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sxtvrns · 1 year

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electra heart

🎶 now playing: bubblegum bitch - MARINA

P: Ben Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

S: A kid at the convenience store becomes a friend. That kid soon has you head over heels. You never got the chance to tell him how you felt; even years go by and you still think about him. Yet you wonder if he'll ever wake up.

W: minor tua spoilers, angst, kinda rushed, possible inaccuracy, mentions of violence, death

N: This is in a similar format to my Finney blurb, and this does not follow the canonical storyline due to plot changes. Also, yes, MARINA inspired the name of this blurb because I had an opportunity and I took it. This fic is way too long for its own good.

please interact if you enjoy!

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On the twelfth hour of the first day of October, 1986, forty-three women around the world simultaneously gave birth. None of the women showed any prior signs of pregnancy.

You were one of those kids.

Your mother said she went suddenly into labor in the middle of a date she was on with another guy, with the fact that he thought she was already married and was cheating on her husband. Ever since then, she raised you on her own.

Though your abilities remained dormant until certain situations arose.

2001

The bell of the door rings as you walk to the back of the convenience store, the fridge door hissing as it opens and letting out cool, refreshing air. You brows among the rows and rows of glass bottles staring down at you from their shelves, as if they're eagerly wanting to be picked.

You take a bottle of Crush soda off one of the racks, closing the door and noticing someone standing beside you.

He wore knee high socks, boy shorts, a blazer and some sort of sweater vest underneath with a black tie. "Hi." You greet out of nowhere, certainly catching the boy off guard. He acknowledges you, but hides his face. "You need help reaching something?" You ask, leaning against the glass door. He shakes his head while you respond with a shrug.

He watches you walk away past the shelf where you're out of view, the ding of the cash register and the chime of the door bell meaning you left already.

Every time you went to visit the store, he was there. He was there the next time you went, and the next time, and the next, doing the same thing he does all the time, staring at the soda fridge but not buying anything.

Sure, he could've been a window shopper, but he came back too often for it to be considered so.

The next time you went, you grabbed a drink for your mom, and there he was, staring at the fridge. "Hey." You send him a wave, him only nodding in response. "Um, you... how come you come here all the time but don't buy anything?" You ask. "My dad doesn't allow soda in the house. He doesn't want any of us drinking soda. He says it'll 'disrupt our endurance'." He air quotes.

"So you just come here all the time to stare at soda and torture yourself because you can't have it?" For the first time ever, you see something of a smile. "I just sneak out. My dad would kill me if he found out. I do want to buy something, but... I don't have any cash on me right now." He says, hands reaching into his pockets and pulling them out empty handed.

"I can pay." You offer. His head perks up. "Really?" He looks overly excited for a bottle of soda. Is his dad just super dietary restrictive? "Yeah. This bottle is for my mom anyways, so..." You trail off, gesturing to the fridge to let him pick. He opens the door, the standing there for what seems like ages before picking a bottle.

You toss the dollar bills on the cash register, the cashier handing you change. You give the boy his soda bottle, and he looks reluctant. "Are you gonna drink that?" You ask. "I'll save it for when I'm at home. I'll try to be stealthy about it, though." He looks away for a second, wanting to say something. "Um, thank you." He stutters. "You're welcome. I'm Y/N. You?"

"Ben. Ben Hargreeves." A smile creeps up onto your face at his shy demeanor. "Nice to finally meet you, I guess. I'll see you around." You say, walking away and leaving him alone on the sidewalk.

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Ben sneaks back into his room, shutting the window quietly while being careful to have the glass bottle clank against anything and make noise.

"Hey, man." Diego greets, his face dropping. "Where the hell did you get that?" He points to the soda bottle in Ben's hand. "What– oh my god, dad's gonna kill you." Luther's face is the same as his brother's; covered in pure shock.

"I know. But the girl bought it for me, so..." Ben muttered. His brothers faces lit up mischievously. "The girl you run into every time you sneak out?'" Ben nods at Diego's question. "She talked to me. I got her name."

"Okay? So what is it?" Luther's fully invested in this mystery girl. "Y/N." Ben answers. "She's... she's very pretty." He adds, his brothers sending each other a look. "You've seen her a million times and the one time she talks to you... you finally find her pretty." Diego clarifies.

"Maybe because she was closer to me this time? Or she just seemed more open and–"

"Dude, we get it, you like her." Luther says, stopping Ben from rambling. "Okay, so... when's the wedding?" Diego jokes, both of his brothers rolling their eyes. Ben sneers, "You're so annoying."

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"I think I finally figured it out. Where I've seen you before." You say abruptly, eating a potato chip. "Where?" He asks, curious. Frequent convenience store stakeouts for him helped grow your relationship, and now you're sitting on a flat apartment rooftop with him, legs hanging over the ledge, staring at the moon. He's been giving you hints as to where he was in the paper after claiming he was 'famous'.

"You're a Hargreeves kid. You were in the bank robbery hostage thing." You specified. "There you go, you got it. Everyone's seen it; I'm surprised it took you so long." He says in his usual calm, gentle tone. The heroic act was published in newspapers for weeks after it happened.

"I know this is like a really sudden and weird question but... did you kill them?" His face drops, now full of the panic that lurked closer and closer to his mind. "What?" He says, trying to keep his cool. "Oh, no, I just... I don't know, I just had a feeling. Um, it's a weird feeling but something's telling me that you killed the robbers. Pricks probably deserved it anyways so it doesn't really matter." You try to brush it off, but notice that your friend looks bashful.

"How did you know?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You find yourself at a loss for words, wanting to say something but unable to come up with a reasonable answer. "I don't know." You look at him, face darkened with guilt.

"I've had friends like you. They never become good people, continuously hurting people, even killing people on the street when they go out at the wrong time. They've caused massacres. Something about you is different." You pause, struggling to explain. "You never wanted to kill them, did you?" He shakes his head, looking down at the street below. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. It was a stupid thing to ask."

"No, no, it's fine." He claims, nodding profusely but it isn't enough to convince you. "It certainly isn't fine. No one would ever confess to a murder so easily."

"Please don't bring it up again. I-I never asked to kill them. It's something I can't control when... when I'm in the field." He admits. You simply look down with him, the tips of your fingers grazing his. You don't seem to notice, but he does. Though the air his cold, his face is warm, and he wonders if you're fine with it. He doesn't want to move his hand.

It's almost heartwarming. His mother would hold his hand sometimes yet it didn't feel as comforting as mere fingertips from you to his hand did. You do eventually notice, looking down at your loosely laced hands. You take his hand in yours out of nowhere, Ben's face flushing even more.

"Your hands are warm." You say simply. "Did you do that on purpose?" He asks while you look at him confused. "Do what on purpose?" He points to your intertwined hands, your lips curling into a smile. "Maybe. Do you like it?" You ask for good measure, unsure if he was okay with it in the first place. He nods. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am right now."

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Finding out Ben's abilities was in the most unfortunate of circumstances. He said he had a shortcut to get home, and he said it was down a certain dark alleyway.

Nothing good ever happens in dark alleyways.

You both passed by a group of teens that looked about your age, thinking nothing of it until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Give me your wallet."

One of them demanded, turning you around with a knife in their other hand. "I don't have any. Spent it all." You said, trying to hide your nervousness. "Bullshit. Empty your pockets." She said, nudging her head. "I said I don't have anything–" The tip of her knife nearly digs into the underside of your chin with light pressure. "Empty your fucking pockets or I'll kill your boyfriend too." She threatens.

Out of nowhere, a roar erupts from behind you, the knife on your chin being pulled away. You turn to see Ben, tentacles coming out of his stomach out of some sort of void. You run to him but get grabbed by one of the teens, knife nearly impaling you. It's knocked out of their hands and drops to the floor with a clink. Instead of getting stabbed, the person who grabbed you is impaled with a tentacle, blood spraying everywhere.

The other two try to escape, one of them unlucky and suffering the same fate as their ally. The last girl runs off, dropping her knife and running away. You look at Ben whose drenched in blood, tentacles returning to the inside of his stomach and the void closing. He's wiping his face of blood and tears.

"I'm sorry. You never should've seen this." He says, but you hug him rather than his assumption of you running away. "You saved me. And you said those things weren't in your control. You never wanted to kill them. It's not your fault." You try to convince him, easier said than done. He hugs you back, sobbing into your shoulder.

As your route changed from low ground to high to avoid suspicion of the blood on your clothes, a question slips out.

"What was that girl's name? The one who tried to mug me?"

"Jennifer. I overheard them talking whenever I took this high route."

"She's one real bitch." Ben chuckles at your statement.

"Definitely. One real bitch."

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2006

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit–" You push through the mosh of people crowding up to the caution tape surrounding the building. "Ben! Ben, where are you?!" You shoved people aside to get to the front, eyes meeting Luther's who are red from crying. "Luther! Where is he?" He hears you but only shakes his head. Sir Hargreeves stares at you for a second before his attention is focused back on the crowd, the frontline flooded with cameras and reporters.

"Fuck this." You mutter, going under the caution tape and running past the group of crying kids in their uniforms. "Y/N!" You hear Allison cry, but the adrenaline to find your friend is all you can think about right now. Allison looks at her father, who's staring at the entrance you just ran through.

Just as the police push in to go and chase you, he stops them with a shout. They back off and instead guard the entrance so no one else can enter. As much as they are confused, Allison is left relieved and surprised by her father's actions. He never knew about you. He wouldn't help someone who he doesn't have a reason to have pity for, if he had any in that stone cold body of his.

The rooms are dark, only illuminated by skylights in the ceiling. With the little light there is, you find a body laying on the ground, shattered glass around it. You carefully tread towards it, Ben's face aglow in the sun, staring straight up.

"Ben! Oh, Ben, oh my god, you're, you're hurt. How come you aren't– aren't with your siblings? Can you stand, can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?" He chuckles with a struggle as you help him sit up with his back leaning on the desk. There's blood staining on his white undershirt and it's getting onto his blazer; it's practically everywhere on him. It seeps through the fabric moderately while you try to put pressure on it.

"Y/N... how did you get here? I thought my dad would've..." He winces slightly. His thumb wipes a stray tear you didn't know was resting on your cheek. "I don't know myself. I thought the police would come in after me. I thought I'd be shot dead." Right after the words come out of your mouth, he looks relaxed, tired.

"I think I'm gonna die here." He says so casually with a smile. "What? No, no, Ben, you aren't gonna die– look, the paramedics are on their way! They're coming! You'll be okay!" He shakes his head and looks down at your hands, gripping onto his blazer. "If I'd come out alive, I wouldn't be here. I'd be with my siblings outside for the press."

You're trying to hold back your tears, but fail miserably and start crying while your hands are stained with his blood. "Who did this to you?" You ask through foggy eyes. "Jennifer." He says, the name setting off a spark. "I'm not gonna make it." He groans, sighing with a smile.

"Don't say that. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"No, don't apologize–"

"I love you. I always have.

His hand travels up to your face with the last bit of energy he has left in his body, his thumb wiping away another tear.

And it falls.

His arm slowly drops beside you, a small pool of blood on the floor. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his face, his neck, his arms. "Ben? No, no, no no no..." You cry. He lays limp there against the desk as you scream, sobs spilling out your lips as a sudden energy rushes through you. Your hands rest on him while your head rests on his shoulder, feeling jolts of energy running through your body.

The lights flicker as you hear slow clapping from across the room. There's a figure standing in the dark hallway with a smirk and blood splattered on their face. "I did quite enjoy the show. Did you enjoy my hard work?" She smiles, arms crossed while you slowly stand up, giving her a death stare. The fire in you grows the longer that stupid smirk stays on her face.

"How many of them did you kill?" You ask, the lights flickering. "All of them. Except for his brothers and sisters who fled like mice." She takes a step forward, hand reaching out to the side as if she's reaching for something. "And you... you and your stupid boyfriend killed the last of my gang." Suddenly, a pillar crashes through the wall and flies at you, but you feel nothing on impact. It shatters into pieces that fall onto the ground, decorating the floor with its shared glass.

The lights haven't stopped flickering as a glow rushes through your veins, every projectile thrown at you being destroyed with the touch of your hand. There's panic on her face as you step closer with every object you manage to avoid, and ironically enough, she runs away. Flees like the Hargreeves she made fun of.

But she killed your friend. Your best friend. It was appropriate to not show mercy when she took something that mattered so much to you.

She definitely seemed like a raging narcissist, so what's better than taking away the thought of her being better than everybody else. In fact, why not take away the thought of her thinking at all?

A bolt of lighting emits from your hand, and reaches her, shocking her and causing her to lay limp on the floor. Your hand, glowing white and blue, grabs her by the neck with force and lifts her up in the air. Her airway is cut off, squirming as she does anything she can to breathe. All you do is stare at her, watching her struggle and suffer in your grasp, the fire in you now at its biggest; you can feel it rushing through every bone in your body.

You squeeze her neck, the veins in it flashing a bright white before her face freezes and her head hangs low. You let go of her, her body dropping to the floor with a thump.

She's dead. You killed her.

The lights stop flickering. Ben's body is still left by the desk unaffected somehow, but littered with dust from the pillars that were thrown at you. You kneel down in front of him, his blood staining your clothes being the last thing on your mind. Your hands rest on his chest, gentle jolts moving from your hands and to his chest. Tears flow from your eyes but not even a sob tumbles out of your lips.

Footsteps come from the other halls. You turn your head, panicked, wanting to escape but not leave Ben behind.

You'll see him in the hospital if he's still alive.

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"Good evening, Ben. How are you feeling?"

"Mom?"

"Your father just passed away."

"What?"

"Do you need anything?"

"Where is everyone? Where are my siblings? Where is... where is Y/N?"

"I don't know where your siblings are, but I could ask Pogo where Y/N is."

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2019

The Hargreeves eventually parted ways, while Ben's body remained comatose in the ward of their house. You visited every day, whenever you had time. Sir Hargreeves saw you at the hospital watching over Ben, and took you in for training. For 17 year old you recovering from grief, it was hard. It hurt like hell. Everything hurt.

Sir Hargreeves explained that your time, date of birth, and sudden labor from your mother had developed those electricity-related abilities that you were able to control. You forced yourself to think that it all made sense, when really, it didn't. Kind of like how Ben's abilities made him able to summon creatures from another dimension through his body. That certainly didn't make sense.

To find out Ben was comatose relieved you. They said his heart rate had already been reset with no need for the defibrillators. But he was alive, only unconscious. Grace always saw you come into the house ward, only greeting you with a smile before leaving the room. It seemed... robotic.

You managed to keep in touch with some of the Hargreeves siblings. You'd have chats with Allison during her breaks. Diego always sent you work updates when he worked for the police, but as a vigilante, he never spoke of his doings due to fear of tracing through digital footprint.

You worked as an astronomer, your love for space driving you to pursue it as a paying career. Sometimes it reminds you of when you'd stare up at the stars with Ben from the heights of an apartment building. You're laying on the couch, scrolling through the different channels on your TV when the news displays the death of one familiar person.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

Your attention is focused on the broadcast and the claims that were on the sliding title at the bottom of the screen. Your thoughts immediately drift to the reactions of his adoptive kids. He never developed an intimate bond with any of them, so how would they react to the news?

Wow. The age finally got to him. He was one persistent son of a bitch.

Allison, did u see the news?

I'm coming home as fast as I can

I was at a premiere

You shut your phone off, attention grabbed by a knock at the door. Though the face you see when you answer is not one you'd expect.

"Ben?"

His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Are you... real? How are you..." You touch his face, then his shoulders, then his arms, proving that this was not, in fact, his ghost coming to haunt you. "I've missed you." He says simply. You try not to gawk at him any longer and invite him inside.

He's focused on the TV, displaying the news of his father's death. "So she wasn't lying..." He mutters, staring at the TV with the same focus you gave. "She?" You ask. "Mom." He replies, standing behind the couch rather than taking a seat. "How did you find me?"

"Pogo. He knows just about everything."

"Even addresses? Creepy."

"Listen... when I was in that coma, I could see you. I could see my siblings, I could see who I wanted. I was in a black void and I was able to see anyone. But every single time, it brought me back to you." He says, his hand resting on yours. "You were aware you were in a coma? How?" He moves from the back of the couch to sit next to you. "When you were in the hospital to see me, I heard the doctors telling you."

You embrace him in a long-awaited hug, the first one you've had with him in a while. "Sorry, this is so much to process right now." Somehow, his last words before laying unconscious where he died come back to you. "Do you remember what you said before you passed out that day?" You ask, vividly remembering him saying 'I love you' as his 'last words'.

He pauses for a moment before answering. "I do." He looks you dead in the eye as you play with your thumbs nervously, looking for something to say. "Did you mean it?" Your nerves take control as panic rushes to your head. "I did. I do... I still love you. Even after all these years of me seeing you in a dark void of nothingness, you were always there." Your face is hot. You feel like a high-schooler being asked to a dance.

"I killed her. I killed Jennifer."

"I saw. It's not your fault. It never was. It was mine for killing her goons in that alley."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We've both done things we can't be forgiven for."

Unsure of what to say next, you make the first move and kiss him, something you wanted to save when you were 18. He kissed back, eventually pulling away and looking at you. "How long have you wanted to do that?" He asked. "Since the day I realized I had a big, stupid crush on you." He smiles, kissing you once more on the couch when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

We're gonna meet at our old place

I'll see you there

Allison texted you, Ben reading off your screen as well. "Should we go now?" You ask, looking at his face which is a bit too close to yours. "We have time," he says, grabbing your phone and placing it on the coffee table.

"Let's make up for all that we missed."

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oh, dear diary, i met a boy! he made my doll heart light up with joy! 🎧

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x you #ben hargreaves x reader #fanfiction #the umbrella academy

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hepalienstuckyrecs · 3 years

Text

Hidden Gems Stucky Fic Rec

Amazing fics with <10k hits

raise the flag by mcwho [M, 1k]

Slice of Life, PWP

Steve had made the mistake of laying on the sofa lengthways, on his stomach, so of course as soon as Bucky walked into the room he was all over that

Heart by @concavepatterns, everandthe [T, 1k]

Fluff, Love Confession, Post CATWS

"You're not my friend, Steve."

softer than whispers by @spacebuck [E, 1.4k]

Fluff, PWP, Table Sex, Rimming

"concept: steve fucking bucky in knee socks bc thighs and long sweaters"

Concept: The sweater hangs down nearly to Bucky’s knees as he walks past the couch Steve’s sprawled on, the hem swaying a little with each step. Steve doesn’t recognise it, realises Bucky must have gone out of his way to get something too big for him, and smiles just a little to himself. Bucky’s oblivious to his presence in the way a content cat is. Steve’s his, so he belongs.

i want it, i got it by bornes [T, 1.5k]

Fluff, Humor

Ten minutes into their impromptu mall adventure, Steve has offered to buy Bucky a designer sofa he had sat on briefly to rest his legs, a $600 headband, and a diamond-encrusted butterfly clip

more under the cut

no grave can hold my body down by @biblionerd07 [G, 1.9k]

Bucky Feels

Bucky has died more than once, but he never stays that way. Companion to let me give you my life.

Not the Needle, Nor the Thread by @steebadore [E, 2k]

Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex

Bucky wakes to a noise.

No, Bucky wakes to the noise. It's not the hoarse shout of nightmares born of battlefields and blood that so often tear them both from sleep. No, this is smaller. Bitten off. Choked back. A furtive, strangled keen, nearly silent but pitched at a frequency that would raise Bucky from the dead.

in the morning i’ll be sober and you’ll still be mine by mcwho [T, 2.2k]

Drunken Confessions, Kissing, Light Angst, Team fic

Steve always marveled at how people lost all their inhibitions after they got a little alcohol in them.

And then Thor gets him drunk on Asgardian liquor. Events unfold.

tutorial by @belovedmuerto [T, 2.4k]

Modern AU, High School AU, Practice Kissing, Fluff

“I’m pretty sure I’m a terrible kisser,” Steve mutters, mostly to his pencil and paper.

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Five times Bucky says “Jesus, Rogers” out of pure exasperation, and one time he means it in a completely different context.

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Hurt/Comfort, Soft, Post CATWS

Steve has a crummy mission. Bucky has a crummy dream. They cuddle it out.

hold some dirt with those hands by magdaliny [T, 3k]

Post-IW, Fix-it

It had sent him to his knees.

I Had a Marvelous Time Ruining Everything by fallendarlings (@pressrestartwrites) [T, 3.2k]

War Era, CATFA, POV Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Light Angst

“I’m not worth all that. Not worth your life.”

“You’re worth everything to me.” And there it is, the secret truth. There’s no way to interpret it as anything but what it is. Steve’s heart, held out in his hands. The one that didn’t work right, ugly all over from damage. The one that was Bucky’s first, has always been Bucky’s. They say his new one is perfect, but he knows the truth. Even if they fixed everything else, they can’t fix this. Every inch of his heart, scarred with Bucky’s name. Over and over and over.

(Not Quite) All The Small Things by @leveragehunters [T, 4.1k]

Prewar, Post CATWS, Magical Realism AU, Fluff, Bucky POV

Bucky was used to finding Steve in alleys. Not every day, thank baby Jesus and all the saints or he’d be as grey as Mrs Milligicutty, but often enough.

The thing about Steve in alleys was, it meant finding Steve in fights. Or finding Steve after fights, bloody and bruised, picking gravel and dirt out of his skin, having come off third best in a two-person punch-up. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, it meant finding Steve standing, bruised but unbowed, glaring down some hapless meathead who’d underestimated just how much sheer goddamned never-say-die was packed onto those skinny bones.

That was Steve in alleys. Not this hunched over sack of glare, facing down a mangy orange tom cat that was glaring right back and trying to dart past his legs.

My Kind’s Your Kind by @callmejude [M, 4.1k]

Prewar, Practice Kissing, Smut with Feelings

Steve's beginning to get self-conscious of the fact that he's never been kissed.

let me give you my life by @biblionerd07 [T, 4.3k]

5+1 Things

Five times Steve chose to live when he could have died. Companion to no grave can hold my body down.

To Seek a Nood-er World by jehans (@lafbaguette) [E, 8.2k]

Misunderstandings, Humor, Sexting, Canon Verse, First Time, Idiots in Love

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

TBC (taking care of bucky) series by @steebadore [T, 8.6k]

Domestic, Fluff

It starts, as most things do, with spite. The problem is, it doesn't end there.

Glad to love you, Steve Rogers series by @maddiewritesstucky [E, 9.2k]

Modern AU, Stripper Bucky

Steve’s first thought is that he knows this song.

His second thought is little more than a stream of expletives, as the male embodiment of Fuck Me walks out onto the stage. Although, ‘walk’ seems an entirely inappropriate word…the man struts, stalks, and all at once the frenzied reaction of the crowd makes perfect sense.

If Steve had known this was about to make an entrance, he’d have been screaming for it too.

_____

In which Steve Rogers is promised a night of highly-skilled dance performance, and gets exactly that...just not in the way he expected.

Strange Human Mating Rituals by @liionne, art by velvetjinx [E, 13.7k]

Post CACW, Canon Divergent, Bucky Recovery, Sexting, Fluff

Bucky doesn't have a job. Steve assures Bucky that there's no pressure for him to do anything; Steve's army back pay and his avenging days mean they're taken care of. Bucky's a kept man, and whilst he loves that, he isn't much of a house husband. So he goes out, and that's how it happens. He's sitting on the subway when he sees the magazine, garishly pink with a woman flashing big pearly white teeth on the front cover. He can't help himself. Letting himself do things he wants to do is one of the things the Wakandan healers had taught him, so maybe it's a step in the right direction.

The magazine turns out to be a little less factual than Bucky’s usual reading material, but he loves it. He reads an interview with some actress he's never seen before, then an article on how to get the perfect brows (and he looks up at his reflection in the subway window then to find that his brows are-- what does the magazine say? on fleek already), and then he gets to something interesting.

Sexting 101: What your man really wants to hear

Now that is something Bucky wants to know more about.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stevebucky #stevebucky fic rec #reclist #hidden gems #changed the title because this seems more fitting

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

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I just really think Remus Lupin is a ballerina okay AU

Remus Lupin has been doing ballet since he was four. He was exuberant and flashy at first, but after his first teacher, Greyback, molested and abused him, he is quiet and reserved. He prefers to dance by himself and does not speak to anyone inside or outside of the class. He wears pink material and is the best dancer in the school, but everyone is more terrified of him than they are jealous. He has sad eyes and soft hair, but prominent scars (both self-inflicted and from Greyback and accidents) cover his freckled skin. He’s a mystery, but no one wants to solve him.

He lives with his roommate and only friend, Severus Snape, who is a writer. He spins out films and novels and poems by the hundreds, especially inspired by the rain. Remus and Severus will often spend rainy days together in their apartment, with Severus typing furiously and scribbling while Remus dances to Hozier and Lana Del Rey off to the side. Sometimes when Remus will have nightmares, Severus will hold him and sing Russian lullabies until he falls asleep. Severus smokes lazily and wears subdued flower and gothic dresses that show off his jutting hips and collar bones. Having escaped an abusive father and a dead mother, he and Remus bond over their shit parents, with Remus’ father being neglectful and his mother kind but catatonic. Their neighbors think they’re witches, but they’re alright with that.

They both have to work to pay the bills, so while Severus works with preschoolers, Remus works as an assistant for a terrifying professor named Grindelwald at the university. He’s a reformed felon who’s always glowering, and there are rumors he’s Dumbledore’s husband, who is Remus’ mysterious ballet teacher with the twinkling eyes. But no one has the guts to ask him - it’s unknown what he was locked up for, and nobody wants to risk that it was irrational homicide. He mostly ignores Remus though, and doesn’t mind if Remus reads or dances while he works, so Remus doesn’t think he’s too bad.

One day Remus is grading some papers for Grindelwald when Lily Evans walks in, a vision in a white floral lace flowing vest and an across-the-shoulders dark blue dress, a brown belt around her waist and matching ankle boots coming up over creme knee-high knit socks, a black hat on her head. There’s a camera around her neck and her smile is beautiful, surrounded by her freckles, and she and Remus hit it off immediately. She asks if he can spare some time to be her model for the day, and he agrees. They’re hanging out in the park and laughing when Severus walks over, having finished work. The moment he and Lily lay eyes on each other, something happens, something magical, and Remus can see it in both of their smiles as they exchange shy hellos.

Lily starts to hang around them, her and Severus teetering on the edge of something. Remus nudges Severus until he’s brave enough to ask her out, and their first date is in the park where they met, sitting on a bench in the rain and watching the birds. Remus is pretty sure they’re gonna get married one day.

To keep himself busy while his two friends fall in love, Remus escapes to the dance school, dancing alone to Lana Del Rey in an empty room when the door creaks open and he hears, “Wow.” He turns around and smiles, taking in the sight of James Potter, an old school friend who left for Julliard and he hasn’t seen in years. James laughs, pulling him into a hug, and Remus lets him, tangling his hands in James’ curls and grinning when James presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. James tells him he’s been enjoying a gap year before going to search for a job as a back-up dancer for Taylor Swift, to which Remus giggles and tells him he’ll be great. James beams, and pulls Remus along, saying he has to meet James’ best friend-partner-person. Remus agrees, and changes back into his flowing white dress decorated in bees and black flats, tucking spruce leaves in his hair before taking James’ hand and following him out.

At James’ apartment, he calls out, “Babe! I’m home!” Remus watches as Sirius Black comes skidding down the hall, dazzling in a sparkling black croptop with gold touches and a raggedy sheer maroon skirt that falls just above his spiky combat boots. With white and gold dahlias in his hair, he’s the most beautiful thing Remus has ever seen, and he stares as James pecks Sirius on the mouth, coming away with dark red lipstick stains. When Sirius looks up at Remus, his eyes twinkling, and Remus reaches out a hesitant hand, which Sirius takes. “Hi,” he breathes, and Sirius laughs, loud and bright. He leans in and kisses Remus’ cheek. “Hello, beautiful,” he says sweetly, wrapping an arm around Remus’ waist. “James has told me all about you, love.” Remus blushes, unable to stop smiling even as Sirius pulls away at James’ indignant “Oi!” and doesn’t touch him again. Sirius is the love of his life - he doesn’t know how, but it’s something he just somehow knows, the feeling taking root in his chest and sprouting flowers.

Sirius, as it turns out, is James’ roommate and queerplatonic partner. He ran away from his abusive home and is taking commissions as an artist. Mostly he draws wolves, dogs, rats, deers, doves, snakes, and cats. He affectionately calls Remus Moony, insisting his scars look like something were bit him and his eyes are the fierce amber of a wolf’s. Sirius in turn is called Padfoot, for his doglike energy and loving nature, while James is dubbed Prongs for being a dumbass who continually forgets he’s too big to fit in small spaces and gets lost in the woods almost every weekend. Remus never wants to stop hanging out with them, and learns to spend hours shopping at the vintage shop where Sirius works, the two of them falling for each other fast while James reclaims them as his partners in love as in life. And Remus is so, so happy.

While he’s busy falling in love with Sirius, Lily has moved in with him and Severus. Remus doesn’t mind, and tells Severus he’s thinking of making a home with Sirius and James. Severus hugs him and tells him he’s proud of him, suggesting they hang out that day just the two of them, like old times. Remus agrees, and lets Severus take him to the cafe where Lily works. In the corner of the shop is Regulus Black, a boy drenched in hoodies and coats that Remus and Severus buy free food and drinks for. Regulus thanks them profusely, and they all make small talk until Remus makes a comment that Regulus looks like Remus’ boyfriend Sirius, to which Regulus starts crying, explaining that Sirius is his older brother and he’s been trying to find him for years but gave up looking when their shit parents died and Sirius was nowhere to be found at the funeral. Remus offers to take him home, and Severus kisses Remus on the forehead before heading off to find Lily.

On the way there, they stop at the bakery and accept some free cupcakes from Peter Pettigrew, who owns the bakery with his elusive partner. Regulus, as it turns out, is homeless, and has been trying to make it on his busking money alone. But while he’s fairly lovely at singing, it’s not enough to buy anything concrete. As they eat, Regulus also tells Remus about Amir Levis, a librarian who lets him stay at the library. Remus exclaims that he already knows Amir, who helps Remus remember his pills and doctor’s appointments and always has a spare wheelchair and some tea for him just in case. Regulus admits to having a crush on Amir, but he’s too scared to do anything about it. Remus assures him he and Sirius will help him with it, and just like that they’re on their way.

At home, Remus smiles softly at the sight of Sirius and James entwined on the couch and says, “Look who I found.” At the sight of Regulus, Sirius shoves James to the floor in his haste to stand up, taking Regulus’ face in his hands and searching his eyes for answers. “You got out?” He says, breathless. “Really? You’re alright?” Regulus smiles sheepishly. “Of course I did, Siri,” he whispers. “You think I was gonna let you have all the fun?” Sirius tears up and tugs him close, rocking back and forth as the two of them mumble apologies and love confessions into each other’s necks and shoulders and hair. Remus gravitates towards James, kissing him with a smile before pulling him out of the apartment, saying they should leave the brothers alone.

Remus takes the opportunity to introduce James to Severus and Lily, who are immediately taken with him. They offer to watch him for the afternoon while Remus goes to therapy with Maxwell Needles, a counselor with magenta hair who talks to Remus about life, his accident, his trauma, Greyback, his suicidal tendencies, anxiety, PTSD, and depression. Remus also takes the chance to pick up Sirius and James’ ADHD medication, Peter’s OCD prescription, Lily’s bipolar medication, Severus’ schizophrenia suppressors, and a few books on autism (for Severus), Tourette’s (for Lily), and eating disorders (for James and, Remus suspects somehow, Regulus). Max is delighted to see him with so many friends, and says they’ll bring Peter over sometime for dinner. Though he’s not sure where that would happen since he’s torn between two homes right now, Remus agrees with a smile and bids the skater kid in the checkered jeans goodbye.

Back at school, Remus spends his afternoons in conversation with Mcgonogall, the waltz teacher who takes care of him. She’d adopted him when his parents died and he tries to stick around, asking advice about Sirius and James and whether moving in with them is a good idea. Mcgonogall says she thinks it is, and that she knows Sirius is a kind young man. As it is, he calls her Minnie, and knows her as a friend and a grandmother of sorts, since she helped him when he first ran away to James’ house. Remus is content with continuing the conversation but is interrupted by a phone call telling him Sirius, James, and Regulus have been jailed for a fist fight on the street.

Remus goes to pick them up, where he meets Bellatrix Lestrange, an abusive cousin of Sirius and Regulus who took particular joy out of torturing Sirius, who she almost killed once. She’s also been known to abuse children, especially those of the poor. Also in jail are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, a couple married only in spirit who keep having miscarriages and take their abusive anger out on each other and strangers. Their landlord, Voldemort, had demanded unconventional payments and they’d been essentially enslaved to him for years, only escaping his cultist grasp by means of murder, which is why they’re here now.

Remus sees James holding Regulus close and whispering to him as he kisses the cuts and bruises on his face in the corner of the cell, but says nothing about it, kissing Sirius hello. The four of them go home together, and as soon as Regulus is asleep Remus tells James and Sirius that he wants to make a home with them someday, just not right now. They laugh and smile and tell him they’re ready when he is and that they love him, and Remus thinks, Things are good.

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fan-art-ic · 3 years

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Don't Stop Here

She's back. Anne is really back on Earth. She can hardly believe it.

(Picks up immediately after the episode ends) (ao3 link in reblog)

Anne can hardly believe it. Cars honked around her and every breath is heavy with unnatural smog. She meets eyes with a human stranger, who lifts a phone very quickly and stares bug-eyed at her. Not at her, no, at her family. She turns to Hop-pop, Sprig, and Polly, all scratched, bruised, tired, afraid, and looking at her with trust in their eyes. Hop-pop croaks and coughs and Anne notices her frog family's skin is graying. She has to get them out of here. Off the hood of the car, over five lanes of traffic, hopped over the guardrail, down the hill, through a sparse copse of trees, to the sidewalk under the bridge and-

"Anne?" A pink hand tugs on her wrist. "Anne, stop. Please." Her feet stumble to a stop and her socked foot lands on something sharp and cutting and she gasps.

"Anne!"

Two sets of hands catch her torso, and she faintly feels a wet touch pulling at her ankle. Her family carefully let her down, so she lands heavily on her butt instead of her nose. Anne's next breath is a punch of air and her lungs brighten with pain as she loses control of her inhales and exhales. Her eyes hurt and burn. When she wipes a dirty hand across her face, she winces as hot tears and snot sting her injuries. A light weight settles onto her back and rubs in a circular motion. Anne clings to the sensation. Between sputtering breaths, she begins to hear. "-in...and out...in...and out," Hop-pop's soothing, raspy voice repeats and then she can hear Sprig humming. It's a song Wally wrote about a silly snail getting lost and he had sung it at her Frog of the Year party. A laugh bubbles up into a sob and Anne reaches out her arms to pull all three of them close.

"I love you guys," she chokes out, and Polly pats her cheek.

"We love you too, Anne," says the polliwog, normally so energetic now wrung out and too bright-eyed. She needs to pull herself together. Anne releases her grip and her family takes a step back. She runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head, dust and dirt and surprisingly long twigs falling to the broken concrete.

"Alright, froggy fam," she begins, "I'm going to take you to meet my human fam." Sprig whoops, but he's clearly flagging.

"Yay!..."

Anne grimaces and looks at Hop-pop. The old, orange frog meets her gaze steadily, but she can tell how much he is missing his cane. "Hop-pop, you got Polly, I got Sprig?" He nods. "Alright. Let's make our way to the highway, follow along till we hit an exit, follow that till we hit town, figure out where we are, call my parents. Sound good?" No one protests and Anne helps Sprig up to her shoulder as Hop-pop collects Polly.

They're maybe ten minutes into their walk, and every step is a jolt to her nervous system. Her skin feels prickly, her jaw too tight, her muscles ache like never before. The pressure of her Newtopian breastplate, once reassuring, weighs her every step like a lodestone. The heron-leather straps pinch at the underside of her arms. Sprig's cool, damp skin is refreshing against the back of her neck, but it's not slimy enough and it concerns Anne. She bites her lip and tries to time her steps so that her sneaker hits the rocks and roots, while her socked-foot hits bare earth. She isn't always successful, and everything is starting to throb. Her temples pulse loudly in her head and her knees are weak and her mouth is parched.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Polly..." Hop-pop murmurs behind her. She can't see him, but she hears the dragging footsteps crunch the dry grass and the low comfortings of the grandfather to the polliwog. A stabbing pain shoots through her chest, and Anne forces her legs into a march. Focuses on the act of raising her thigh, swinging her calf forward, shifting her weight, repeat ad infinitum.

In seventh grade health class, there had been only one day dedicated to 'mental health issues' and something mentioned was meditative breathing. In multiple P.E. classes, Anne heard the teachers talk about making sure to breath while exercising. One, two, three. In. One, two, three. Out. Anne can do this.

The clouds parted a bit as they walked and the sun is nearly blinding Anne, as she squints at the sign. DALY STREET EXIT, it read in giant white text on green. Okay, so now they can get out of the weird in-between highway area they've been hiking. She points at it. "This way."

Something is mumbled behind her back.

"Huh?" She stops to turn and looks at Hop-pop. "What's up?" The elderly frog's face is twisted in a very non-confidence inspiring way.

"Well...Anne, I can't help but notice you don't have your backpack. Or...or your phone. So-" All Anne could hear was a piercing, ringing sound. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

"Right," says Anne, interrupting whatever the old frog had been saying. "Right. I don't have my backpack or phone." She blinks rapidly and Hop-pop's brow furrows deeper grooves. Her fingernails dig grooves of equal depth into her palms. "Okay, so," she claps her hands and ignores Sprig and Polly startle, "we will keep going. We will find someone kind and nice who will be willing to call my parents. End of plan."

"Great plan," Sprig yawns in her ear, and she can't help the yawn in return. It stretches her neck muscles and she yawns again for good measure. Polly yawns, then Hop-pop, then her and Polly at the same time. They all smile and the moment of brevity gets the family going again, the plan -no matter how little Anne believes in it herself- solidly in mind and the goal spurring them on. Not too much further now.

The sign for 7-11 flickers and there is a closed down Redbox sitting stoutly next to a ash-tray/trash can. The ad in the window advertises Berry Glam Blitz Bomb and a two for four hotdogs sale. Her stomach rumbles.

Her family is crowded together outside the storefront, and Anne doesn't know what to do. She's loathe to leave the Plantars by themselves, but maybe the cashier won't be the most cynical soul in Los Angeles. Then the frogs won't go under the risk of wandering the streets, talking to strangers. She can't bring them in though, what if the employee freaks out (like...any reasonable person confronted by talking frog people would). A clammy, orange hand taps her arm twice. She looks down.

"We'll be okay for five minutes, Anne," reassures Hop-pop. "Hand me Sprig." She doesn't hand him Sprig so much as the pink frog melts off her back and flops down next to his grandfather, but either way transfer successful. Okay now it's just time to interact with a human who isn't one of her two childhood best friends. She can't be totally out of practice right?

Marcy's eyes had been so wide when she died. Her pretty, dark brown eyes glittering from the light of Andrias' sword. From the flashing blue of the portal home. From tears.

Anne swallows roughly and steps toward the entrance. She scolds herself when the self-automated doors startle her, and she glances around the store. Someone tall and bald by the coolers, someone on the phone in the back, besides them and Anne the place is empty. Well, and the cashier. She approaches the register before she can one-eighty out the stupid doors, and she clears her throat. The cashier, a young guy with bright green and black hair and a name tag reading 'Jared', looks up from his phone.

"Hey-o, ready to check out?"

"Um, no actually," Anne starts and stops. What is she supposed to say? "I...dropped my phone and it cracked badly," she lies. "I was supposed to meet up with my mom but I can't get the dang thing to turn on." She laughs, short and high-pitched, rubbing her neck. "Is there like, a store phone I could borrow to call her?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "No, there isn't a store phone. If you buy something I could exchange dollars for quarters, I think there's a phone booth near here." The lights are buzzing really loudly, Anne notices. She takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, that doesn't work. Could I borrow your phone?" She sees how the older guy assesses her. She sees her dirty torn school skirt, her scorched copper armor, the twigs that she can't stop finding in her hair. "Or could I give you her number? Please, I just want to get back to my mom." Jared's frown softens and his mouth opens to speak, but is cut off by a voice behind Anne.

"Annie Bone-choy?" Her neck complains at the speed she turns to look. The bald person she saw earlier. Face contorted in open surprise, finger pointed in her direction, he says in a nasally SoCal accent, "Your parents have been looking everywhere for you."

"Do I know you?" Anne asks. Bald guy shakes his head. "No. I like your parents restaurant, amazing noodles by the way, and they have your missing posters all over the front. Yours and two other girls."

"I thought you lost your phone and were meeting up with your mom," Jared unhelpful interjects. Anne looks between both of them.

"Can I please use someone's phone to call my mom?" The two adults look at each other.

"Tell me your mom's number," says Jared tentatively. Anne rattles off the ten digit code with ease. She remembers sitting in the kitchen and her mom helping her arrange plastic magnet numbers in the order of her cell phone number. Jared puts the phone on speaker and the dialing tone begins to ring. Once, twice, three times, four...

"Hi! This is Madee Boonchuy. Not here right now, please leave a message!" The messaging system beeps and Anne just shakes her head at Jared. He ends the call.

"Can you please try again?" She pleads. Jared frowns, but does as requested. The dialing rings again. And gets voice-mail, again.

"I could call the restaurant," the bald guy offers. "It's not exactly rush hour but they are open right now, right?" Anne blinks away the stinging in her eyes. She has no idea what time it is, no idea what day or month or even if it's the same year. Who knows how Amphibia time lines up with Earth time?

"Can you? Please?" He nods and pulls out his phone. A minute while he finds the contact, and now for the third time, the phone rings on speaker. Anne knows what they say about third tries, and she crosses her fingers tightly.

"Hello? Delivery or pick-up?" Familiar, accented English, and Anne has to resist falling to the floor.

"Mom," Anne whispers in Thai, and the voice on the line speaks rapidly.

"Anne? Sweetheart? Oh my god, Anne? Anne?"

"It's me Mom. It's Anne," Anne sniffs and hiccups.

Some sharp, unintelligible yelling comes out the receiver, and there is a rustling and slamming sound before Anne's mom replies, "Where are you?"

Anne blue screens for a second. "I'm..." She struggles to remember. "I'm at a 7-11."

"What? Where? What street?"

"Daly Street," Jared pipes up.

"Who is that?" Her mother says sharply.

"That's just the cashier, he was, he was helping me. Well and another guy who comes to the restaurant apparently? I uh, he says he recognized me from my posters, huh, I didn't realize I'd have any," Anne rambles.

"I'm coming to you, Anne," Her mom promises. "I'm going to hug you so much. I'm coming to you. I have to hang up now, to get in the car, but do not go. Please."

"I promise," says Anne, and when her mom ends the call, she starts crying.

She exits the 7-11 once she gets the bald guy and Jared to distract each other (i.e. purchasing a bottled soda), and she spots the Plantars immediately. They're on top of a parked USPS truck. When Anne peers around the vehicle to see the other side of the street, she spies the mailman making his way towards the truck. Crap.

"Guys!" She hisses through clenched teeth. She raps her knuckles against the truck's side and hear Polly yelp. "Guys, get off the truck!" A moment later, Hop-pop and Sprig land beside her, Polly in her brother's arms. Anne pulls them over to the Redbox and huddles on the side opposite to the store entrance. She steps in front of them, hoping her body will shield enough of the frogs so nobody looks closer.

"Your mom is gonna be here soon?" Sprig asks. Anne nods.

"Yep, she'll...she'll be here soon." There's no response, and there is a take-a-tab paper taped to the trash can advertising singing lessons, and it's all Anne can do to not remember the time Sasha threw a karaoke party and they all started singing badly and together, and Anne blinks and keeps talking.

"My mom will come, and she's probably in her mini-van, oh man she's gonna tear through like twenty stop signs and scare other drivers so bad," she snorts, "and maybe there'll be a loose water bottle or a chip bag in the car, and oh man, you guys don't know what sour cream and onion chips are I can't wait to show you-"

"Anne," Hop-pop cuts her off. "Don't forget to breathe." She sucks in a deep breath and feels bile creeping up her throat. She tries to swallow but her mouth is so dry it just hurts. She can't imagine how her frog family's is feeling compared to her, they must be feeling so much worse than her, and they haven't said anything yet. Anne exhales forcefully. When a hand squeezes around her own, she squeezes back reassuringly.

They all jump as a dark red mini-van screeches to a halt in front of the 7-11. The driver exits the car, not wasting time to even park, and runs towards them. "Anne!"

"Mom!!!" Anne cries and she takes only a few steps before she's barreled over.

"Anne, oh my god, thank the heavens it's you! Anne, Anne, oh my baby," Anne's mom sobs into her shoulder before pulling back. Anne stares at her mother. Lets her eyes trace the deepened wrinkles, notice the shining, brown eyes the same shade as her own, the beauty mark on her chin. Her mom's glasses are new. Anne can't remember what they'd been, but now her mom wears tortoiseshell frames.

"I like your glasses," is the first thing to tumble out of Anne's mouth, and she nearly slaps herself. Her mom laughs wetly.

"Oh, Anne, oh, I've missed you so much." Her mother folds her back into her arms. Anne hugs back as tightly as she can for a second before her mom stiffens with a surprised grunt. "And you're so much stronger, when did that happen?"

Anne smiles. "I'll tell you about it." She steps back and grabs her mom by the shoulders. They're the same height now. "I'll tell you all about it." And that means... "Mom, let me introduce you to the Plantars," Anne steps to her mom's side and reveals her froggy family.

Her mother gasps and says something in Thai that Anne doesn't know. She would bet it's one of the worse swear words. "I know it's a shock, cuz, well, two foot tall talking frogs," says Anne and motions for the trio to come a bit closer. "But they protected me, fed me, and loved me while I was stranded in their world." Hop-pop shuffles the closes with Sprig and Polly poking their heads out behind him.

Hop-pop extends his hand. "My name is Hopadiah Plantar, it's an honor to meet you Mrs. Boonchuy." Her mom looks down at the wrinkly, orange hand and then back at Anne. She nods encouragingly and her mom steels herself before meeting the hand with her own.

She gingerly shakes it. "Pleasure to meet you...Hopadiah," Anne's mom says his name carefully. "My daughter says you kept her safe?" Hop-pop nods.

"To the best of my ability," and his face gains a wry look and he rubs the back of his neck. "When she and my grandkids weren't off chasing trouble."

Anne's mom smiles tentatively. "I'm sure. Are these your grandkids here?" Sprig comes out behind Hop-pop's back and puts out his hand.

"I'm Sprig Plantar! And this is-" A loud honk interrupts him and everyone in the group startles, moving to look at the source. A silver BMW is stuck behind her mom's mini-van and the one-way street doesn't give any wiggle around room. A shout filters out of the sports car. "MOVE YOUR CAR!" Except with a lot more swears. Anne's mom sighs.

"Introductions later, let's get in the car," she instructs and everyone moves.

All the frogs hesitate as they get closer, Sprig even flinching when Anne hauls open the back seat door with a slam. She gestures inside. "C'mon guys, it's just like a wagon," Anne says. Polly hops in first and settles into the closest middle row seat. She bounces a couple times.

"It's comfy," the polliwog reports. The jerk in the BMW honks again, even longer. Sprig and Hop-pop pile in and Anne closes the door behind them. She gets into the passenger seat and the feeling of air conditioning against her skin is like. Magic wind. Super relaxing. Like insane luxury. Oh, Anne missed technology.

"Buckle up." Her mom clicks her seat belt into the lock and starts pulling away immediately. Leaving Anne to explain what 'buckle up' means, and what a seat belt is, and no she doesn't know when they were invented. The questions continue as the mini-van pulls onto the highway, but the group soon quiets down. Anne blinks slowly and looks outside the window. The trees and billboards and other cars pass by her so quickly, so much quicker than Bessie could ever go. A pang strikes her heart as Anne realizes Bessie will be all alone. She hopes the Plantar's family snail is taken care of while they're gone. Anne looks away from the window as nausea grips her throat. She's almost home. She can hold off on falling apart for just a little longer.

"Anne, honey, are you awake? We're home."

Anne blinks and she squeezes her eyes tight and yawns loudly and long. She hadn't realized she dozed off. "I'm...home." She opens the door and doesn't let her twinging feet deter her from getting a good look at her home. The small bushes that lined the driveway, the slightly dented mailbox, the umbrella her dad always left outside the red door. Anne drinks it all in.

For the past several months she had been in a world with fantastical flora and fauna and shocking experiences every day, but Anne feels dizzy at the sight of her home. Her eyes catch on every detail, the once too-familiar not familiar enough. The bristly door mat; the unpolished brass numbers: 301; the creaky porch step; the small, pink, clay owl figurine Anne had given to her mom for Mother's Day in fifth grade and sat tucked in the corner. Her eyelashes are sticky with tears.

"Your house is SOOOOOOOOO BIG!" Anne snorts and is grateful for Sprig. She turns around to look at the small, pink frog.

"It's pretty nice! I've loved growing up here. Three-oh-one Silver Spring Lane." A gobsmacked look.

"You have springs made of silver?" Sprig's jaw drops. Hop-pop's head pokes out of the van.

"What's this I hear of silver springs?"

Surprisingly, it's Anne's mom who answers. She laughs, and it soothes Anne, before saying, "No, Hopadiah. It's just a nice name for a road." Anne tunes out what Hop-pop replies in favor of turning back to the door.

The metal door handle is hot to touch, searing from the oppressive California heat. She breathes out in a harsh whoosh and forces herself to yank the door open. It slams against the wall and the hinges squeak. Anne hears a sound of protest from her mom, but she can't acknowledge it when there's a bullet of fluff running towards the door.

"DOMINO!" The cat jumps into Anne's arms and she catches her, swinging Domino around and around and gosh, will Anne ever stop crying today? She hides her tears in Domino's soft, white belly, and laughs as the cat wiggles around to climb up her shoulders. Domino wraps around her neck and rubs Anne's check with her cute, little face.

Anne collapses to her knees and she pulls her cat around and holds her so carefully and so, so close. Domino allows this longer than ever before, but soon she does squirm and fall to the carpet on all four feet. She chirps and purrs vacuum-like. Anne's hands move on their own accord, stroking down Domino's back, scratching all her sweet spots, reacquainting herself with her Domino, her beautiful angel baby.

"Anne, could you move your reunion a few feet more into the hallway? So we can come in?" Her mom says, her tone telling Anne she's smiling. Anne kisses her baby's head one more time before standing up and moves to the side. Ugh, her knees hurt from carpet burn. That's one thing she hadn't missed.

"Sprig, Polly, Hop-pop! Remember the killapillar?" Anne scoops up Domino and holds her out. "This is Domino One!" Sprig steps closer, squinting. He pokes at Domino's paw and she mrrps! at him. He flinches back for a second before staring deep into her eyes. Anne watches this stare-off with no small amount of amusement.

Eventually, Sprig asks, "So this Domino won't kill us for dinner?" Anne shakes her head and a leaf drifts from her hair.

"Nope!"

Sprig oh so slowly reaches a finger to Domino's long-haired back. "Oh!" He says, curling his fingers through the fur. "She's even softer than peatmoss."

Polly joins her brother and jumps up and down on her new, little legs. "Let me pet her!" Anne leans back down, but Domino wriggles out her grip and runs down the hallway, disappearing around the kitchen corner. Polly pouts. "Aw! I wanted to touch Domino One."

Anne pats her yellow bow. "Don't worry. There's plenty of time for that later."

"I believe a good use of time right now," Anne's mom says, still lingering in the open door, "would be for you to change out of your dirty clothes. Go take a shower."

Anne stares at her mom stunned. "Oh my god...," she whispers. "I shall finally be clean." Sprig laughs.

"Are there no showers where you come from?" Anne's mom asks Hop-pop as Anne still revels in the very idea of pressurized water.

"I can't say I know what a shower-whatsit is, but we did bathe," Hop-pop says archly, half at Anne's mom and half at her. Her mom nods understandingly. Then frowns.

"Do you have any spare clothes with you?" She asks and all the Plantars go wide-eyed.

"We..." Hop-pop can't finish his sentence hands twisting his ascot. Sprig looks morose and he's holding onto his slingshot tightly. Polly is similar, tugging at her frayed and dirty yellow bow. Anne's heart twinges, and she cuts in.

"We didn't exactly have time to pack our wardrobes when we came, Mom," she says. "I have piggy bank money, we can go shopping guys! You guys have to see the mall. This time, my treat," she tries to cheer up the little frogs.

Sprig and Polly perk up at the mention of visiting the mall, but Hop-pop and her mom both protest at once.

"Anne, that's mighty kind of you, but-"

"Anne, that's very generous, but-"

Both stop and her mom motions for the frog to continue. Hop-pop waits a second more before saying, "Anne, you don't need to spend your savings on us. We can make do if you just show us to a wash bucket and a needle with thread. When these get worn out, we'll cross that river when we come to it." Anne's mom then lays a hand on Hop-pop's shoulder, slightly crouching to reach. Hop-pop nods at her.

Her mom smiles before saying to him, "I can certainly show you the washing machine, but we'll figure out another set of clothes for you." Her gaze casts over Sprig, Polly, and Anne. "For all of you. And Anne," her mom walks up to her and she smiles with glistening eyes, "when did you grow up so much?" She brings Anne into a tight hug before releasing her. And boops her nose. Anne squeals. Her mom smiles. "I will pay for the shopping. Now!" She claps. "Shoes off."

Everyone looked down at their feet and noticed the frogs didn't have any. "Ah well, shoes and...shoe off. Anne, what happened to your shoe?"

Anne waves it off. "Lost it a few months ago." Her mother grumbles and Anne suspects she'll be getting a new pair of sneakers in the near future. Then it occurs to her, "Where's Dad?"

"He had to stay to make sure the delivery went smoothly since Jackson quit and everyone else messes it up," her mom explains while running her hands through Anne's hair.

Anne gasps. "No! Not Jackson."

"Yes, Jackson," replies her mom. Her fingers tug painfully through Anne's hair and come away holding a handful of leaves and twigs. "Is there an entire forest in your head? Now off you go, shower. Get the dirt off," she commands. Anne rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Mom," Anne says in Thai and kisses her cheek. She looks to the Plantars. "You guys okay with my mom showing you around the house? Show you somewhere to sit and some water?"

Hop-pop nods and Polly wiggles. "I have a mighty THIRST," she yells. Anne giggles.

"Well, alright froggy fam. See you on the flip side," and she starts to head up the steps, her fingers trailing the railing, when a cough causes her to pause. She glances back.

"Anne..." Sprig says, "welcome home."

Tears spill over her cheeks and Anne half-falls down the stairs to give him a tight hug. Quickly, other froggy arms surround the two and are joined by a pair of human arms. All together, all safe, all alive. Anne takes a deep breath, and exhales heavily. She's back home.

#amphibia fic #amphibia #anne boonchuy #hopadiah plantar #sprig plantar #polly plantar #mrs. boonchuy #amphibia season three #my writing #if you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this pls consider reblogging

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tendiyu · 4 years

Text

A Show

giyu tomioka x fem!reader

CEO AU

warnings: daddy kink, overstim, edging, degradation, slight public scene, penetration, pwp, smut!

The way the two of you had met was odd, you worked part-time at a maid cafe in Tokyo, and Giyu was the CEO of a famous company. You noticed the quiet man had taken quite the interest in you. He always requested that you would be his waitress, and when he came to the little cafe, they would close down due to his request. You honestly don’t know what ended up leading him to be attracted to you as the class difference between the both of you was insane. You were a college student currently majoring in business, while he was a CEO. You had memorized his favorite order, which is what he usually ordered anyways. What you didn’t know was that today was going to be different from the rest. You went over to his booth, always showing him your best smile, as he tipped well. On certain days you’d walk away with over $400 in tips from him alone.

“Don’t you ever get bored of working here?” He asked while sipping on his drink.

“Well, Master Tomioka I wouldn’t be able to see you if I got sick of working here,” You said unconsciously, blushing when you realized what you said.

You quickly smiled before excusing yourself to the kitchen. You took in a deep breath, regaining your composure before heading back out and sitting across from him, as per his request. You chatted with him, keeping it light and formal. Once he was done you got up, bringing his plates into the kitchen. When you came back he motioned for you to sit back down.

“I have an offer for you, hopefully, one you’d say yes to, would you like to be my sugar baby?” He asked and your eyes widened.

You had never expected him to come to you with such an interesting offer, as that’s the first word that came to mind. You had to think it over and ask questions about it as you couldn’t say yes without knowing what you had to give to him as well.

“Could we talk about this more in-depth after my shift, here I’ll give you my number,” You said and he nodded.

You wrote down your number on a piece of paper handing it to him, and then you got up bowing slightly. You said goodbye and escorted him out of the small maid cafe. The cafe soon opened up normally for business and customers flowed in at an insane rate. You were busy but your mind kept wandering to the offer, on your break you checked your phone to see that Giyuu had messaged you, telling you that it was him. You texted back asking him to explain the deal you two would be making in more detail. He sent you a long text explaining that they would move at a rate that was comfortable for you, which you genuinely appreciated. You told him that you’d agree to it as long as he allowed you to set the pace, you honestly didn’t mind the CEO was an attractive man. Fast forward a few weeks, the agreement worked without a hitch, you’d go on dates with him and he would spoil you immensely. Giyuu had taken you lingerie shopping as you told him you were in desperate need of new pieces, which he quickly agreed to do so. He didn’t need to ask for pictures as he knew you’d send them to him. He bought you such beautiful and intricate pieces although you insisted on simple ones that were cheaper. Today was your day off and you knew he had an important meeting so you decided to take pictures with his favorite set from the day. Over it, you slipped on the oversized sweatshirt that he had left from your movie date night. You took a picture of you in it, the garter belt poking out which held up your stockings. You told him to have a good meeting and that more surprises would come soon, and for him to text you when the meeting was done. Giyuu had bought you a wall-length mirror and paid for the workers to install it as well, as he wanted you to be able to take cute outfit pictures for him. You brought over your pink gaming chair, slipping on the bunny ears he liked, which matched the color of your set which was royal blue. You sat on it and did different poses. You then pushed the chair back to your desk, going on your knees in front of the mirror, and held onto the bow the tied your bra together. You took a few more pictures that you were sure he’d like and then went over to your game doing some of the work you were given today at university. You then opted to play a few rounds of your favorite game, as Giyuu had recently bought you a new set up, it was probably the best one you’ve had to date. Your phone went off and you saw the Giyuu had texted you, he told you that he was now out of his meeting. You selected the pictures you’d knew he like the best and sent them to him. You put your phone down and went to the bathroom. Honestly, you began to notice how much your life had changed when you became his sugar baby, you were living in a better apartment, struggling less and happier. You heard your phone go off and you quickly made your way to your phone. You grabbed it seeing that Giyuu was facetime you. You picked it up smiling and waving, he greeted you but you could see how tired he was which made you sad.

“You look stunning in that set, I’m glad you let me get it for you,” He said softly and you nodded.

“Thank you, are you okay you seem tired? Is there anything I could do for you?” You ask him, only wanting to take care of him as he with you.

“Yeah, is it okay if I swing by after work? I only want to be in your company, I can order some food to your house as well,” He said and you nodded.

“Yeah of course, if you want I can run a bath for you, oh! I can use the um,” You ran into the bathroom looking for the product and showing it to him. “These bath salts are really calming, I use them after a hard shift at the cafe.”

“Sounds amazing, you still have some of my clothes over there right? Also tomorrow, there is a company outing, I was wondering if I could take you with me?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course, what time is it? Just so that I know if I’ll be making it to work tomorrow,” You asked and he responded with right after your shift.

You had a morning shift that day which you were grateful for, you quickly texted your manager that you had to leave slightly early tomorrow.

“Alright love, I’ll see you when I get there,” He said and you waved goodbye.

You got up and took out two plates and placed them on the island you had in your kitchen. You then went over to the living room hooking your switch to the TV, as you never knew if he was in a mood to play. You also set up Hulu and put the controller down. You then went into your room and rummaged through your drawers looking for some clothes Giyuu had left for times like these. You set them out along with a towel inside the bathroom. Giyuu texted you that he was five minutes away and you began running the water filling up the tub and then pouring the salts in. You didn’t fill it up fully as it could get cold for him, and you would need to fill the tub up with warm water again. You heard a knock and went over checking to see who it was. It was Giyuu with his suit on, you had to admit he looked good. You let him in hugging him tightly and he wrapped his arms around you planting a kiss on your head. You held his hand as you guided him to the bathroom, you then went to turn but he called out to you.

“Do you think you’re comfortable enough to accompany me in the bath?” He asked in a soft manner not wanting to pressure you.

“Oh, is that what you want?” You asked him and he nodded.

“But, it’s fine if you’re not okay with it,” He said and you shook your head.

“No, I’m comfortable enough with you now for this, plus you had a long day at work. The only thing I request is that you close your eyes while I strip,” You told him and he nodded.

You went into your room letting him strip and took off his sweatshirt making sure to leave it on your bed as you wanted to put it on again. You then laid out your underwear and bra along with shorts and thigh-high socks. You took a towel and put it next to the bathroom, and began stripping. It honestly took you a bit longer to take off than put on due to the intricacy of the set. You took it off and wrapped yourself in the towel, making sure to put your hair up in a messy bun but making sure it still looked nice. You went into the bathroom and saw Giyuu already in the tub. You motioned for him to close his eyes which he did and you slipped in across from him.

“You can open your eyes now,” You told him and he did, looking at you with a slight pout.

“Could you maybe come closer?” He asked and you nodded coming closer to him, and he guided your back to his chest.

He hummed softly while rubbing soft circles with his thumb on your shoulder. His touch began to make you needy as you blushed shifting slightly.

“You alright petal?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah sorry if I startled you,” You responded softly and Giyuu wasn’t buying it.

“You know you can tell me if something wrong, right? I would never want you to be uncomfortable with me,” He said softly and you nodded.

“Yeah, I know, Giyuu,” You said softly before closing your eyes.

You felt one hand rubbing circles on your thigh and you began to blush even more. Giyuu took notice of the change in attitude and decided to test the waters a bit. He began to rub circles on your thigh up higher and you felt him lean down.

“Am I making you needy petal?” He asked in a taunting voice.

You nodded your head too embarrassed to even speak.

“Hm, does my good girl want me to do something about it then?” He asked and you nodded again. “Use your words, I know you can.”

“Yes please, please do something Giyuu,” You choked out and you could tell he was smirking.

“No, remember when he fully talked about our agreement what you would call me?” He asked while the tips of his fingers ghosted where you wanted, no needed him the most.

“Please daddy,” You whispered out embarrassed, you could tell he was enjoying every second of this moment.

“Now, where do you want me? What do you want me to do? Come on you can tell daddy can’t you?” He asked and you felt the heat begin to pool between your thighs.

“Down there, I want you to touch me please,” You pleaded softly.

“Alright if that’s what my good girl wants,” He said.

His fingers began to teasingly rub your clit with the other hand worked on playing with your nipple. Your back arched as you let out soft whines, wanting more.

“More please, I want you to fill me up with your fingers daddy,” You whined and he groaned softly.

He slipped his middle finger in and went slowly allowing you to adjust. You began to grind against his fingers which caused him to slip another one in while using his thumb to rub your clit. You felt a coiling sensation in your stomach as you were close but he stopped.

“Come on, beg for it, beg for me to let you cum,” He said in a low tone.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want I promise, just please daddy I need it,” You whined, and that was enough to set Giyuu over the edge.

“I think you’ll be cumming on my cock then, is that alright?” He asked and you nodded desperately.

He picked your hips up adjusting your hips before teasing you with the tip. He made sure to rub it on your clit which made your hips jerk harshly. He then began to slowly enter you and bottomed out, sucking in a harsh breath. You were clenching on him tightly and he began to set a harsh pace, making sure to pay attention to your reactions. You felt him hit a spot and let out a loud moan, covering your mouth in shock.

“Who knew my innocent little maid was such a cock slut huh?” He whispered in your ear which caused you to clench down on him harder. “Oh?”

He continued to abuse your g spot making sure to rub your clit as well as he wanted to focus on your pleasure. He degraded you in your ear which pushed you off the edge and your orgasm hit you like a train. You had tears flowing down your eyes while you whined and whimpered. You continued to whimper the word daddy as well, but Giyuu continued wanting to overstimulate you. When you had finally ridden your high, you felt extremely sensitive. You mewled out softy, which only fed Giyuu’s drive causing him to be harshed with his thrust.

“Taking my cock so well pretty girl, your little cunt was made for my cock wasn’t it?” He said and you nodded feeling your orgasm work itself back up.

Giyuu’s thrusts got sloppier and he gave a few harsh thrusts before you came around him and hard. Your cunt was pulling his cock back in while he tried to slip out. Once he did he pumped his cock a few times cumming, letting out low groans. Giyuu got up wrapping a towel around his waist and then picked you up wrapping you in a towel as well and then carried you outside the bathroom.

“How about I order some food, we slip on a movie or a game you want to play and we just cuddle? You did such a good job for me (y/n), you’re always so good for me baby,” He said softly while putting you down on your bed.

You blushed and nodded, he turned to leave but you grabbed his arm.

“You did really good too, thank you, I really enjoyed that, but um could you help me change?” You asked him and he nodded.

You instructed him to turn as you slipped your bra on and his sweatshirt. You then called him over to help you slip on your underwear, shorts, and thigh-highs blushing the entire time. He then left to go to the bathroom and you got up testing the water, but your thighs were shaking. Luckily, you made your way into the bathroom and knocked, Giyuu giving you permission to enter. You hung up your towel and then waited for him, you both then made your way over to the couch and you put on an anime you both were watching together. You cuddled into him as he orderer food from your favorite restaurant while stroking your hair softly. You found yourself falling asleep to his breathing slumping against him. Giyuu kissed your forehead looking down at you in adoration. Half an hour later he heard someone knocking on the door and went to check, seeing that it was the food you two had ordered. He thanked the young man tipping him and then set the food on the counter waking you up. You stirred awake pouting but soon smiled at the smell of food. You got up waddling to the island and sat down on the stool. Giyuu and you ate while he spoke over some of the details of tomorrow’s event, you were a bit nervous. He instructed you to wear a golf skirt along with a long sleeve polo shirt and a cap to help with the sun. You nodded and then soon found yourself on your bed with Giyuu next to you asleep. When your alarm went off in the morning you noticed Giyuu was gone but he left you a note telling you that he was sorry he had to go and to check your phone. He sent you an audio message which basically consisted of him wishing you a good day at work and reminding you that he cared for you a lot. You smiled and went into the kitchen quickly making breakfast. While your breakfast was heating up, you went into your room looking for your blue maid costume as today was a blue theme with animal ears. You carefully slipped it on as it was slightly intricate and then slipped on your blue bunny ears before going into the kitchen again. You quickly gulped down your breakfast followed with tea and then brushed your teeth and washed your face. You then began your makeup routine and grabbed your bag and keys making sure you had everything before heading out the door. You made sure to send Giyuu pictures of you in your maid outfit, as he really liked this one. You got in your car and drove to work, which was a short drive. You then got out, checking in, and then starting your shift. You had honestly made a decent amount in tips alone today which made you glad, you then got a text from Giyuu saying that a driver was waiting for you but you explained you had driven your car. He told you that he would have the driver bring you back or take your car to your apartment complex. You greeted the driver with a friendly smile before getting in seeing that Giyuu had already bought you the outfit you were wearing accompanied by a note. The note was short and sweet telling you that he couldn’t wait to see you in the outfit. You saw the golf course slowly get bigger and you honestly felt nervous. What if his coworkers didn’t like you? Or worse they questioned what you did for a living? You shook off the negative thoughts as the car had already pulled up. You thanked the driver for getting out and making your way to the nearest dressing room. You quickly changed gently putting your outfit into the bag and took off the heavier parts of your makeup. You then went out and went looking for Giyuu.

“I’m sorry ma’am, are you with anyone?” A male at the front desk had asked you to which you nodded.

“Hello, I’m sorry but I’m here with Mr. Tomioka’s party?” You said in a questioning tone.

“Ah are you (y/n)?” He asked to which you nodded.

He then escorted you onto the field telling you that he would put your things in a locker. You thanked him making sure to take your keys, wallet, and phone out. He then guided you to where Giyuu was, you thanked him before making your way to him. He saw you and hugged you tightly which you returned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He held your hand and then took you over to the rest of his coworkers and their wives. You politely greeted them, with a smile and a small bow. Soon the men were off to play golf and you were left with the wives. You felt slightly self-conscious as the wives were looking at you, you then felt a small vibration between your thighs, and your eyes widened.

“So (y/n) right? What do you do for a living?” One of them asked you and you smiled.

“I’m going to university for business,” You said softly in a strained voice.

The woman nodded and ask you how you were doing in classes to which you replied well, and then you asked her for how long she was married to her husband, you heard a notification go off on your phone. You looked at it to see Giyuu saying that he missed you, and you replied that you missed him too with a frowny face. You then felt the vibrations increase and gripped the chair a little harder. The wives told you they would be drinking but you declined as you didn’t want to get drunk with them, or even drink at all. Soon you saw all the men coming into the distance and you got up brushing your skirt out. You grabbed your things and headed over to Giyuu faltering slightly as he purposely increased the vibrator to its max setting. He went over to you and hugged you tightly which you tried your best to return.

“Oh, um how did it go?” You stuttered out while blushing.

“Pretty good I almost won too,” He said and you pouted.

“Next time then, do you think we can go home? I’m slightly tired,” You said softly and he nodded.

You both said your goodbyes and you got your bag and then met up with Giyuu at the front getting into the car with him.

“Hm, you liked your little surprise petal?” Giyuu asked with a smirk.

“It was a surprise alright… it was interesting I don’t know if I would do it again, depends,” You said softly and he nodded.

You laid your head on his shoulder and he buckled you in and then himself. You felt yourself falling asleep and he held you softly, making sure not to wake you up.

#giyu #giyu x reader #giyu smut #demon slayer #demon slayer smut #one shot #ceo au #hashira smut #water hashira #kimetsu no yaiba

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melodyalanaroster · 2 years

Photo

Making New Friends And Foes

“Thank you so much Alana! You're a life saver!” Rosalaya smiled. Rosalaya was a beautiful girl with knee length silver hair, porcelain skin, and golden eyes. She wore a short, white, short sleeved, dress with purple cuffs, a black, gold trimmed, a vest that draped off her shoulders in two tails, a purple tie, and a thigh high lace up black boots. Alana had spent a decent amount of the day helping Rosalaya and her boyfriend, Leigh, with their romantic problems. "It's simple common sense." She thought. Over the course of the day, she had gone and had Leigh's little brother, Lysander write a romantic poem for Leigh to give to Rosalaya, made a beautiful bouquet for the couple and even found her lost ring. She had even noticed that Nathaniel and Castiel seemed down. To aid Castiel's mood, she picked up a pack of Beautiful Butterfly brand guitar strings. He was very grateful and even offered to play her a song. She told him that she'd love a concert, but there was something else she had to do.

What she did to aid Nathaniel's mood was much more important. She had quickly befriended the artist, Violette. Violette was a reserved girl with short purple hair and gray eyes. She wore a long, gray, dress like sweater with purple lining over a short white dress, short gray fingerless, gloves, thigh high gray socks, and short dark boots. "Nathaniel likes cats, but he can't have a real one... Could we make him a plush one?" She asked. “I think that would be alright. If you get me the materials, I'll stitch it up for you!” Violette smiled.

A couple of days later, Alana walked up to Nathaniel. "Hey." She smiled. Nathaniel still looked down. "Hey." He sighed. "I know you can't have an actual cat... But maybe this can help." She blushed as she pulled the plush cat from behind her back. It was a gray and white stitched cat plush with orange stripes on it's back and green and blue button eyes. Alana had even tied a deep blue bow around it's neck. Nathaniel looked at Alana and blushed as he took the plush from her. "You made this?" He asked. "Well, Violette did the actual sewing... But, it was my idea and I did buy the materials... And I did the bow..." She replied. Nathaniel admired the plush. “Thank you so much for this Alana. It means a lot to me.” He smiled. Alana felt her heart skip a beat. "Anytime." She blushed.

★

"Alana! I'm glad I found you! Here you go!" Melody beamed as she handed Alana an envelope. Melody was a slim young woman with butt length, wavy, brown hair, fair skin, and light blue eyes. She wore a ruffled, sky blue, top with elbow length sleeves, a short white skirt with a floral pattern near a small slit at the base of her left leg, a pink ribbon tied around her neck, two pink and yellow bracelets on her right arm, sky blue hair clips on each side of her head holding her hair back, and A pair of open toed sky blue pumps that clasp around her ankles. One look at Melody told Alana that this girl was a complete suck up and that Nathaniel was the one whose butt she preferred to kiss, but, she came to the conclusion that it would be best not to act like Sam and rock the boat. "Will Sam be invited?" She asked. Melody looked nervous. "Can I tell you a secret?" Melody asked. Alana nodded. “I'm being forced to invite her. Your sister is far too crass for my taste.” Melody whispered into Alana's ear. This revelation did not surprise her. “I wouldn't worry about Sam. She may not even want to go.” Alana sighed.

“I think it's lovely that you two have been invited to a slumber party!” Lynne beamed as she, Sam and Alana sat down to dinner. “Mom, can I just stay home and play video games? I'll get Melody a birthday present, but I don't wanna go be around all those frilly little princesses.” Sam whined. "Are you sure you don't wanna go?" Lynne asked, concerned. “Yes. I wanna stay home.” Sam smiled. “I'm going. I wanna be social.” Alana smiled. “Good! You should be social, sweetie! I’ll even drive you!” Lynne cheered. Later that night, Alana passed Sam's bedroom and heard her sister crying. She noticed her mother at the end of the hall. "She really misses Ken." Alana sighed as she and Lynne walked into the kitchen. "I really wanted to severely ground her for what she did to that girl at your school, but even a blind man could see that it was just her retribution against that girl for what she did to Ken." Lynne sighed. “Mom, the fact that you grounded her for the duration of her detention was good enough. We both know about Sam's sense of justice.” Alana replied. "I still have half of mine to give Ken's father a piece of my mind." Lynne stated. "We both know that it would only cause more friction." Alana yawned. That weekend, Alana found herself sitting in Melody's room in her pajamas surrounded by the other girls. Alana was wearing black pajama pants with stars and moons on them, a black t-shirt with Super Sailor Moon on it, black moon and stars socks, and black cat slippers. She had gotten Melody a cd for a band she had never heard of that Rosalaya had told her Melody liked. The girls were talking about trivial things. Boy bands, movies and tv shows. "Alana, what bands are you listening to?" Iris asked. Iris was a petite girl with bright red, braided, hair, pale skin, and turquoise eyes. She wore a purple t-shirt, black shorts, and black and purple striped thigh high socks. “Well... I listen to a lot of different genres. Pop, rock, punk, metal, classic rock, the legends, and even J-Pop.” Alana replied. "J-Pop?" Melody asked. “Yeah, Japanese Pop. I look up the videos with the translations and watch a lot of anime. Its fun.” Alana smiled. "I think that's cool!" Iris beamed. As the night passed, the topic of conversation turned to the inevitable.... Boys. Rosalaya gushed about her relationship with Leigh. It was easy to tell that, despite the trouble Alana helped her with, Rosa loved Leigh with all her heart. Violette and Iris talked about their romantic dreams, and both agreed that no one had their hearts at the time. Melody talked about a boy she liked but didn't name him. The topic of Sam's love for Ken was even brought up. Alana shed some light on the subject, telling the girls that Sam has loved Ken for several years, she just doesn't know the right way to declare it. "I think that's sweet!" Violette cooed. "So Alana, what about you?" Rosa asked. "What do you mean?" Alana asked. "You've been at Sweet Amoris for a while now, is there a boy you like?" Rosalaya inquired. Alana thought to the boys at school. While she thought that Castiel and Lysander were cool, it was when her thoughts turned to Nathaniel that her heart began to beat really fast. “I'm not sure if I'm ready to reveal that…” She blushed. Later that night, as the other girls slept, Rosalaya asked her a question. "It's Nathaniel, isn't it?" She whispered into Alana's ear. Alana looked at her, shocked. "How did you know?" She asked. “Sweetie, it's obvious. He's the boy that you spend the most time with. You blush when he's mentioned and you clearly enjoy doing stuff to make him smile.” Rosa explained. “Please don't tell anyone!” Alana whispered. Rosa hugged her. "Do not worry! Your secret is safe with me!" She smiled. Rosa looked away and thought for a second. “I’m not gonna lie... If it wasn’t Nathaniel, I thought you’d say it was Castiel.” She observed. “Really? Why?” Alana inquired. “Well, you have gotten close to him as well...” Rosa began. “He’s just a nice guy.” Alana interrupted. “He’s not that nice to many people. Especially people he knows are close to Nath.” Rosa stated. “We’re just friends... Even if I was interested in him, he’d never see me that way. I’d be lucky if Nathaniel were to like me back.” Alana yawned.

★

Alana had spent all of her recent free periods studying with Nathaniel. His tutorial skills were of great aid to her. She did have to keep her mind on track, as her thoughts frequently tried to wander to the closeness of his body to hers. However, even with her mind wandering, she was more than ready for the exams. English, History and Science were her strong suits. Math was the only subject that she needed help with. With each exam, she felt more confident in her grades. "I may not get the best grade with Math, but it will at least be a passing grade." She smiled as she and Sam left school. “Yeah, but in every other subject, you’ll pass like you always do.” Sam snickered.

“You know? You've been spending a lot of time with Nathaniel. Do you like him?” Sam asked when they got home. "I think so, yeah." Alana blushed as they went into the kitchen for a snack. “I figured as much. Whenever you talk to Viktor and Rini, you mention him a lot. I think Viktor is even getting a little jealous.” Sam replied as she pulled out a bag of chips. “Well, aunt Cosima was right. Viktor and I are of two different worlds. We wouldn't have worked out anyway. That's why we broke up when they moved. He knows that." Alana replied as she grabbed a bag of popcorn and popped it into the microwave. “I know it's been a couple of years since you two were together... But, I think he'll take it hard when you and Nathaniel become a couple.” Sam sighed. “I'm sure he will... And, I must admit, I'll be a little hurt when he gets a girlfriend... But, it's a natural part of our life. We were told to expect this by aunt Cosima and mom. Even aunt Verity told us to not be surprised by it.” Alana sighed. “Sadly, even with our blood being classified as blue, the aristocracy doesn't see us as members of their ranks. Our family has fought and died for the privilege that we have had for generations. However, because we go against the aristocracy's wishes, we are classified as “new money” and told that we dyed our blood blue... Viktor and Severina come from “old money” and are expected to follow the institution's desires. And, as long as Edgard and Achille have power, Viktor and Severina will be forced to do so.” Lynne explained as she walked into the kitchen. Lynne turned to Alana. "Am I going to meet this Nathaniel?" She asked. “Mom, you have met him. He’s been here several times.” Alana sighed. “Ah, but that was before you admitted that you liked him. Now, when he becomes your boyfriend, I wanna meet him again...” Lynne smiled, mischievously. “Mom, you’re not gonna scare him, are you?” Alana whined. “It’s my right as your mother!” Lynne jokingly scoffed. “Technically, as our step-dad, doesn’t Nate have that right?” Sam asked. Lynne instantly became flustered. “Y-You’re calling him your step-dad?” She blushed. “He might as well be... Now, back to the point. Mom, IF he becomes my boyfriend, I’ll be sure to introduce you to him as that... Just, please, don’t “scare” him!” Alana blurted out, annoyed.

★

Two weeks into summer vacation, Sam and Alana found themselves at the beach. Alana was wearing a blue bikini with silver stars on it. Sam was wearing a green camouflage bikini. Alana was running to a vendor when she accidentally collided with someone. "I am so sorry!" She called as she shook the sand out of her hair. As she looked up, her face instantly became red. Standing before her was the same, golden haired, golden eyed, boy that could not leave her head. This time, the image of him would remain in her mind throughout several private nights. On this day, he was shirtless and wearing white and blue tropical themed swim shorts. “It's okay. Are you okay?” Nathaniel looked worried as he reached his hand out to her. She took his hand and brushed herself off. “I am. Thank you.” She blushed. As Nathaniel looked at her longer, he began to blush. “A-Alana, i-if I had k-known that I'd b-be seeing you in a s-swimsuit I w-would have..” He began to stutter. Alana looked at him curiously. Nathaniel nervously put his hand behind his head. "Hot today, isn't it?" He added. "Nathaniel! You know today is supposed to be for sibling bonding time! Quit paying that wretch attention and come be with me!” Amber ordered. Alana rolled her eyes. "You know, if you want sibling bonding time, you can always take mine for the day!" She sarcastically suggested. Suddenly, a water balloon collided with the back of Amber's head and exploded. “Yeah, Amber, give me the chance! I'd LOVE to give you the Roster sibling treatment!” Sam called. Amber looked horrified. "Come on Nathaniel!" She barked as she walked off. Nathaniel looked annoyed. "I'll see you later Alana." He smiled as he followed his sister.

"Nathaniel! I forgot my sunscreen! I wanna go home!” Amber whined as she sat under a parasol. “Amber! Come on! We can still enjoy the day!” Nathaniel called back. Alana had walked up to the pair in an effort to spend more time with Nathaniel. "You can have some of mine." She suggested. "Really, Alana?" Nathaniel asked. “Yeah. I have to wear a lot anyway, so I always carry extra. It's SPF 50.” Alana explained. She quickly ran off, got her small spare bottle and returned to the twins. "Here." She grinned as she handed Amber the sunscreen. "Oh, but I can't put it on my back!" Amber protested. “I'll do it for you. We're not leaving.” Nathaniel replied, annoyed. “Sam, what do I do? I wanna spend time with Nathaniel, but Amber won't leave him alone.” Alana asked as they got ice cream at one of the vendors. “Seriously? The little princess can't play by herself for a bit?” Sam asked, sarcastically. “Apparently. It's easy to tell she doesn't want anyone else getting close to her brother.” Alana replied. Sam looked at her sister and put her hand on her shoulder. “You know what? I'll do you this solid. I'll take care of the princess so you can spend time with your prince.” She smirked. “Sam, I know you've been jumping at any excuse to torment Amber, but please don't do too much. I think that, if anything bad happens to her, Nathaniel will get blamed... And it seems like his father isn't too nice to him.” Alana pleaded. "Do not worry! I got this!” Sam beamed as she ran off.

Later that day, Nathaniel and Alana had been playing in the sand. Nathaniel had walked off to get the two of them drinks. Alana was sitting underneath a parasol when a dark shadow stood before her. She looked up and noticed an unfamiliar figure. "Excuse me? Can I help you?” She asked. The boy standing before her what could easily be described as “Surfer Dude”. He had blonde hair that was tied back in a ponytail, green eyes, a sun kissed Caucasian complexion, and shredded abs. There were tattoos around his bellybutton, on his left peck, on his left shoulder and down to his left elbow. He wore dark blue swim trunks, a surfboard necklace and carried his blue and white surfboard. “I'm Dakota, but, everyone calls me Dake. I noticed you and that other girl earlier and I just wanted to take you out surfing. Alana felt a wave of fear. “Uh, thanks... But, no.” She replied. "Awe, come on." Dake urgent. “I'm waiting on Nathaniel to get back. I'm not going to go with you.” Her voice wavered. “Come on. I'm sure he won't mind.” He insisted. “I don't wanna go with you! Leave me alone!” Her voice got a little louder. "You can't be serious." Dake egged on. "She said LEAVE HER ALONE." A voice growled from behind Dake. Dake moved aside to reveal a very angry Nathaniel. Nathaniel set the drinks down next to Alana then stood in between her and Dake. “I was just inviting her to go surfing!” Dake stammered. “And she told you no. She did it multiple times and you kept insisting! Stay away from her!” Nathaniel looked like he was about to punch Dake. “Alright! Fine!” Dake yelled as he ran off. "Thank you Nathaniel." Alana sheepishly muttered. Nathaniel sat down next to her. "I think it's best that you stay close to me for the rest of the day... Just in case another guy comes along." He ordered. Amber had gone home due to her nut allergy being triggered. Sam went home, smiling in triumph. "You kids have fun!" She cheered as she left Nathaniel and Alana on the beach. "I should really make sure Amber is okay." Nathaniel sighed. “Yeah, but, what do you actually want to do?” Alana asked him. “I want to go swimming.” He smiled. “Then let's go swimming.” Alana smiled. As they splashed around in the water, Alana felt something slipping off from around her neck. "My top!" She cried as she quickly covered herself. Nathaniel noticed it floating in the water and snatched at it. He looked away as he handed it to her. She tied the base string but was fumbling with the one at the back of her neck. "Here, let me help you." Nathaniel stood behind her and re-tied her top. "Thank you Nathaniel." Alana blushed. His hands caressed her skin with fragile precision and she felt sparks surge through her system. “I wish we could go further.” She thought. “Sex on the beach? That’s improper!” The voice in her head piped up as Nathaniel finished tying the knot. “Shut up!” She thought back. “Are you okay?” He asked, sweetly. “Y-Yeah... T-Thank y-you f-for that.” She sheepishly stated.

★

“Haha! I passed!” Sam cheered. "Barely." Alana sneered. "Yeah, well, not everyone can be a complete bookworm like you, sis!" Sam laughed. "How did you do?" Nathaniel asked. "I passed with good marks!" Alana beamed. "I got the best scores in the class... But, I still could have done better." Nathaniel blushed. “Nonsense! Nobody does as well as our Student Body President!” Melody mused. "Way to be a suck up Melody!" Sam remarked. Melody gave Sam a dirty look. Sam stuck her tongue out at Melody. “Stop it. We all did well.” Alana sighed.

The students had been called into the Gymnasium for an announcement. The Principal went through the motions before announcing an Orienteering Race. Each student was handed a form and notified that there would be a fifty gold fee. After the announcement was over Alana walked up to Nathaniel. "Nath, would you like to be my partner?" She asked. Nathaniel looked at her shocked. "Are you sure?" He asked. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She beamed. "I'd love to." He blushed. They went to a table, filled out their forms and pulled out the money. "Have you two picked your partners?" Boris asked. Boris was a very tan, muscular, man with blonde hair that was tied back in a short ponytail, and blue eyes. He wore a thin blue tank top that barely covered his chest, and blue and brown workout pants. He always seemed to carry a rose and was very flamboyant. Nathaniel and Alana looked at each other and nodded. "We're partners." Nathaniel replied. Boris looked at Alana, who smiled. "I think we've got a decent shot." She beamed. “Alright! Kids! Your forms are good to go and I've got the fees ready! You are good!” Boris announced.

Alana had had rumors of two new students, she thought it would be nice to introduce herself. She and her sister had recently been new students and she knew it made her feel better when kind people introduced themselves to her, so she thought she'd do the same. The other students had remarked that one of the new kids wore flashy, weird, clothing. "Excuse me?" A boy asked as she wandered the halls. This boy looked rather odd. He had bright blue hair, purple eyes, and cream skin. The boy wore a bright blue shirt with an orange atom on it, an orange jacket, pink and turquoise belts, green headphones around his neck, black pants with several shaped patches sewn to them, and orange and white high top shoes. “Yes? Can I help you?” She asked. “I'm looking for the Student Council Room. Can you tell me where it is?” The boy inquired. “You must be one of the new students I heard about. Don't worry, I'll take you right to it.” Alana smiled. “Yeah! My brother and I just moved here!” The boy beamed. “My sister and I have only been here a few months. I'm Alana.” She introduced. “I'm Alexy! It's nice to meet you!” Alexy continued to smile as they shook hands. "So where did you move from?" Alexy asked as they began walking towards the Student Council Room. “Weathering. My mom wanted a change of scenery." Alana replied. “Weathering? That place is kind of high up in the world.” Alexy asked. "My mom is a writer... Sci-Fi and romance novels." She explained. “That's cool!” He replied as they stopped in front of a door. "Here you go!" Alana smiled. “Thanks! See you later Alana!" Alexy continued to smile as he walked into the room.

Later that day, she had been tutoring Kim in English so that Kim could retake her test. Kim was a muscular, dark skinned, girl with short black hair and lime green eyes. She wore a turquoise tank top, a yellow scarf with blue stripes on the end, a yellow sock with thin vertical stripes on her right leg, a black sock with blue horizontal stripes on her left leg, black shorts with a blue line along the right pocket over a pair of blue shorts that peak above the black shorts on the right side, blue arm warmers, and a black peaked cap with green lining, a green star on the front and a white button with a red cross towards the back. When Alana had first met her, she instantly got the feeling that Kim was the “athletic punk” type. “Thanks for this, Alana. Literature really isn't my strong suit.” Kim smiled. “Hey, it's no problem! I'm happy to help!” She beamed.

She casually walked into one of her last classes, looking for a folder that she had forgotten. She noticed a boy sitting at a desk that she had never seen before. The boy had black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. He wore a purple scarf around his neck, a light brown undershirt, an egg shell colored over shirt, a navy blue vest, jeans, and multiple bracelets. He was playing a portable game console. Alana instantly recognized the sounds of the game. "Kingdom Hearts: Birth By Sleep." She said as she walked towards the desks. "Yeah, how did you know?" The boy asked. “I'm a fan of the series. Although, I'm still trying to beat Sephiroth in Kingdom Hearts Two”. She smiled. The boy paused his game. "You need to level up Sora's other forms to their max level." He grinned. As Alana found the folder she was looking for and stuck it in her bag, she looked at the boy. “Thanks for the tip. I'm Alana.” She smiled. "I'm Armin." He replied. "Its nice to meet you Armin." She turned towards the door.

Suddenly, the door burst open. “ARMIN! I'm so glad I found you!” Alexy Boomed. He turned towards Alana. “Alana! I see you've met my twin brother!” He beamed. "You guys are twins?" She asked. “Yeah! Although Armin is fashionably inept and spends all his time watching anime, reading comic books and playing video games.” Alexy laughed. “There's nothing wrong with being a geek.” She smiled. "Thanks Alana." Armin smiled. “Armin, the Principal needs a couple of forms from you. And Alana, let's go shopping!” Alexy insisted. “Alright. Later Alana.” Armin grinned as he walked past her. "I haven't been in a while, let's go." Alana beamed as she left the classroom with Alexy. “You like shopping?” Armin asked, a little disgusted. “I can’t spend all my money on anime, comics and games! I do need some “normal” clothes!” She laughed. Armin stopped dead in his tracks and slightly blushed. “What?!”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This covers Episodes 6 through 10 of High School.

Regarding the SPF mentioned in the section covering Episode 9, I chose SPF 50 because I have this story taking place in a fictional European country and 50 degrees Celsius translates to 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 3 years

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter except for like, the word orgasm

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 8/16 (all chapters)

The sports festival was over before you knew it. You left the school grounds on a high, proud of being even slightly involved in such an impressive event.

You knew that the next few days were going to be frantic, so made a point to stop off at the store to pick up some last minute groceries while you had the chance to do so. They were having a sale on seasonal produce and you ended up buying more than you meant to, struggling under the weight of your numerous bags as you arrived at your house.

You lifted your bags to reach for your keys, only to catch your ankle on something and fall face first onto your own doorstep, vegetables flying everywhere in your wake. Somehow you avoided smashing your face against the concrete and escaped with only minor grazes on your knees and palms. You rolled over onto your back with a hiss of pain, wondering what the hell you’d tripped over.

You got your answer soon enough, though you didn’t like it. Shouta was sitting on the ground beside you, pointedly looking away. You realised in horror that you had almost certainly flashed your underwear on the way down. Heck, you were flashing him then.

“Oops,” you said, quickly rearranging yourself and clapping a hand in your lap for good measure. “Were you...waiting for me?”

It was a stupid question and you knew it. Why else would he be sitting at your door?

He’d got the food containers that you’d given him in his lap and you felt more than a passing pang of joy at the knowledge that he must have eaten everything you had made for him, even if you were still more than a little miffed that he’d gone back to work without rest.

“Come on in,” you said, getting up to gather the vegetables you’d dropped everywhere. Thankfully you hadn’t bought anything particularly fragile. “I’ll make some-

He reached out to take the bags from you and you glanced from his casts to his blank expression and back again. He wanted to help, that much was clear, but there was no way you were going to push all of your groceries into his injured arms. Instead you lifted a single bright red tomato from your bag and set it down on top of the food containers he already had.

He was far from impressed by the gesture, but said little of it as he followed you into your home. You headed to the sink to wash your hands and hissed with pain when the water hit your grazes.

“What is it?”

Shouta peered over your shoulder, standing so close that you could feel his breath against the back of your neck. It was more than a little distracting, all things considered.

“You really are an idiot,” he sighed.

For a second, and only one, you agreed with him.

“Wait. Me?? I’m the idiot?! Why were you sitting at my door in the first place?”

“You should pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“And you shouldn’t sit in such a prime tripping position,” you said. “I could have broken my nose!”

You turned towards him, ready to make a comment about how he was exactly like a cat, running between your legs and trying to trip you over onto your ass, but you fell silent at the realisation that you were at kissing level.

“Oh,” you said. “Hello.”

He glanced at your lips, however briefly.

“Sorry,” he said. “I came to talk about...I came to talk about 1-A.”

“Okay,” you said, “um...where would you like to start?”

He stood there, eying you from head to toe as if you were a battle scene and he needed to devise a strategy. You might not have known it, but in many respects you were.

“I didn’t come to talk about 1-A.”

“No.”

Truth be told, you already knew. You had both dreaded and looked forward to this moment; the discussion about the kiss. You were both adults and couldn’t dance around the topic forever, no matter how much you might have wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I took advantage of you and I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Stop it with that. If I didn’t want to kiss you, I wouldn’t have.”

He was so close...so warm. He was close enough to touch and you couldn’t distract yourself from it. The students weren’t the only ones you hoped your feelings reached. You wanted him to know how much you had feared for him the day of the accident; the feelings deep within you that you didn’t want to leave behind.

You didn’t want him to leave you behind.

“I…”

“Hizashi,” he said.

It was perhaps the last thing you expected him to say and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Uh...I’m (Name).”

He laughed at that under his breath, so quietly that you wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t standing so extraordinarily close.

“Fried chicken,” he continued, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was having a stroke. “Black nail polish, green candies.”

“Shouta…”

You planted a hand on his forehead to feel his temperature, wondering if you should call an ambulance. Maybe it wasn’t only his orbital cavity that had been damaged.

“Purple socks, studded leather, zombie movies, horror games, candles that smell like desserts, cheap sunglasses, expensive shampoo, eighties rock and dubstep mashups, light beer…” he skimmed your hairline. “(HC) hair.”

“Shouta, what are you…”

He took a step back and crossed his arms as much as one could with two casts.

“Those are the things Mic likes,” he said, as politely as if you were strangers. “Bear them in mind.”

“Uh...okay,” you said, wondering if his birthday was coming up. “I will.”

Shouta nodded and you couldn’t help but wonder. If it was just Hizashi’s birthday, why did he look so sad?

“I’m rooting for you,” he said, giving you a polite bow.

You stared at your front door for a long time after he left, going over everything he had said. You couldn’t understand why he had looked so upset, however briefly.

What had any of it got to do with Hizashi? Why did it matter if you knew the kind of movies he liked?

Why would he-

Realisation hit you like an ice cold bath as you considered recent events: Hizashi’s immediate invitation for beers the day that you met; his insistence that you called him by his first name within a matter of hours of meeting. Hizashi, who seemed incapable of going a single conversation without calling you ‘cute’. Hizashi, who nudged you with his elbow the last time you had recorded Support Mic and told you with a wink that the walls were soundproof.

You moved towards your cupboards and began to pack your groceries away, too many thoughts circling your mind for you to settle on a single one.

This was, to say the least, an interesting development.

~~~~~~

Aizawa Shouta had suffered many misfortunes in his life. He had lost friends, family and students alike, had slept in the cold with nothing but a cigarette for dinner.

He had almost always accepted his misfortunes with grace; it was easier to dodge punches when you saw them coming.

Even so, he left your home slowly, thinking of Shinohara.

Hizashi and Nemuri had him wrong; since high school, they had believed he was oblivious to her advances and discarded her love notes by mistake. As a matter of fact, he had done so deliberately.

What was it you had said the night of the reset? That you had never done such a thing before and didn’t know what came next?

Shouta knew as much about relationships as you did casual flings.

He had read each one of Shinohara’s notes. He had seen the way she behaved like a deer in headlights and concluded that he didn’t understand any of it. She spoke of him in such abstract and illogical terms that he wondered if she knew him at all.

It was easier to believe she didn’t. When she spoke of kind eyes and wisdom, she meant someone else. She offered up a piece of her heart with every letter and he was doing her a favour by not taking them. That person she liked didn’t exist.

Casual lovers didn’t expect anything from him other than an orgasm, which was easy enough to provide with practise. Longer term partners, though, that was something else entirely. He didn’t know the first thing about being someone’s boyfriend, but he did know that Hizashi would make the perfect one. In the long run, you would be better off with him.

It was easier to dodge punches when you saw them coming; easier to avoid disappointments when you didn’t hope for things in the first place.

Even so, he caught himself thinking back to the day of the reset.

You chased after him then and, if he was completely honest, he wanted you to now.

~~~~

While you cooked dinner and Shouta returned home, Hizashi sat at the bar in Ego , sipping at his drink with a depressed expression that completely contrasted the upbeat music playing over the speakers.

He had gone to Ego straight from work, meaning to ask about the mystery woman. He’d gotten distracted, though, watching the video over and over instead of showing it to the staff. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Shouta held the woman’s hand in his.

He’d held Shouta’s hand before, during training exercises or to find him in crowds, but it had never had the same feel to it that he saw in the video. Shouta had always been reluctant about it, never once taking the lead and Hizashi felt oddly jealous, wondering why he had never received the same level of tenderness as the woman at Ego .

For the briefest of moments, he was tempted to delete the video and erase the mystery woman from their lives. He didn’t like what she represented, no matter how wonderful she might have been.

He downed his drink in one with a grimace, catching the attention of the bartender.

“Can I get you a refill?”

Hizashi sighed, twirling his glass and spinning the ice cubes within.

“Yeah, maybe something harder.”

“Mic, you’re going to scare away the customers at this rate. What’s the matter with you?”

Hizashi set aside his glass with a sigh.

“I’m looking for a woman,” he said.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Not like that. She was here about six months ago. Had drinks with Eraser. I was hoping you’d remember her.”

The bartender laughed as he reached for a bottle of rum.

“Listen,” he said, grabbing a glass and setting it down on the bar with a flourish. “I have a better memory than most, but even I can’t remember that far back.”

“Don’t you have CCTV or something? It’s pretty important that we find her.”

“Oh? She do something illegal?”

“No, I just want to talk to her.”

The bartender poured rum into the glass, flinching at his answer.

“I’ll be honest,” he said. “The boss man handles all of that stuff and I doubt he’d part with that kind of information without a formal subpoena. Do you have any idea how many creepy guys come to us looking for girl’s numbers?”

Hizashi reached for his newly filled drink.

“Not even for me?”

“ Especially not for you. If anything went south it would be even more of a scandal.”

Hizashi hadn’t expected to hit a dead end so early on and didn’t know how to feel about it. He wondered if he should have followed his instincts and deleted the video after all.

He wondered about it on the train ride home, as he combed his hair, as he sat down in his studio. He played the video on silent and scrolled through it as he loaded up each track.

Finally, at minutes past midnight, he leaned into his microphone.

“Now, listeners,” he said, “here’s a song for the lovers.”

There and then he played a song of unrequited love, of strangers on trains and secret words and crossed paths, a song that bled with emotion and longing. A song that you sang along to as it played through your earphones. A song that Shouta nodded his head along to on his balcony, Sushi curled up on his lap.

Hizashi closed his eyes as he listened to the song, the video from Ego loaded and his finger hovering over ‘delete’.

One tap and the mystery woman would be gone forever. One tap and this feeling of dejectedness would leave him. He wouldn’t have to think anymore about what she represented, the realisations she had forced upon him without ever introducing herself.

One tap and he wouldn’t be the Shinohara.

He locked his phone instead and set it aside, the video safe for another day.

He told himself the same thing you told yourself as you stared at your bedroom ceiling, thinking of the way Shouta had backed away.

He told himself the same thing Shouta told himself as he thought of your lips and bewildered expression.

I shouldn’t be selfish. This is the way it should be.

#aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #present mic #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #habanero

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

Text

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too.

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals.

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter.

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can.

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better.

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing.

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field.

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado.

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home.

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did.

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love.

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair.

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny.

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box.

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far.

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it.

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted.

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings.

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed.

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos.

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting.

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding.

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted.

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together.

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip.

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there.

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense.

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that.

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process.

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused.

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact.

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face.

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine.

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude.

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too.

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it.

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am.

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up.

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs.

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use.

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility?

“I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

“I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options.

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it.

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming.

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind.

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up.

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks.

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away.

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream.

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment.

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact.

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening.

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it.

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me.

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done.

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode.

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in.

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting.

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious.

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat.

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get.

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it.

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest.

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down.

“Then what the hell is going on!?”

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets.

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which.

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365.

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain.

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging.

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out.

“What was that?”

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me.

You weren’t.

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag.

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in.

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?”

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.”

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked.

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut.

“You’re really leaving?”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own.

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly.

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore.

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you.

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together.

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now.

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here.

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed.

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy.

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes.

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14.

PART 14

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Taglist!

@l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight21 @goldentournesol @rainsong01 @thelifeofadumbbitch @swimmingtrashwobblersludge @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @eldahae

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid

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nik-the-bik · 3 years

Text

“Acts of Service” Jekyll & Utterson Fluff Fic

Y’all want Henry Jekyll/Gabriel Utterson University Roommates Fluff?

Well it doesn’t matter because you’re sure as hell going to get it.

This was going to be like...500 words and then I overshot that to hell. Critiques appreciated.

*****

If there was one thing Gabriel Utterson was good at, it was exuding a high level of pure Christian kindness and service to everyone, and especially for a very flummoxed Henry Jekyll.

Like when Gabriel made coffee and made an extra cup for Henry, just the way he likes it.

Or when Gabriel had laundry to put away and noticed the pile of clothes on Henry’s side of the room, so he hung up his shirts too.

When Gabriel was rushing off to an early morning class and Henry was still sound asleep, but on his way out the door Gabriel took a moment to put the books and papers Henry had left scattered the night before in a neat pile on his desk.

Henry had never asked him to do any of these things. They were never expected. But Gabriel was just…Gabriel. Ever the perfect gentleman, Gabriel Utterson went out of his way for others simply out of a sense of duty.

The only annoying part was that Gabriel refused to let Henry repay any favors. Henry would offer to buy a meal or a round of drinks as a thank you, but Gabriel would staunchly refuse time and time again with a shake of the head and a shy, embarrassed grin, hating being fussed over. Henry tried repaying him in tiny unasked favors as well, but he never did seem to be quite as attentive to those things as Gabriel.

So whenever Henry Jekyll noticed that his discarded dinner plate had been picked up when his back had been turned, or when Gabriel bought extra of Henry’s favorite grapes at the shop, or when he came home to find his missing sock sitting neatly with its companion in his drawer, he felt his heart pick up speed and his face grow hot with—what was it? Anger? Irritation?

He wasn’t mad—not even really annoyed. He appreciated the little gestures, certainly, but he was frustrated. Why did Gabriel insist on going to the trouble to do these things for Henry? Did he think Henry couldn’t take care of himself? Was Gabriel annoyed by Henry’s less organized living habits? Henry had been extremely apologetic for his messier habits when they first started sharing their tiny room together, and Gabriel had always insisted that he wasn’t bothered by it at all.

These weren’t acts of passive aggression either. Henry was positive that Gabriel was completely incapable of it. Each time Henry noticed these favors he made a point to emphasize his thanks to his friend, and Gabriel would reply with a warm “You’re Welcome” or “Oh, it’s nothing!” that was overwhelmingly genuine—not a note of sarcasm or even cold formality about it. Instead his eyes sparkled with such kindness and he’d smile so tenderly that Henry felt all coherency abandon him and his whole body would tense in alarm.

So why? Why did Gabriel do these things? Was he truly that selfless of a human being? Years of cynicism had convinced Henry that no one was truly selfless, that any handout came with a price, but with Gabriel… he had always been giving. Always. Even years ago when they were small children chasing one another while their fathers smoked in the parlor and discussed their shared business interests, Gabriel was always the first to share a toy, first to volunteer for chores, and second to take any kind of treat offered to the boys, allowing Henry to have first pick instead.

The unwarranted kindness set Henry on edge. Not only was it completely inexplicable, but each small gesture felt like it was piling on top of the last to amount to a large debt that Henry owed Gabriel, a debt that he was never allowed to repay.

Some nights the pressure of Gabriel’s caring weighed on Henry’s mind and refused to let him rest. He thoroughly enjoyed living with Gabriel—the two young men got along exceptionally—but kindness and warmth were not things that Henry was used to, and at nights when his mind lingered on his friend’s acts of quiet, unspoken affection, Henry felt a hot, fuzzy feeling overtake him and make him utterly restless, leaving him squirming in his own bed and all too aware of the gentle breathing coming from the bed on the other side of the room.

It was agonizing. Enough was enough.

It was time for a debt to be repaid—properly—and for Henry’s conscience to leave him be.

But how?

It was a stray comment in the early hours of the morning that finally gave Henry the burst of inspiration he needed.

Never quite falling asleep the night before, he heard Gabriel wake up and prepare himself for his earliest classes—poor Gabriel had one day a week where he was up at the crack of dawn and in class all day, while Henry’s schedule for the day only had him spending an hour in a lab, two tops. Shuffling about their tiny room and collecting his books, Henry heard Gabriel softly muttering little reminders to himself.

“I really need to dust some of these shelves.”

Henry’s attention was drawn instantly. As Gabriel made his way out the door, stopping to pick up Henry’s fallen coat and put it back on the rack, Henry was already planning out his day.

He’d clean the room.

All of it.

The two kept the space as tidy as they could, but in the months since they moved in together, neither one had taken the time to pull out a mop, a bucket of soap, a broom, or anything that would really give the space a proper cleaning.

After his lab class this morning, Henry could run back and begin tidying up. It was perfect. It would make up for all the tiny little messes Henry usually left in his wake, and for all the times Gabriel would silently follow behind and straighten up on his behalf.

He’d make a shiny, good-as-new room to come home to, and perhaps a pot of Gabriel’s favorite tea as well.

Leaving his class early that day, Henry began gathering his supplies. With a slight spring in his step, he imagined Gabriel’s delighted face as he came home to a spotless bedroom, his favorite tea ready on his desk, Henry calmly sipping at his own cup, book in hand, casually accepting his friend’s thanks and never betraying that his heart danced in his chest with the praise.

It took about 12 seconds after coming back to the room for Henry to realize he didn’t really have the slightest idea where to start with his project.

He’d never really had to clean before.

Staring at the small rectangular room, he wasn’t sure if he should start with the floors, the beds, the dresser—was he supposed to wipe down the windows?

Arms still laden with feather dusters, rags, and a bucket of sudsy water, he decided he might as well start at the far corner of the room and work his way forward. He’d figure things out as he went along. How hard could it be?

Apparently harder than he thought.

He had started with taking the duster to any surface he could reach and was disappointed to discover that despite being over six feet tall, Henry still couldn’t quite reach the top of the molding that trimmed the walls of the room. He had also bumped the bucket of water, sending some of it splashing over the side and onto the rug laid next to his bed. He’d probably have to hang that to dry. He’d get to that later, though.

When trying to scrub the floor, he realized he couldn’t quite reach all the way underneath the dresser, even when on his hands and knees. He pulled it away from the wall and exposed a lovely line of dust and dirt—an outline that separated where the dresser once stood blocking the pristine wall from the grime that plagued the rest of it. Did that mean Henry would have to clean the wall too?

He finally made his way to Gabriel’s portion of the room, carving a disheveled but (mostly) disinfected path behind him, and he came to the realization that he’d probably have to move some of Gabriel’s belongings to properly clean everything.

That presented an issue. Henry was doing all of this as a favor for Gabriel, and he didn’t want to inadvertently move something important and create an inconvenience instead. He’d have to carefully study where all his things were and make sure that everything was perfectly replaced afterward. Tearing out a spare piece of paper, he started sketching the general layout of the books and supplies that sat upon Gabriel’s desk, making notes for when he’d have to put everything away. He couldn’t explain why he felt his cheeks grow hot at the thought of Gabriel finding this little sketch, but he knew he would feel foolish he ever did. Maybe he was embarrassed that he was just bad at this whole cleanliness thing.

Feeling satisfied with his little map for later, Henry began picking up the books and notes and papers that lay on the desk. As he turned to move them to the empty bed, he bumped the bucket again and this time stumbled sending half the books and all of the loose papers in his arms across the floor. Panicking because the floor was still damp, Henry began scrambling to pick everything up before--

“What’s all this?”

Gabriel.

He was home. Early. Standing at the door’s threshold, bag still slung over his shoulder, Gabriel was gaping at him, cheeks growing red.

Henry, still on all fours, became all too aware of how incriminating this all looked and felt his heart sink.

“Gabriel! I--I’m sorry, I’m…cleaning.”

“Is that what you call it, then?”

Was Gabriel accusing him of—no! No, no, this was bad! This was not how this was supposed to go!

Henry sprang up, heart pounding. Before he could begin sputtering out an explanation, he noticed that Gabriel had dropped his bag, and there was an unusual gleam in his eye.

Gabriel must be thinking Henry was trying to spy on him by rifling through his belongings, or rob him, or-

He needed to answer for himself. Immediately.

“Yes! Well…it started as cleaning. I felt it was my turn to repay the favor to you, since you’re always tidying up after me. I decided to clean the whole room, and when I went to dust off your shelves and your desk, I needed to move everything off, but then I also wanted to be positive that I put everything away exactly the way you had it before, but when doing so I dropped a couple of your notebooks and your papers went—”

His thoughts came to a halt when Gabriel started to laugh.

Please, anything but that.

But it wasn’t a mocking laugh. No, it was warm and jovial, and Henry brought himself to raise his eyes and noticed that Gabriel was blushing deeply, a shy grin on his face that kickstarted Henry’s already frantic heart and left him feeling breathless.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to snoop through your belongings, Gabriel,” Henry said sheepishly, gesturing to the small stock of cleaning supplies that lay strewn across the room.

“Of course not, I know you would never--”

“And I’m sorry I just wound up making a mess of your things instead,” he said, his own face hot.

Gabriel cleared his throat and straightened himself up a bit.

“Well, why don’t you let me help you with that, then?”

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #gabriel utterson #jekyll/utterson #henry jekyll #dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll #mr utterson #henry is me when i attempt cleaning shit #he is also an emotionally dense idiot #thinking of possibly doing more of these???#jekyll and hyde fanfic #nikki tries to be a writer

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read into Me Chapter 11: Love Story

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,771

Warnings: fire, injury-all end of season three things!

Author’s Note: Happy belated Strangers Things 3 Day! I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I didn’t have it in me to work. This is the end of the series, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a fun little ride!

Series Tag: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @jisungiesluv @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @awkwardnesshabitat @darkcrystal-wolf @hannahrisacher

Paris was a lonely city. You’d arrived alone, having not seen Steve since prom and still desperate to see him one more time. You’d selfishly kept his sweatshirt, wanting a piece of him to take with you to a different country. Your mother hadn’t picked you up from the airport, having sent a car instead. She didn’t seem much interested in speaking to you after months apart; she was much more interested in redecorating her new condo and talking about her fiancé. You met him, a French fop named Jean-Pierre at least fifteen years her junior. He was nice enough, although a bit fruity for your liking. His interests were more on the modeling jobs your mother was getting him. She had no time for you, which was fine since your lessons at the salon began immediately.

You and thirty-five other young hopefuls spend your days locked in a studio with abundant resources and endless models and objects to sketch. And you hated it. You hated the long, rambling lectures from the artists who came to the salon to preach the values of the school and the importance of French art. They alternated between speaking in French and English without explaining themselves as they switched tongues. Your French language skills were nonexistent, so the lectures were exhausting and endless. The only time they ever seemed to help was when they brought you all to the Louvre to examining the long dead French men who’d made the museum possible. There, you could at least sketch out the greats and enjoy the beauty of the art. Inside the studio, you felt as though your head was going to explode. The lectures spoke too loudly and loomed over you without warning or word, you weren’t allowed your headset or Walkman in the studio to combat them, and the smell of various paints and clays made your stomach churn. The girl who’d taken up the easel next to you, a little German named Lisle, had taken to making clay pots and sculptures and the sound of her pottery wheel mixed with her incessant humming made you want to commit manslaughter. It didn’t help that the smell of the brown clay invaded your sinuses and made you sneeze violently. You dreaded the salon. But you dreaded being at home more.

Your mother had hired you a French tutor, utterly horrified by the fact that you hadn’t been practising. You tried to tell her that, despite her assumptions, Hawkins High had stopped offering a French elective two years before you started there.

“You cannot live in Paris without speaking French! It won’t do!” she moaned. Jean-Pierre was already on the phone, speaking fast into the receiver. You didn’t see what the big deal was. Everywhere you went, people spoke enough English to communicate with you fine. It didn’t occur to you till after dinner that if you were to study in the country, you’d need the language to understand your lessons.

So you got a French teacher, a short tempered older man who insisted on being called Monsieur Bérnard. His greying whiskers moved sharply as he spoke and he often spit on you as he taught proper pronunciation and conjugation. He ranted and raved all afternoon, disgusted by your apparent lack of an ear for languages and your doodling on the edges of notebook paper instead of working. You’d go from sensory overload in the salon to being bullied by a Freud-looking asshole each day with no room for a break or a breath.

You lived for weekends. Rest was very well thought of in the city so the hell spawn tutor didn’t work and the salon locked its doors. You were allowed to wander the city at your leisure, your mother glad to have you out of the apartment. You’d spend most of your days sat at a café near the Eifel Tower, a prime spot to tourists. Every day, you’d bring your sketchpad and try to draw out the profiles of those you passed you by. You spent two weekends working on a sketch of people sunbathing on the lawn in front of the tower. But it seemed you left all your talent in Hawkins. You’d spent so long drawing familiar faces back home, now that you were away from your nest, you found yourself without the skill to capture the faces around you. It occurred to you that you knew the faces of Hawkins far too well. They were engrained in your mind, your hand working like a stamp to put them on the page. France was full of strangers. You didn’t know how to understand them like you understood Hawkins. France wasn’t home. You couldn’t work out in a world of strangers.

You couldn’t work in the salon either. It was too much. Everyone was constantly showboating and trying out-do one another. You couldn’t work with people spying over your shoulder. You felt judged and insecure about what you could do. You didn’t want to be watched as you tried to make art. It didn’t help that you had no idea what to make. The closest thing you’d gotten done is that sketch of the Eifel Tower and that wasn’t something you couldn’t buy on the streets around the monument. You’d tried all the things that you couldn’t in your bedroom-paint splatter art, pottery, carving, paint pulling, mosaics. You never finished anything. The drive to push through wasn’t there.

When the loneliness and fear became too much to bear, you held Steve’s sweatshirt and cried. It still smelt like him; Irish Springs soap and Fabregè Organics shampoo and hairspray and a bit like sweat. It was nice though. You missed him. You tried to write him letters, but you knew that they wouldn’t get home before you did. You’d made up your mind that whatever the answer was, you were going home. Whether that meant deferring a semester or missing the first week of school you would go back to Hawkins. Still, you’d written over a dozen letters, all crumpled in your waste bin.

You waited until the last minute to finish something for submission. You’d tried to sketch your mother, to find who you knew in the fancy woman in front of you. With her bleached blowout and designer clothes, thirty pounds lighter and yellow gold jewellery glinting in the midday sun. She looked like the epitome of elegance, straight out of a magazine. The woman you remembered had greying roots and love handles, her only jewellery the wedding rings your father had given her. Europe had changed her into someone who you didn’t know and who didn’t seem to want to introduce herself to you. Nothing you drew seemed to capture the middle between who she was and who she is now. You realized in her profile that you weren’t a part of her life anymore, that she didn’t want you there. You were as strange to her as she was to you. You passed each other like ghosts in the hall, almost recognizable but hauntingly foreign.

The day before your final piece for submission was due; you got a letter from Steve. It only had one sentence.

“I should have asked you to stay.”

It was all you needed to hear to be inspired. You made your final project a tribute to him, mixing memories with unfinished letters building into his face. You used plain black ink to sketch his profile on the surface of the mess, building him into your loneliness. You only had your memory to recreate his face and your own letters to fill the canvas. Still, it was the only thing you’d done the whole time you were in the country that you were actually proud of. You didn’t finish it until the sun rose and you handed it off to be judged without a second thought, bleary eyed and exhausted.

You were on a plane home by the wee hours of July 4th.

Hawkins was a depressing place. After graduation, Steve found himself listless and at the hands of his father. He was a failure, a disgrace of a son. He was unready to start into the family business. His grades were pathetic. He had to get a job. Of course, with no job experience and late to the game, no decent place wanted him. The new mall only offered him one place of employment, Scoops Ahoy. And the uniform was embarrassing. Stupid sailor shirts and matching shorts, fucking knee socks and a corny paper hat. He looked like a certified geek. And his co-worker was a freak. Robin fucking Buckley did nothing but bug him all shift. It didn’t help that he had no friends without you, even Dustin had left for some nerdy science camp after the school year ended.

He was alone and lonely.

He tried to write you a half dozen times. But nothing seemed to make sense, nothing was worth telling you. What was he supposed to tell you? That he had become an even bigger loser overnight? He felt so utterly pathetic. He just wanted things to go back to the way things were. But what did that even looked like anymore? It wasn’t a life with Nancy, she’d dumped his ass, and it wasn’t a life with you, you’d left him for a different continent. He didn’t have a clue where he was going anymore. So he did what any lonely, practically friendless teenager did-he worked his ass off. Eight hours every day in the mall with smart ass Robin Buckley, waiting for the ground to suck him up. And sure, he tried to hit on the girls his age that came around. It was a good distraction from his broken heart. He’d made up his mind that he was ready to move on and try to date again. That he needed a girlfriend. That he needed to be cool again.

And then, Dustin came back and Hawkins started acting up again. He thought it was over. Those damn dogs were gone, the thing was closed, the kid was safe and acting like a kid. Everything had gone back to as close to normal as he’d seen it in awhile. But Dustin just had to find a secret code and Buckley just had to decode it and Lucas’s bitchy little sister just had to be small enough to fit into the vents and find a secret Russian elevator. And they just had to get stuck in it.

He couldn’t keep that damn kid from seeking out trouble. And yeah, it was kind of fun in a scared shitless kind of way, but it wasn’t worth getting drugged and beaten up and nearly dying for. And it certainly wasn’t worth getting tricked into thinking that he had feelings for fucking Robin. He could murder that kid for getting it in his head that he liked that girl. Robin was cool; he wouldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a decent friend to have at the end of the world. But he didn’t need the embarrassment of trying to ask out a lesbian. At least the reason for her rejecting him wasn’t that he was unattractive or lame, just that she didn’t dig dudes. He was cool with that. And at least he got to punch out a communist. If he could tell his father that without going to prison or being murdered by a Russian goon, he’d be proud. Fuck that, he was proud. He won a fight! He beat up a Russian spy! More than one, he beat some up while drugged out; at least he thought he did. He couldn’t remember much, other than watching Back to the Future with Robin. That movie was too confusing. And then he stole a car, he saved Nancy’s life, he set up that weird tower thing for Dustin-there was too much going on to even recognize how crazy he sounded. How crazy all of this sounded.

And then, the mall was on fire.

Your flight landed on the fourth of July at about ten fifteen in the evening. It took about forty-five minutes to get from the Indianapolis International Airport back to Hawkins. You were buzzing. Seven words had given you all the hope you needed to push you back to the states. Every fibre of your being was alive with energy, with excitement. You couldn’t wait for your grandfather to park the car, you jumped out as soon as you were settled in the driveway.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and unpack?” your grandmother called after you as you booked it down the driveway.

You turned back “No, I’ll be back later!” you called. Steve’s car wasn’t in the driveway but you figured if anyone was home they’d know where he was. You bounded up the stairs, ringing the doorbell twice.

Mrs. Harrington came to the door in her bathrobe. “Oh, hello there…” she trailed off, obviously unable to remember your name.

“Y/N, hi it’s nice to see you, do you know where Steve is?” you asked, bouncing from your heels to your toes.

Mrs. Harrington narrowed her eyes “He’s at his job I assume. At the mall.” She said slowly.

“What mall?” you demanded. Mrs. Harrington’s eyes blew wide open and you realized that you were probably coming off like an insane person. “Sorry, I’ve been out of the country for about a month.”

“It’s where the Hawkins Laboratories were, off East Wood Road.” She pointed out the door towards the roads. You knew instantly that the fastest way to get there was through the woods. You ran through the backyards of your neighbours and into the woods. You didn’t like the Hawkins forests. They were dark and dim and poorly maintained. The county hadn’t been out to cut down potentially problematic trees on the few hiking paths in the woods. Burs caught your socks and twigs scratched your legs as you hopped logs to try to get there faster. They’d carved a road through the woods, you’d found it halfway to the mall, deserted and blocked off. You could see the bright orange flames from a mile away.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Steve was in there. You could cry.

Instead, you hopped the blockade, running down the road despite the calls of passing fire trucks and police. You didn’t care if they tried to arrest you, although you doubted that they could. It would be a waste of time to bother with you during an emergency.

The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles. Massive streams of water were attacking the building. Luckily, it seemed the mall was closed, judging by the few people who were milling around not in uniforms. You sprinted into the crowd, looking around frantically.

Steve had been ushered into the back of an ambulance and draped in a bright orange emergency blanket. It wasn’t that cold but he felt as though he was freezing. The EMTs had checked his vitals and disinfected the wounds on his face and knees. As for the remaining drugs in his system, he chose not to mention them. He knew that the high would wear off eventually. Robin was sat next to him, equally bandaged up and silent, save an uncontrollable shiver. Wordlessly, Steve took the blanket off his shoulders and placed it over hers. He wasn’t that cold. Moreover, he just felt numb. He’d had this happen so many times; his face beat in, an otherworldly thing trying to destroy his life and hurt his family, a major building destroyed-it all felt familiar. It made him sick to his stomach to know that it was familiar. If he had anything left in his stomach he would’ve thrown up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something running towards him. At first, he tensed. He didn’t know what it was and it could probably kill him. His heart stopped and then raced wildly. He held out an arm to protect Robin and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Steve!” you cried. He was in an ambulance. He was hurt. He was alive. You felt as if you could cry. In the span of fifteen minutes he’d gone from working to escaping a fiery building to missing in a fire to simply hurt. And hurt was just fine, you could handle hurt.

“Oh my god Steve, are you okay? Are you alright? I love you so much…”You grabbed his face, examining the bruises. You pulled him tightly to your chest, trying not to cry or freak out. You knew it wouldn’t help.

“I love you too…” he breathed into your ear, pulling you close to him. He recognized you by the smell of your hair, the feeling of your arms around him. He could cry. He didn’t believe you were real. But when you pulled away and his hand came to your face. You were real. And you were here. And he was safe. He was safe and alive. Feelings of relief rushed through his body. He wanted to cry, but the shock was too overwhelming for a tear to even drop.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarser than he’d ever felt it. “I thought you were still in Paris.”

“I came home early,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his jaw bone. “I didn’t get in.” That was the nicer version, the judges laughed at your final piece, they called it pedestrian. You should’ve been more upset, your mother was furious, but you couldn’t have cared less. You were free to go home. You could’ve thanked them for rejecting you.

Steve pulled away, looking you squarely in the eye. He wouldn’t have you give up on school to hang out with him in bum fuck Indiana. But you were telling the truth, it was written plainly all over your face. “Those bastards…” Steve murmured. You laughed, your eyes watery and throat thick. You were overwhelmed. You expected to come home and just see him in his element. You expected him to not necessarily want to see you. You didn’t expect a fire or Steve being injured or Steve to even be there at all. You pulled Steve back into your arms, you didn’t want to let go.

“I missed you so much…” you whispered. Steve’s arms came around your hips, pulling you in between his legs. He needed you here, to keep you in place for awhile.

“I missed you too…” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Did you get my letter?”

You looked up “Yeah I did…” you said “I wish I had written you, I tried so many times but I couldn’t find the words and-” Steve kissed you hard, stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t care if you didn’t write him back; this was the best thing he could’ve gotten from you. A letter wouldn’t do it justice.

You were lit up by his kiss. This is what you needed. No words could do the feelings he expressed in his kiss justice. You felt alive. You felt at home. Steve tried to pull away, but you pulled him back by his shirt, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. You couldn’t be sure anymore.

A loud clearing of one’s throat interrupted you and you pulled away to see Robin waving awkwardly. “Oh hey Buckley…” you muttered awkwardly. “How’s Samantha?”

“No clue, she never called me back.” The younger girl shrugged nonchalantly, hopping down from the ambulance deck. “I’ll catch ya later, Harrington.”

You turned your attention back to Steve, looking down at the material still in your fists. He looked ridiculous. “What the fuck are you wearing?” you asked with a laugh. Steve’s hands settled on your lower back, holding you in between his knees as if you’d run off if he didn’t.

“Oh this? This has been my whole summer.” He groaned “I’ve been captaining a boat on an ocean of flavours.” You couldn’t help but cackle, you had no idea what he was talking about but he seemed so serious.

“And by that you mean?” you lifted the fake red neckerchief attached to his shirt, running the material between your thumb and forefinger.

“Ice cream store in the mall,” he pointed to the embroidered Scoops Ahoy logo on his breast.

“You’re kidding…” you shook your head as if to shake the idea out of your mind. Steve’s fingers trailed the raggedy edge of your sweatshirt. Well, his sweatshirt, his last name and basketball jersey number were embossed on the back; he could feel the textured design on your lower back.

“I like my sweater,” he chuckled, reaching up to adjust the length of the drawstrings on the hood. You looked away, a bit embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean to keep it I just…missed you,” You replied “You can have it back.”

“Nah, it suits you,” he smirked “Besides, I want my girl in my stuff, it’s cute.”

“Your girl?” you grinned giddily, elbowing him in the ribs. “Since when am I your girl?” You liked the idea of being Steve’s girl. It had a nice ring to it.

Steve smirked, squeezing your hips in his hands. “Oh come on baby, you’ve been my girl for awhile…”

“Oh really? Well, I wouldn’t know since you’ve never asked me…”

You heard a loud yell and turned to see a set of paramedics carrying a stretcher towards you and Steve. They were sprinting and bringing a badly burnt and unconscious Billy Hargrove towards the ambulance you sat on. You quickly moved out of the way. Steve grabbed your hand, allowing you to tug him from the ambulance’s deck.

You only got a brief look at the teenager, but it made your stomach churn violently. You felt ill. You felt Steve squeeze your hand. You turned to look at him and saw how hollow his eyes were. You wrapped your arm around his middle. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, trying to stifle a yawn. You were exhausted from your flight and your run here and the trauma that had smacked you across the face.

Steve noticed anyway “Did you just get here?” he asked, lifting your chin.

“My flight landed at ten, I came to see you as soon as I could.”

“You should’ve gone home to rest, I wouldn’t have been mad at you.” You looked absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t imagine what he looked like.

“I missed you too much to not see you. And what if you had gotten hurt, if you hadn’t made it out then I would’ve never forgiven myself…”

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, shielding you from the scene, as more mangled people were brought out. The beast must’ve fallen apart once the brain was destroyed. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to leave, but he knew that the FBI would be called and he’d have to talk to them again. He wanted you to go home, but that didn’t seem like an option now. Selfishly, he liked having you there, it was comforting to have you in his arms, squeezing him under his ribs and keeping him calm.

“I’m not gonna get hurt, I’m okay…we’re okay…” You nodded roughly against his chest. You felt as if you were burning up and freezing at the same time. You saw blinks of red flashing lights and sirens as one of the ambulances sped past. You were so thankful that he wasn’t on that ambulance.

“Yeah, I know, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight ever again.” Steve lifted up your chin, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? Last time I did you nearly died and for what? A shit job in the mall?”

“Well, not just for a job, I was helping Robin and a couple kids who were with us,” That wasn’t the whole story. Steve knew he’d have to tell you eventually about everything, but for now he was more than comfortable ignoring the looming problem beneath their feet.

“What a hero…” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Something had been bothering Steve for awhile now and he determined now was the best time to tackle the subject. He turned away from you, folding his hands in his lap.

“Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?” he asked quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain that you meant it. Or if he had even heard you correctly. After Nancy, he wasn’t sure if anyone actually loved him back. He’d given so much of his heart away only to have it tossed to the floor and tread upon like it was nothing more than a cigarette butt. He wasn’t sure if he could trust that you meant it.

You let out a small sigh through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. You were a bit embarrassed. You were half hoping that he would forget about it. Your response brought all of Steve’s hopes crashing down. “Yeah, yeah I do,” you admitted, rubbing your arms, having suddenly gone cold. “I will admit, I hadn’t planned on saying that this early, feels a bit middle school to say that you love someone before they’re even your boyfriend.”

Steve turned to look at you once again, a bit surprised. Your face had gone red, adorably red, but still very red and your gaze had turned down to the asphalt at your feet. He reached out and took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Good,” he said with a smile. You turned up to look at him; brow furrowed “I thought I had like imagined it.”

“Oh…no you’re good.” You said slowly. He looked like a little puppy dog, his whole face was radiating sunshine; it was almost hard to look at. It was harder to not match his energy, to get drunk off it. Then again, no one was stopping you from just enjoying the moment. You let out a small breath, not so much heavy with sadness or regret, but simply exhaustion. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly despite the scene in front of you. If it weren’t for the smouldering building and the emergency vehicles surrounding the pair of you, it would almost be romantic. The fact that you were even trying to find romance in the scene felt a bit silly, but maybe that was what this was supposed to feel like. Finding love in a burning building was a bit dramatic, it certainly not what you’d expected for your life, but you determined that no matter what you’d keep Steve safe. You had no idea what was going on at this scene, you had no idea what happened. But no matter how scared you were, you knew that Steve must’ve been even more scared. You knew that you couldn’t protect him, the same way that he couldn’t protect you, but maybe together you could keep each other safe for awhile.

“I love you too, you know,” Steve said quietly, his gaze trailed on the smoke of grey smoke coming up off the extinguished fire. The front of the mall had crumbled and the giant neon ‘Star-Court Mall’ sign shattered on the pavement. You hadn’t seen the mall before the fire, you didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but a cavernous jagged mouth probably wasn’t the design goal. Still, you turned your attention to the side of Steve’s face. He couldn’t face you, the tips of his ears bright red underneath his flat, sweaty hair.

You swallowed hard “I know,” you say softly. Steve turned to look at you, examining your face with a nervous expression. You smiled and nodded reassuringly “I know.” Steve smiled and laced his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand tightly in his and you squeezed his back, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours the only feeling left in your body beyond the giddy buzz. You didn’t know how any of this worked, you didn’t know if you were doing this right, if there was a right way to do it. The buzz under your skin was two parts anxiety and one part excitement. But you didn’t pull away. You were glued to his side.

“You know, I think that was one of the first normal conversations we’ve ever had,” Steve mused.

You scoffed loudly rolling your eyes “That was not normal.

Steve shook his head with a small laugh “Yeah, I know…”

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veraynes-blog · 4 years

Note

If you feel like it could you do Tensimm 6 or 7 for the cuddle prompts? I love your writing

6. For warmth

7. For comfort

This is the most delayed response ever, I'm so sorry anon 😭 This was for the long-ago Cuddle Prompts I was doing. It took a while to be back in the mindset, but hopefully it's still of interest.

This is technically just cuddling, but like... slightly sexy cuddling. I hope that's okay. 😶

The Tardis is still exactly where he left it.

He hadn't been expecting that, honestly.

The Master frowns at the blue box, breath misting in front of him as he stands shivering in the remnants of his coat. The ship is still ensconced almost out of sight down the tight alleyway where he'd made his escape from the Doctor's hospitality almost three days ago now. More than enough time for him to have taken the alien city, if he'd really wanted it. The Doctor would have known that, should have come to stop him.

Only he hadn't, and the Master had spent his three days' impromptu shore leave slumming aimlessly round the lower levels, debating with himself and growing increasingly frustrated. He'd had some half-formed idea of commandeering another ship at the port, but no real destination in mind. He'd played with the thought of making a real bid for control, delivering a blow that would have shattered the frozen city like glass so he could pick through the shards at his leisure. But somehow it had seemed a lot of effort for little entertainment value, when he was the only one playing the game.

In the end he'd been lazy and petty, spending his hurt feelings on bar fights and low-level chaos in the poorer sectors. Enough to have drawn the notice of anyone paying attention.

But apparently no one had been, because not once had the Doctor come looking for him.

He seethes resentment as he glares at the Tardis, conspicuous and infuriating in how little it's moved. Would it have been worse to have slunk back here and found it gone entirely? Or is it more humiliating to realise the Doctor seems to be patiently awaiting his ignoble return? He supposes it doesn't matter. Not like he finds himself with a surplus of options.

He crunches through the last few feet of filthy snow towards the Tardis. The door opens easily enough at his touch and the Master slips inside. He finds the control room dark and silent, and hardly much warmer than the icy street outside. His breath still mists visibly in front of him and he shivers slightly in the damp, ripped clothing he's wearing. He picks his way past the central column and along the walkway, familiar with the layout even in the dark, leaving a pair of scuffed leather gloves discarded atop a console as he passes.

The Master trails along the dimly lit corridors of the Tardis. The layout has shifted somewhat in his absence, but he keeps his destination in mind and brushes a hand against the wall as he walks, until a softly pulsing strip of lights illuminate the correct turnings. It occurs to him to wonder at the Tardis's uncharacteristic cooperation, but for the moment he'll take what he can get.

He shucks his sodden wool coat as he goes, letting it crumple carelessly to the floor behind him. His suit jacket joins it after a few more meandering steps, and then he really is shuddering as a chill creeps through the thin, wet material of his shirt. He clenches his teeth, hands flexing restlessly at his sides.

He's expecting to have to hack the security lock barring the Doctor's bedroom when he gets there, and isn't quite sure what to make of it when the door slides open for him without issue. Warmth seeps from the room, and he sways toward it without conscious thought. The lights are out in here as well, and the air smells of sleep and familiarity. He's not sure he belongs.

The other Time Lord is curled on his side in the centre of the mattress, not stirring at his presence. The Master cocks his head, regarding him narrowly for a few moments.

He scans disdainfully across the messy floor, then picks his way across the room and tries to ignore the vague sense that he's intruding. Movements stiff, he sits carefully on the very edge of the bed, barely willing to rest his weight. Even so, he feels the exact moment the dip of the mattress wakes the other man. Something comes alert in the dim room, the prickle of attention sharp against his back.

"You came back."

The voice emerges low and slurred from the nest of covers behind him, faint disbelief evident in the words.

The Master glances down, plucking at a loose thread in the sheets. "You didn't leave," he counters eventually, for lack of anything better to say. He keeps himself quiet too, reluctant to disturb the sleep-thick atmosphere.

There's a lengthy pause, and then the sound of the Doctor pushing himself upright against the pillows. He clears his throat. "Yeah, I... I wanted to wait. This time."

The Master exhales briefly through his nose. He kicks his ruined shoes and socks off, then shoots an arch look back over his shoulder.

His eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness that he can make out the details of the other man. The Doctor's sitting with his knees raised in front of him, covers pushed away. He's wearing a loose cotton T-shirt and striped pyjama pants, hair in disarray from the pillow, watching him with a bemused frown. He looks rumpled and soft and safe in a way the Master thinks is one of his better deceptions.

The Doctor blinks as he catches sight of the Master's face for the first time, noting his split lip and the bruise he wears along one cheekbone.

"What happened?"

The Master begins unbuttoning his shirt, irritable when numb fingers fumble the delicate work. "Disagreement over who buys rounds," he lies blithely, peeling off the damp shirt and letting it slither to the floor. "You should see the other guy."

The weak joke holds double meaning, they're both aware: first the more typical dismissal of further conversation down this route; second the knowledge that the Master is being entirely genuine in his implication he was not the loser of the confrontation that left him slightly bloodied. He suspects the Doctor would be far more upset if he did see 'the other guy'.

Tellingly, the Doctor doesn't pursue the matter.

"Have fun?"

The Master ignores the question, unable to determine if it's as passive aggressive as it sounds. Besides, the Doctor doesn't need to know his answer would be a resounding no.

"You didn't come after me," the Master says abruptly, the near-accusation escaping against his will, and immediately has to look away and close his eyes against embarrassment for himself.

The Doctor fidgets. "I'm not forcing you to stay. I said I wouldn't."

The thing is, he hadn't been too sure on how seriously to take that particular promise. It had seemed like one of those empty principles the Doctor offers so easily. He'd wanted to prove it to both of them, fully intending to crow smug victory when the Doctor inevitably came to fetch him back, all high-handed duty.

The Master doesn't know how he feels about being wrong.

"I'm... glad you came back though," the Doctor adds cautiously.

He wants instantly to insist it doesn't mean anything more than practicality. That he'd been cold and tired and this was as good a shelter as any other he could think of. That he won't be tricked into staying put by whatever attempt at cheap reverse psychology this is. The excuses come so fast they catch in his throat.

As if he can feel the unspoken protests mounting, the Doctor lets the moment go easily enough. He shifts himself to lie down again with a stifled yawn.

"Come on. Get in."

The Master darts another glance. He thinks if the Doctor had looked even slightly calculating he would have resisted the temptation out of little more than spite. But the other man appears to be halfway back to his interrupted sleep already, dozing and unguarded, one arm flopped carelessly towards him across the sheets.

Giving in, the Master quickly unbuckles his belt, shoves the worn slacks down and off himself, and then turns onto the bed. He doesn't bother keeping his distance, sliding smoothly across the space and over the other man's prone form.

The Doctor hums pleased surprise, loose-limbed and accommodating as the Master moves him as he likes. He slots himself between the Doctor's spread legs, rocking his hips down even though neither of them are hard. That's not what he's after, for the moment. Rather, he wants to know that he's still permitted here; that he can bury himself in the warm body and ridiculous pyjamas and be welcome, all the cold, sharp edges of him. The Doctor stretches indulgently beneath him, letting his legs fall further open so the Master can lie properly between them, tilting his head back when the Master presses his face against throat and collarbone to inhale the familiar smell there.

"You're freezing," the Doctor murmurs in lazy complaint, making no effort to push him off.

The Master lets his weight rest heavy, enjoying the way it pins the other man in place. He smooths a hand down the Doctor's waist, feeling the groove of prominent ribs and pointy hipbone beneath the thin cotton. The Doctor hisses protest as he slips under the T-shirt, arching helplessly away from contact with his frigid fingers.

"You only want me for my body heat," comes the whinging accusation, and the Master is glad he can hide a smile against the other man's collar.

He says nothing to confirm or deny, instead letting his other hand find skin as well. One dips below the Doctor's back where he's arched up off the mattress, flattening against the base of his spine. The other he spreads across the plane of the Doctor's stomach, pushing his chill fingertips into the vulnerable spot. The side of his thumb strokes idly along the trail of dark hair there and he rolls his hips down again, with more interest now, although still not enough to do anything about it until he's warmer.

The Doctor shifts so they're both more comfortable, one bare ankle hooking over the back of the Master's thigh, arm draped across his shoulders. "This is awful," he mutters, already sounding half asleep again. "You're awful." He reaches down and grabs blindly for the covers, managing to tug them into place across the two of them.

"Hm," the Master agrees. He feels the Doctor slip back into sleep, utterly at ease beneath the weight of him, and wants to scorn the display of trust - but he's pulled under too fast by stolen heat and comfort, and they sink together into contented oblivion.

#doctor who #doctor/master #tensimm #thoschei #ten/simm #best enemies #tenth doctor #simm!master #the master #verayne writes

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Note

“Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” SCREAMS josh 🤤

Ooo. yes. it. does. I had a great time with this one!

* * * * *

Shopping with Jessica and Emily was always an adventure, especially since their relationship teetered between a neutral tolerance, an outright disgust, and a wish on both their parts for things to go back to the way they once were. But the one thing they always agreed on was their friendship with you, even if they didn’t always understand your love for Josh.

When it came to shopping, you craved Emily’s honest opinion, which she was always ready to give without any hesitance, but you also liked Jessica’s raw sensuality. After thirteen different options, the girls finally agreed on a lingerie set and because they agreed, you knew it was perfect.

“If that doesn’t interrupt his boneheaded Fortnite streak, I think you need to dump him,” Emily stated as you walked back to your car.

“He’s always been . . . well, he’s Josh! But he’s never been this obsessed with a fucking video game,” you vented, turning the key in the ignition.

“Mayyybe he’s bored with you?” Jessica politely offered.

“Jess!”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t take offense. I think what you bought today will go a long way to spicing things up. You look H-O-T, babe!”

You smiled and shook you head, hoping she was right. If this little number didn’t distract Josh, you were gonna be ready to throw in the towel.

* * * * *

With one final glance in the mirror, you adjusted your cleavage and admired the sexy little getup. It was a nude bra and panty set, the edging done with half-inch stripes of apple-green fabric. You paired the bra and panties with a sheer half-slip that was lined in that same apple green. If Josh loved you in a mini skirt, he was sure to love the way this half-slip sat at your waist and stopped just below the cheeks of your ass.

You gave your own ass a smack of encouragement and grinned as you walked out of the bathroom, feeling sexy.

Josh was, of course, engrossed in his videogame. He heard you, but he didn’t turn as he said, “Hey baby. Be done in a minute.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Josh. I think you need to be done now.”

“Uh huh,” he mumbled, swearing as his avatar scrambled behind a building.

That did it. You walked directly in front of his gaming chair and stood with your hands on your hips. Josh’s eyes widened and he looked up and down your body greedily before craning his head to look at his game again.

“For fuck’s sake!” you said, still not moving.

“Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you come at least three times,” he spat out in a rush as he continued to look around you.

“Go down on your fucking self!” you yelled, but before you could breeze past his chair he was on his feet, scooping you up and tossing you onto the bed.

He pinned you down, his face serious.

“Did I stutter?” Josh snapped, quoting The Breakfast Club.

“Let me go,” you said weakly struggling against his hands and the weight of his body.

“I said . . . three . . . times,” he repeated from earlier as he pressed his lips to yours.

You turned your head to the side and snarked, “After I finish this level.”

“Mad about a silly game?” Josh teased. “Tsk, tsk.”

“A silly game that required me to go to great lengths to divert your attention from it!”

“You really are mad?” Josh said, sitting up a little and loosening his hold on you.

“When was the last time we went out?”

Josh opened his mouth, then froze, his eyes working over your face.

“When was the last time we had sex?”

“Now that,” Josh began confidently, then stopped, his brows furrowing together. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” you sassed, wiggling a little underneath him.

Josh grew serious. He hated that he hurt your feelings, but it was difficult for him to say sorry, especially when he had been so far up his own ass he hadn’t realized anything was wrong.

You rolled your hips and his eyes refocused on yours. “You said something about . . . three times?”

“Y/N. I—I’m . . .”

“Show me you are.”

Josh couldn’t help the genuine grin that spread across his face as he finally released you and rolled onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head as he settled on the pillow.

“Clearly you splurged. Show daddy what you bought.”

You laughed and sat up on your knees, stretching your arms and then reaching down to adjust your half-slip.

“Ta-da,” you said with a sultry smirk.

“I gotta see this from the back.”

“All right. You can watch me shut off that goddamn game,” you said hopping off the bed and swaying your hips as you walked over to the gaming system.

You bent down, ass out and slowly turned the console off.

“Daddy like,” Josh purred. “Now turn around.”

You turned and placed your hand on your hip, raising your brow.

“Take those panties off. Nice and slow. But leave that little skirt on.”

Slowly, you wriggled your panties off, stepping out of them then giving Josh another twirl. By the time you turned around again, he had sat up and taken off his shirt. He patted his lap and you closed the distance and crawled onto him, Josh’s hands sliding up your thighs as you scooted closer. He ran his fingers up and under your half-slip, squeezing your ass cheeks before giving them a light smack.

“I have missed you,” he said, his voice low and needy.

You lowered down to kiss him, starting off slowly and then deepening the kiss as you felt his dick grow harder. Soon it was heated, tongues, teeth, and lips sliding together with a familiarity and a longing. And as you kissed, you felt Josh’s fingers reach between your folds, slowly spreading your arousal to your clit.

“Josh!” you gasped against his lips as he put pressure on your bud.

“Come on, sweet girl. Give me one,” he mumbled into your mouth as his fingers picked up their pace, slickening your clit and working his fingers in a v-shape.

“Fuck!” you cried out, grinding onto his fingers, your thighs trembling as you came.

“Next level,” Josh grinned, pulling his fingers from your pussy and plunging them into his mouth, sucking them off as he maneuvered you onto your back.

“Joshua Washington! Don’t you dare turn this into a game,” you scolded, still riding the high of your first cum.

Josh chuckled as he pushed up your skirt and spread your thighs. He started off by licking every inch of your pussy, taking your lips into his mouth and sucking, lapping at your core and plunging his tongue deep inside of you, and when you were writhing again, he moved up to your clit and began to tease it with his tongue before sucking, hard.

You groaned, low and deep, wanting to push your thighs together but Josh held you down, moaning around your clit before he sucked again, your second orgasm washing over you with an intensity that sent a flush of new arousal to your core.

Josh looked up, his eyes hooded with pleasure as he licked his lips then ran his hand over his chin.

“Boss level.”

You were still catching your breath, so your laugh came out in a choking sort of bark as you swatted at his arm.

“Stop that!”

“Gotta save the princess, peach.”

“Definitely stop that,” you scolded as Josh laughed and kissed his way up your stomach, pulling the cups of your bra to the sides so he could get his mouth on your nipples.

He was relentless in the way he worked over your body again, avoiding your pussy and focusing on all of your other erogenous zones until you were flushed and moaning for him.

He licked one last stripe up your neck and then stepped off to the side of the bed to take off his jeans and his socks. He wasn’t wearing underwear, which you knew was always a 50-50 shot with Josh.

His cock was rock hard and precum was smeared all around the head. Josh grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the mattress, taking your hands so you could sit up. He took your bra off and then reached down and gave your half-slip a firm yank, ripping it.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

He pushed you back onto the bed and lined himself up with your soaking pussy. When he slid into you, his eyes fluttered shut and a long groan clawed its way from deep in his chest.

“Fuuuck Fortnite. How could I have been so stupid?”

“How could you?” you moaned back, eyes shut with the sensation of being filled by Josh’s big dick.

He slowly rocked into you, almost teasingly for the first few thrusts, then he pulled out entirely. Your eyes shot open and you watched as he lazily ran his cock over your clit, teasing you by rubbing it to the point of oversensitivity.

“You are fucking soaked,” he said as he pushed back inside of you and hooked your ankles onto his shoulders, using his hands to pull up your hips so you could meet his thrusts.

From this position, you could feel Josh hitting your cervix and it felt so good after coming twice. His thrusts were steady and deep and you could feel a whole-body orgasm building, almost to the point of it being too much, too much, too much, but just when it felt like your abdomen was twitching of its own volition, your body let go and you cried out Josh’s name, coming hard around his cock and taking him with you.

You didn’t even feel him come during the course of your third and most intense orgasm, but when you regained your senses, Josh’s sweaty curls were resting on your chest, his breathing heavy and his body growing heavier as he started to relax on top of you.

Not wanting to be squished, you wiggled at least half-way out from under him and he held up his hand, waving three fingers in the air.

“I swear to god,” you panted. “If I didn’t love you . . .”

“But you doooo,” Josh sang, rolling over onto his back and pulling you on top of him.

Exasperated, but completely happy, you grinned down at him. “Yeah. I do.”

#josh washington #josh washington x reader #female reader #smut #very very smutty #chaotic thursday #TALL RAMI

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Text

Grilled Cheese & Cereal Deaths

Dean unlocks the door to his apartment, his forehead resting against the wood and eyes closed in a calculative fashion as he turns his key in the lock.

He’s opened this door thousands of times before, and has collected enough data to reach the conclusion that he does it better when he’s not looking at it. His fingers know exactly what to do, relying on muscle memory and the grooves of the key; but when he’s looking, it takes him a minute to figure out which key is for which, since he’s got every key he owns attached to his purple-pink, rubber ‘I want to break free’ keychain.

Having to not pay attention as he’s unlocking the door allows him to start thinking about Cas again, as if he hasn’t been doing it all four hours of his drive back from Kansas. Cas should be awake right now, it’s only ten, but then he knows this is Cas, infamous for sleeping the weirdest hours known to man. One day, he’s snoring by five pm without a trace of dinner in him, and the next, he’s nudging Dean awake at three am for pancakes.

The lock clicks, and Dean straightens.

It’s only been three days since he’s seen Cas, but he misses him. He considers surprising him, because their door has a silent lock, which Cas wouldn’t have heard unless he’s in the living room - which he never is, unless Dean barters cuddles on the couch in exchange for a Dr Sexy watching partner. Cas is more of a bedroom person. Occasionally, a balcony person. Or, weirdly, sometimes, a hallway person.

Dude just settles cross-legged on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, with his book on his thighs and elbows on his knees, and doesn’t move until Dean almost trips over him, hence finding him, and nagging at him to at least sit on something with a mattress.

Fuck, he misses him.

Dean swings open the door, deciding not to think anymore, and just get to his boyfriend and kiss him and - he steps in.

“I’m back!” He sings exaggeratedly, hands on his hips, giant grin pulling the corners of his lips up.

“Dean!” Cas yelps, his voice the kind of heavy only sleep deprivation can cause. Dean takes a moment to scan his face, the bags under his eyes and his slightly unfocused eyes.

Cas’s eyes blink wide and lips completely pursed, like the child who was caught with his hand in the candy jar. But here, the proverbial jar is a stack of books so high - they come all the way up to Cas’s hip, beginning from a two-feet-high table, and the proverbial child is a panicky IT major who knows exactly how long ago he should’ve taken a nap.

Dean sets down his bag next to the door.

“Come here.” Dean lifts his arms, beckoning with a soft voice.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Cas starts to argue, from five feet away. The idiot is in the living room, after all. How could Dean forget? He can also be found at the living room when he’s having one of his truly bad, must-do-everything-at-once episodes. “I swear, I just took out all of these books an hour ago, there’s just this thing which came up -”

“Come here.” Dean says, his mouth a straight line.

“You’re wrong if you think I haven’t slept in 24 hours, Dean.” Cas whines, his resolve lessening. “But I just had so much to do, and there’s this deadline, and there’s not even -”

“Come here.” Dean repeats.

Cas yields, giving up with a little huff, and dragging his socked feet across their living room.

He tucks his head under Dean’s chin, once he’s wrapped his arms around his middle, and Dean’s arms automatically move up to hold him close.

Most times, Dean doesn’t think it’s fair that Cas gets to alternate between being the larger in the two of them, with his wide-ass shoulders and his frigging arms; and the next instant, the adorable little snuggler who’s burying his face in Dean’s shirt.

But at the moment, Dean doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he doesn’t mind it so much, that he stops thinking about everything else and spontaneously decides he wouldn’t mind if Cas never pulled away.

He squeezes, exhaling happily.

Cas lets out a content little sigh, melting into him, and Dean stops smiling for a moment when he realizes Cas is leaning all of his weight on Dean. And it’s not the fact that Cas is six feet tall, and built completely of concentrated snark and runner’s muscles, and that he’s heavy - but that Dean suddenly remembers that Cas hasn’t slept in 24 hours.

As he conveniently just confessed to.

“You need to sleep.”

Cas makes a disgruntled sound, possibly scrunching up his nose.

“I need to shower.”

Dean sniffs the air dramatically, and shrugs. It’s nothing he can’t handle. He doesn’t really think Cas has been up to jogging lately, and staying holed up in your second floor room with two semester worth of books for a project doesn’t exactly make you sweat, it’s not too unpleasant. Sure, stale clothes have a smell, but this one’s mostly just Cas.

“You need to eat.” Dean counters, and it’s probably a strong point he makes, since Cas doesn’t have a retort to throw back at him within the first second.

“That reminds me. We’re out of coffee,” Cas mumbles, in a little voice. “Didn’t know how I could text you to buy Nescafe when you were driving home two hundred and fifty miles.”

“What about the emergency stack you keep in the bedroom?”

Cas shakes his head. “I forgot to replenish that after the Great Scare of Preponed Papers, in September.”

“You’re every inch the college boy my mama warned me to look out for.” Dean teases, wriggling out of the hug, so that he can stare at Cas.

“And yet you’ve been living with me for years.” Cas returns, turning around and walking towards the kitchen. He plops down on a dining table chair, facing Dean.

“What can I say? You make me a rebel.” Dean scoffs, following Cas’s tracks to the kitchen, after he’s taken off his jacket and deposited it on the couch.

“Ooh, I’m even worse than I thought.” Cas deadpans, crossing his arms. And that ends it. Because there’s more important things to do, right now.

Dean opens the fridge, and starts to rummage through it.

“We’re out of honey, too.” Cas tells him, his chin propped in his hands, as he stares at a busy Dean.

“I can see that.” Dean rolls his eyes, and the almost empty milk carton is the only thing which sympathizes with him. “What kind of meals did you even have since friday, Cas? Honey and coffee? Or maybe, coffee and honey?”

Cas nods. “And ramen.”

“Fucking dumbass, with a 3.9 GPA to show for it.” Dean rolls his eyes again, done with going through the fridge, and closing the door with his elbow as he holds bread and cheese in his hands. “Well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I’m back. What do you want now?”

And before Cas could answer, Dean went on in a typical five star restaurant voice. “We have grilled formaggio. And grilled queso. And the chef’s recommendation, the grilled cheese.”

“Could I have grilled syr?” Cas asks, innocent.

“Lemme guess, Russian for cheese?” Dean confirms, in a dramatic stage whisper.

Cas’s eyebrows dance. “I missed you.” He mockwhispers back.

“You know what, I’ll have to pull some strings, but I think the chef will be able to manage that.” Dean returns to his grand waiter voice. And starts to unwrap the bread and pick out plates from the drawers, while Cas surprises him by beginning to talk.

“It’s a group project.” He begins, not sounding a tenth of the pumped up and clever from before. “For Professor Naomi Novak.” He groans, his head falling on his arms folded on the table.

“Okay?” Dean urges him to go on.

“And Balthazar bailed on me.”

***

Dean listens, as Cas eats. He occasionally offers words of sympathy, or those of righteous annoyance. He stares at Cas, wolfing down the sandwiches like they’re the best thing on the planet, and looking more and more okay as he finishes what’s on his plate.

Dean had had his dinner during what was supposed to be a fuel stop, at a motel who advertised their pies on unmissable banners hannging on every surface of the gas station. He couldn’t resist the temptation.

Thinking about that reminds him that just about an hour ago, he’d been in the last quarter of his drive, tired, but excited to get home. To Cas, to his shower and of course, to his mattress. Now, he doesn’t feel exhausted at all. Or perhaps, there’s just more important things around him. All in all, he knows he isn’t going to bed himself until Cas is going with him.

“Dean.” Cas interrupts his reverie, and Dean looks up to see him pushing away his plate, completely clean.

“Yeah?”

“Everything in the world except you and this grilled cheese sucks.” Cas declares, solemnly.

Dean grins, refocusing all his attention on Cas. “Oh?”

“Definitely.” Cas nods. He licks his lips, and rests back in his chair. “I mean, I know this’ll come as a surprise, but I think I was hungry or something.” He adds, feigning innocence, and Dean snorts. “I don’t know. Must’ve been the stress of the project I’ll never be able to complete in time, that made me overlook it.”

“Cas, listen to me.” Dean begins, reassuring. “The project will be done, Novak will not freak out, and you’ll ace through her class too. Everything’s going to work out.”

“How?” Cas asks, not as much ridiculous as it is desperate.

“You see,” Dean answers, his tone smooth. Well, sarcasm’s always been their language. “I have a brother.”

“Congratulations?” Cas squints, in a confused monotone.

“Nah, he’s not a pleasure to have or anything,” Dean shrugs, a grin on his hips. “But he’s dating someone.”

“Congratulations to him?” Cas offers.

“You don’t get it, smartass. The guy my brother’s dating, is Balthazar’s flatmate.” Dean waits for Cas to catch up. “So, all I have to do is talk to a few people, and I’ll know where to go find this weird-name guy.”

“Fuck.” Cas exclaims, stunned.

“No, Balthazar.” Dean smirks, and Cas is starting to smile much wider. “So, I’m going to get this jackass do his part of the job. And I’m sure as hell going to make him call you.”

“Oh!” Cas squeaks, eyes wide again. His face lights up with a smile, and it’s one of those genuinely gummy ones which make his eyes shine. Sonuvabitch, Dean loves him so much.

“So, yeah. I’m going to go call Sam, and get Baby out.” Cas practically radiates relief at this point, and happiness, and Dean has never been prouder of himself. “But,” He adds, before he forgets. “I have a condition.”

“What?” Cas cuts him off, abruptly. “And please don’t say you want me to go sleep, because I won’t be able to sleep until this is done, I’m too restless, and -”

“Fine.” Dean folded his arms. “Then eat.”

“I just did?” Cas motioned to his empty plate.

“Those were two sandwiches, Cas.” Dean huffs. “I need you to promise me you’ll eat the entire time till I’m back.”

“I don’t want to cook right now, I have to revise -” Cas starts to whine, and on another day, this may have been the moment Dean shut him up with a kiss, because he was being too annoying about not doing things for himself, but right now? This is a different Cas - a sleep deprived, fretty Cas, who needs to be handled in a different manner.

“I’m not asking you to cook.” Dean stands up.

Cas follows. “Huh?”

“I was just in the kitchen. We have cereal.”

“No.”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean argues, indignant. This is where they always end up. Debating on cereal. Dean’s got his facts clear. “Cereal’s a snack.”

“No, Dean. You’re a snack. I’m a snack. Arguably, Dr Sexy is a snack. Cereal is not a snack.” Cas throws back.

Dean glares at Cas. “You’ll eat your goddamn cereal until I’m home, Cas, or I swear on your coffee-freaky, sleep-deprived ass -”

“Okay.” Cas gives up. He takes a step back, puts his hands in the air, and lets out a breath.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll eat it while I reread my notes.” Cas says, his eyebrows curved. There’s still a smile on his lips, though a more annoyed one.

Dean hums, unsatisfied.

“What?”

“Cereal needs your attention.” Dean postulates, tongue in cheek. “I really can’t have you choking on Honey Nut Cheerios.”

Cas levels him with a look, which would’ve been more effective if it wasn’t leveled at him through dark-circled eyes.

“That’s the opposite of an honorable death.” Dean goes on, sweet.

“Then in the obituary, let it be said that it was Cap'n Crunch.” Cas scowls, and Dean breaks into a laugh without meaning to. “And eating cereal isn’t a singleminded task, believe it or not.”

“Fine.” Dean lets it go, knowing it’s the best deal he’s going to get.

“Fine?” Cas says, like Dean had before.

“Fine. One for me, one for you.” And with that Dean throws his jacket on again, and starts to walk out, with a pleased smile. He’s going to make this work. And as he deals with Balthazar, Cas will keep eating. Two birds with one stone.

“Though,” Cas starts speaking, and Dean looks back, surprised at how soft his voice is. Cas is looking down at his feet. “This is more like, all for me, none for you.”

“Cas.” Dean shakes his head, returning to the dining table, and putting his hand on Cas’s.

“I mean,” Cas goes on, his voice shaky. “You literally came home after three days. And instead of talking about your trip, and your family, and taking a shower and getting in bed and resting after your four hour drive - you’re already completely immersed in solving my problems for me. I’m - I’m sorry.”

Dean purses his lips. He has not thought about it like this at all, and doesn’t want Cas to, either. “Cas, no -”

“No. I’m selfish and horrible, and I didn’t even stop you when you offered to cook for me and go get Balthazar to get in touch with me, or any of it - I’m just -”

“Cas.” Dean repeats, sterner. “That is not the case. I’m fine, okay? I’m absolutely fine. And you needed to eat, and you need this now, and I want to do it for you. You aren’t making me do this! And what the hell am I here for if not to be there for you, when you need it, Cas?”

“But -”

“And do you really think you telling me to not go would’ve stopped me from wanting to help you out?” Dean cocks his head, challenging Cas to agree.

Cas shakes his head.

“Exactly. In fact, you’re showing that you trust me enough to let you know when I’m tired and pushing my limits. You’re showing that our relationship has come to that kind of level, where though we mean the gratitude, concern and appreciation entirely, we aren’t always required to keep repeating it, and that’s growth, Cas, and I’m -”

Cas waits, his eyes starting to haze.

“I’m proud of us.” Dean finishes, swallowing. He feels his own throat start to clog up. Must be from watching Cas get teary, because they don’t usually end up crying every time one of them does something nice for the other.

“You’re everything I’ve ever needed.” Cas tells him, matter-of-factly, like it doesn’t pierce Dean through the heart in the best way to hear it.

“You’re pretty perfect, too.” Dean says, trying to avoid getting as sappy as Cas has already gotten. Cas gets to blame the lack of sleep later, what does Dean do then? “And please, please don’t feel guilty about me trying to be a good boyfriend, next time?”

“I’ll try?”

“We’ve come a long way.” Dean teases. “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to stop feeling guilty about it too, whenever you help me out with, I dunno, professors, college papers, buying durable things online, choosing gifts for friends, ice cream flavours I don’t like -”

“That’s enough.” Cas grins. “And, thank you.”

Dean slid his arm down from Cas’s forearm, to rest on his hip. His other hand snaked around Cas’s waist.

“Thank you for everything.” Cas says, like he’s tried to soak the meaning out of all the words into his voice, and it works.

“Yeah, yeah.” They just had a chick-flick moment, and Dean isn’t prepared for another one, so soon. So he does what he does best, and deflects, rolling his eyes dramatically. “People don’t call me the awesomest-roomate-ever-slash-ideal-bestfriend-slash-your-knight-in-shining-armor for nothing.”

“Nobody calls you that.” Cas snickers, putting his arms loosely around Dean’s neck. He’s doing that thing again, like the flipping of a switch, and now it’s Dean who’s probably going to end up with his face in Cas’s neck. Kissing him, though, this time.

“Hey!” He pouts, pulling Cas in closer from the waist. “I call myself that.”

“Yeah, I have no idea why you do that.”

Remember how before it wasn’t the moment to shut him up with a kiss? Dean repeals that statement now. It’s no longer valid, because Cas is being a little shit again. Plus, he’s being a little shit who doesn’t kiss Dean yet, just teases around it, and that’s not fair, right after they’ve had such a romantic moment, is it?

So Dean takes matters into his own hands.

“Shuddup, you overworked little asshole.” And leans in to capture Cas’s lips with his, and straightens with Cas following him, planting breathy kisses on every inch of Dean’s lips, while Dean tries to return the equivalent of the favor by running his hands over Cas, under his shirt.

Cas tastes like grilled, uh, keso - ignore them, that’s a game they’ve been playing for years - and love, though knowing Cas, that’s probably just honey - and in that moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

In that moment, Dean thinks to himself, kissing Cas with every fibre of his being; everything is perfect.

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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Professor Sugar - 7/7

Pairing: Student!Reader x Professor!Bucky Description: Like tons of other students you struggle with finances, but you can’t get any aid since your parents are filthy rich. The system doesn’t care that they broke off contact after you came out as bisexual. There is, however, someone else that cares. The prof of your class on PTSD and trauma. Professor Barnes. Warnings: 18+, f/m smut, secret relationship, not beta read.

Professor Sugar Masterlist // Masterlist

New beginnings

You took the final in his class with a jumper of his hugging your body for support. The thoughts going into it were neutral. You had studied a lot, but you also didn‘t want to get your hopes up too high. The week before finals and the week he graded them were almost without contact. You understood that. Both of you didn‘t want to feel like you were cheating the system. Only sleeping in his shirts really helped to not go crazy during that time.

With weak knees you went to his apartment the day grades were announced on the school‘s online platform. They went up right when you were at his front door and he would either have to calm you down or celebrate with you. Mobile data really was absolute shit in this city. Why did you not wait until the grades went online with going outside. Oh, yeah, celebration or makeup sex. The damn loading bar on top of your browser was killing you as you got out at your station. Once you were in the proximity of his WiFi it loaded fully. Your eyes went wide and you wanted to collapse and yell at the same time. A-. You ran up the stairs and got the door opened in an instant before falling into his arms. „I. Am. So. Proud. Of. You.“ He said kissing you after every word. A happy squeal left you as you grabbed his face to kiss him thoroughly. While he closed the door behind you he also grabbed you closer. There was not even a millimeter of space between the two of you. He couldn‘t keep his hands off you. Your shirt flew somewhere into the direction of his couch, his somewhere onto the kitchen floor. Your bra was removed in one go before his thumbs went under your panties and janked both your leggings and panties down to your thighs. He looked into your eyes for a second, panting heavily, „Nope, won‘t make it to the bed.“ You were picked up and pushed onto the kitchen counter, the rest of your clothes taken off before you heard his. „Hmm, full circle.“ You hummed as he came up above you. „I had to keep this from you for a week.“ He growled as his kisses went down your neck. „Oh, so your primal touch comes from that and not from you missing my-“ You were silenced with a harsh, passionate kiss and a deep push making your back arch up. „Missed you so much, so proud of you.“ His mouth claimed yours again as he started thrusting into you. „Knew you‘d wing it.“ He grumbled before moaning. There were little bites into your neck and shoulder that bathed you in a new nuance of bliss. „Finally all mine.“ He growled. He was celebrating that you weren‘t his student anymore. No more subtle guilt. „Ho-ly shit.“ You panted before moaning out again. „Uh-hu. That‘s my girl.“ He panted before thrusting harder, making you scream out. „Oh fuck.“ You squirmed in his tight grasp on you. „C‘mon. Show me you‘re mine.“ He growled down at you. He needed the satisfaction of claiming you as his now. This wasn‘t just some student and professor having the hots for each other and one helping the other financially anymore. This was passion and love. His hips stuttered as your head fell back with a loud moan and a deep scratch of his back. His warmth was following shortly, before he settled there for a moment. „Looks like we should clean the counter.“ You giggled and went through his hair as he came up a bit to look at you. „Mine. Mine. Mine.“ He kissed the corners of your lips and your nose with that. „Yours.“ You whispered while going over his beard. He got off the kitchen counter shortly after, making you see the mess you made with him. „Hm, not bad.“ You shrugged. „Want me to do better? ’Cause I‘m not finished with you, darling.“ He smirked a little evil before swooping you up and bringing you to his bed. There was another round of passionate and intense sex before you changed to sweet lovemaking. You opened your eyes two hours later. You both had fallen asleep from all the physical activities and you really needed the nap after all those weeks of studying. You grabbed a pair of his briefs, his giant hoodie from the armchair in his bedroom and your socks from the kitchen floor. The other clothes laying around the apartment were put into a neat pile and placed on top of his washing machine. You cleaned up the countertop and proceeded to stalk his fridge. There was a little box of donuts with a „For you“ in his handwriting on it. He really was a cute dork through and through when he wasn‘t in professor mode or putting you through the mattress. You grabbed the box and sat back down on the countertop, ignoring the bar stools as per usual. A hum behind you got you out of your thoughts. He was leaning against the frame of the bedroom door and looked at you with a content smile. „You look the best in my clothes.“ He said with his soft and grumbly sleep voice. „You look good...naked.“ You eyed him, still chewing on a chocolate donut with chocolate filling. „I‘ll put on something. Can‘t have you attached to me all day.“ He chuckled turning around. „Yes, you can. Especially with that ass.“ You commented, mouth still full of food. „You‘ll get to see it as many times as you want. Just need to be wearing something to give you something else.“ You heard him from his closet. „If it isn‘t an orgasm I‘m not interested.“ You yelled over and heard him laugh. In briefs and a hoodie himself he came out of the bedroom with a box in his arms. „Where did that come from?“ You raised a brow, letting the last bit of the donut vanish into your mouth. „I think you were too busy moaning your heart out to see this in my closet.“ He sent you sly smile before setting it down on the coffee table and waiting for you to come over to the couch. „Well, let‘s see if this compares to your hard work.“ You smirked and sat down next to him and heard a deep inhale and exhale. „So...I know we have been talking about this whole thing of me buying you stuff and that you didn‘t want to feel like you were just sleeping with me to get things from me. So I saved up all the things I bought you in between until the end of the semester. Which is right now.“ He explained all innocent and cute. „So I just put my moans into a savings account...is what you‘re telling me?“ You grinned before laughing out loud with him. „I mean...kinda. Hey, look, I love buying you things. Not because you have sex with me, but because I genuinely like spending time with you and because I want to see you grow as a human being.“ He explained a little more serious. „Sugar Daddy with feelings.“ You whispered with a smile. „I‘d be pretty upset if you would‘ve managed to fake all of this.“ He chuckled. „I‘m not. If I could do that, I already would‘ve had my try at this whole sex for money kinda thing. I mean, I‘m a desperate college student.“ You laughed, „But I guess not anymore, ’cause you already helped me so much with little things.“ You thought about that little study account idea he had in the beginning of the semester. By now it had grown to a few thousand people and you were starting to get things offered as well as people asking you for products, telling you how to make them, making new friends in the process. You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. „Open it.“ His demeanor was soft. Softer than usual. You grabbed the box closer and undid the bow around it. There must be tons of things in there unless he bought something incredibly big. You flipped open the lid and stopped breathing for a second, „Wow.“ „There is an order to it too,“ he announced proudly and got out the first three things. „Toys,“ you commented dryly and looked at him, „Why did you wait with those? I just spent two weeks without your d-...whatever, let me see them.“ „Hmm.“ You read through each description on the box. One of them was something one of your friends kept talking about, so that was a good sign. The other two would need a thorough testing. „Well, we won‘t get sleep tonight...or, well, I will, after these prove to be good.“ You grinned at him and got a kiss behind your ear with a deep chuckle. He handed you the next packaging, „The rosegold headphones I‘ve been talking about!“ You could see in his eyes how much he bathed in the feeling of making your face light up like this. You unpacked the headphones and ran through the entire apartment to get it to charge somewhere. „So, there‘s been that thing you kept talking about whenever we were driving over here from campus…“ He held up a H&M bag and set it down between you both. „You..bought me the teddy bear material jacket.“ You gave him full puppy eyes for that. Your heart just started exploding at how much he listened to the little things on the side. „You will look gorgeous in it.“ He smiled and gave you a kiss. „Will you take pictures of me in it?“ You asked all giddy about it and got a big nod back. Then he got out four big books and set them down on your lap. „All the books from the author of the Pentagon book?“ You jumped and wiggled on the couch cushion. „With audio book codes,“ he announced super proud of himself. „My god. I‘m not sure if you can top that.“ You said hugging the books. He made a gift card appear between two of his fingers. The little logo on it spelling IKEA. „$700 IKEA gift card...bought it after we managed to get that noise complaint. You can buy a bed or a closet with it. Or a stupid amount of decorations.“ He started chuckling at your frozen body with the shocked face. „SEVEN-HUNDRED-DOLLARS. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?“ You threw yourself backwards against the cushions. „Yes, I am.“ He chuckled and dragged you back up. „You can also spend it helping others...if that‘s what you wanna do,“ he said still holding onto your hands gently. „But that‘s it, right?“ You looked at him frowning a little. „Well…“ He scratched his back and chuckled at your head falling into your hands. „Only two more things.“ He finally let you know. The next thing was brought out, jewelry box, flat, a bit bigger. He opened it to reveal a necklace with a little plate. „Wait…“ You tried to process and looked up. „Had part of my old tags redone for this necklace. I want you to know how much you mean to me. I wouldn‘t just give this to anyone. That thing is what makes me feel pain and safety,“ He picked it up, „And you don‘t have to wear it, but it would mean the world to me if you did.“ You sat there with your mouth so wide open that your jaw started hurting, „I‘m- Wow- This is- Yes, of course I‘ll wear it.“ You nodded heavily as his demeanor changed to a more relaxed one and he carefully put the necklace around your neck. „And the last gift kinda comes with that one.“ He mumbled and got out the last gift, also a small box, a little less jewelry-box-looking. He handed it to you and you carefully opened it. There was a key in it, a key with a „B“ stamped into it at the top. „This is also your home now, if you want it to.“ He said almost shy. For some reason this didn‘t feel fast moving. Yes, this thing had only been going on for around 3 months, but it just felt right the entire time. You had the right chemistry, you talked a lot, you just got each others‘ brains and your morals matched. „This place isn‘t my home, Bucky. You are,“ you whispered. It was true, since you both hit it off you were worrying less about the future and your place in the world.

He grabbed your hands again and cleared his throat before looking at you. „I just knew you were different the second you came up to that desk and asked me for suggestions like the biggest, most determined, nerd. You seemed so interesting and you just sounded like an unpolished crystal the more we talked. So I started looking forward to talking to you in my office twice a week...and I guess it kinda clicked along the way. And it kinda clicked again recently, when I realized you wouldn‘t be a student anymore that I would have to hide to protect. My god, I‘m so completely and utterly in love with you. So much love shouldn‘t even be allowed. I‘ve never been so happy and so far away from all my bad thoughts. Thank you for being you, darling. I love you.“ He opened up his heart to you. Your face lit up, „I feel the same. So much lighter, less misplaced, like I have more purpose. I feel the way you make me grow, okay? I love the little soft and nerdy bits you show of yourself. Or the lovey dovey things like right now. I love all of it. I love YOU!“ He grabbed your face and gave you one of the softest kisses you shared until now. „Let‘s take this as a new beginning and actually start living now. No dumb second thoughts because of the educational system.“ He mumbled against your lips. „Yes, a new beginning.“ You smiled staring into his storm blue eyes. Maybe you‘d manage to graduate how you wanted to, get a good job, or maybe make money from that study account and those products, buy a house with him and have your little happy ever after. You looked forward to that. You finally looked forward to the future.

M a s t e r l i s t

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tisfan · 4 years

Note

Hey, are you still doing those prompts? If yes, would you write some IronFalcon - or even some WinterIronFalcon? (which huii ~ *fans myself*) With either 21. "Are you being sarcastic?" "Me? Sarcastic? Never." Or 82. "What a load of bullshit." Please and thank you! :D (If you don't do them anymore; whoops my bad :P)

Title: Welcome to the Club Collaborator(s) Tisfan Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235783 Square Filled Y4: Collateral Damage StarkBucks Bingo: B1: walking disaster Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Sam Bucky/Sam/Tony Rating general Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings some homophobic language, homophobic parents, Howard Stark’s A+ parenting, pre-slash, possible threesome much much later Summary Bucky’s getting some use out of his terrible Christmas Present. Unfortunately, Tony gets in the way. Word Count 1580

For @buckybarnesbingo @starkbucksbingo and @justsomeoneunordinary

Tony took the empty cardboard boxes, neatly broken down as requested by the big sign in front of the dumpers, down the stairs. Moving in the day after Christmas had been rough, and he was glad he didn’t have a lot of stuff to take with him. (Howard had practically growled the whole time he was packing, making sure he didn’t take anything valuable with him to sell on the other side.)

The smallest rental van he could afford and a few trips, and he was now the proud renter of a shitty apartment with almost no furniture, some crappy dishes, his clothes, and Dum-E taking up space.

On the plus side, he’d discovered that his mom had slipped a couple thousand dollars into one of the moving boxes before he left, so he had a little less precarious problems than he had before he’d unpacked it.

Tony about jumped out of his skin when the dumpster next to him exploded. Debris rained down on him, sharp and stinging.

He hit the ground, scraping the denim out at the knee, and erasing some of the skin underneath. “Son of a bitch,” he yelled, covering his head.

The moment of sheer panic subsided and he realized what he’d thought was a bomb or gunfire was, in fact, the shattered remains of a plate.

He stared around, until finally he looked up to discover two men standing on a balcony overlooking the trashcan. One of them had his hand over his mouth and looked aghast. The other was laughing like a loon, pointing at the first one.

“Shit, man, you okay?”

Tony climbed to his feet, hissing as his knee stung. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sam’s chuckin’ china,” the other man said, still giggling. “Sorry, you’re just collateral damage.”

Tony looked down at his ruined jeans. “Yeah, great,” he said. “Fantastic. Terrific.” He limped a few steps back toward his apartment, the cut dripping blood down his calf and into his sock. Shit. He didn’t even think he owned a first aid kit.

“Seriously, man, you okay?” Sam was practically leaning off the balcony, and while it wasn’t that high up, falling three stories onto a cement sidewalk wasn’t going to be good for anyone.

“Scraped my knee,” Tony reported.

“You missed, you asshole, you missed,” the other guy said.

“Hang on a minute,” Sam yelled, then smacked the other guy who was still laughing. “Shut up, you walking disaster.”

Both of them vanished into their apartment. Tony waited for a moment, then decided he didn’t really need someone taking pictures and for it to end up in one of those cheap supermarket magazines. It wouldn’t take long for Howard to figure out that Tony hadn’t even made it one day before something stupid happened.

He got all the way to the stairs before his leg decided enough of this shit. Fuck. Well, maybe he could just rest a bit, and--

“Wait, no, don’t sit down, we’re comin’,” the laughing guy said.

Don’t sit down, what was he, crazy. “Don’t sit down,” Tony grumbled, “what are you, crazy?”

“Don’t you mind him,” Sam said. “Look, if it’s okay, we goan carry you upstairs and see to that knee of yours. You can trust me, I’m an EMT.”

“Don’t look at me,” the other guy said, “I just drive the ambulance.” The other guy was hard not to look at, honestly. Grey-blue eyes and a jaw you could rest a shot glass on. Man, Tony would like to do shots off that jaw, honestly. He decided that not getting punched in the face was the better part of valor, however, and didn’t say so.

“You guys--”

“Work for the local hospital, yeah. I’m Sam Wilson, this is my partner, Bucky Barnes.” Sam offered a hand to shake.

“And you’re going to carry me upstairs,” Tony continued. “Are you sure you didn’t hit me in the head?”

“Yep,” Bucky said. He and Sam did something, and suddenly their hands were aligned in such a way, with one of them gripping the other’s forearms, that made a little basket of their arms. Something to sit on. Huh. Tony was impressed. Sure, why not.

“If you all drop me down the stairs, I will sue,” Tony said.

“I ain’t drop nobody yet,” Bucky said. “That’s Steve.” And at Tony’s blank look, he added, “another guy on our crew. But me and Sam are the same height, so we can do this.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Gingerly, Tony sat down on the little seat-frame they made.

“One, two--” Sam said, and suddenly Tony was being carried like he was the damn Prom King or something, and they went up the stairs with alacrity. Two flights and Tony might have been breathing hard, but these guys weren’t even breaking a sweat.

“Uh, don’t you even want to know what floor I’m on?”

“Nope, you’re coming to our place,” Sam said. “My kit’s there.”

“Am I being kidnapped for my kidney, this sounds like it might be--”

“Oh shut up,” Sam said, “an’ open the door. It’s unlocked.”

“All right, here, on the sofa, and--”

“Drop your britches,” Sam said.

“This is sounding more and more like a kidnapping at every turn,” Tony said, but he did what Sam said, because there was, in fact, an EMT kit right there on the coffee table. And also, treating a scraped knee was going to take either getting the pants off, or cutting them open. And Tony didn’t have that many pairs of pants, really. He could get one of those iron on patches, and whine at Pepper, maybe, until she fixed them. Although she would probably just look up some videos on YouTube for him and tell him to stop assuming she knew how to cook or sew just because she was a woman. Maybe he wouldn’t ask her.

See, Pepper, I can be taught.

Sitting in his boxers on someone else’s sofa that he didn’t even know was super weird.

“This is super weird, guys,” Tony said.

“No, no, the guy we had to triage about fifty feet down a drainpipe, that was weird.”

“I dunno, I liked the lady who got stuck to the inflow pipe of her swimming pool. That was fun.”

The two of them traded stories back and forth, Tony listening with rapt attention, as Sam cleaned out Tony’s knee.

“Here, you got some gravel in it,” Sam said. He pulled out a pair of extra long tweezers and a kidney shaped metal dish, plucking the rocks and debris from Tony’s wound with an expert hand. The gravel made little plink noises as it hit the dish.

“Little bit of bacitracin and some topical numbing agent--”

“Like the stuff in solarcaine,” Bucky added helpfully.

“--and a bit of spray on skin, to seal it up. Wearing a bandaid on your knee is all but pointless,” Sam said.

“Huh.” Tony looked down, then put his pants back on. It still hurt, but it wasn’t bleeding. So, you know, that was good. “So, uh, why were you throwing dishes off the balcony?”

“So, Bucky and me, we’re partners, right?” Sam said. “And--”

“My father doesn’t approve, which you know, whatever, screw him anyway,” Bucky said. “Although I can’t figure out if the problem is, I am gay, or that Sam is black.”

“Usually with that type, it’s both,” Tony said.

“But he’s been trying to-- I don’t know, get fuckin’ brownie points with me by pretending everything’s still cool,” Bucky said. “It’s stupid, but I reckon he don’t want to end up being old and my bein’ the person who gets to pick his nursin’ home or something. Or he doesn’t want people to ask the wrong sorts of questions.”

“Bucky’s a hero,” Sam said. “It was in the papers and everything. So people do ask about his son.”

“So, he sent me this fuckin’ Christmas present, right?”

“Dishes?”

“Yeah, like, not even ones you can eat off, but those bullshit things you put on the wall,” Bucky said.

“Bradford Exchange,” Tony asked, because Rhodey had gotten big into those for a while, buying plates with Star Trek ships on them, and the like. He had a whole collection of them.

“An’ like, not even nice ones of those. Crappy ones. With bible verses on them. That you get from like, the Dollar Store.”

“Which would still be okay, spirit of Christmas, maybe,” Sam said. “Except he regifted them. Someone at his office gave them to him, and he left the receipt in the box. Probably not on purpose--”

“With George, it’s not like you can tell whether he’s bein’ a jackass or not,” Bucky complained. “What a load of bullshit.”

Tony recognized that tone of voice, too. That was the tone of a man who still cared, and was mad at himself that he did. Wanting Dad’s approval and hating himself that he wanted it. And still not getting it.

“So, this happy asshole here,” Sam said, “was trying to see if he could hit the dumpster from the balcony. Which is how you ended up involved.”

“Hey, I got two of them in, which ain’t half bad. You’re the one who missed by a mile.”

“My dad kicked me out three days ago, because he caught me in my room with a boy,” Tony said. “So-- can I join your club?”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other, then grinned. “We’ve even got jackets.”

#buckybarnesbingo #starkbucksbingo #prompts #winterironfalcon #EMT AU #justsomeoneunordinary

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