all the other wonderfully creative and smutty pieces on our masterlist!

And thank you @present-mel for this beautiful banner 💕

Kuroo always took pride seeing you on stage, especially when you wore those provocative gowns that he bought for you. He sat back in his chair, one arm crossed across his chest while the other nursed a glass of bourbon to his lips. Tonight, you were more sensual than he’d seen you before, your hands cupped around the microphone, hips swaying as you sang. You were a harpy culling her crowd. The designer dress was dripping from your curves, every seam crafted to hug your body. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your waist, couldn’t keep his eyes off the high cut of the slit that exposed the smooth flesh of your thigh. He knew every man in that room was doing the same, all of them lost to the delirium of melody, but none of them got to have you like he did.

You never asked for the dresses, or the shoes, or the pearls, or his favorite color of lipstick; no, you never asked for anything, his seductive little songbird. But you always said thank you, a peculiar glint in your eyes that he knew you saved only for him.

His station in life as the leader of the Nekoma Mafia allotted him any woman he wanted in Tokyo—and he had plenty of playthings, but you? You were his favorite. You always fucked him like you loved him, let him do anything he pleased and still begged for more. But then you’d always let him go; there was no pleading, no big eyes and pouty lips begging him to stay the night. You let him be who he was, let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to, never asked where he was or what he did or who he killed, and it was your indifference to him that kept him coming back.

He wanted to make you beg for him to stay, but tonight, he wanted you to beg for him to stop.

Your voice rang in his head unconnected to the lyrics you were singing.

You can force me to fuck you any time you want, Tetsurō—god his name sounded good in your mouth, even in his thoughts—surprise me one night. I’ll say no, I’ll fight back, but only stop if I say our safeword.

The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and, at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, still too blissed out after fucking your face underneath his desk. You’d still been swallowing his cum when he mentioned how he liked to take control of you like that, all rough hands and violent kisses that left bruises even on your cheeks where he had pulled you in to suck his cock.

But now, after too many weeks of being away from you on business, he’d had a lot of time for the exchange to settle into ruminations. He came here tonight with the full intention of forcing himself onto you after you stepped off that stage, and the image in his mind alone was enough to have him resituating his aching cock in his trousers.

__________________________________

Of course you spotted him in the crowd. He was unmistakable, black hair simmering beyond the heat of the stage lights. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him for a little too long at moments, excitement curling inside your belly.

You hated to admit to yourself that you’d missed him, that you’d been looking for him within the throngs of people every night, just hoping to catch a glimpse of golden eyes and a loosened tie in his usual spot in the back of the nightclub.

And there he was, eyeing you down like a predator would his prey, a grin so cavalier and catlike it made you shiver. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were already rolled up like he was prepared to sink his fingers into you at any moment.

It was hard to focus on your set, hard to keep your attention on other members in the crowd. Your hands were sweating and you were glued to the microphone out of fear that, if you let go, you’d wander right off the stage and into his lap. It was an agonizing, and quite titillating, half hour of singing.

You made a beeline to your dressing room in the back after taking a bow and blowing a few kisses, foregoing mingling at the bar with patrons. You needed to wash your hands, you needed to take a breath before you went out to see him, before you hurriedly texted him to come meet you.

But he was already there, a fresh cigarette between thumb and forefinger as he lounged against the doorframe to your room.

“Hey, kitten, been a while.”

His voice had your hair standing on end, made you stumble in your stride.

“Tetsurō,” a smile pulled at your cheeks, “you’re in my way.”

“I would say give me a password, but I suppose a kiss will do.”

You stood before him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and pressing it to your lips for a drag. Your weight shifted to one heeled foot, your eyes never leaving his as you took a long inhale of the menthol and tobacco, the cherry of the cigarette growing hot.

He reached for you, pulling you against him so his lips could capture the smoke, drinking in the taste. You both groaned at the contact, a voltaic hum syncing your bodies together. His lips were forceful, commanding, taking the lead and easily prying yours apart for him to explore the familiar home of your mouth. The action felt natural, but you could sense there was something unknown pent up inside of him.

Your free hand fumbled with the doorknob behind him, the other holding the ashen cigarette at a safe distance away.

“Mhm, did you miss me?” he mumbled against your lips, hand trailing down the satin of your dress to trace the slit at your thigh. Long, nimble fingers curled up to find your panties.

“Not very much,” you were being cheeky, but he didn’t have to catch that.

“Oh yea? Your pussy tells me otherwise.”

A sharp moan erupted from your throat as his middle finger pressed against the dampness of your panties, his forefinger following and circling against your clit.

“Fuck—get, get in the room,” you breathed, finally getting purchase on the knob and shoving him and his greedy hands into your dressing room.

Kuroo snatched the cigarette back from your hand, taking in a pull before smothering it into the ashtray on the vanity built into the wall.

You stood before the mirror, catching a flash of him moving behind you. You felt hot, a little overwhelmed, and you weren’t sure if it was the heat from the bulbs that lined the edges of your dressing table, or if it was his presence making you edgy.

His hands were back on your hips as you removed your earrings and set them onto the table. His fingers were eager, one hand ghosting up your body to slide down the strap of your dress so he could kiss and suck at your neck and shoulder.

“Shame you didn’t miss me,” there was a tonal shift in his voice, the timbre deeper, darker, “cause I sure did miss that pretty little mouth of yours.”

His fingers dug into your jaw, roughly pulling your face to the side so he could nip at the corner of your lips.

“Easy,” you warned, pressing your elbow back against him to get some space.

“Easy? Oh kitten, there will be no easy, tonight. I haven’t had you in weeks, and I’m taking what I want.”

Realization washed over you after a few heartbeats. You grinned against the fingers pressing into your cheeks, knowing and delighted.

“Sorry, Tetsurō,” you added a vile bite to his name as you pulled your face from his grip, “I’m not interested tonight.”

“Not interested?” he sneered, that wild, feline smirk back in its place.

He was still behind you, pressing up against your back with fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. He eyed you through the mirror. He looked menacing behind you, amber eyes narrowed and glowing within the reflection of yellow lights. You’d almost forgotten how big he was; his broad body dwarfed yours, meaty shoulders caging around you, strong, round biceps curling underneath your arms as he encircled you in a tight embrace. You were drawn to the moving hand on your leg, the entirety of his palm almost eclipsing your thigh as desirous fingers once again crept towards your pussy.

“You should leave,” you meant for the words to sound serious, but there was clearly an underlying, breathy want within your voice.

“Absolutely not,” he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, groaning at the taste of your skin, “I came here for you.”

You held back your moan, struggling within his hold. Your hands flew over his, one on your thigh, the other on your stomach, bidding to pry off his ironclad fingers.

“Get off me.”

He only pulled you deeper into him, his grip tighter, teeth harsher. You winced at the pain of his bite. You struggled again, panting as you found no fruition to your efforts. God he was strong, and he was barely using any of his power to hold you.

You stepped a heeled foot onto his, jamming the stiletto into the leather of his shoe. He hissed and shoved you forward, sending your hips to knock into the edge of the vanity.

“I said get off me!”

You thought he’d hesitate, that he would take a moment to see if you really meant it, but you were mistaken.

He was into the game now.

“I like it when you’re feisty, kitten.”

You turned around to say something, but he was already on you, already one step ahead. The moment you turned, he had you in his arms, using his strength to lift you up onto the hot vanity.

“Tetsurō—!”

“Oh, shut up, you little slut, I know you want me, there’s no need to hide it.”

His hands were on your legs, in your dress. Too easily he tore at the fabric, the threads snapping like crackling fireworks against your skin. You gasped, pressing your hands against his shoulders, pushing at him with a genuine amount of strength to which he didn’t budge.

“Fuck, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I fucking can,” he scoffed, continuing to tear at the seam that lined the side of your gown, “don’t forget who spoils you.”

“Yea, a fucking mob boss,” you slighted, digging your nails into his wrist as if that would stop him.

He slapped your left cheek, hard, quick, like the fast swipe of a panther swatting at restless prey. Your neck swung to the side and you moaned, deep and strained from your chest. Your face throbbed, blood welling under your smarting skin like it was trying to figure out what happened and how to dull the pain, even though the pain was blossoming into pleasure.

“I’m someone who could end your life any time I want to, kitten. I can either hunt you down here or somewhere else, so I suggest you stop fighting.”

The gown was finally tugged from your body, and what was left of its shape fell down to your sides, the fabric caught underneath where you sat on the vanity.

With his hands free, he cradled your face, palms engulfing your cheeks. He forced you to look up at him. When you did, it brought you back to reality. He appeared wicked, enthralled, you could practically see thoughts churning inside his mind like the inner workings of a clock—he always was too smart for his own good, or, perhaps, for your own good. Your irises danced over the handsome planes of his face, over the feline curve of his eyes, over the full lips that you truly had missed feeling against yours. But you held yourself back; if he wanted to force you, you’d damn well let him.

“You’re mine, all mine.”

“No, I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”

His thumb caught to the edge of your lips, keeping them parted.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, sucking his tongue back into his mouth.

Your heart began to race as you heard a swish.

He spit down onto you, a slow, viscous string of saliva dripping from his mouth onto yours where he kept your lips pried open.

“I do own you.”

You tried to turn your face, but his hold was firm, keeping you from avoiding his territorial marking.

“Stop,” your voice was weak.

“Drink it all up like a good little girl.”

He shoved himself between your thighs, getting even closer as he watched your eyebrows furrow while you obediently licked your tongue along your lips, gathering his saliva to gulp down.

He groaned aloud at the sight, smashing his mouth down on to yours, wet and messy from spit. You didn’t kiss him back. You kept pressing back against his shoulders, trying to pull one of your knees up between your bodies to push him away, but he was quick. One of his hands snatched your thigh, roughly pressing it back down against the table to keep you in place. His mouth still worked against yours, hungry and ferocious, taking from you even though you weren’t giving anything back.

You needed to do something before you gave into him, before you wrapped your arms around him and spoiled the fun. He was intoxicating, especially with one of his hands drifting around your back to unhook your bra with ease.

One of your hands slid to his loosened tie, fingers entangling in the red fabric. You tugged, hard, attempting to force his mouth away from yours; he merely chuckled, continuing to pull at your own clothing, a little too effortlessly removing the cups of your bra from your breasts.

As cool air swept over your exposed nipples, you shivered and groaned, attempting to swat away the strong hand reaching to grope one of them.

You bit his greedy mouth, sharp and quick, catching his bottom lip between one of your canine teeth. He reacted immediately, shoving your head back against the mirror so harshly that a thick crack burst into the reflective glass.

“Fuck!” it was both of your voices shouting together, you cupping your aching skull and Kuroo fingering his busted lip.

“God you fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that.”

Blood was slick down his chin, the plump flesh of his lip noticeably pierced and split.

Your instincts were telling you to apologize, but you kept them at bay, choosing instead to take the moment to attempt to dash around his side towards the locked door. The remnants of your ruined dress fell to the floor as you quickly stood from the vanity, feet nearly tripping over one another in your heels.

“Oh no you don’t!” He caught your upper arm, swinging your helpless body back towards his. The severity of his motions had your legs buckling underneath you, your balance completely lost. He caught you before you hit the floor, keeping his arms tight around your nearly naked body as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you.

“Tetsurō,” your fingers were clawing into his forearms, feet dragging against the hardwood as he wrangled you to stand in front of him, “let me go.”

You were startled to see yourself in the mirror, having already forgotten your nakedness. You both looked disheveled, wild, his normally pristine shirt wrinkled, the white collar soaking up the drippings of blood from his mouth. You had bite marks on your neck, dark and glaring against your skin, your breasts shaking as you struggled against his encroaching arms—it was sensual, to watch yourself wrestle against him, to see his smoldering eyes watching you just as intently in the mirror. You caught a glimpse of your panties, the rustling of your bodies against one another having pushed the fabric higher on your hips, and deeper within your sopping folds.

One of Kuroo’s hands settled around your throat, using his fist as an anchor to keep your body still. His grip was harsh, fingertips solid but dormant against the sides of your neck, but there was the lingering threat that all he had to do was twist, squeeze, or press, and you’d never sing again, perhaps never leave this room again.

“Do you know what normally happens to people who fight me?” he tilted your neck back in his hold, bringing your ear closer to his mouth.

Your eyes stared at him through the reflection, your attention not leaving his face even as his free hand began to stroll across your body, fingertips tracing figure-eights on your stomach, climbing toward your breasts.

“Answer me when I speak to you, slut.”

“N-no,” it was hard to gulp underneath his palm, saliva pooling against your tongue, “I don’t know…”

“Oh yes you do, you just don’t like thinking about it.”

You could feel him smirk against your ear, see the catlike grin spreading like wildfire in the mirror.

He groped your breast, fingers brutal against your sensitive skin, pressing into the fatty flesh with unbridled possessiveness. It was painful, making your back arch away from the touch and into his chest. But it was stimulating all the same, your nipple hardening and beckoning to be pinched, tugged, owned by his hand.

“I kill the people who displease me, kitten,” he disclosed, admiring how large his hand looked against your breast as he kneaded your flesh. His knuckles were scattered with bruises, ring finger still forming a fresh scab from a recent altercation that required his fist. His skin looked barbaric compared to yours, scars and bruises against a fresh, smooth body.

He captured your nipple, wringing it between thumb and forefinger. Your whine was stopped by his hand, trapped within your vocal cords and unable to emerge under his grip.

“I could kill you so easily…” there was a pleasured grumble within his voice, bloodied mouth now kissing at the column of your neck between his spread fingers, “does that turn you on?”

You tried to shake your head, your hands pushing at both of his forearms in an attempt to free yourself. He only clutched onto you more tightly, your nipple now stinging from pain, your vision blurring from the decreased oxygen to your brain.

There was a panic brewing in your belly that you didn’t expect, true fear creeping up your spine. You knew you could mutter out your safeword and he would stop...or at least, so you thought. He looked lost within the mirror, bloodstained face almost drunk with power, his cock hard and nudging between your ass cheeks. He was getting high from this, and while you could feel a craving gnawing inside of you to give yourself up to him, there was also an edge of reality still pressing into your thoughts. Kuroo was dangerous, and if he wasn’t careful, if he crushed into your windpipe just a little too hard, and he’d have a mess on his hands, a dead plaything to throw in the dumpster behind the nightclub.

“Do you know how many mouthy whores I’ve had to get rid of? I’ve learned it’s so easy to snap pretty little necks,” his fist grew tighter around your throat to emphasize his point.

“Don’t say things like that,” you gasped, nails nearly tearing into the skin of his wrist.

His hand released your breast, your skin hot and burning from his harsh ministrations. But the reprieve was brief, his fingers snaking down your body and into your panties. You jerked your hips backwards to avoid his touch, only to find yourself grinding against the fat cock straining against his pants.

“I think you like what I’m saying,” he emphasized his words by running the pad of his index finger over your clit, your body shivering at his touch. He laughed in your ear, pressing his hips firmly against your body as you struggled to get out of his hold.

His fingers were ruthless. He spread you apart, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. His palm was cupped against your sex, thumb shoved directly against your clit as the other long digits prodded your tight hole. You tried to clamp your legs shut, but his hand was more durable than you expected. There was no physical way you could wiggle yourself out of this situation, and that realization alone had a concoction of panic and pleasure toiling inside your belly.

You bit your lip to stop the moans from bubbling out of your mouth.

You’d always loved his fingers; they were long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that had you shaking and panting. Two of them pushed inside of you, your panties ruined and forgotten against your thigh. He wasn’t gentle. Each move of his hand was a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine. And his thumb was just as merciless. He twirled it in tight circles across your sensitive clit, the bliss turning hot under your skin.

“Stop, stop, please stop, it’s too much!”

He knew the words were a lie, he could tell by how your legs were shaking.

You were Kuroo’s favorite instrument to play, he knew your melodies of ecstasy by heart. You might be able to cull him with that siren’s voice of yours, but he could string you along no other man could.

Your slick was dripping against his fingers now, each squelching push of his fingers had you pressing farther into him. His cock was nestled perfectly between your ass cheeks and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulated him just as much.

“Fuck, no, no, you have to stop, Tetsuroō, please!”

“Shut. Up.”

His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, your eyelids fluttering at the increased loss of vision as your oxygen flow waned.

Kuroo watched you in the mirror, watched how your stomach was tightening, your thighs clamping together, knees buckling together from his invasive touch. You could see him watching you behind your closing lids, could see his smirk growing like a weed in a garden.

You felt his fingers begin to curve inside of you, wrist twisting to get the perfect angle. You were gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath his hand before your inevitable fall.

“T-tet—”

You came hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slumped within his hold, knees dropping to where the only thing holding your body up were his hands. Your cunt was aching, now cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cried out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes. Your body was humming, buzzing, almost like you’d left your skin and were hovering above your body in a cloud of euphoria.

He kept pushing his fingers inside of you, thumb never ceasing against your clit.

“Stop! Stop!” you were screaming it a little too loud now, if someone were to walk by your dressing room, they’d hear you. Kuroo’s hand flew to your mouth, finally giving your neck a reprieve from his monstrous grip. You exhaled shakily into his palm, your body calming down as his hand between your thighs came to a halt.

“I’m not stopping, kitten. No one could stop me now. I think your filthy little body is finally warmed up enough for my cock, what do you think?” his voice was husky against your ear, breath fanning into your hair.

“N-no! Anything but that, please don’t, Tetsuroō, please, I’m sorry!”

Your words were muffled against his palm, tears now streaming into his hand.

You didn’t expect that you could actually get yourself to cry—were you truly scared? Or had you fallen deeper into your role than you expected?

Kuroo paid your sounds little mind.

Your body was weak as he pushed you forward, hand releasing your face to grab the back of your head as he pressed your face into the vanity. Your legs were shaking, wobbly within your heels with your ass pressed into the air like this, your hands flat against the counter. You took a few moments to take deep breaths, your eyes focusing on the table. The ashtray was still lightly smoking from the half-smoked cigarette that had been shoved into it, your lipstick and earrings appearing like lost treasures drifting upon a sea out before you.

You heard the clinking of Kuroo’s belt buckle behind you, felt his hand secure itself into your hair, keeping your face smashed against the vanity’s surface.

Then his other hand was on your ass, kneading your flesh before smacking the rounded flesh. You winced, hissing between your teeth.

“You’re a worthless whore, I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore.”

That jab stung more than your smarting ass cheek.

You whimpered, closing your eyes as you felt his hand pull at your panties, once again shifting them to the side so he could access your weeping pussy, already spent from your first orgasm.

“Mhm, I can’t wait to see you cry when you're stuffed with my cock.”

“Stop this, please. I’ll do anything else you want, I-I swear!”

You felt the hot tip of his cock press against your folds, gathering your slick against his heated skin. You tried to angle your hips away, but Kuroo drew the back of your panties up into his fist, using them like reins to keep you in place.

“I don’t think you understand, kitten. This is what I want.”

He shoved his cock ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves. You cried out, mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as his cock speared into your insides. But that pain quickly morphed into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that had moans spilling from your mouth even as you tried to stop them.

Your body was bouncing from his actions, ass slapping against his unbuttoned slacks as he pounded inside of you. There would surely be cum stains against the threads once he was done.

“Such a helpless little thing, aren’t you? Couldn’t stop me even though you tried.”

And you had tried. You told him you’d fight back if he ever wanted to play like this, and you expected that you’d be able to stave him off to some extent. But you hadn’t been able to. Every attempt to run, to move, to get him to stop, had been futile. He was too strong, his will too powerful for you to overcome. And that’s what had you quaking beneath him; you’d truly fallen prey to him, and you knew that if this ever wasn’t play, he would probably use even more force against you. You were helpless, save for the trust you had in him.

He kept a tight pull on your panties as he fucked you. His fingers were fisted around the fabric, pulling it tight against your skin, keeping it molded against your clit as his cock continued to barrel inside of you. Your walls were clamping down from all the sensations, fluttering with every thrust of his fat cock inside of you. You could feel that familiar, thick vein that ran along the underside of him rubbing against your pussy with every plunge. You felt stuffed, like your body was taking on more than you could handle.

“St-stop,” it came out with a moan.

“You know you love it,” he groaned, loud and deep and it made you shiver, “you love it when I treat you like the slut you are.”

You weakly threw your hands behind you, hoping to claw at him, to throw him off his game, but all he had to do was fist his fingers into the roots of your hair and tug to get you to stop. You screamed at the searing pain, not used to him pulling your hair so roughly. Your neck arched back at the force, lifting your breasts from the cool table to bounce with his thrusts. Your hands were slick with sweat as you trained to gain purchase on the vanity, lewd sounds pouring from your mouth with every thrust of him inside of you.

With his hand jerking your head back, now you could see him again in the mirror.

He was grinning, that smear of blood still staining his lips, his chin. He looked wild, black hair tousled even more than usual from your tryst. The sight of him had your heart racing, blood pumping even faster to where your bodies were joined together. You loved that look in his eye, like at any moment he was going to devour you and spit you back out spent and needy. You felt violated, wrecked, but you knew he wasn’t going to stop soon.

“You like watching, kitten? Like watching me stuff this pretty pussy of yours?”

“I hate you,” you spit the words out like venom, narrowing your eyes at him through the reflection.

“Say that again and I’ll slap you harder than I did earlier.”

Your cheek stung with the memory of his palm.

Before you could open your mouth again, he increased his pace, using the leverage of his hands in your hair and around your panties to slam you back into his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing.

Curses painted your lips each time his cock stretched you again, and again, and again, as the angle he pulled you into had his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you. Your underwear was pulled even tighter than before, each jostle of your bodies making the fabric rub against your swollen clit. The feeling of orgasm was growing again, your senses constantly being propelled into a state of bliss every time he took a deep stroke inside of you.

“You think you’re special, don’t you? That’s why—fuck—you think you can tell me no? You’re just another whore to fuck,” he was growling, panting, “that’s all you are, you’re pathetic.”

His words felt like acid on your skin, burning you, heating you in all the wrong ways, but your body loved it, soaked up every curse and slight and turned it into boiling pleasure.

“Fuck, stop! I don’t wanna cum, I don’t wanna cum!”

“You’re gonna cum, kitten. Cum so that little pussy gets tight enough to milk my cock.”

You clenched your lower muscles, genuinely trying to avert the churning coil of pleasure inside of you, but all it did was make matters worse. Your pussy kept sucking him in, each thrust messy, loud, your ass slapping against his slacks and slick pooling down your thighs.

“Oh you feel so good, feel so fucking good squeezing me like that.”

That fresh praise had you coming undone. You felt him pull your panties even tighter against your curves, the fabric now almost cutting into your clit, and the sensation was all too much.

“Tetsurō, Tetsurō, stop, stop, I-I’m cumming, stop!”

It was more intense than before. You felt your whole body go numb, you watched as your mouth opened in a silent scream, every part of you trembling as the seams of sanity split with your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, not even as he came inside of you, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting out onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. His force had your underwear splitting in his fist, threads snapping against your ass as the cloth broke apart.

The sound of your ripping panties had him slowing, now grinding his cock deep inside of your walls as you both came down from your highs.

When your bodies finally came to a halt, he let go of your hair, allowing you to catch yourself with your palms flat to the vanity. You hung your head, trying to even out your breaths and let your heart rate calm down as your vision unblurred.

You could hear him panting behind you, then finally felt his spent cock slip out of you, trails of cum and slick falling against your thighs.

You finally began to move, reaching between your legs to pry the remnants of your panties away from your cunt, letting the ravaged fabric fall to the floor where the remains of your dress still lay.

“Kitten?” Kuroo’s voice was soft, hands even more gentle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “are you okay?”

“Fuck,” you groaned, straightening your back to look at him, to fall into his arms, “that was...exhiliarting.”

He pressed tender kisses into your neck, tongue soothing over where he had bitten you earlier.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled into your skin.

“I missed you too.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your weary body against his chest, feeling the sweat that had cooled into his white dress shirt. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, the taste of iron still present from his split lip. You embraced him, kissing him back with the same kind of easy passion.

“I need a drink after that,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I need new pants.”

You stepped back and looked down at his black suit trousers, finding them all kinds of soiled with creamy cum. You couldn’t help but laugh, the heaviness of your earlier actions breaking with the sound of your giggles.

“You normally keep spare clothes in your car, right? In case they get all bloody? Let me get dressed and I’ll go get them for you.”

You bent down to gather your own ruined clothes, wadding up the fabric of that beautiful dress and dumping it in the bin. You heard Kuroo mutter something about buying you a new one as you sifted through the small closet in your dressing room, slipping on a short cocktail dress and a fresh pair of panties to catch whatever cum was going to continue to leak out of you tonight.

He was smoking another cigarette as you left him behind in your dressing room to fetch him a new pair of pants, car keys in hand.

The music of the jazz band was loud as you meandered back and forth between the nightclub. You realized that no one could have heard you screaming over the sound of the plucking bass and the shrill of the trumpet.

You hurriedly returned to your dressing room, pants in hand.

You cleaned Kuroo’s lip with a damp cloth as he slung on his fresh pants, the cigarette now between your lips as you did your best to clean the blood from his face.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten you so harshly.”

“Don’t worry about it, made it feel real. I can’t believe you didn’t call the safeword.”

He plucked the cigarette out of your mouth once he was done buckling his belt, grinning despite the clear cut on his lip.

“I told you I wanted to play along.”

You flicked off the lights to your vanity, grabbing his hand to pull him from the room.

The two of you found empty stools at the bar, Kuroo ordering your favorite drink as a few patrons wandered by to compliment you on your earlier set. You leaned your chin into your palm, keeping your eyes on the handsome, wondrous creature next you. You never knew what each encounter would consist of whenever he came around, but you felt yourself falling deeper into his web every time he fucked you. But you were still a little afraid of his world, but knew you’d be on the mafia’s doorstep if he ever asked you to be.

You thanked the bartender as your drink arrived, holding the cool glass in your hand.

“I think tonight deserves a toast, don’t you?”

That catlike grin was back on his face, amber eyes glowing with mischief.

“Mhm, what to, Tetsurō?”

He dipped his glass closer to yours, the rims kissing together.

“To being daredevils.”

Taglist:

@thirsthourdemon @tomurasprincess @badtimechara @present-mel @sgoldberg1997 @donica95 @hi-itsbonny @linestrider @shoutosplaything @kyberhearts @dhyaena @heyybrittannia @thisisthehardestthing @presmiic @kittifer @lemonsqueexx @iwaizumi-chan @kitten-on-ecstasy @dekulover @thatpeachybandgirl @skincrepe @whats-her-quirk @littlewhitefairy7777 @unboundbnha @tinitimesims125 @disasteren @misfitgirlwrites @tsum-samu @pineappleinmyass @nk-echi @wei-wuxian-wangji @sheneeza @buferfliz @marifujioka @bbyspiiice @deathcab4daddy @tenyacakebby @sadgirlsupremacy @hosino-a @donthurtmeimbaby @thingsladyjazzloves @bakarinnie @super-spooder

#thesmutpilecollab #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #tw: consensual non-con #mafia!au #mafia au #haikyuu!!#hq fanfic #haikyuu kuroo #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kuroo tetsuro

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90stvshowgoth · 3 years

Text

—THE BET

summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.

w/c: 4587

tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming

a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.

big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.

The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.

Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.

You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.

“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.

She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”

Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.

“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.

Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.

The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.

“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.

‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.

When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.

‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.

After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.

All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

Joker. That meant you had four queens.

It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.

All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.

An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.

Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.

“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.

A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.

“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.

“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.

Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”

“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.

Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.

“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”

A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”

Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.

He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.

Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.

“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.

Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”

Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.

“Shall we begin, then?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”

He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”

You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”

That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.

“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.

Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.

“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”

The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.

The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.

“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.

You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.

‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.

“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.

He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”

You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”

The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”

Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.

“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.

“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.

He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”

If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...

“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”

He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”

Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.

There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?

‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.

“If I lose...”

“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.

Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?

No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.

You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.

“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”

Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.

“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.

“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.

With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”

“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.

Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.

Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.

“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.

“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.

You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”

He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.

“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.

Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.

“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”

You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.

“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”

Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.

Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.

“Wh.. Why?”

“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.

Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”

Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.

You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,

“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.

All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.

“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.

He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.

“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”

“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?

Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician��s self-control.

Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.

“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”

“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”

Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.

With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.

That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.

“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.

“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.

It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.

The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.

“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.

“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“

His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.

“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.

“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”

The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.

“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.

As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”

“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”

He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”

#hisoka x reader #hisoka x reader smut #hisoka morrow #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka morrow x reader smut #phantom troupe #hxh fanfic #hxh #hunter x hunter

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is-nini · 3 years

Text

Prince! Xiao x royal! reader

You are y/n l/n, the daughter of the l/n family. The daughter of duke f/n and duchess m/n and today is such a surprising day for you.

The huge grand clock was ticking, filling the quiet room of your dining table that was once filled with chatter and cheer. The look on your face is priceless and shocking to say the least after hearing a very very surprising news that has reaches your ear.

"Wh-what?!".

You sputtered. You mom and dad smile's at you proudly but their smile didn't hide the anxiety swirling in their eyes.

"Prince Xiao who will soon becomes a king, has invited you to have a dinner with him, in the letter he stated that you have been chosen to be his future wife, isn't it exiting?!".

Your father stated proudly. You shake your head and furrowed your eyebrows. Prince Xiao.. who will be crowned king next week wanted YOU to be his WIFE?!

"Nuuh-!".

You shake you head no.

"There's no way! That I'm going to his dinner party of whatever".

You stated. Your mom and dad looks at you shockingly and in a instant your mom runs towards your chair where you're seated.

"B-but honey- listen.. we know you had your differences in the past but- he wanted to made up! Won't you see him one time? For us? We cannot reject his invitation- he is going to be KING soon".

You sigh and looks down at you half empty plate. You and Xiao used to be such a close friend... Until one day he grew cold, he pushes you away and said that you shouldn't have meet him.

Although it was 15 years ago, you remembered it like it was yesterday.. the tears of loosing him has stayed with you for years to no end.. and now he suddenly wanted YOU to be his WIFE? Your mom felt your distress and you father felt it too but an order from one of the highest rankings of the kingdom cannot be rejected.

"Please... Y/n.. just meet him.. for dinner. I have a feeling he wanted to tell you something.."

You father gently said, he smiles gently towards you once you made a eye contact with him. Your father's begging and your mother's sad and stressed looks is enough to make you accept the invitation with a sigh.

"Fine... But i won't like it".

You gritted out of your teeth. Your mom and dad cheers at you, you might be mad and sad about the whole ordeal but.. you can't really say no to your mom and dad.. can't you?

The birds are singing and the sun is shining.. the sky seems to be in a good mood sadly you and the sky doesn't seem to have the same mood today.

"You look great sweetheart".

Your father said, squeezing your hand with a huge smile on his face while your mother is smothering you with compliments and praises more than usual.

"Ahhh gosh who knew our little girl would be a pretty elegant woman?!"

She squeal. You giggle and puts a small gentle smile on your face. As much as you hated this day.. at least you'll know that the both of your parent will be happy while you're away.

You kiss the both of their cheek and took a step back. You mom hugs you one last time.

"We know this is hard for you but.. we really do hope you sort out your differences".

You gave them a sad smile.

"We shall see.."

And with that you step inside the carriage and started to make your way to the kingdom... Oh boy.. you do hope that you'll be able to carry on smoothly.. the emotional scar in the past hasn't heal and you're afraid that you'll bleed and lose control.. you quickly shake your head and slap your face gently with both hand.

"You'll be fine! You'll be fine y/n l/n. He will NOT be the cause of you loosing control. Period!"

You look out the window after a couple of hour of ride. The castle is in full view. In a couple of minutes you'll be reaching the castle... Your anxiety is blowing up inside you.. some part of you are happy that you'll get to see him but.. some parts of you are just.. scared.

As you walked out of the carriage, you can feel your legs trembling tremendously. One of your maid ask if you're okay and of course you say yes... Even though you're obviously lying the maid doesn't say anything more. The maid doesn't know what to say, and you cannot blame her.

You took a deep breath and started to Walk towards the humongous door way.

One of the knight opened the huge door and bow down, letting you walk inside the palace. Gosh... It has been 15 years since you last saw the palace.. nothing really change around here accept for the tense aura that you bring upon yourself.

A fellow butler bow Infront of you as you courtesy back to him with a friendly smile on your face.

"We have been expecting your arrival lady y/n, please follow me. The prince has been waiting for your arrival".

Ever since you stepped into the castle, no words are being spoken out from your mouth as if a curse was upon you to not allow you to talk, when in reality you're just nervous and loose your voice. In a couple of second.. you will meet you childhood crush who crushes your heart.. how are you suppose to be calm?!

You and the butler stopped in front of a huge golden coloured door that's decorated with your favourite flower... Interesting.. you are too deep into your headspace that you didn't notice the butler beside you is asking you a question until he clears his throat, making you jump.

"S-sorry"

You said, the butler smile's softly at you and bow down for a while and then he whisper to your ears.

"You'll be fine lady y/n, please relax. Are you ready my lady?"

He ask and then pulled away from you, giving a soft smile towards you. You flash a Sad smile and nodded towards him as he opened the door revealing a beautiful glass room. The walls the glass... Everything is magical.. the place's is filled with your favourite flower, favourite colour and design. Even though the room is absolutely enchanting, you cannot ignore the man in the middle of the room. Sitting on one of the fancy chair with a glass of tea on his lips. He slowly puts down his cup and stare at you with his yellow glowing eye.. that you remember.

You straighten your back and walk towards him as he stands up and walk towards you too. Just as you were about to reach him your gosh darn clumsy leg slip, making you stumble forward lucky you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You quickly take your none existence composure back and looked at Xiao with a huge red across your face.

Xiao saw you stumble and.. oh god of rex lapis.. you just becomes prettier and prettier the more he saw you.. the way you stumble is not elegant but it is cute.. it reminds him of a little... Kitten stumbling.

"Becareful, we would want you to fall".

..... What.. he wanted to slap himself for saying that as he took out the chair for you.

"Y-yes thankyou your highness".

You wanna slap yourself for stuttering UGH why is this so embarrassing?! You sat down slowly on the chair he has pulled out as you watch him goes back to his seat. The table is round and is made out of glass, making Xiao able to see everything in a pretty close proximity since the table is pretty small..

The two of you sat in silence. You are staring at your hand from above the table while Xiao is looking everywhere else but you. The aura here is so tense.. which is understandable but Xiao can sense a rather... Heavy aura coming out of you. Not that he's wrong. The sense of anger and confusion slowly engulfed you and starting to get the best of you.

"Why did you invite me here?"

You spat out, you quickly wanted the earth to swallow you whole but it's too late to go back so you decided to swallow your pain and cringe and started to pull up your head to look at prince Xiao.

Xiao was.. not surprised in the slightest.. he knew you must be mad about the event that took place 15 years ago... But Xiao cannot stand anything anymore.. after he got mature he knows what to do.. he finally has the courage to ask you for a dinner with him.

"To make you my wife".

Xiao respond. Loud and clear. you furrowed your eyebrows, is this all? No explanation? No sorry just a proposal? Is this all really? You tsked and roll your eye. Lady etiquette? Frick that. Throw that away you wanted explanation.

"Just that?"

You spat, staring at Xiao dead in the eye. Xiao realize the mistake he made and sigh quietly trying to fix everything but his pride won't allow him to do so..

"No.."

He trail's off as he prepare his mental.

"I wanted to apologize.. for the event 15 years ago.."

You sigh and without you noticing your shoulder slowly relaxed as you stare at your hand, fiddling with your thumb. A habbit that hasn't left you since you're small.

"I was young and dumb.. at that time".

Xiao looks at your eyes, filled with emotion.. sad and anger emotion swirling inside your pretty e/c coloured eye.

"I was- i was scared.."

He trail's off. You tried to hold your tears the best of your ability. Scared? Of what? What is he scared about to make him wanted to abandon you?

"We were going on a war soon.. and as the future king of this kingdom it's either kill or be killed. At first i realize that maybe it's better if you just.. stay away from me, thinking that it will keep you safe-"

His words was cuts off when he heard a little noises coming from you. He focuses his entire body and mind towards you as he saw tears running down your face. With wide eye he quickly runs towards you and spin you chair, making you spin too. You close your face, not wanting to show Xiao the mess you are right now. Xiao kneel in front of you and hold your shoulder.

"Y/n? I-i'm sorry.. i wanted to make you happy and safe is all! I never wanted to abandon you nor make you cry i just-"

Xiao looks at you sadly and hugs you as you sob to his shoulder, you hugs him back, letting your emotions out. You don't care if your tears stained his suit. You just wanted his warmth. The warmth that you missed for all of this years.

"I just.. wanted you to be safe.. i wanted you to be happy. I thought pushing you away will be better but.. i was wrong. Very wrong. And it was stupid of he to take 15 years to finally realize that i cannot live without you. I'm sorry".

You shake your head no and hug Xiao back.

"N-no I'm sorry! I was- i was stupid! I should've ask you what's wrong! I should've-"

You were about to continue when xiao pulled you away and puts his palm on your cheek while he looks at you deep into your soul through your eye.

"No. You're not stupid. Never say that. You're not wrong... Okay .. stop feeling like you're wrong. Stop blaming yourself".

He whisper. He push his face closer to your face and smile's at you gently and sweetly.

"Shh... It's okay dear.. I'm sorry okay.. can you forgive me?"

You nod your head 'yes' slowly as you tried your best to flash him your warmest smile. Xiao wrapped his arms around your shoulder, hugging you again and tighter.

"Even after all this year's... I still.. i still harbor deep feelings.. towards you.. that's why i ask you to be my fiancee. I can never.. move on. Never. I am aware that asking your hand in Marriage right now is too fast but.. I'm willing to do anything to make you fall for me again.. would you take my attempts to make you fall for me again?"

You giggle and hugs Xiao back, shaking your head while little hiccups is spoiling from your mouth.

"N-no need... Because even until now i still keep my feelings for you and only you Xiaobebe".

You talk while sobbing, giggling and smiling at Xiao. Xiao just giggle alongside you and kiss your lips passionately as you kiss him back. Once you both pull away from eachother to take some air, you decided to crack a joke.

"Gosh... We're so cheesy".

Xiao full on laugh and kissed your temple, and kiss you back.

"Shut up... You ruin the moment my princess".

You giggle against his lips and hugs your hand around his neck.

"Shush. You don't mind"

You reply with a sassy tone. Xiao humn and looks at you dead in the eye.

"So sassy huh? Since when is your lips so spicy?"

He puts his thumb on your mouth and stroke your mouth slowly with his thumb.

"Let's see how long can you keep up the sassy act princess".

He nibble on your neck, making a rawr noise and then pull you up princess style from your seat. He opened the door and started to bring you through the hallway and making his way to his bedroom.

Unknowingly the both of you, Xiao's butler and your maid was listening to your every conversation with a wide smile on their face.

"Such a wonderful relationship~".

Your maid said with a fake tears running down her face. The butler just smiled and walked away from the place they were eavesdropping.

"Let's go, we have a wedding to plan people!"

The butler shout's as the maid and servants around him cheer. You have always bring the colour to the cold hearted Prince's heart everyone ships the both of you and now your presence will bring warmth to the whole kingdom and the future king's heart while filling the newspaper with amazing news.

Taglist: @laic2299 @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @dreaminselfinserts

#genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao

151 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Flowers (Valentine’s Day HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: All x gn!Reader, Ortho platonic.

Warning: None

Prompt: Type of flower he would give you on Valentine’s Day.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! 💝

———————————————

Prologue:

You went to get breakfast with Grim, hoping to get a glimpse of your boyfriend. He was nowhere to be found, but when you returned to Ramshackle, you found a gift from him.

———————————————

Malleus

A bouquet of pink, lavender, and white Gerbera Daisies sat on the living room center table. A pink bow was neatly tied around the stems, holding the bouquet together.

"Today is Valentine's Day, correct? Fufu, human holidays are quite intriguing. Lilia said gifting flowers is a must and asked me to choose carefully. It seems as though each flower has a different meaning. A variety of gerbera daisies in a single bouquet represent innocence, beauty, and cheerfulness. What better flower to gift you? You are always the reason behind my smile, but today, let me be the reason for your smile. ~Malleus Draconia"

Lilia

A simple gray ceramic pot with pink orchids sat in front of the Ramshackle entrance.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my dear! Did you know orchids symbolize love, beauty, and strength? They reminded me of you~ hehe. You're such a lovely and strong person. I don't know if you realize this, but you are the strength of the people around you. Also, don't forget that I will always love you. ~Lilia”

Silver

A single red and pink anemones sat on the dorm's doorstep along with two notes.

"I will protect you forever. ~Silver"

"Hey, it's Lilia. I saw Silver's note and couldn't help myself. That boy didn't even wish you Happy Valentine's Day, nor did he explain the meaning of anemones to you. These flowers symbolize protection, so Silver choose them for you. Also, (Y/N), thank you for being by Silver's side. I couldn't ask for anyone better. ~Your future father-in-law ;)"

Sebek

Grim ran up to the door and picked up a bouquet of white calla lilies. A crimson-colored bow was tightly wrapped around the stems. There were two notes next to the flowers.

"These are for you. ~Sebek"

"Hey, it's Lilia. I feel like I'm going to be spending the whole day trying to fix Silver and Sebek's blunders. These lilies reminded Sebek of you, and he couldn't stop saying how beautiful they looked. Of course, he didn't know I was listening, hehe. I hope you have a good Valentine's Day...let's hope your date with Sebek goes well. Wait, was I suppose to mention the date? Hehe, oh well! ~Lilia"

Riddle

Riddle gifted you a bouquet of white gardenias in a clear glass vase.

"Happy Valentine's Day. I am not used to giving gifts, so I hope you find these flowers beautiful. I couldn't help but think of your purity when I saw these gardenias. Please come to my dorm when you receive this note. I will be waiting for you. ~Riddle"

Ace

A single pink hydrangea flower sat on the coffee table with a sloppily written note.

"Pretty flowers, don't you think? Trey senpai said something about hydrangeas representing beauty and grace. They kinda remind me of you. Hope you like it! Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day. I'll stop by after classes! ~Your handsome boyfriend Ace"

Deuce

When you returned to Ramshackle, you found a clear vase with a bunch of sunflowers inside.

"Happy Valentine's Day. When I saw these flowers, they reminded me of your smile. Cater senpai told me sunflowers symbolize warmth and happiness, so I thought they were perfect for you. Do you want to...um...go on a..nevermind! See you after classes. ~Deuce"

Trey

Trey gifted you a bouquet of pink peonies wrapped inside a cream-colored gift wrapping tissue paper.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my beloved! These peonies are for you. They represent romance and are good luck charms, bringing fortune to those who receive them. I hope these flowers bring you luck. Don't forget about our date later tonight. Also, I baked your favorite dessert. ~Trey"

Cater

A bouquet of blue iris inside a clear vase sat on the living room table.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love! Sorry for not giving these flowers to you in person...I have classes. T~T Aren't irises breathtaking flowers? They're rare and unique, like you. <3 I'll see you after classes! Can't wait to go on a date with you!! :* ~XOXO, Cater"

Leona

You saw a single sugarbush protea sitting in front of the main door with two notes next to it.

"Here. Now come to my dorm, I want to nap with you. ~Leo"

"Happy Valentine's Day, (Y/N)! Leona asked me to deliver this flower to you, and when I saw his note...haha...he's even lazier than usual. Lemme tell you why Leona picked this flower for you. The florist said Proteas represent courage and transformation, and I think Leona's trying to say you're his courage. Shishishi! Don't tell him I said this! He's going to get so mad if he finds out. ~Ruggie"

Jack

Jack left a bouquet of yellow primroses inside a round vase on your doorstep. Next to the vase were two notes.

"You are perfect the way you are. Don't ever change. ~Jack"

"Shishishi. How sweet of Jack to say this. Oh, sorry, I saw him write this note and thought to tell you the reason why he chose this flower. The florist said primroses are a symbol of new love and new beginnings. Guess Jack wants to start a new life with you? Shishishi. I see marriage in your future! Don't tell him I sent this note to you. ~Ruggie"

Ruggie

Ruggie gifted you a bunch of yellow dandelion flowers.

"Happy Valentine's Day! Did you know Dandelions are tough and can endure anything? Just like you. They also have healing properties and are healers, like you. Shishishi. Oh, did you know you can make tea out of these? They help with all sorts of pain and illnesses! ~Ruggie"

Azul

Azul gifted you a bouquet of purple tulips, neatly tied with a lavender satin bow.

"Hello, love. Happy Valentine's Day. My apologies for not handing these to you in person. I promise to make it up to you later. I thought quite a lot about what flower to give you, but I could think of none better than tulips. They convey comfort and warmth, and when I'm with you, I feel wanted and loved. You mean the world to me. ~Love, Azul"

Jade

When you walked into Ramshackle dorm, a radiant sparkle caught your eyes. Getting closer, you saw a pink glass rose sitting atop a note.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my dear. I noticed quite a few men handing their beloved fresh flowers, but why gift an item that will wither? I do hope you like the glass rose. Its charm, radiance, and delicacy reminds me of you. Visit the Monstro Lounge once you're finished with classes. ~Jade"

Floyd

In the living room, you found a bouquet of forget-me-nots held together by a jute string.

"Hey, Shrimpy, Happy Valentine's Day~! Jade went flower shopping, so I joined him and found these flowers. They look like you, tiny and cute. Come to my dorm after classes~ I made something for you. ♡ Floyd”

Kalim

You entered Ramshackle, hoping to find Kalim; instead, you saw a gold rose on the living room sofa. Beside the metal-flower sat a cream-colored paper with a gold border.

"Jamil said I shouldn't give you this and should choose fresh flowers. But I don't wanna give you something that'll wilt. This rose is better 'cause it'll stay with you forever! Oh, Happy Valentine's Day! Come to Scarabia after school~ I'm gonna throw you the best party ever! ~ Kalim :)"

Jamil

When you returned to the dorm, you found a thin glass vase with a single pink lotus inside and a note next to it.

"Happy Valentine's Day. I hope your day has been well so far. I don't know what your favorite flower is, so I got you a lotus. You know about lotus, right? They bloom from mud but are unaffected by the muck around them. Lotuses remind me of you...no matter how dirty the world around you, your beauty remains untouched. ~Jamil"

Vil

You strolled into your dorm and saw Grim running towards you with a single red rose and a note in hand.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my lovely. What better flower to gift you than a red rose? Red is the color of passion, whereas a rose represents classic beauty. This particular rose has been cultivated with the utmost care. Flawless, is it not? Be ready by 4 for our date. ~Your beautiful Vil"

Rook

You entered the living room to find a bouquet of Casa Blanca lilies in a white vase sitting on the table. Around the neck of the vase was a green satin ribbon holding a note.

"Bonjour, mon amour. You like flowers, oui? These are Casa Blanca lilies, known for their beauty, class, and style. They suit you quite well. Now come, we shall go on a date and make memories. ~Ton amour, Rook"

Epel

As soon as you walked into the living room, you saw a bouquet of lavenders and a basket of apples.

"Hello. Today's Valentine's Day, right? So, um...Happy Valentine's Day. I got these lavender flowers for you. They smell good, right? Meemaw - I mean grandmother, loves them a lot, so I thought you would like them too. Speakin' of Meem- grandma, she sent apples for you and asked me to give them to you today. I planned a date today...I'll meet you in front of your dorm at 2. ~Epel"

Idia + Ortho

You entered your bedroom to find a bouquet of pink alstroemeria and a bouquet of white daisies on your bed, along with two circular device. When you touched the device, a holographic note appeared.

"H-Hello. Happy Valentine's Day. U-Um, these alstroemerias are for you. You are my only f-friend, and I want to gift you these flowers to show my d-devotion to you. T-Thank you for staying by my side. ~Idia"

You tapped the smaller circular device and saw a holographic projection of Ortho. The child spoke in a chirpy voice.

"Hello, (Y/N)! Happy Valentine's Day! I know you are big brother's valentine, but I wanted to gift you these flowers. Daisies represent innocence, happiness, and friendship. These blooms are given to those who put a smile on your face. You always put a smile on big brother's face, so thank you for that. Oh, and I hope you like the flowers Idia picked out. He wasn't sure what to get you, so I suggested alstroemeria. See you in a few hours! Ortho signing out."

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

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btsficsforthehumble · 3 years

Text

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.

#BTS #ot7 #ot7 x reader #poly ot7 #fanfic #newfangled

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jewish-space-laser · 3 years

Note

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you.

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior.

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read.

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite.

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it.

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head.

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking.

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips.

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin.

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you.

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little.

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more.

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do.

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth.

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends.

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this.

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold.

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors.

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered.

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt.

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver.

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing.

“You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed.

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup.

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed.

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed.

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly.

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind.

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes.

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity.

He was sure you must pity him.

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns.

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough.

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now.

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet.

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets.

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk.

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn.

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin.

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this.

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped.

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind.

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be.

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already.

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really.

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end.

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason.

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything.

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him.

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street.

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time.

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 1: Logince

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 1: Your soulmate’s name is on your wrist.

Content: Flower/Tattoo Shop AU, background character death (unspecified cause, none of the sides), that’s pretty much it, it’s just soft Logince.

Word count: 2.7k

A small ding from the store entrance pulled Roman out of his thoughts, and he groaned softly. It was nearing the end of his shift, almost closing time, and another customer at this time would probably mean he was staying after hours again. All he wanted to do was go home and watch cheap reality TV in his sweatpants while shoveling handfuls of hot cheetos into his mouth. So sue him, it had been a long day. But nooo. Someone else had just walked in, probably someone with a very specific style that was out of season and they would argue for half an hour, no matter how many times he explained that tulips aren’t blooming right now, Vanessa!

Sure, usually his customers were great. Nervous first anniversaries, eccentric brides, all that romance stuff. He loved it. And they were usually all too willing to give him a budget and a color scheme and let him go wild, which was the best part about his job. He was good at it, too. His boss had seen his eye for style and almost immediately gave him solo shifts, which meant decently good pay and hours alone to belt out songs amongst the flowers and daydream to his heart’s content. It was a small enough business that the only mandatory part of his outfit was a green apron, so he could wear whatever he wanted, and he didn’t need a pesky nametag. Those had always weirded him out just a bit. So yeah, he loved his job, but right now, he knew himself too well. He had awful luck.

With a forced customer service grin, he poked out of the backroom and began his usual spiel of, “Thanks for coming to The Rainbow Bouquet, what can I get started…”

His words died in his throat at the mere sight of the man before him. Never had he been so equally attracted and frightened at the same time.

He was tall, probably just taller than him, but he held himself in a way that made Roman feel miniscule. Both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, the left one a flurried mix of black and white and color, beautiful strips of pink and blue galaxies blending with grayscale skulls and clocks. The other had more order; shadows of a forest growing from around his wrist, shimmering mist curling up over his bicep and ending with a full moon stamped on his shoulder like a crest. A corner of something peaked up around the collar of his torn vest, and if Roman had to guess, there were most likely plenty more tattoos that were covered by his ripped black jeans and blue Nasa shirt. Not that his mind was going there at all, no siree.

Once Roman’s brain had screeched to a halt back in his body, he spoke again.

“What can I get started for you today?”

The man swallowed with difficulty, taking in the rows and rows of flowers surrounding him. He definitely didn’t look in his element.

“I need an arrangement for my mother. She’s in the hospital.”

Ah, the part of the job that Roman didn’t enjoy. Probably half the orders that came in were for sick people or funerals, and those were always a lot harder to arrange. It was always hard to find joy in creating for something so dismal.

“I’m sorry to hear. Did you have anything specific in mind? Does she have a favorite flower?”

“Daisies. She likes Daisies,” He murmured, still admiring the space around him. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the man’s expression. It was just a little awe inspired, a little bit of childish wonder, under that rough exterior. It was a gorgeous shop, that’s one of the reasons Roman had started working there.

“That’s good, it makes it a little easier for me to design something when I have that to go off of. Do you have a budget, or…”

He shook his head weakly, finally turning to look at Roman. “Price isn’t an issue. This is one of the last things I’m going to be able to give her.”

“Oh,” Roman whispered, slowly putting down the pen he’d been writing with, “I’m so sorry.”

“It can’t be changed. There’s no point in losing sleep over it.”

“Just because it’s going to happen doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

The man narrowed his eyes, giving Roman a once over before lifting his chin slightly. “I don’t need advice from a stranger.”

“Of course you don’t,” Roman quickly corrected, remembering he was still at work, “My apologies. When did you want to pick it up?”

“I’m visiting her tomorrow at noon. Could it be ready by then?”

“You bet. Can I have a name for the pick up?”

“Logan.” Roman’s pen skittered over his notepad, almost falling through his fingers.

Having a common name on your wrist was a curse in and of itself. And poor him, the hopeless romantic that he was, had met countless “Logan’s” in his day, and consequently fallen for most of them at first introduction, only to figure out quickly that they weren’t destined for a “Roman”. As inconspicuously as possible, he tried to glance down at Logan’s wrist, only finding a mass of swirling tattoos covering his skin. Dammit. There were some people born without soulmates, or had their soulmark fade to nothingness when their person passed away, and he tried not to think too terribly hard on which one Logan was. He tampered his rush of excitement as quickly as it had arisen and turned back to his notes, ignoring Logan’s raised eyebrow at his sudden stop.

Roman scribbled down the name and phone number as it was given, setting down the notepad with a customer service smile. The man spent no time dawdling, immediately starting towards the door, only to hesitate before walking out.

“Her favorite color is yellow.”

Roman nodded, the fake smile slowly morphing into an authentic one. “I can work with that.”

It was now a week after Logan had picked up the bouquet, a somewhat awkward interaction filled with small compliments towards the arrangement and Roman nearly dropping the flowers as their fingers touched while passing it over. As he was ringing up the total, he’d been able to uphold a brief conversation where Logan revealed he was a tattoo artist (no shock, considering he showed more inked skin than plain), and Roman showed off his rose tattoo on his upper arm. It would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but no, Logan had to reach up tentatively to brush his finger along the edge of the piece, commenting off handedly about how the color had started to fade.

“How long ago did you get this done?”

“Probably ten years, give or take.”

“You’re what, mid twenties? There’s no way you were legal ten years ago.”

“Who said I was?” It was said with a small wink that made Logan pull his hand away, an action that immediately dampened Roman’s mood.

“If you ever want it touched up, come by the shop. It’s just down the road.”

Roman had promised to consider, pulling the collar of his long sleeve shirt back up over the rose and bidding the man a good visit to his mother. Even now, a full week later, he couldn’t help his thoughts that were so centered around the tattoo artist. So maybe that was why Logan walked back into the shop the following Wednesday. I simped so hard I summoned him, Roman thought weakly as the gorgeous man strode straight up to the counter, leaning on it like he owned it.

“I have a question.”

“What’s your question?

“A client asked me yesterday to design a tattoo for her. A bouquet, seen from the top, and all she specified was it should feature hydrangeas, and she asked me to, quote, ‘go nuts’.”

“This isn’t sounding like a question so far.”

Logan sighed apprehensively, adjusting his glasses, “I was hoping you could give me some ideas on how to start. All the tips I found online contradicted each other in some way or another, and the arrangement you created for my mother was so well done…”

He trailed off, giving Roman a look that clearly said I need your help but don’t make me ask for it. Chuckling slightly, he leaned onto the counter as well, his face inches away from Logan’s. For the first time, he could see the small piercing on the man’s tongue as he sighed again. God, that’s hot.

“I’ll help you. On one condition.”

“Being?”

“Help me design my next tattoo.” In full honesty, he hadn’t even considered a second tattoo until that second.

“Deal.” There was no hesitation in his answer, and he took Roman’s offered hand, barely shaking it in the small space between them.

“Alright!” Roman pulled back, satisfied but disappointed as their hands separated, “Let’s talk flowers!”

And talk they did. For hours, in fact. It started with Logan’s tattoo dilemma, and Roman’s skillful eye and creative mind solved that problem in a flash, crudely drawing out a bouquet idea that fit all the criteria. The tattoo artist took it from there, using the notepad paper and Roman’s sketch, along with a quick round of the shop to see what the recommended flowers, fillers, and greens would all look like, and drew out a detailed piece that put Roman’s own art talent to shame. After explaining that his shift was done at the parlor and he had the rest of the afternoon free, Roman invited Logan to stay for a while longer, seeing as his day had dragged on customer-less so far, and he was bored. Plus, now was as good a time as any to pay back the favor. Two mugs of breakroom coffee later, the two were huddled around the counter, Roman describing his ideas and Logan sketching them like there was no tomorrow. Maybe half way through the brainstorm, the conversation switched to Logan’s mother (which he talked about hesitantly), then to Roman’s family, slowly changing to the absurdity of satin couch cushions, then to their favorite foods, and finally ending with a loud debate on whether pineapple deserved to be on pizza.

“It’s a fruit, Logan! Why the hell would you put fruit on a pizza?!”

“All I’m saying is that the sweet flavor of the pineapple balances out the tanginess of the marinara sauce, and adds more to the plain crust!”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Logan had to go soon after that, wanting to visit his mom before visiting hours ended. He left with a begrudging smile on his face and a promise to come back another day, drawing an ear to ear grin from Roman. He’s just a friend, he reprimanded himself sternly, all the while sliding the drawing of his next possible tattoo into his phone case with startling reverence. No use getting attached to some who wasn’t his soulmate.

Yet, he still couldn’t help but feel saddened as a week passed again, then two, then a month. His job had returned to it’s boring normalcy, with only the flowers and no cute boy to keep him company. Even when he sat at his little desk next to the counter, hands working effortlessly to string together order after order, he couldn’t help the occasional glance at the door. The hope that his prince charming would waltz back in, piercings and ripped clothing galore, never faded.

A month and a half later, the little chime above the door dinged, and Roman glanced up from his handful of Baby’s Breath (seriously people, there are other fillers). Immediately a huge smile pulled at his lips and he dropped the half finished bouquet onto his table.

“Logan! What took you so… long…” His expression morphed into one of worry as he took in the other’s appearance. Gone was the usual grunge attire he was so prone to wearing, replaced with a black hoodie and beaten up Vans. His eyes no longer held that dangerous glimmer that had intimidated Roman so much when they first met. He just looked… small. Logan had never looked small before.

“My mom died last month,” He whispered.

Roman was over the desk in a second, pulling the man into his arms before he could protest. It took Logan a second, a long, awkward, stiff second, before he let his arms wrap around his waist, allowing his forehead to rest on the florist’s shoulder.

“I thought I’d be okay when she died… it was inevitable. It was her time… so why does it still hurt so bad?” The desperate whisper shattered Roman’s heart.

“You’re allowed to feel sad, Logan.” He felt him merely shake his head in response, but he said nothing to push the topic further.

Logan didn’t cry as they stood there, though he clung to Roman almost desperately. If he had to guess, the poor man was probably already cried out. He looked exhausted, and his unusually slumped posture only weakened more when Roman tightened his arms ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. You were probably waiting.”

“Hey, no apologizing.”

“I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“So what changed your mind?”

Logan shrugged, still not pulling away, “I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of it. And I needed someone who wouldn’t laugh at me. If our few interactions were anything to go by, you were that person.”

Roman decided to ignore the blatant implication that Logan didn’t have anyone except a practical stranger to go to. They could talk about that later, if he decided to stay for a while. Roman really hoped he did.

When the tattoo artist finally pulled out of the hug, many minutes later, he pushed his sweater paws under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t cried, but he sure was close to it.

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I don’t even know your name, and I-”

“It’s okay, stop-” Roman reeled back slightly, eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “Oh… sweet Zac Efron. I never told you my name! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“It felt too late to ask,” Logan smirked subtly despite himself, letting his hands fall back to his side.

“Oh, my sweet summer child.”

“I am none of those things.”

Roman sighed in soft exasperation, smiling at the barely perceivable glimmer in the other’s eyes. Ah, there it is. “My name’s Roman. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

He was instantly concerned with the way Logan’s face fell into one of total shock. Shit, what did he do wrong? The fear was quickly replaced with understanding, however, as the artist’s hand drifted to his right wrist.

“What are the chances that your wrist says my name on it?” Logan said it like he was scared to be hopeful, like a happy ending was just not imaginable for him. Roman couldn’t comprehend all the emotions he felt at one time; elation, shock, fear. He answered in a choked voice, smiling all the while.

“One hundred percent.”

The both upturned their arms in near harmony, Roman pulling his gardening glove down to reveal the name. He squinted at Logan’s wrist, finally noticing the small writing that just barely stood out underneath a grayscale (anatomically correct) heart. No wonder he missed it before, it almost blended in with the outline.

And then Logan did cry, but so did Roman, so it was a little more okay. He seemed more confused than anything as Roman pulled him back in, holding him even tighter than before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m so unused to… well, feeling. I’m not usually like this, I believe I’m just sleep deprived and worn out from-”

“You never, ever need to be guilty for feeling, you absolute punk stereotype.” Roman pressed a long kiss to the other’s temple, letting him unwind in his arms. “We’ll work on that together. I promise.”

A muffled affirmative hum was all he got in response. He pressed another kiss to the top of Logan’s head as his crying slowed, breathing out heavily into the man’s hair. Together. That’s all that mattered.

Peep this gorgeous art piece for this fic

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts soulmate au

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #friends with benefits to lovers #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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futurebicon · 3 years

Text

I thought yesterday was chaotic oh my god.

Background- Chem is double period so it’s 80 minutes long. We take a mask break outside between the two periods.

Our teacher Ms. Walton appears at the worst times we have awful timing.

“WHAT IS THIS!?” Leo froze halfway to his seat. “MY PERIODIC TABLE! WHERE ARE THE COLORS?”

“Do you like it Leo?” Dumo asked with a smirk.

“Yeah it’s nice. I can see it a lot better cause it’s big.” He nodded and sat down.

“Wait so do you like it or not?” Remus asked in confusion.

“I just said I liked it dumby. Open your ears.” Leo rolled his eyes.

“Woah.” James stopped in the doorway. “The energy is hostile in here.”

“Shut up James.”

“Someone’s pressed cause his periodic table isn’t colorful.” Finn informed him.

“Well he’s just gonna have to get over it.” Dumo said. “Sit down and pull out the homework that I know for a fact none of you did.”

“You know us so well Dumo.” Kasey pulled out his binder.

+++

“Thomas, what are you doing?” Dumo asked.

“I’m makin a seat!” Thomas called down the hill proudly. “Lookie!” He buried an up-right brick into the ground and set another brick on top to make a ‘T’.

“Where’d you find bricks?” Sirius asked.

“Over there.” He threw his hand towards the over grown brush behind him.

“Alright. Moment of truth.” He sat down on the bricks. “HEY IT WORK-“ He lost his balance and tumbled down the hill with a scream. Immediately sending the class into suffocating cackles.

“I’m good.” He called back up.

“Let’s not do that again.” Dumo failed at hiding a smile.

“I just won’t build it on the very edge.” Thomas shrugged and ran back up to reconstruct his seat.

“DUMO” Logan shouted down.

“What?”

“What is this?” He held up a dirty glass bottle.

“That’s a beer bottle buddy.”

“Oh. I think there’s stuff in it.” He shook the bottle.

“Good luck getting it open.” Finn laughed.

“Got it.” Logan sniffed the opened bottle with the cap in hand.

“Yeah that’s definitely beer. How much for me to drink it?”

“You’re disgusting.” Remus wrinkled his nose.

“Logan put it down.” Dumo shook his head.

“‘Kay.” He chucked it against a tree. “That did nothing.” He sagged in disappointment when it didn’t break.

“Alright back inside before I get in trouble.” Dumo rounded them up.

+++

“Dumo, watcha doin there?” Kasey asked nervously as he stared at Dumo.

“I’m just retapeing your desk.” He smirked.

“I don’t like that look, bud.” Kasey shyed away and looked down at his paper. “Where did-“ he let out a scream when he turned around to see Dumo standing behind him.

“I don’t like that man, nope.” He shook his head. “Nearly gave me a heart attack, goodnesse gracious.”

+++

“I’m going to the printer. Be good.” Dumo announced and headed to the door.

“All the time Dumo. What are you really doin there?” Leo asked.

“Getting you annoying butts homework.”

“That’s rude.” Finn said.

“Kase.” Sirius tried to warn the sandy haired man that Dumo was still in the room as he threw a paper airplane.

“That wasn’t me Dumo. That truly really wasn’t-“ Kasey let out a wheezing laugh.

“That was a weak airplane.” Dumo shook his head and actually left the room.

“Kasey there’s tape on your back.” James told him as he went to pick up the paper plane.

Kasey froze and turned around slowly. “Where?”

“Jeez it’s tape not a bug.” Remus laughed. “Left shoulder.”

Kasey nearly broke his arm reaching back to get the red tape off his yellow shirt.

“Kase.” Sirius ran forward and grabbed it out of his hand. He walked over and taped it to the bottom of Dumos mouse, covering the sensor.

“That’s cold.” Thomas shook his head.

“Wait.” Leo grabbed the smart board pen.

“Leo make a new page don’t write on his work.” Remus said.

“How do I do that?”

“Upper right. No other one. Yeah. Click the button.”

“Wow very descrip-“ Leo spun around and stood innocently with his hands folded in front of him with a smile. “Hi” he waved at Dumo. “I’ll go sit down now.”

Characters belong to the amazing @lumosinlove

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #sweater weather lumosinlove #coops #oknutzy #leo knut #kasey winter #pascal dumais #remus lupin #sirius black #James Potter #Thomas Walker #chem class #logan tremblay #finn o'hara

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aphrodisians · 3 years

Text

◜ choi yerim , ciswoman , twenty . ◞ ┈ through her all - seeing crystal ball, [ 𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳 ] has her winking eye trained on hestia jones. the ever - enigmatic fifth year is infamous for her righteous ways, but something new seems to be weighing our resident au courant down. a rumor is spreading through these ancient halls like fiendfyre, & even their erudite face can't save them from the flames. she can try to drown out their sorrows to the tune of goddess, but xana can't fix everything ⏤ much less something as grim as [ 𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳 ]. but ten points to ravenclaw for trying.

hey besties <3 i’m cc & i’m super excited 2 be here! i’m writing your local hater, hestia jones, who i’ve actually never written before but i’m really excited for her. anywhomstdve, i’d love to plot w all of you & i’m ecstatic for this!

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬.⠀ ⠀

an accidental crack of a book spine that echoes throughout an otherwise silent library, never letting anything pass you by – never letting yourself be unaware, unwelcome surprises that you greet with flushed cheeks and clenched fists, a collection of skirts stolen from a mother that has seemed to have forgotten you, bruises forming next to the scrapes on almost - broken knees, passing tears off as just ‘my eyes are sweating’ & heavy, heavy, bags underneath eyes that just never seem to sleep.

⠀ ﹟𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲

birth name. jeong hyun - ae nickname(s) / alias(es). hestia jones. preferred name. hestia jones, only hyun - ae to family + very close friends age + dob. twenty + dec. 23 hometown. belfast, ireland blood status. half - blood house. ravenclaw activities. fifth year prefect, ravenclaw chaser, chess + duelling label. au courant – aware of what is going on; well informed ethnicity. korean nationality. irish gender. cis woman pronouns. she + her face claim. choi yerim

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝.⠀ ⠀

height. five feet, seven inches / 170cm tattoos. none piercings. earlobes only scars. a two cm line that lays horizontally above her left eyebrow from falling off her broomstick during her third year at hogwarts hair. never dyed, meticulously taken care of but rarely styled. naturally falls straight and is often left down eyes. round and dark, accompanied often by dark bags underneath and an absence of makeup usual expression. stressed. just like, if you look at her you can tell she’s going through it ( and has been for like the past three years ),,, she needs a break but she will not be getting one <3 distinguishing features. cheeks that always seem to be flushed a rosy hue of pink, bags underneath her eyes that are haphazardly covered with fake glasses or makeup, brown - hued hair that just always falls correctly

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀

( + ) positive. erudite, bluestocking, intuitive, heedful ( - ) negative. righteous, hubristic, zealous, moralistic natal chart. triple capricorn, pour one out mbti. istj - a, investigator moral alignment. neutral good godly parent. athena languages spoken. korean + english likes. quiet - the kind of quiet that comes only in the early hours of the morning + in restricted access zones where it’s close to silence ( but not quite ), victory in all forms, feeling appreciated tbh, sleeping but genuinely hasn’t gotten a good night of sleep in years, the color yellow, scarves that are long enough to wrap her entire head <3, being a hater dislikes. attention ( though she is overjoyed / obsessed with winning ), losing - a notoriously sore loser, being out of control in any situation - even if she can have no humanly control over it, nail polish ( because she bites her nails :/ ), actually reading i’ll be honest, staircases quirks. as mentioned above, bites her nails often, doodles when stressed ( which is all the time ) - is halfway decent at it too thanks to all of the practice, can fall asleep in two seconds if given the opportunity, taps her foot a lot hobbies. being a hater, being obnoxious enough to have attention ( aka dramatic ) n then having the audacity to complain about the stress

⠀ ﹟𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫

when he meets your mother, he tells you it’s like the world stopped turning. she was enchanting, he says, like a rose blooming in the dead of winter, a blossom of red among a blanket of white - and he swears that he has never loved anyone more. their romance is swift, a bouquet of flowers traded for an engagement ring and a passionate kiss exchanged for the start of a family. your father never says anything bad about your mother, raising you on his own with a faint line on his ring finger. she will be back soon, he says with glazed eyes and love-flushed cheeks that you seem to inherit. she will come back soon, he tucks you in with a faraway look on his features and you realize with a ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars that he isn’t okay. but, you hold his hand when crossing the streets with you leading and you let him dawdle about your mother and you pat the top of his head when he falls asleep waiting for your mother. she’ll be back, he says, unaware that she only visits when he’s not around. she will come back soon, he waits for her, a stranger in his own body.

you yearn for control the way your peers yearn for freedom. freedom, you have enough of, but everything in your life is just out of reach. for your entire childhood, you grasp at everything and nothing, your fingers brushing past the things you desire most. you are a young girl with magic in your blood, but you watch from the end of your driveway as life seems to spin so wildly out of control. your father isn’t okay, but you don’t understand why. your mother comes around wearing guilt like one wears a birthmark and you can’t fathom why. you are left alone on playgrounds and with scrapes on your knees and people whisper about you but you don’t understand why. life goes on with or without you, and you think it unacceptable. it’s infuriating being in the backseat, unable to control, unable to know. when a letter falls into your hands, you swear to use it to your advantage. you refuse to ever be in the dark again.

you arrive on your own, a year older than your peers, a sheltered girl from a muggle world and you look around, determined to change your life. it’s obvious to anyone early on that you’re a bright girl, ambition tied into your intelligence, potential pouring over every single one of your edges. for a while, it comes easily. you know things, you understand things; most of all, you learn how terribly things can go wrong. you swear to never let that happen to you, but of course, life has bigger plans for you. the first few years fly by quick and your hands build up a reputation that you’re eager to upkeep. you wipe the sweat off of your palms onto your skirts, you might use magic to make sure your hair always looks good, you always know the latest news, you always pass your classes. then, you go home during your third year to an empty house and your father is gone.

when you return after the winter holidays, it’s obvious that something is - wrong, but you do your thing and you pretend everything is okay. your mother in all of her magic and love writes you a letter, telling you that you’ll be in her care and that only stresses you out more, giving you gray hair and bags underneath your eyes that never seem to away from that point on. every blink is heavier now, every sliver of information repeated as least three more times, everything you learn adds a little more weight to your shoulders. but you soldier on. you become more and more high strung, more sharp, more wretched with stress that shouldn’t be yours to shoulder. you are still an intelligent girl, still a bright witch, still gleaming with potential; but you almost permanently look like you’ve been handled an impossible task and worse, you wear your flushed cheeks almost as your father did, a fact that you dislike whenever you see yourself in the mirror.

⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ has a relatively tough exterior, but wow, words hurt and hestia is a lot more sensitive than she cares to admit. say one off thing about her and she’ll be all “i can’t stand it here!” and storm off angrily, but she’s really just gonna go cry in the owlery and talk to the owls as if they can understand her through her snot bubbles.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ is this genius of a witch, right, but is the messiest person ever. her area in her dorm is just . . . yeah, it’s messy. she comes to the library, throws seven books down, loses ten pages of notes; is disorganized and completely messy, but at least she always looks put together.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ coming right off of the last one, because she cares most about her image + her reputation than she does anything else, mostly because it’s all that she thinks she has. so, yeah, she may be consistently stressed out and on the brink of a breakdown, but at least she looks GOOD.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ her style is a little . . . amateur, if i’m being honest. very season one rachel berry. always looks in uniform even if she’s out of uniform and it’s because she has no personality than being a ravenclaw prefect idk what you want me to tell you. she has never been normal once.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ i laugh and kid, but she’s genuinely a genius. might have a bit of dyslexia, but is just,,, a smart kid. also makes it her entire personality though, so i’m not sure what to do about that.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ also, not to be That Girl that’s so quirk n clumsy, but hestia is always injured. not gravely, but a scrape on her knee, a cut on her cheek, tape around her fingers, etc. etc. she’s a problem, to say the least, and always hastily takes care of herself ( aka, cleans it, leaves it ).

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ in general, is a hater, but is so STRESSED from having a #missing father that she’s just like :| in every situation. i wouldn’t call her awkward per se, but she definitely just says what she wants when she wants cause there’s “no point in quieting myself for someone’s comfort” idk?

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ in MY canon, hestia actually conjures up a fox patronus, but it’s non corporeal for now simply because she literally cannot focus long enough to cast the charm correctly – in fact, a lot of her magic has been suffering for the past few years due to her stress, something that really only stresses her out more rip in pieces.

⠀ ﹟𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

academic rival: personally, i’d love for someone who’s just naturally good at academia to be her rival, like the person who doesn’t study and “doesn’t care” but always just manages to beat her in scores; yeah, i think that’d be fun to watch her spontaneously combust.

significant annoyance: someone who really just is the person to tell hestia she’s wound up too tight all the time and tries to get her to live her life, but she just sees them as someone who’s ANNOYING HER because maybe her entire life is being uptight, ever think of that? rabastan

quidditch rival: because quidditch is really the only time she lets her hair down per se, this rivalry is more friendly than it is serious like the academic rival, but there’s still a lot of trash talk involved and meet ups in the corridors to talk shit <3

best friend: the one person who she’s like . . . super grateful for because they’re always there, no matter what she goes through or does to them through her stress induced breakdowns. you know. they’re bffs and always eat together and spend time together n gossip together. eloise

tutee: someone that either hestia’s offered to help or has been forced to help, either way, she’s as strict as any professor and takes her job completely seriously. as in, will approach them in the great hall and ask if they’ve done the work they’re supposed to do.

stress reliever: imagine this - hestia comes up to your muse and is like we need to talk, but they just find a nice seat underneath one of the archways and talk into the night, they make hestia laugh, hestia makes them laugh, they have flushed cheeks by the end of it and she doesn’t speak to them otherwise. xenophilius

their biggest anti: ur muse’s #1 hater??? hestia jones <3 why? probably because they’re better than she is and she’s a nightmare of a person so it’s just her being their biggest anti, probably runs a hate account dedicated toward them tbh <3 rodolphus

The Ex: you know. the ex. didn’t end the way they wanted it to so there’s A Lot There. longing glances, awkward bumps, lots of what-ifs . . . a lot of sad headcanons, a lot of wholesome headcanons. yeah

like family: just someone who hestia is so comfortable with that it feels like they’re family. and by family, i mean like the kind to tackle her on sight just for fun, the sort to tease her and make everyone believe it’s her birthday. you know?

also a barely filled tag here n anything u can possibly brainstorm i’d love <3 thank u love u

#ww.intro #SORRY THIS IS REALLY LONG NOBODY LOOP #LOOK*

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch32: The Impossible Choice. Part 1: So Was I

Summary: Tony catches up with Steve, Katie and Bucky in Siberia and as the events unfold he learns the truth about how his parents were killed.

Warnings: Bad language, angst!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 31

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The jet wasn’t fully fuelled so they couldn’t fly at full speed, meaning it took them a few hours to reach the wide, flat, snow-covered landscape of Siberia. Once they touched down, Steve cut the power and Katie stood up and moved to the back of the jet, opening the closet that held the Avenger’s weapons. Bucky stepped over and started examining the rack of guns labelled ‘Romanoff’ before he selected a light machine gun.

Katie reached over to grab two 9mms and twirled them in her hands before she slotted them into the holders on her thighs. Bucky watched her through the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow as she reached over to select another larger rifle.

“Sure you can handle that thing, Sweetheart?” He asked, his tone was gently teasing and Katie snorted, whilst behind her Steve gave a chuckle.

“Stop flirting with my wife, Buck, and I’ll have you know she’s a trained sniper, give you a run for your money.” He spoke, almost proudly, as he slung his shield onto his back.

“That so?” Bucky’s mouth twisting into a grin. Katie simply smiled in response and cocked the larger gun, looking down the sight to check it was all clear.

The three of them stood together, Katie in the middle of the two super soldiers, waiting for the exit ramp to descend as Steve tossed his helmet in his hand.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked suddenly, looking over at Bucky as the cold air hit them.

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” Bucky frowned

“You blew three bucks trying to win a stuffed bear for a redhead” Steve smirked.

“Right, what was her name again?” Bucky asked, a tone of amusement on his voice

“Dolores.” Steve answered instantly, smirk still on his face “You called her Dot.”

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.” Bucky said.

“So are we pal” Steve said, clamping his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The ramp was now almost completely down. Steve placed his helmet on, fastened the strap under his chin and the three of them descended.

“Well it aint quite a freezer truck.” Katie mused.

“I hate the cold.” Bucky sighed as they trudged through the snow.

“Yeah Stevie isn’t exactly a fan either. Although he still runs the Air Con at like minus twenty.”

“No, I don’t.” Steve sighed, and Bucky gave a bark of a laugh as the two of them began to playfully bicker.

“Our bedroom is freezing.”

“Look, I run at a higher temperature than you.” “Yeah yeah.” Katie rolled her eyes, gun still raised as she looked around.

“Our place was always cold in the winter.” Bucky mused, and then he laughed again “Hey Katie, once when we were kids, we built a fire using all this spare and wood we found in the outhouse.” “Yeah, your dad gave us a whack each round the back of the head as he’d been saving it to build a table.” Steve grinned again. “My ears were ringing for days.”

Katie smiled as the two men shared a laugh, it was nice to see them caught up in memories. But their reminiscing was short lived as they had reached the entrance to the bunker. Bucky turned round, just to make sure no one was behind them as Katie looked at the large, steel door set into the rock. It was open.

Bucky and Katie both raised their guns towards the gap.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours” Steve shook his head as they stopped just outside,

“Long enough to wake them up.” Bucky sighed.

Steve looked at him, before his attention went back to the door and he stepped forward, into the cast iron bunker. Katie followed him in, Bucky taking up the rear and a couple of meters in front of them was a caged elevator. The three of them climbed in, Steve pressing the button hanging from the top and they descended into the depths of the bunker in silence until it reached its destination with a soft thud.

Steve nodded to Bucky and then heaved up the cage door, Bucky readying his gun as they walked slowly down a corridor, keeping close to the wall. This time Bucky went first, Katie second, Steve following. Katie kept her gun raised, eyes sharp as she looked round into an alcove full of junk, the place seemed to be nothing but a dumping ground. They continued to move down the corridor before a loud thud rang around, causing them to spin around. Bucky aimed his gun back down the corridor, as did Katie, whilst Steve pulled his shield in front of him.

“You ready?” Steve asked, looking at Katie, then over at his friend as he took a slight step forward so he was almost shielding them both taking a step down the flight of stairs in front of them.

Katie nodded as Bucky replied “Yeah.”

The double doors at the bottom began to open, but it wasn’t another super soldier that greeted the trio. It was Tony in his full Iron Man suit.

Katie stared in surprise as her brother retracted his helmet.

“You seem a little defensive.” Tony quipped as Steve strode down the steps towards him, shield covering his body. Katie followed a yard or so behind, her gun now by her side.

“Well, it’s been a long day.” Steve replied, shield still raised, not quite sure what Stark was doing there. Bucky shifted slightly and Tony turned his head to look at him.

“At ease, Soldier. I’m not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?” Katie asked.

“Could be your story aint so crazy.” Tony shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Sorry, is that you admitting you’re wrong?” She raised her eyebrow slightly at her brother.

“Maybe.”

“Ross?” Steve looked at him.

“Ross has no idea I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork” Steve quipped as he lowered his shield “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too Cap.” his brother-in-law smiled softly before he looked over at Bucky who still had the gun raised “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop…”

Steve motioned at Bucky to lower the gun and he did.

“So how did you find us?” Katie asked.

“I went to the prison. Spoke to Sam.”

“How are they?” Steve asked.

Tony hesitated “Angry, mostly at me. Clint especially but, they’re, ok.”

Katie looked at him, she had the feeling he was holding something back but now wasn’t the time.

“What made you change your mind?” Bucky asked Tony. He may have lowered his gun but because his Captain had asked him to, but he was still unsure.

“I got an update from the Berlin police.” Tony turned to face the man. “The Task Force called for a psychiatrist as soon as you were captured. They dispatched a Dr Broussard from Geneva but he was intercepted by the man who questioned you.”

“You got a name?” Katie asked her brother.

“Yeah, Colonel Helmut Zemo, Sokovian Intelligence. He ran Echo Skorpion, a Sokovian covert kill squad”

“Sokovia.” Katie sighed as Steve groaned. “Is that place set to follow us around for the rest of our days?”

“You think that’s what he wants with these Super Soldiers?” Steve asked. “Some form of army to get revenge?”

Tony made a face, shrugging. “Your guess is as good as mine Cap, but I reckon so, yeah.”

Tony re-engaged his helmet and the four of them set off to continue the search. Katie felt bolstered by her brother’s appearance, and Steve also felt hopeful that they could sort this out then go home, together, and work through the whole unholy mess that had been left in the wake of the Accords.

They moved cautiously and silently through the bunker until Tony, who was at the front, turned right into a smaller corridor at the end of which was a vast chamber.

“I got heat signatures.” He said gently.

“How many?” Steve asked.

“Uh…one.”

“One?” Katie frowned. She looked at Steve and then the two of them turned to Bucky who shrugged, equally as puzzled.

As they all walked up the three small steps into the chamber, Katie could just about make out several huge pillars when the lights in each of them snapped on. It was then that the all saw they weren’t pillars, they were capsules. Each containing an enhanced soldier surrounded by some form of hazy, yellow mist.

The four of them looked around, bewildered when the PA system crackled into life, causing Katie to jump.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep”. The voice spoke as Bucky looked up at the solider in the capsule nearest to him whilst Katie continued to the next, her gun still raised. It was then that she noticed there was a bullet hole in the glass and a shot buried right between the female soldiers eyes.

He’d killed them.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

There was another pause as Katie turned to look at Steve and Tony who were walking slowly through the middle of the chamber to her right, towards the machine that was used to wipe the soldiers’ minds. Bucky and Katie exchanged a puzzled glance. None of this added up. Why had he killed them? What had he come all this way for if he didn’t want to activate them?

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here” the voice said, and then a window lit up to their right. Zemo was in there. Steve hurled his shield at the window but it simply bounced off the glass and returned to him where he was stood by Katie’s side.

“Please, Captain.” Zumo spoke with amusement. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets”

“I’m betting I could beat that.” Tony shot, as he and Steve rounded the chair to the right, Bucky and Katie to the left.

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve stepped forward so there was just the glass separating his face from Zemo’s as he glared at him.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized, there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

Steve drew back slightly, frowning as Katie reached his side.

“You’re Sokovian.” She stated, watching the man, his brown eyes flickering to hers. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell.” Zemo shook his head. “No. I’m here because I made a promise.”

Steve studied Zemo as he asked “You lost someone?”

Zemo bowed his head and clicked his tongue. “I lost everyone. And so will you.”

Steve watched as Zemo pressed something and then a screen just behind them, to the right clicked on. He shot another look at Zemo before he made my way over to it, Katie following.

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again, but one which crumples from within?” Zemo spoke and Katie glanced back at him, Steve doing the same “That’s dead forever.”

Katie looked at the screen, the still image that was portrayed was somewhere very familiar. Her eyes flicked to the date on the freeze frame. December 16 1991. And in that split second she understood.

One which crumbles from within…

This was about splitting the Avengers up, pitting them against one another.

“I know that road.” Tony jerked her out of her thoughts from where he stood to her right, “What is this?” he spoke louder, aimed at Zemo who didn’t answer.

Tony glanced back at the screen and Katie felt herself grow cold as the footage began to play. The Stark siblings watched as their parent’s car entered the frame and crashed into a tree. And then the Winter Soldier rode up and got of his motorbike.

“Shit.” Katie mumbled, as besides her Steve shifted a little and she glanced at Tony, who’s unease was increasing, his brow furrowing as he watched the driver of the car, their dad, laying on the ground. Tony inhaled deeply as the footage progressed and the Winter Soldier walked over to their dad who had struggled out of the car and hoisted him up by his hair and stared down at him.

Tony wasn’t watching the screen anymore. He was stood, eyes fixed on Bucky who had his head bowed. The soldier took a deep breath and glanced at Tony, his eyes locking with the man’s. Tony looked away and back to the screen as the tears began to freely fall from Katie’s eyes. On the footage the Winter Soldier reined blow upon blow upon her father before dragging him by his collar and shoving him back into the driver’s seat. She felt Tony take her hand, his Iron Man Gauntlet tightening painfully around her fingers as The Winter Soldier rounded the car and reached in through the window.

At that point she couldn’t take it anymore and she turned away, supressing the sob that was rising in her throat and pressed her face into Steve’s chest were he stood beside her side on, watching Tony carefully. He gently placed a hand at the back of his wife’s head before he glanced back at the screen to see the Winter Solder aiming a gun at the surveillance camera, shooting it.

There was a moment’s pause and Katie moved and looked over to where Bucky was stood a few paces behind them, his head bowed, shoulders slumped in disgrace. He looked up, his own tears clouding his eyes and then Tony lunged, and Bucky’s face contorted into panic, his rifle flying up as Steve hastily moving to stop Tony grabbing his arm.

“Tony, Tony.” he conciliated.

Tony looked down at the screen again, before he looked up at Steve, the tears glistening in his eyes as Katie wiped away her own with the back of her hands.

“Did you know?” Tony asked his voice barely audible.

“I didn’t know it was him.” Steve began, his voice pleading as he looked at Tony.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” Tony cut him off before Steve could continue, his voice full of fury. “Did you know?”

There was a pause, before Steve sighed and dropped his head slightly. “Yes”.

Tony pushed Steve away before he glanced back at the screen.

“Tony.” Katie pleaded as he turned to look at her. “He didn’t know for sure, not until we-”

“You knew as well?” Tony asked, his voice cracking as he looked at his sister and her face crumpled.

“I knew they’d been murdered, but not by him. Not until yesterday, I swear.”

At that Tony’s chest tightened with betrayal and heartbreak and he stepped back, his chin jutting upwards twitchily before he re-engaged the Iron man helmet. He pushed Katie out of the way and as she tumbled left, he punched Steve hard, sending him to the floor. Bucky started to fire, bullets easily deflecting off Tony’s Iron Man suit and Tony shot a beam at Bucky, disarming him and then flew across the chamber, slamming him into the floor. “Tony, please!” Katie shouted, as Tony jumped on Bucky’s chest. Steve stood up, threw his shield which hit Tony, distracting him momentarily before he tackled him from the front, barging him backwards. Then Steve was on the floor, then Bucky was there, it was getting really out of hand and Katie was powerless to stop any of it.

“You need to go.” Steve instructed as he cut the restraints that Tony had fired at him off his legs.

“I can’t! He’s my brother, Steve!”

“That wasn’t a request.” Steve repeated firmly “Go, get Zumo. If we don’t apprehend him, then all this is for nothing.”

She hesitated for a second.

“Katie!” He yelled, as he jumped up, shield raised, his voice full of authority. “Just do as I fucking tell you!”

With a shuddering breath, she looked at him.

“Steve, please…”

“GO, NOW!”

With a final, shuddering breath, she turned and ran. Back the way they had come, the sounds of blasts and yells and metal on metal growing fainter and fainter as she sprinted down the corridors, the tears in her eyes hindering her view and sense of direction.

Every so often snippets of the footage flashed across her mind. Her mom and dad, pleading for their lives before Bucky, no, the Winter Soldier coldly executed them. This entire situation was a mess, and she had no idea how any of them were going to come back from this.

Whether they could ever come back from this.

Eventually she made it outside. The snow had been falling, almost completely eradicating any sign of the three sets of footprints that were hers, Steve and Bucky’s, leading into the bunker, but there was one set leading away.

She took out one of her pistols, having lost her rifle in the chamber somewhere, and began to follow them, eventually coming to a thicket of trees. As she approached she could hear the sounds of voices, it sounded like one of them was talking via a phone.

“You should’ve seen his little face. Just try, okay? I’m going to bed. I love you.”

It was a woman’s voice and then Katie spotted Zumo, he was sat by a rock, looking at the phone in his hand. As she approached someone else emerged from the corner of her eyesight and she spun, raising her gun. It was T’Challa, Black Panther suit fully engaged. He gestured at her, palms up, before he retracted his helmet and spoke to Zumo.

“I almost killed the wrong man.”

“Hardly an innocent one.” Zumo shot back, no sign of surprise in his voice at them two of them being there.

“This is all you wanted.” Katie shook her head sadly, the cold snowy wind whipped her hair about her face and it stung her cheeks which were wet with tears. He looked up at her, eyeing the gun which she still had trained on him. “To see us rip each other apart?”

“My father lived outside the city.” Zemo began to explain “I thought we would be safe there. My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, “Don’t worry. They are fighting in the city. We’re miles from harm.” When the dust cleared and the screaming stopped. It took me two days until I found their bodies. My father, still holding my wife and son in his arms. And the Avengers?” He looked up at Katie and she saw the hatred in his eyes as he glared back. “You went home”

“None of us wanted any of it.” Katie shook her head, eyes welling up again “There isn’t a day goes by where I don’t wish things could have turned out differently. We tried, but we couldn’t save everybody.”

“I knew I couldn’t kill you.” Zumo ignored her. “More powerful men than me have tried. But, if I could get you to kill each other…”

Kill each other.

Katie swallowed, her thoughts returning to Steve and Tony back in the bunker.

“I’m sorry about your father. He seemed a good man. With a dutiful son” Zumo looked up at T’Challa.

“Vengeance has consumed you. It’s consuming them.” T’Challa blinked ruefully and retracted the claws in his gloves. “I am done letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough”

Zumo smiled thinly, and for the first time Katie saw that he had a gun in his hand. “Tell that to the dead”

As he raised the gun to shoot himself, T’Challa grabbed the shaft of it, absorbing the bullet and shot in his hand before he rolled round behind Zumo, getting him into a headlock.

“The living are not done with you yet.”

All three of them fell silent and Katie slumped onto a rock, her head in her hands. Whatever happened now, it didn’t matter. Zumo had gotten what he wanted. The Avengers were split, right down the middle, Tony and Steve were pitted against each other. Her brother and Husband.

And she had no idea what she was going to do.

*******

The fight went too far. Tony blasted Bucky’s metal arm off of his body which sent Steve off into a frenzy but he lost his shield in the fracas that had ensued. And now, he stood in between Tony and that final blast that the billionaire knew would end his parents’ killer once and for all. And Tony was going through him if he had to.

“He’s my friend.” Steve pleaded breathing heavily and he looked at Tony hoping to get through to him. Surely he understood it wasn’t Bucky that had done it, it was HYRDA, it was always fucking HYDRA!

“So was I.” Tony answered flatly before punching Steve in the face once, twice then throwing him into the opposite wall. Steve coughed, spitting out blood, then began to unsteadily work his way back up to his feet. “Stay down,” Tony warned aiming his repulsor beam at him “Final warning.”

Steve lifted both his hands in a fighting stance shrugging slightly as he said, “I can do this all day.”

I can do this all day… those words roused Bucky and, for a moment he was in an alley, bailing the little blonde punk out of a fight. Well, why break the habit of a lifetime? He grabbed Tony’s ankle with his remaining hand, distracting him and Tony turned kicking him in the face rendering him unconscious again. Seizing his chance, Steve leapt up and grabbed Tony from behind and, with a monumental heave he lifted him over his head, Tony tried to fly away but with his failing jets it was no use and he landed hard when Steve threw him down onto the concrete.

And then Steve was on top of him throwing punch after punch, grabbing his previously discarded shield bringing that down onto the mask until it broke and fell apart revealing Tony’s frighten gaze to Steve.

Steve raised his shield one more time and Tony brought his hands up to cover his face but that wasn’t Steve’s intention, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever hurt him like that. Instead, he brought it down hard onto the arc reactor. Tony lowered his arms and stared up at Steve with a mixture of surprise, betrayal and resentment and the soldier looked back at him, his own face contorted with remorse as he rolled off to the side of the now useless suit.

Both men took a moment to catch their breath as fatigue and exhaustion begin to set in, Steve was the first to move as he pulled the shield from the chest of the suit and hooked it back onto his arm. He glanced back at Tony one last before time, wishing it could be different before making his way over to his best friend and pulling the barely conscious man to his feet.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony spat turning over on his side. “You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!” he shouted angrily.

Steve paused. Howard had made that shield, yes. And he had betrayed the man’s memory by keeping the true nature of his death a secret. Taking a deep breath, he realised Tony was right, he didn’t deserve it after all. Captain America was a righteous man, fighting the good fight, a moral man…and Steve Rogers had been selfish and arrogant thinking he could act as he had without consequence. With an immense air of sadness he shrugged the shield from his arm and let it clang to the floor. Then he proceeded to carry Bucky up the exit and out into the snow.

The sound his shield made as it hit the concrete was a noise that Steve knew would be forever ingrained in his mind.

The sound of him leaving Captain America in a bunker in Siberia.

**** Chapter 32 Part 2

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Wild Space

Pairing: Alien!Jimin x Reader Beta: @jung-hoseok-s-airplane Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, SFW Rating: 16+ (slight mature themes implied something) Words: 4.6k

Summary: You are on an expedition to explore a new world, the one you encounter is so beautiful and unique but you find the real beauty in its people. Though they are a little different you feel yourself falling in love with culture, their way of life and their cute ears and tails.

“This is unit one we have finally finished docking and are now beginning assembly and exploration of planet B52. It seems this planet's flora are similar to that of earth, none have started to move or eat us which is a bonus.” It took a whole day to land the station so you weren’t as excited to be here as you had previously been. Your team leader cleared their throat disapprovingly which earned him a rolling of your eyes. “I mean none of the participants within the exploration have been consumed to date.”

The wording though correct probably didn’t need to be said with the snobbish tone, but you were feeling particularly sassy. Wanting to get away for a while after being cooped up in the station you picked up your bag full of supplies and headed out.

The air was fresh like dizzyingly so, the place was green and rich with life and you thought if the earth needed time to rejuvenate then this could be the new substitute in that time. But the colours were odd, it really was a new world. The green grass had a pink tinge to it, the oceans were mauve. But it was all deemed safe perfectly so. We humans are smarter and have figured out how to promote the world's health and well-being.

“The temperatures are stable and the solar flares are filtered by the Ozone layers.” Watching one of the two suns ‘set’ was relieving, sure it wasn’t the fore sun but it did cool the air significantly. The fore sun was practically the same distance between earth and our sun with a slight more reddish tone than our bright yellow one. But in this solar system there was a dwarf sun well really it is just a burning planet but it orbits the sun so close, burning just the same but in a vibrant blue. No one could get close enough to test the elements on the dwarf sun that made it burn that colour but it was beautiful.

As one of the suns moved behind the other a beautiful pinkish haze took over the planet giving it a hazy romantic feel. Talk about rose coloured glasses. This transition revealed the neighbouring planet of B52 a large celestial body with rings which in the glow of the afternoon sun were in shades of pink and purple and the planet was a deep lavender.

The astrologists and physicians had both determined that the two planets moved together in harmony and both planets were deemed liveable but they were never going to collide as they equal gravity, each pulling the other at the same intensity. The sky was never the typical sky blue but always a haze of purple, at its lightest it was a soft lilac and at its darkest the sky was a deep byzantium.

Because of this the water on the planet reflected the purple tones and the clearest waters were a mauve but the darkest were a heavy plum. “The fauna is also similar to that of the earth with a few abnormal features, here and there.” You looked upon a small group of tiny animals; they walked on all fours and were fluffy somewhere between a hamster and a cat. They were predominantly ears and eyes, which is probably how they found you, turning and freezing. Big round orbs looking shiny and innocent and with a squeak they were gone.

Being a linguist you didn’t really have anything to do, the crew usually just gave you odd jobs and as of late that job was completing the reports. You were exploring and recording your observations while the others set up the station and greenhouse. The sooner one can grow their own foods the better off for all of you.

You followed what almost looked like a tiny dinosaur that walked slowly to a nearby tree and began eating berries. You had decided you would be useful and started sketching what you see whilst moving about. The ferns moved in the gentle breeze and an almost odd and yet sweet floral scent enveloped you. A river on your left trickling quiet quickly and in the distance you thought you could hear a waterfall.

From the river emerged what looked like an axolotl each foot pulling it onto the red toned grass and shook itself like a dog and you realized it was fluffy. This caused you to giggle, you began drawing the animal while singing softly. When you were done you continued reporting.

In the middle of your ramblings about the health of the planet and such, you heard a rustle behind you. It was odd because when you turned there was nothing there. You were out of earshot so you dropped your professional jargon.

“There seem to be no immediate signs of danger but the crew is working as per protocol for the safety of the team.”

You watched as a flying mouse landed in a tree squeaking and chewing at some sort of fruit it gathered. It was very much the bumble bee dilemma wings too small for the size of its body. It was colourful though like a rainbow lorikeet, it’s tail multicoloured.

“No sign of intelligent life, so far-”

Another rustle behind you accompanied by heavy breathing, you tried to glance around at whatever it was. Looking as far as you could out of your peripheral vision the only feature you caught was a long red tail swishing low, and whatever it was walked on all four legs. You tried to grab your radio but you heard a low rumble from the animal in question. The thing seemed to change shape and moved until it was right behind you mirroring your posture on two legs, its nose pressed to the back of your neck sniffing.

The figure moved around you and you saw it completely. A man, well mostly. He was muscular and lean, he had claw-like nails and teeth that were sharper than a human. On the top of his head were two ears that were peaked and alert. His tail puffed and he growled. In fear of this strange new life especially the fear of being killed caused a tear to roll down your cheek, he circled around you faster and breathed you in.

You stood still as he stepped behind you once more and seemed to brush past your ponytail; it must have startled him as he pulled it firmly, causing you to fall back. He growled at your sudden movement and jumped on top of you baring his teeth over your neck. Unmoving once more you watched him slowly circle your form, he sniffed you here and there licking the side of your boot and you were thankful for the fact he had some sort of fabric over the lower half of his body so you didn’t see anything unnecessary.

His eyes were dark, his hair a vibrant red as were his ears and tail; he was mixed in appearance. You couldn’t determine whether he was canine or feline, he had features from both sides.

Sniffing he nudged your arm burying his nose against the underarm of your shirt. You knew you were sweaty, it’s not like deodorant was a priority on a space trip there was some but not enough to last a whole expedition. And if you know anything about the animal kingdom, smell was what they used to identify each other.

He growled circling you again before curling up beside you and placing his head on your chest watching you as his eyes drifted shut with a heavy sigh. He was beautiful, he reminded you of the exotic people in the avatar movie where those blue aliens were so tall and human-like but just slightly off. He wasn’t blue, but he was very naturally beautiful.

After an hour or two of trying to get out from underneath him you gave up entirely. At another point you accidentally started patting the young man’s head forgetting he was not a sweet domesticated animal despite the ears and tail.

As the fore sun began to set over you, the cold breeze began seeping into your skin and shivers bloomed from within you. The action seemed to wake him, eyes widening as he launched himself away. Backing away, you shared equal expressions of fear. Trying not to move, wanting to appear harmless, he was also unwilling to move. Eyes searching the area for any danger, he saw you shiver again curling up with a small whimper. He looked around calmer as the minutes passed. He said something softly and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you said?” you whispered, blinking he made a face. Very slowly you sat up reaching into your pocket to retrieve an apple. He watched you curiously as you took a bite and proceeded to sniff the air. Holding out the apple, he braved getting a little closer to examine what you were eating. He gave it a lick and again before taking a bite.

“What are you?” You asked, he watched you cautiously talking back in his strange language. Clueless to what he was saying you took your time repeating his words and he blinked almost shocked. He sniffed your pocket which you had left unzipped to retrieve the apple and he sniffed getting dangerously close to areas he shouldn’t but he pointed and spoke in his funny language.

“What’s in my pocket?” you pointed at the pocket and he pointed again at the pocket.

You pulled out dehydrated meat and held it up, “Meat” he snatched it sniffing and eating it quickly before reaching into your pocket grabbing the rest. He also found some berries they were almost like ones he was used to but these were so unique.

You sat there as he ate, you tried to talk to him but he was busy eating. Stomach growling signaling dinner time and you looked at the empty bag and frowned.

He noticed the frown of your face and looked at the empty food bag. He held it in his hand and took your hand in his, his claws brushing your skin but not causing you any harm. He pulled you through the woods and turned back as you tripped and stumbled your gait generally slower than his.

You passed a beautiful purple waterfall and the water as it fell reflected a purple glow on the rocks around them and as it splashed a mist of purple sprinkled the air and a typical rainbow prism appeared. You looked down, noticing you were walking on a trail. The flowers on either side were a gorgeous blue that in the shade of some trees seemed bioluminescent. He didn’t seem impressed by your abilities or in this case lack of, and deciding to pick you up over his shoulder and run. He was also unaffected by your added weight, running as he normally would.

He arrived at a small cave, the rock was metallic and each piece reflecting beautifully in the light of the setting sun. He placed you on your feet and you walked towards the stone and touched it brushing your fingers over the smooth arch entrance way.

You knew he must have carved and smoothed this himself, he watched you curiously as you ran your hand along something at the top it almost looked like a form of writing and you traced it slowly and turned to him pointing.

“Jimin,” he said and he patted his chest referring to himself.

“Jimin,” you pointed at the sign and then turned to him stepping closer and placing your hand on his chest over his rapidly beating heart. “Jimin.”

He gave a strange gesture with his hand but his eyes seemed light and his smile told you, you were correct. You slowly and gently took his hand placing it on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat.

“Y/n,” you breathed and his eyes searched yours. You repeated your hand on his chest and said his name before placing it back onto yours “Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he said, his mouth forming the name with a heavy accent.

The moment was broken as voices could be heard talking in the strange language and he pushed you inside the cave walking you deep inside and sat you on something soft. He said something sternly gesturing to the ground with his palm and you nodded as he ran back out.

He was asking you to stay, his body language was pretty clear. And you pulled out your rechargeable lamp, turning it over to turn the large dial underneath. With a satisfied click it turned on, lighting up the space.

With the light you could see every little detail and couldn’t help getting up and exploring. There was an area with stacked wood and sticks and beside it a pit with some ashes and coals in it and you understood it was a fireplace.

Above the fireplace was a hole in the cave again it was man made and impressed you greatly. The craftsmanship of how he made his house and a chimney and everything made you proud.

There were shelves with items wrapped in big leaves and a pile of the strange fabric he wore.

You looked to where he had sat you, it looked like a bed filled with soft iridescent furs. These animals must be magnificent.

You hung the lamp from a rock, your stomach rumbling again. If you remembered correctly there was a small selection of foil sealed food in your backpack.

Shrugging off your backpack you looked to the fire pit, stacking wood you took out your flint and started a fire. It was teal, the flames looking similar to the northern lights. You had a small pot that looked like a metal cereal bowl and you poured the contents into the pot and added some water.

It was a stew and you mixed it up, you didn’t want to seem selfish so you made sure to serve him some in the little metal dish. Hearing footsteps, he entered the cafe sniffing the air curiously.

“Jimin!” You smiled and he lowered his head with a smile. He had started blushing as he placed down handfuls of fruit. You handed him the plate and he watched you eat mimicking the way you used a spoon. He followed your lead scooping the food and blowing on it gently before he put it in his mouth. He hummed his tail flicking back and forth rapidly in excitement at the flavour.

You grew tired and it was late, you wanted to return but you couldn’t and you knew that. Not only because you didn’t know your way back but he seemed to not want anyone to see you. You instead tried to talk to him some more pointing at things and repeating what he would say and he realized you were trying to learn the language of his people.

He helped you and you were able to process so much. The whole reason you were on the trip was for this. You were a linguist and you wanted to learn and decipher their language. You noticed so many things about their language.

You pointed at the soft fur area and he said something that sounded complicated and you tried to say it. His laughter was like soft bells and you tried again, he continued laughing and he kept saying it until he shook his hand. You understood this gesture to mean yes.

He was teaching you so much, you had filled at least five pages of your notebook with new words and information you had learned about him. After an hour or two you had almost figured out the sentence structure and he was amazed.

He was preparing fruit and telling you what you assumed were their names as he handed them to you. He was so sweet, smiling and talking to you, while you were drawing him and his beautiful features.

He turned away looking through the basket of fruit while you packed up and walked over to the furs and laid down curling up. They were soft like silk but warm. You blamed the strict sleep schedule you all had to maintain on the expedition for your inability to stay awake. The crackling embers of the teal fire lulling you to sleep.

You dreamt of B52, but you didn’t dream of it colonised, you dreamt of it exactly how it was, you moved through the soft two toned grass and waded through the mauve waterfall playing when Jimin called your name. He smiled brushing your hair from your face and gently rubbing your ears affectionately.

They weren’t normal human ears, they were like his and you looked down to see his tail had hooked around yours and he leaned in to press his lips to yours when you woke.

Laying in the furs Jimin's body pressed against your back and his arm around you buried in the Furs. Standing you wanted to leave but you knew you couldn't leave without a trace. So you left behind the drawing of him concentrating looking down while he cut fruit.

Sneaking out you used your tracking device to not only mark this location but to also navigate your way back to the station following the trail of flowers until you arrived back.

“Where the hell have you been?” The leader hissed

“I was making friends with the locals,” You said, reaching for your backpack for your notebook.to show them what you had learnt.

“Haha, you are on cleaning duty for a week,” The captain said and you frowned and headed inside. “Grab a shovel, you are turning soil today.”

Ignoring him you walked to the small area inside the green house and began shoveling.

“Seriously though I met them, well one of them, he was super nice.” You tried to explain to your friend but she laughed looking at you like you were crazy.

“Did you eat something you shouldn’t have, breathed in pollen from a poisonous flower?” She turned to look at you “Bitten by a space tick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“I am perfectly sane Namsoon and I am telling the truth,” You breathed, “It was cool they have their own language and they look like us except they have different ears and get this they have tails.”

“That sounds gross,” she blanched at the thought, “like a rat.”

“No, they are beautiful,” you tried to defend him.

“I think you should go rest today, you can help tomorrow” Namsoon took your shovel and turned away and you sighed and headed back to the station. On your way through the corridors to your chambers you passed the kitchen. Pausing in the hall, a big grin spread across your face, you turned around taking out your day’s rations and a small digital camera for photos of the planet turned back to the station entrance. Slipping into the woods wanting to find Jimin.

You arrived at his cave, thanking your forward thinking for marking the location on your navigation device. Entering it was quiet and he wasn’t there, you sat on his bed lying down staring at the roof.

You were working on the vocabulary when he came back in growling. He pounced on you his ears and tail puffed and teeth bared. He froze when he noticed it was you again and you were wide-eyed staring at him.

“Annyeong haseyo.” He smiled down at you, trapped below him, he was drenched and his hair was dripping water onto your face.

“Annyeong haseyo,” you grinned back, he beamed, flicking his hand in approval and he sniffed you, you spoke in english even though you knew he couldn’t understand “I went back to the station, does it smell weird?”

His nose tickled your neck and he paused catching a familiar scent and traveling down your body. You blushed as he got awfully close to certain private areas but he detoured to the pants pocket and tried to get the Jerky from your pocket.

“Meat,” he said and he used his claws but it not only ripped the pocket open but also scratched your leg causing you to call out in pain. He snatched the meat and was chewing happily. You frowned seeing the blood stain your light grey pants.

Opening your backpack and pulling out your little first aid kit. Trying to calm your heart, you knew he didn’t mean it but it scared you how wild he was.

You pulled the side of your pants down to reveal the area he had clawed on your thigh and you hissed at the sight. He turned confused by your noise and saw the cut, his smile fell and he lowered his head watching you.

He got closer looking at the wound and then at his hands, Nose scrunching at the smell of the paste you put on the wound. He stormed out of the cave, you continued to clean and dress the wound, you readjusted your pants and took a needle and thread and began sewing your pant leg. He came back with some fruits and he hung his head carrying washed fruit which he cut and gave to you.

It wasn’t easy to sneak away from the station, but you did almost every day to meet with him. You were so good at his language now you were able to hold conversations with him but he still had to explain a lot of things as best he could.

He liked it when you sang or played music and he would move around the cave with a smile. The two of you went to see the silky iridescent almost cow like creatures. He took you around showing you different flowers your favourite had to be one where he pulled you inside and sat on the leaf with you and the flower curled up around you both and inside it was like a galaxy all spotted with tiny little glowing creatures. They were completely harmless but reminded you of glow worms. He had you to try different foods. It was heaven not eating the bland genetically modified food everyday. That is until he gave you a particular fruit that made you super itchy, you decided to take an antihistamine from your first aid kit and he apologized and the two of you got back to Jimin’s favorite which was a sour fruit.

He took you swimming at the mauve waterfall and you were splashing one another and playing. He got scared when you were underwater for a long time. Diving under the water he grasped you by the waist and swam you up and called for you. “Y/n, gwaenchanha ni?”

He pulled you against the rocks holding you there with his hand on your waist and took your face with his other hand, his eyes burning in worry. You placed one hand over his leaning your cheek into his touch, “Nan gwaenchanha.”

He sighed in relief pressing his forehead to yours and looking down into your eyes. He stole your breath away, you licked your lips trying to keep them from going dry and he noticed the action licking his own. He leaned in slightly and you elongated your torso trying to bring yourself closer to him, his pupils dilated wide.

You felt his lip just touch yours, the two of you hadn’t kissed yet before his ears turned and pulled away grabbing you and pulling you through the water. He pushed you behind the waterfall and pressed his palm to your mouth and made the no gesture with his hand before slipping away.

There was a small group of them and they played and spoke, you watched them interact. They were no different from playful boys or puppies except they were fully grown men. Time passed and he finally got them to leave but you were freezing and wet.

Jimin grabbed you from the water and looked at you all blue and shivering. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and raced back to his cave where he started the fire. He turned to see you had removed your clothes and found a spare shirt from your bag you curled up in the furs. He too changed out of sight and laid behind you trying to warm you with his body heat.

It was sweet he wasn’t trying to do anything but keep you warm, however, you knew how it must have looked to the young man who walked in, the deep growl traveling through the cave. Making you stiffen and he sat up and growled back his body crawling over yours protectively and they began arguing. You spoke to him slowly and he looked alarmed that you understood him.

He told you, to leave before you two were caught and someone was hurt. Jimin growled saying he didn’t want you to leave and at that moment you thought maybe he felt the same way as you. With a sigh Jimin agreed to return you in the morning and Taehyung nodded thankful for his defeat before he told you both he would guard the place.

Jimin explained the village were aware of the new people and were sceptical, he also said it was a festival tonight and everyone was in good spirits visiting neighbours. You leaned in pecking his lips with yours and grinning. “Gamsahabnida.”

He sat up looking at his pupils wide with affection.

You woke early and took your sketchbook and the camera. You went to leave and Jimin grabbed your hand a sad look on his face and pressed his hand to your chest. “Y/n. I love Y/n,” he said, he hadn’t remembered much from your lessons of your own language but this phrase was one he practiced well. You asked him to let his leader meet with you and your leader for a discussion, promising your men would come without weapons laughing about how weak your kind were compared.

You passed Taehyung and he sniffed you and began scolding Jimin all you understood was the words bed and you blushed realizing he knew more than you thought. You said goodbye to Taehyung and ran off to the ship.

You showed the captain the pictures and the drawings and explained how they lived peacefully but had things and resources we didn’t. “Jimin will meet me this afternoon and I would like you to meet him with me alone and without a weapon, if you bring a weapon I will actually kill you myself.

Another meeting came to a successful end and you smiled walking over to Taehyung, Jimin, and Namsoon who showed them both videos of earth, every meeting she would show them another video and they were amazed.

“Jimin-ssi,” you called and he turned beaming his ears perking up and tail swishing back and forth he began sniffing your neck and giving an almost purr. It was still unclear if they had more canine or feline features but you didn’t care.

“Why is it everytime you two meet he becomes more and more adorable, doting on you?”

“The pregnancy pheromones?” Namjoon said in english to Namsoon his nose and tail twitching. He learnt English quickly and you exchanged languages and linguistics with each other and each took your time teaching them each other's language. You blushed as Jungkook grinned patting your swollen stomach and handed you a big woven leaf basket full of berries. He was a sweet kid and looked up to Jimin. “We are very domestic people, when one of our own is pregnant we protect them?”

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