#i should stop having ideas at ass crack o'clock | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyunjilicious · 3 years

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3:11am [captain syverson]

Summary: you’re just an army medic so in order to have your voice heard you need to go straight to the captain with your ideas, right? And what better way to do it, if not at 3:11am in his room? (SMUT) 4.3k

Warnings: daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, Sy is a little bit of ass, dirty talk, manhandling, a tad bit of humiliation/degradation.. :) I didn’t go too far.

Feedback makes my day! Maybe tell me what you thought? Please? :)

Danger loomed at every corner. And you couldn't have been oblivious to it. Every one was either panicked or enraged, both emotions driven by the ongoing terror forced upon your group as you have been caught in the crossfire. The conflict you found yourselves stuck in was generations old, and the fact that you had hidden eyes, watching your moves from every shadow, was as unsettling as it could be.

You crossed the camp on high alert, even if those were supposed to be safe grounds. Laughter was audible from the tents nearby, yet the fear never left your bones. Palms cold but still damp with nervous sweat, you counted the steps you had to take until you reached your destination. Ever since you left your designated bunk, you've been picturing the stairs that led down to Captain Syverson room, and now they were mere meters in front of you, but you still felt like you couldn't breathe.

Even when you reached the door, you still couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. And the fact that it was unlocked, made you all the more nervous.

You didn't want to knock. The lights were all off, and you were afraid the sound would draw unnecessary attention. So, going against your gut, you slowly pushed the door open, cautiously stepping inside.

Dead silence.

Only a pair of red glowing numbers were visible in the thick darkness, showing you just how late and unacceptable it was for you to be there. 3:11 am. Not only should you have been asleep for hours, but you were also pretty sure that if you were to be awake, the bunk was the place where you should be counting the sheep until you dozed off.

From memory, you turned to the left, picturing inside your mind where the door that led to the hallway was supposed to be. You probably managed to get about two steps in before, from the suffocating darkness to your left, a loud clattering noise was heard, before a pair of strong arms restrained you.

Only a gasp managed to escape your lips before your mouth was forced shut by a hand, aggressively making it impossible for you to make any sound. Realising kicking and squirming in this person's hold would be of absolutely no use, you raised your left leg in the air, gathering momentum for a strategic hit. But the blow was never delivered.

"Shh!!!"

Despite threatening and capable of making anybody's blood run cold, that southern accent was impossible to mistake.

"Don't fucking move" he said again.

With your brain soaked in adrenaline, obeying his command sounded near impossible. You fidgeted against his rock hard chest, and all it did for you was get him to tighten his hold.

"I don't know if your eyes got accustomed to the dark yet" captain Syverson said through gritted teeth, "But at about 2 o'clock, MacGregor is sleeping. If you wake him up, we're both dead"

You swallowed the information with difficulty, but it relaxed you to some extent. However, despite calming down and not showing any signs of wanting to put up a fight anymore, Sy didn't let you go.

Instead, with high precision, he dragged you through the darkness, and across the room, right where you were initially planning to go. Clutching the hand that was still roughly pressing down against your lips, you stumbled obediently in every direction he dragged you to. When you reached a plain black door, he opened it with maximal caution, and pushed you inside, before turning around to close it in the same silent manner.

You stumbled a few steps forward before regaining your balance as your knees have probably never been weaker. Struggling to catch your breath, you saw Sy turn and face you, the coldest of death stares plastered on his blue eyes.

"The fuck you doin' here, hm?" he growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I-" you said, squinting in the neon light of the tiny room, "I have an idea for the crew, it's-"

"Don't fucking care what idea you got, darlin'" he shook his head, taking another step in your direction, "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Late" you sighed, stating the obvious.

"Damn right it's late" he nodded, "What I wanna know now is why you were stupid enough to sneak all the way over here, when you know-"

"No one saw me, Sy" you exclaimed.

A grin tilted the corner of his lips upwards, "I fucking saw you"

"Yeah but-" you stopped to frown as confusion hit you, "How did you see me?"

"Listen here, little girl" he taunted, each word more threatening as he started to close the distance that was keeping you apart, "You're a doctor, not a soldier, fixing our shit is none of your business. Two, you don't report to me-" he said, nodding his head to the side, "And three, I'm sure no idea was too urgent that you couldn't wait until the morning"

Calling you out like that was completely unnecessary. You had been lying to yourself, claiming the reason for your late night visit was purely selfless, however when you heard the words come out of his mouth, you realised just how strongly you had been bulshitting yourself.

"Fine-" you huffed with annoyance, getting ready to walk past him, "You want me to leave? I'll leave"

"Nuh-uh" he shook his head, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't move any other muscle of his body and continued talking without turning to look at you, "You're a smart woman, tell me why you're really here"

"Because I wanna help!" you rolled your eyes - a lie you almost believed yourself.

"Try again, doll" he commanded, tightening his grip. The fact that you felt a bruise already forming riled you up, but it wasn't enough to get you to cooperate in the way he wanted you to.

Once you realised what he was waiting to hear, you shook your head in disbelief, "You got no class!"

After spitting the anger filled words in his direction, you tried to free your arm, and walk away, but he wasn't having it.

"Well-" Sy took a deep breath, harshly spinning you around and slamming you face first against his desk, "If you had any, you wouldn't be here now, would you?"

Knees weak under his heavy presence, you gathered all your strength into your arms, planting your palms against the metal surface of the desk in order to push yourself up.

All it took him to cancel your intentions was an effortless shove against your upper back. He got you back down in under a second with a loud thud, but this time he bent down too, towering above you.

"Now that you saw your antics don't work with me-" he growled directly into your ear, his thick beard tickling the skin of your neck. Sy lodged his hand into your hair, curling his fingers around your roots and forcing your head back, "Mind telling me why you're really here? We can do this until the morning, I ain't tired"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you huffed through gritted teeth.

"What? Seeing you squirming under me with absolutely no say in what's about to happen to that sweet little pussy of yours? Yes, very much so"

"Fuck you"

"Isn't that why you came here?" Sy taunted.

He grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Try again"

This time, he didn't pull your hair anymore, and the sting you expected to reach your scalp never came. However, he bucked his hips into yours, pressing your body even harder against the desk. With every time and every way his body brushed against yours, the pain between your legs grew stronger and stronger. But still, you didn't want to word your need, instead just settled for milking every last drop of this unexpected turn of events. About 15 minutes before, when you had just left your room, you weren't sure you would even get to talk to him, let alone end up in this situation. Under him. His cock shamelessly pressing up against your ass, as every word that came out of his mouth only managed to make you crave him more.

"Are gonna tell me, hm?" he moaned into your ear, the weight of his body on top of yours becoming difficult to bear. "Or am I gonna have to force the words out of you?"

The way he talked, honey sweet yet goosebumps worthy, his tone managed to crack your self control. Against your better judgement, you breathed out slowly, the pleasure in the back of your throat materialising into the softest of whimpers.

"Oh" Sy grinned, his right hand groping its way down your body, "Can't hide it anymore, can you?"

If until now you did a fairly bad job at hiding your true emotions, when he grabbed a handful of your ass, his fingers threatening to leave purple bruises, you dropped the facade all together.

"Fuck" you moaned, forehead pressed against the desk as you arched your body back, harder against his palm.

"That's my girl" he laughed.

Much to your dismay, after his deep amused tone reached your ears, he pulled away. Upset at the sudden loss of contact, you choked back a whine, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

Even with the lights turned on, he was facing away from the source, so that soft shadows contoured his features perfectly. His eyes hooded with greed looked down at you, and as soon as he saw the hungry expression on your face, his lips curled into a devious smile. "No, sweetheart. Face the wall", he said, nodding his head.

Reluctantly, you did so. Delectable anticipation washed over you when his calloused hands grabbed your waist. It was only for a minute, though. He roughly pulled you back until your hips passed the edge of the desk. You didn't get a chance to put two and two together before Sy forced your pants open, and pulled them down your legs, along with your underwear in under a moment.

Flushed with embarrassment at the full, sudden exposure, you clamped your thighs together.

Without a word, he lodged his boot between your feet, forcing your legs open. "This could've been avoided" he stated, "But I don't think you wanted that. I think you wanted the slut fucked out of you"

"Come on…" you pleaded, lodging your teeth deep into your bottom lip.

Your entire body fired up when his bare fingers connected to your opening. He moved agonisingly slow, teasing his way along your lips, intentionally applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying for more.

"You know you're gonna have to do so much fucking better than that, don't you?" Sy chuckled, dipping his fingers into your wetness. "I know you can beg."

"Fucking hell-" you cried, squirming under his influence, "Please"

"No, baby. Tell me, use your words. I wanna hear you tell me how to fuck you. And don't bother holding back 'cause you know I won't"

"Come on, Sy-" you whined, trying your best to grind down against his fingers, "You know I want- I want you-"

A rough slap that echoed around the room attacked your ass, delightful pain propagating in waves across your whole body. You let out a tortured yelp, but it wasn't enough to impress.

"You already made a mess on my fingers. You're dripping wet, love. Why try to hide just how big of a slut you are?"

"I'm a slut-" you panted, breathing heavily through every word, "I'm a slut, please, I need you"

Another blow. This time, his palm landed on already inflamed skin, doubling the pain that fueled your pleasure.

"Need me to what, baby girl?"

"I need you to fuck me" you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks. Digging your nails into the underside of the edge of his desk, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate around the ecstasy he had running through your veins. "I need your cock, Sy, please. I fucking need you really bad right now, please. I'll do anything you want"

"All you need to do, pet, is learn your place" Syverson said, greedily caressing your ass. "Did you come here just to get that cunt used?"

"Yes" you nodded, not even remembering that in the beginning, you really did have something important to talk to him about. "Yes, I only wanted your cock. Please fuck me, I promise I'll be good forever"

"My good slut forever?" he questioned, the perverted enthusiasm audible in his tone.

As he spoke, Sy slid his middle finger inside your pussy. "Is that all you want, whore? To be my property?"

"Yeah…"

"You want me to own you?" he taunted, sliding another finger into your pussy, just for the sake of pushing your buttons, "Want me to use your whore body for my pleasure whenever I feel like it?"

A rush of electricity coursed through you.

"That's all I want, Sy" you whispered.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" he taunted, bending down.

His immense frame hovered above your shivering body, his haunting presence enough to get you drunk on the ecstasy of what was to come.

You swallowed thickly, pained tears stinging your eyes. Cupping his cheek over your shoulder, your words came out as a ghostly whisper, "Please-" you breathed out, "I need you now, Sy. I wanted you since I met you back home, you know that. Please, I can't wait any longer"

His daunting chuckle sent shivers all over your body. He pushed himself off of you, but his breath still tickled the back of your neck. It was enough for you to know that you were to remain in place and wait for his next move.

"Of course you can wait, angel" he said, moments before the metallic clank of his belt being unbuckled fueled your senses, "You're lucky I don't want you to"

You released a weak chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief at the way he managed to carry the situation. Your shoulders were dangerously tense as you waited. For anything. For him to say or do something, but he forced you to sit and boil in anticipation. But the build-up was worth the frustration, as when you felt his touch against your pussy, adrenaline started to pump through your veins.

"You know how long I thought about fucking you like this?" Sy asked.

It was then that you realised it wasn't his finger probing your folds, but the tip of his cock. Slick and solid against your pussy, he expertly teased all your right spots.

"You flaunt this fucking tight ass all day long, panting in the heat, sweat dripping down your tits-" Sy exclaimed, his need and hunger for you audible through every word, "and now you're telling me-"

He paused to bend down above you, hands planted on the desk on either side of your shoulders as he spoke lewdly in your ear, "And now you're telling me I got you naked and whimperin', beggin' me to empty my balls inside your pussy?"

Refusing to use your words, you settled for a better answer - the only answer your dazed mind was able to give. Arching your back as you moaned his name, you pushed your ass back, his massive cock inching inside your pussy.

Syverson grunted, low and guttural, pleasure erupting from the depths of his throat. Goosebumps arose across your body.

"Fuck me, Sy-" you cried, your voice breathy and seductive, "Rough me up, come on"

And he did. You managed to push all his buttons and get him to lose the self control he tries so hard to put on display. He did an excellent job, judging by how hard his cock was when he slammed his hips into yours. Your walls spread beyond what you ever thought would be pleasurable, yet he had you crying out his name as your eyes rolled back.

His immense hands held your hips with damaging force, planting bruises all of your skin. Not that you had any choice, but you let yourself go limp, and allowed him to manhandle your frame to his will. With ever powerful thrusts of his body against yours, the desk underneath you rocked, slamming into the wall, making a sound loud and obnoxious enough to awake just about anyone who was sleeping there.

But you didn't care. And neither did Sy.

The only thing you had on your mind was the killed ecstasy he fucked into you, his cock slamming balls deep into your aching pussy. You rolled your head, whined and dug your nails into your palms, in what was probably the most pathetic attempt to keep yourself grounded.

Syverson wasn't far behind. His breathing aggravated, turned into guttural groans that made the hairs on your body stand up.

"Fucking hell" he cursed, his fingers sinking deeper into your flesh as he picked up his pace, "FUCK"

You moaned, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, "Harder please"

Those words went against all your senses, against the pain you felt between your legs, the strain on your back or the lack of air in your lungs. But you wanted more. Needed more.

With one long, hard thrust, Sy pushed his cock all the way inside your pussy, his balls pressing against your clit, "Wouldn't wanna break you, little girl"

The teasing side of you awoke. You pushed yourself up and threw your hair back so that you could turn and look at him over your shoulder, "You couldn't if you tried"

His whole frame darkened. Not just the look in his eyes. He now seemed taller, more dangerous and menacing as your words tickled his lust. Syverson shook his head, and in one swift motion, lodged his hand in your hair pulling you all the way up with your back against his chest.

"I don't want you talking to me like that," he groaned.

If you hadn't felt his cock twitch, fear would have definitely enveloped you.

"You're in no place to undermine me, ok?" he growled, voice deep, ringing against your ear, "You're so small and powerless. It's fucking clear I call the shots. Be a good little girl and don't piss me off" he threatened, his free hand wrapping itself around your neck.

"Or what?" you whispered.

"You're a soldier, right?" Sy laughed, "Wouldn't it be a shame if for a few days you wouldn't be able to walk straight. Or sit down?"

You swallowed thickly, his words turning you own even more as your pussy clenched around his cock just thinking about it, "Sounds more like an offer than a punishment"

Sy took his sweet time answering. Before he opened his mouth to speak, his hand traveled down your body, all the way over to your clit, where he began to apply pressure in the form of experienced, delicate circles.

You whimpered in return and only then did he answer. "Turns out you're a bigger slut than I thought, but don't think it will take me long to have you crying and begging"

You nodded yes. He never asked any kind of question, so you had no idea why you responded that way, you just did, and Sy took it as his cue to resume his work.

This time, he held you against his body. With each thrust, the tip of his cock applied more and more pressure to your sweet and overly sensitive spots, braiding pain into the pleasure he created for you.

But it was what you wanted. How you wanted it. Because it was a matter of time until he had you moaning and crying, expressing the pure ecstasy that was surging through your body. You were approaching your high at such a dangerous speed that the strain in your back was no longer of importance, and the force with which Sy pulled at the roots of your hair, wasn't even passing the threshold of discomfort anymore.

All your thoughts had been flooded by his breathing, low and guttural, against your temple. The simple fact that his pleasure was audible in his tone, aggravated your arousal. You've never in your life been so eager to please someone. But now, you were beaming proudly, your stomach in knots.

You came soon after that. The orgasm came down crushing on you, blurring your thoughts completely. Your muscles spammed uncontrollably, and the cries that escaped your lips were sure to wake up everyone in the compound. But neither you, nor Sy cared.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you panted, seconds before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your body remaining weak and consumed in his hold.

"Come on, darling" Sy chuckled, readjusting his hold around your body, pressing you even harder against his chest, "Daddy's gotta finish too. Otherwise we did this for nothing"

"Yes" you moaned.

The way he forced his cock in and out of your sensitive and overly-used cunt brought tears to your eyes. You knew he was close when he slowed down his pace, now his thrusts becoming deeper and less regulated. Each slam of his hips into yours rocked your whole frame, until your toes barely reached the ground. Sy held you up into his massive arms, guiding and handling your body to fit his needs perfectly.

And it fucking worked because in a matter of seconds, he lost control, aggressively riding his high until there was no amount of cum to be released. When he pulled out, panting and exhausted, he moved to the side, planting his hands on the edge of the desk to catch his breath.

Determined to not piss him off anymore, you gathered yourself much faster than him, ready to dress yourself back up and bolt.

"What are you doing?" Sy asked, looking at you over his shoulder with confusion in his eyes.

"I'm- uh, I was gonna-" you mumbled, pointing to the door but he stopped you.

"Hop on" he said.

He pointed to the desk, and although unsure, you did as he told you. You barely managed to stay awake while he was in the small bathroom attached to his room, but when he returned and placed a damp washcloth between your legs, your mind buzzed awake.

"I hurt you" he said, massaging your thighs as he softly cleaned you up, "I got-"

"No, it's fine" you stopped him, "I'm just exhausted and probably very sore, god, but I'm good"

Sy just nodded, something obviously still bothering him. But he didn’t say anything, and instead, proceeded to clean you up, ending with a gentle kiss against your sensitive opening.

You hissed unconsciously, but then ended up smiling widely, amused with your own reactions. Sy helped you off the desk and guided you to his bed, his hand on your ass as you leaned into his side for support.

“It hurts, right?”

“I’m just sore, it’s fine” you tried to dismiss his concerns, but he wasn’t having it.

Sy grabbed your face into his hands and forced you to look into his eyes, “It’s gotta, darling, you understand that”

You shook your head, smiling, but he wasn’t waiting for your approval.

“Come on” he said, guiding you to lay down, “We have about 2 hours of sleep left, and god knows, you’re gonna need them”

“Fuck yes” you sighed, plopping down next to him.

Although every fiber of your body begged for closeness, you stopped yourself, afraid to not cross any lines. But, much to your surprise, Syverson didn’t waste a second before pulling you into his arms and tucking your head in the crook of his neck. It gave you a sense of security you never felt before in your life - the way his heart beat against your skin. He fell asleep with his arms fastened around your frame, tightening his hold every time you tried to move.

It was just a matter of seconds until you both drifted off. Considering your whereabouts and the circumstances you’ve lived though, it was safe to say this was probably the best night’s sleep you had gotten in months. That was why, when you were pulled awake by him getting ready around the room, you were so disappointed.

“Is it 6 already?” you mumbled, rolling over only to land face first into his pillow.

“Go back to sleep, darling,” Sy said, fastening his belt, “Got some paperwork to do. I’ll cover for you and then I’ll come back with coffee in about 2 hours or so, how’s that sound, hm?”

“Mmm” you moaned, “Perfect”

The last thing you heard was Sy chuckling at himself, and then, you fell back asleep. You had no idea how much time passed until a loud, redundant noise woke you up. It took you about a few seconds to realise what it actually was that you were hearing.

“Y/n?” a grave male voice echoed from behind the door, “You in there?”

After that, he knocked a few times more, before starting to repeatedly slam his fist into the door.

“It’s open, what the fuck-” you groaned, not even standing up from the bed.

Instantly, the door flew open, Sgm. MacGregor bursting into the room, features ablaze with pure anger.

Your face fell.

“Sergeant, I-” you tried to speak, hurrying to find a way to explain what exactly it was that you were doing naked, in a room other than yours, when in fact you should have already been on post for god knows how many hours.

“Don’t even wanna hear it” he groaned, waving towards you, “This is about Captain Syverson”

“What-?” you muttered, “What happ-”

“Shot” he said bluntly, “3 times. You need to move. Now”

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

okay i know you probably have lots of prompts already but. listen; 28 and 41 with my Phantom Thief MK AU (well its more of a phantom thief everyone au but yeah)

So I maaaaay have been a smidgen inspired by one very specific post you made about this AU and Sun Wukong's first successful heist... I couldn't resist, it was just too funny.

You call this luck? No, this is all skill./Can you teach me how to do that?

"Can you teach me how to do that?"

The question wasn't an unusual one between the two of them. MK had asked this of Sun Wukong on more than one occasion as successor to the Monkey King as the Monkie Kid himself.

No, what was unusual was that the question came from the opposite person.

"Teach you... what, exactly?" MK asked, trying not to feel too smug about the swap in roles between mentor and apprentice. After all...

Someone had to teach Sun Wukong the finer points of Phantom Thievery.

"You know what," Wukong said with a half scowl, gesturing to way that his student (or, for the moment now that the question was asked, his teacher) was rolling an large pendant between his fingers. "Not the... you know, what you're doing now, but what you did with the pendant on your last heist where you threw it at a guard and it kind cracked in the middle with the smoke and light and stuff."

"OH," MK laughed out, tossing up and catching the coin in his opposite hand. "That's not really a trick or anything, just some incredibly strong flash paper, and other stuff, that's activated when you open it the right way."

In demonstration the young Phantom Thief did something in the way he held the pendant and one end slipped up with a soft cracking sound. Then he did something else and it open like a clam shell. He held it out to the elder, letting him see the inner workings and how it had latches and some kind of folding wall between the two sides.

"Opening it causes a chemical reaction between the two compartments. The real trick is getting everything inside without accidentally activating it on yourself, practicing the opening motion, knowing when to open it, and aiming it just so that it blinds your target at just the right moment. You know, this is probably just the right time to teach you how to use lines to keep this stuff in your sleeves and retract them too! So..."

As MK launched into a lengthy explanation on how this particular bit of his Phantom Thievery repertoire worked he failed to notice the slowly growing smirk on the Monkey King's face.

"What, uh... what ya got there?" MK asked, very obviously trying to keep an impassive and non-judgemental expression. And failing.

"... smoothies," Wukong answered, absolutely not hiding what he was holding in his tail behind his back as he offered one of the two drinks in his hands to the younger.

It was a poor attempt at lying, which was odd because MK knew that Sun Wukong was pretty good at lying. He had managed to convince the other that he had no idea his successor was a phantom thief for so long after all. But why in the world he seemed to be hiding a... pillow of some sort behind his back was anyone's guess.

"Why'd you bring smoothies?" He chanced asking instead, and he watched as the other's face lit up in pure victory and jubilation.

"They're victory smoothies, Bud!" Wukong exclaimed, shoving one at MK until he took it from the other. "I just completed my first successful heist! And I did pretty well, if I do say so myself." The Monkey King smirked, puffing out his chest in a show of confidence as he took a sip of what was obviously a peach smoothie. "Oh yeah, tastes like a job well done."

"Really!?" MK exclaimed, his own pride welling up knowing that he had a hand in this since he was the other's mentor in thievery. He'd told the other to start small, something that would be missed but not something that would gather immediate attention from the whole city just in case something went wrong. "That's great! What did you steal?"

"I'm not telling."

This made the younger pause, raising a brow as the elder not so subtly tossed the pillow into a nearby bush.

"... should I be concerned?" MK asked, knowing that with Wukong's reputation... he may have bitten off far more than he could chew. This was the immortal who went on a spree through Heaven that ended up with him eating a ton of immortality peaches, drinking immortality alcohol, and taking immortality pills. Among other things.

"No way!" Wukong assured, chugging more and more of his smoothie with seemingly no regard for the possibility of brain freeze. "Trust me, bud, this went off without a hitch. You have nothing to worry about."

Those words came back to to bite Sun Wukong in the ass.

Or, rather, they came back to throw Sun Wukong through MK's window at "way too early for this o'clock" in the morning right after he had finished sleepily getting ready for another day at work and accidentally nodded back off on his bed.

The weight of an immortal stone monkey slamming into you was much more effective than any alarm clock he'd ever used before.

"WHATWHOWHERE!?" MK wheezed out once the Monkey King climbed off him, looking around in confusion until his eyes finally fell on a third party in the room. "M-Macaque!?"

"Where's my couch you wanna be Phantom Thief!?" Macaque yelled, completely ignoring the person who's house he had just inadvertently broken into. He brushed bits and pieces of broken glass and window frame out of his fur with a scowl of anger. "I actually paid for that."

"You really think I would tell you where I stashed it?" Wukong snarked back, smirking wide as he crossed his arms. "A Phantom Thief never reveals the location of their treasure trove to their marks."

"Wait wait wait-" MK said, holding up his hands and finally grabbing the attention of the two fighting immortal monkeys. "You just crashed through my window... because... You were his first heist mark... and Monkey King's first successful heist was your couch?"

"Got it in one, Bud!" Wukong said with a laugh, not seeming to care that Macaque was slowly stewing in more and more anger and frustration. "I wouldn't have even been noticed if he hadn't come home part way through either, he's normally out later than that."

"You sent me a calling card you dumb ass!" Macaque yelled, falling into a fighting stance. "Just because you got lucky enough to get away last time-"

"You call this luck?" Wukong yelled back with a laugh, smirking as he pulled something out of his sleeve and tossed it at Macaque. "No, this is all skill!"

MK barely had time to register what happened before Wukong grabbed him and covered his eyes and a tiny explosion and a pained yelp sounded behind them as they jumped out his broken window.

"SUN WUKONG YOU GET BACK HERE BEFORE I CAN SEE AGAIN OR ELSE!" Macaque yelled, right before another pained yelp was heard. "Holy shit, Kid, why do you have so much stuff on your floor, who lives like this, I can't even WALK in here!"

MK never got to answer or be offended at the immortal before he was tossed over Wukong's shoulder as he made a break for it running through alleyways at breakneck speed before Pigsy's Noodles was no longer even in sight.

They stopped eventually, the immortal monkey putting MK down before looking around to make sure they hadn't been tailed by the other immortal. After a couple minutes it was clear that Macaque had either not followed him due to the blinding effects of the flash paper or had not been able to catch their trail. The two of them each breathed a sigh or relief, looked at each other...

And immediately burst into laughter.

They couldn't help it! It was just... so ridiculous! All that over a heisted couch. Pigsy was sure to be upset at the damage to MK's apartment but given Mystic Monkey Business and all he was certain that the fact it was only a broken window this time would be a decent balm on the damage.

"Macaque is going to get you back for this," MK managed to get out through laughs. "We lost him and now he's going to find another way to get you back, I know it."

"What's he gonna do, steal my couch?"

"HE STOLE. MY COUCH."

"How'd he even get to the mountain?"

"HE. STOLE. MY. COUCH!"

"I think you're missing the bigger issue he-"

"HESTOLEMYCOUCH!"

"I KNOW STOP YELLING!"

MK slapped a hand over Wukong's mouth, only barely cutting off and muffling the scream of disbelief and frustration that the Monkey King let out at the state of things.

"Why are you focused on the fact that Macaque stole your couch and not the fact that he somehow got into the part of Mount Huaguo that we have to let someone into, BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE. and for some reason he ONLY stole your couch?"

"Oh, he's broken in before," Wukong answered once he pried MK's hand away from his face. "But I can't believe that asshole! I stole his couch as a joke, stealing mine back is just petty."

"What do you mean he's broken in before?" MK continued, voice tense and high and totally not at all feeling suddenly very anxious about this new knowledge. "Macaque's just been able to come and go as he pleases this whole time?"

"Yeah, kinda. Not exactly as he pleases but he can just come in I guess."

"These are the kinds of things you need to tell your student- I thought we talked about proper communication as one of our first lessons!"

"... oops?"

"When did you get a new couch?" Red Son asked with a raised brow, watching as the immortal monkey lounging on it swished his tail back and forth in contentment.

"Heisted it," Macaque answered with a smirk. "Totally worth it. But next time I'm stealing Peach's tv too, this is so comfy I could use some proper entertainment."

"YOU STOLE SUN WUKONG'S COUCH???"

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #phantom thieves au #gen fic #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #mk #qi xiaotian #humor fic #fanfic #prompt fill #this was WAY too much fun to write #i based the pendant partially on something from an episode of detective conan #not a kaitou kid episode though just a regular one #as well as some magic tricks I've seen close up magicians perform as well

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ddaenggtan · 4 years

Text

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist }

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!)

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being.

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you.

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin.

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour."

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind.

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand.

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly.

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter.

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it.

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy.

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before.

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that.

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice.

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you.

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you.

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face.

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life.

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you.

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh.

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping.

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you.

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand.

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them.

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose.

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably.

“What?” You eventually ask.

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.”

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk.

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little.

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him.

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead.

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry.

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm.

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter.

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it.

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift.

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that.

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this.

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it.

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps.

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now.

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap.

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage.

Barely.

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips.

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it.

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face.

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride.

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist.

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other.

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here.

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something.

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son.

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious.

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues.

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault.

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den.

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years.

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal.

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you.

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late.

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend.

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat.

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late.

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table.

Away from you.

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it.

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset.

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there.

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest.

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not.

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him.

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction.

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you.

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed.

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time.

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about.

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all.

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name.

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?”

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair.

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens.

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room.

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather.

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart.

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still.

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you.

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you.

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered.

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone.

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own.

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused.

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it.

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it.

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?”

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have.

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain.

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin.

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better.

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants.

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day."

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up."

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back.

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth.

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies.

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod.

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it.

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle.

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious.

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed.

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away.

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight.

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath.

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you.

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes.

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt.

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut.

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier.

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop.

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice.

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.”

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out.

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl.

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills.

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard.

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in.

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release.

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit.

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out.

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back.

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later.

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more.

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other.

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made.

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes.

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown.

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon.

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick.

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa.

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes.

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle.

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it.

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond.

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm.

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red.

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug.

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board.

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know."

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy.

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected.

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had.

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably."

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you.

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

2K notes · View notes

practicingmedicine · 3 years

Text

Practicing Medicine: Chapter One

(+)1

It was eight o'clock in the morning, and Sheriff McBain had just been shot.

There weren’t no lights, no sirens. No outward signs of urgency anywhere, save for the frantic telephone call I’d received just seconds ago and my own bounding heart rate.

It didn’t take me long to pull on my pants or step into my boots. Even with my shaking body, I moved with a sense of purpose, each action a step in a subconscious routine.

Buckle up my pants, lace my boots, grab my glasses, disconnect my Pip-Boy from the outlet, clip that bad-mama on and get it running…

The black screen turned a vibrant green color as I clicked the power button, lighting up my dark room. These were the words on the screen:

PIP-OS(R) v1.0.3

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

16811 BYTES FREE

HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: “THE-SCIENCE-OF-UNCERTAINTY”

INITIALISING….

SUCCESS!

> STATUS

Battery Level: 100%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 90F

> HEALTH

BP: 150/120

SPO2: 100%

Temp: 98.5F

RR: 25

HR: 160

> TIME

Day: 25 September 2279

Time: 08:01

> CLIMATE

Current Temperature: 78F

Atmospheric Pressure: 753 mm

Background Radiation: 0.231 RAD

---

I couldn’t read much, so I wasn’t sure exactly what each of them meant, but I got the gist- I knew exactly what I needed to know. I threw open my door and strode into the hallway, grabbing my father’s white coat off of a hook along the way. I slipped it on over my shoulders as I strode up to the front door, where my faded orange doctor’s-bag lay on its side. Before I threw the strap over my shoulder, I made sure to quickly button my coat and pull my green tie tight around my shirt collar, because my father told me that a doctor should always look his best. I hefted my bag up with one hand and pushed the door open with the other.

The morning sun was bright in my eyes. It was hot outside, about 97 Fahrenheit if my pip-boy was telling me the truth. Not that it mattered- I was used to the heat, and my patient was inside the air-conditioned Bison Steve’s Hotel. I didn’t give it much space in my head.

I started to sprint, skirting the corner of my neighbor’s house and running out into the main square, heavy bag swinging wildly in my aching right hand. As much as I wanted to have time to process all this, to stride up all slow and confident like father had taught me, I didn’t have the time. It could be a matter of seconds deciding whether or not the Sheriff survived.

I was starting to feel kind of dizzy, like you do when you’re fixing to vomit. The Hotel was just up ahead now. The big “Bison Steve’s” sign flickered eerily as I walked up to the double wooden doors, which I pulled on at least three times before I remembered that they were push doors. A rush of cool air washed over my skin as I stepped into the building, and tried to regain my composure. I cleared my throat.

“Alright- Alright y’all, listen up: My name is Isaac Saller, and I am a medic! ” I shouted. There was silence. “‘I’m empty holstered, so please don’t shoot!”

That may have been a bad idea, in retrospect, but it was all that I had planned for an active-shooter type deal. I didn’t deal well with confrontation.

The front hall and the reception desk were abandoned, but the lights were on. I stepped through the next set of propped-open doors and into a dark hallway, where a pretty blonde woman was cowering, holding onto a wall-mounted telephone. Her red face glistened with sweat.

That would be Mrs. McBain.

“Oh my god, Isaac! Come here, quickly- I think my husband is dying!” I power-walked to catch up with her, then tried to keep up a comparable walking pace. Which was kind of hard, given my height; I was still, “between hay and grass ,” my father would have said.

“Could you tell me what happened?” I asked. The words felt so strange to say out loud. I’d practiced what I’d do in a real emergency, but now that it was actually happening, I couldn’t believe that I was actually falling into my routine, just like I did for everything else. Must not have seen any other option.

“Well, the boys- Beagle and my husband, right, they were doing firing drills! But then the shooting stopped and my husband started airing his lungs, just shouting something awful. And when I ran in to see what happened, I saw that Beagle had shot him in the leg!”

And, there was the story. I let out a sigh of relief; here I was worried that I might be dealing with some crazy psychopath! Though, the more I let myself think on it, an idiot like Beagle with a gun started to seem just as dangerous.

“Does he still got the gun?” I asked, approaching one of the four doors to what had to be the firing range. The familiar scent of gunpowder stung my nose as I cracked open the rightmost door, and peered into the massive, open room. I didn’t see nobody, but then again, my vision was so awful that my patient could’ve been right in front of me. Mrs. McBain brushed through the doors.

“No, I made him put it down!” I nodded and entered the room.

As I stepped through the doorway, another smell drifted in after the first- a sharp, metallic smell that hung in the air like some sort of leaking gas. Subtle, and not quite so intimately familiar, but I recognized it right away; the acrid smell of blood rubbed on skin.

“Hey Doc, come on in--the Sheriff is lying over here,” said Deputy Beagle, waving his iron about. I flinched.

“Holster that!” I shouted back, “I’m not going to do anything until-“

“Beagle! You put that thing down right now or I’ll shoot you myself!” Shouted Mrs. McBain. Beagle made a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. But, you know it was an accident, and it ain’t like I’m gonna do it again.” He tossed the gun aside. The cocked, loaded, cold-steel weapon hit the ground hammer-first.

The ensuing, “BANG!” was, no kidding, the second loudest thing I’d ever heard.

“Goddammit!” Beagle shouted, and Mrs. McBain screamed and dropped to a crouch. I just sat, stunned, staring at the gun and trying to think again. It was like my mind was a Television set, and someone had just thrown a brick through the screen; An all-encompassing static crept over my senses.

“Isaac? Isaac, are you alright sweetie ?” asked Mrs. McBain, over the loud ringing in my ears. I nodded.

“I’m okay ,” I lied. I kept nodding. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay…”

“You sure don’t look okay,” said Beagle. He was too close to me, way too close. I took a deep breath and pushed him back a little bit.

“I’m good! Where’s the Sheriff?!” I looked around warily. My eardrums were still bubbling, but I was starting to be able to hear myself think again. I had apparently dropped my medical bag on the floor, but it hadn’t opened up or spilled.

“Jesus kid, can you not turn your head on your neck? Over there, sitting against the support beam!” snapped Beagle, motioning towards the wounded Sheriff with his whole upper body. I felt like yelling back but I didn’t. I just gave him a quick nod and stumbled over to the fallen Sheriff.

The bright red pool beneath Sheriff McBain’s thigh had already begun to clot into ketchup-like clumps. As I got closer, I could hear him muttering to himself, though I couldn’t understand what about. I dropped to a crouch beside him, opened my bag and rooted through it til I found myself a pair of gloves. I had to work to get them on with how sweaty my hands were.

“Hello, Sheriff! Can you understand me?” I asked. He smiled up at me.

“Hey! You’re Isaac, the um, the Gambling-Place owner’s son. Uh, Casino! Yeah…” He trailed off. In my head, I started going over my ABCs, because apparently my mind was too overwhelmed to do anything but stick to its beaten-path routines.

He could speak, so his Airway was patent. I didn’t have time to properly test his Breathing, but it sounded fast and a little shallow. That was par for the course, which left me with the real problem, his Circulation- that’d be the bleeding.

“Alright, Sheriff, I’m going to take your pants off. Tell me if it hurts much,” I said, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. They got snagged up on his shoes, so I started pulling harder. He just laughed as I pulled them off.

“Actually, I don’t feel much of anything in this leg! Just like I got punched, and now it’s burnin’, sorta.”

That was good. It meant that the bone probably hadn’t been fractured, and I wouldn’t need any med-x. I always kept an emergency syringe of the stuff, but I was reluctant to actually use it on anyone.

Once I’d gotten his pants off, I touched his leg. It was cold and wet. I’d assumed shock, based on the bigass blood pool, but I could be dramatic like that; This was solid confirmation. I was going to have to work fast!

As I searched around in my bag for a tourniquet with one hand, I held up the Sheriff’s leg up with my other, so that I could see the wound in the dimly lit firing range. The hole wasn’t big. At least, not the entry- just a red, penny-sized oval near the base of his thigh, surrounded by bruised skin and seeping out blood. Like a bloody little volcano.

The exit wound, on the other hand, was massive . A jagged hole right under his ass with flaps of skin hanging loose around it, spitting out a torrential amount of bright red blood with each beat of his bounding heart. Based on the color of the blood and the way that it was coming out, I knew that the bullet had nicked or severed his femoral artery. I also knew that I probably couldn’t repair that with forceps and bandages alone. The best thing I could do would be to stem the bleeding, and get a stimpack as quick as possible.

Of course, that presented a little bit of a problem: See, stimpacks are awful expensive, so carrying them around wasn’t always an option for a man like myself. As of now, I didn’t actually have any of them-things in my jump-bag. Some places ‘round here had one in a box on the wall, but I didn’t see none in here, and I’d have noticed one in the hall if there’d been one. I cursed under my breath.

“Go and get me a stimpack!” I ordered. I had finally found where I kept my tourniquets without actually looking into the bag, though if I had any sort of presence of mind, I would have been embarrassed at how long it had taken me. I pulled his shoe off, and slipped the tourniquet on over his leg.

“I’ll fetch one from the kitchen!” replied Mrs. McBain, and I nodded to let her know I’d heard. Now that I had a stimpack on the way, all I had to do was keep the Sheriff from kickin it until I could apply the damn thing.

Easier said than done.

“Why are you squeezing me? You taking my blood numbers or something?” The Sheriff asked, as I pulled the premade tourniquet tight and started cranking on it. I tried to smile.

“I’m not taking your blood pressure, sir, I’m putting on a tourniquet. It’ll hurt, but you’ll bleed a lot less.” When I couldn’t tighten it anymore, I took out another tourniquet, and fastened it right above the first one, against the base of his thigh. It was a good thing that the Sheriff was thin, or I’d be having some issues about now.

“What are you doing? He could lose his leg that way!” shouted Beagle. When I kept on tightening the second tourniquet, he hit me in the back of the head- not so much to hurt me as to get a reaction out of me. I didn’t give him one. “Hey, are you blind and deaf? I’m talking to you!”

“Stop it Beagle! Isaac is a good… he’s a good kid,” insisted the Sheriff, his voice growing weak. I finished cranking the tourniquet, and touched the Sheriff’s ashen forehead. He looked like he’d stuck his head in a drinking fountain, with how much he was sweating...

“Could you try and talk with me, Sheriff? I’m gonna try some more stuff, try to keep you from going into decompensated shock.”

The Sheriff looked confused. He squinted up at me with teary eyes.

“Shock? You mean, the reason why it don’t hurt? I’m pretty sure I’m already in shock, but I ain’t- I ain’t shocked, you know. Like, I know what’s happened. I got my mind about me ,” he grumbled, tapping his head conspiratorially. I removed a few packets of gauze from my bag and tore them open.

“No, I mean when your organs stop working cause your blood-pressure drops and they ain’t getting enough blood!” Finally, I finished packing the exit wound tight with gauze. I started putting pressure on it.

“Oh. Huh. Well, you doctors ought to stop having so many words that mean- that mean all different things,” the Sheriff replied, his breath passing his lips so quietly that I was worried he might have fallen unconscious. I stopped moving.

“Sheriff?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I reached into my coat with my free hand, and pulled out a small metal tinderbox full of a reddish powder. I waved it under his nose.

“Wake up, Sheriff!” I shouted. He started coughing and looking around wildly.

“Ah, Jesus Christ, what the hell is that smell?” I slipped the box back in my coat.

“N-H-Four, sir! It’s supposed to keep you awake!”

Of course, it wasn’t doing a very good job at it! Before I was even done speaking, the sheriff had puked all over himself and slumped forward. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him vigorously.

“Keep them eyes open Sheriff! Stay with me here!” His eyes fluttered.

“You know, I like your voice! It’s like, you talk like a teacher, but then you got your daddy’s cowboy-thing going on, so it’s sort of funny…” he muttered. His head hung limp on his neck. I let him drop to his side, and focused on applying pressure to the wound again.

“Um, Isaac?” I looked over my shoulder. Deputy Beagle was standing above me again, clasping his hands together. I wasn’t so good at reading emotions, but I’d seen enough pre-vomit patients to know that he was feeling sick. He had spoken so quietly, which was strange considering how loud he’d been before. “Isaac, Is he gonna die? I thought that getting shot in the leg didn’t kill people. Why’s he acting like that?” I sighed.

“I sure hope not. But, there’s a big red-pipe in your leg, and if it gets hit, you bleed a lot. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do if I don’t get a stimpack soon!”

As if on cue, Mrs. McBain came rushing into the room, her dress all bunched up and full of miscellaneous medical supplies. Among the heaps of things I didn’t need, I could see a stimpack poking up.

“Isaac! I brought a bunch of things, I don’t know what’ll help and what won’t, but-”

Suddenly, Mrs. McBain stumbled, and her makeshift pouch came unfurled as she threw out one hand to catch herself.

Aw shit! I dropped everything and ran towards Mrs. McBain, interposing myself between the unsecured, falling medical supplies and the floor. Packaged Band-Aids, bottles of pills and ointments, a pair of scissors- it all went tumbling over me and I didn’t care, until suddenly I saw the fragile old stimpack teetering on the edge. By now, Mrs. McBain was trying to recover, but she was only making matters worse. The supplies were spilling out both sides now, and she was getting dangerously close to just dumping it all on top of me.

The stimpack. That was the focus. I shot out my hand to try to grab it, but I only succeeded in tipping it off it’s balance point, causing it to tumble back into the pouch.

I sat up, and all the supplies that had landed on me spilled back onto the floor.

“Don’t-“ I started, but she had already slipped and let go of the other side of the pouch. I cried out as it all went spilling on the ground.

“The stimpack!” I looked down, and found that through some unchecked reflex, I had caught it on my outstretched thigh. I blinked.

“Huh,” I said, and snatched the needle off my leg. I rushed back over to the Sheriff, who was unconscious and drooling. Beagle was sitting beside him, pressing hard on the entrance with his bloodstained hands and muttering to himself.

“Kurt, you can’t die- I’m, I’m just a deputy, if you die I’ll have to handle this whole town myself, and you know I can’t do that! Please, please don’t you die, please-“ I took a knee beside Beagle and his brother, stimpack in hand. Beagle was crying.

“Am I- am I doing this right?” He asked. I nodded.

“You are doing just stupendously! Just keep doing that!” I replied. I lifted up the sheriff’s leg, tore out all the gauze and probed around with the needle for a minute, until I’d found the deflated husk of his split femoral artery among all of the slick yellow fat and ground-beef looking shit in his leg. I didn’t have much light to work with and it was pretty well buried beneath the gory chaos of the exit, but I knew it when I saw it- despite the tourniquet, the top end was still spritzing out bright red blood with each passing heartbeat. I took my forceps out of my bag, which already had some fishing-line and a hook wrapped around them, and got to suturing the split ends together. The artery kept on pulsing out blood around the edges as I passed my hook and line through it’s thick middle layer.

‘Moment of truth, Isaac,’ I thought, as I squared off my suture. I picked up the stimpack again, prepped the needle with my shaking hands. I took a deep breath.

In the dim light of the firing range, I stuck the pipe.

The freezing cold from the reaction chilled my gloved fingers halfway to the bone. Had it worked? Would it hold? I had no idea. It wasn’t squirting blood no more, so I snipped off the end of the suture and pulled all the fishing line out, then started suturing up his ragged exit-wound, so that the ends of the skin were facing upwards. I didn’t even bother squaring off the end before running a stimpack along the seam. Once his thigh had sewed up along an ugly white line, I pulled all the fishing string out, because otherwise I was just asking for it to get infected. I still had a little stimpack-juice left, so I moved Beagle aside and shot the rest of it into the tiny-little entry wound, to sort out any of the leftover internal damage.

More time passed in silence. I knew it wouldn’t matter, but I loosened and removed the tourniquets to feel like I was doing something. My ears were ringing, blood was soaking into my pants like syrup, but I barely noticed- all that mattered now was if he was going to live, or if he was going to die. I was just going to have to have faith now.

“Is it working?” asked Mrs. McBain. I checked the Sheriff’s pulses, noticed that some warmth had returned to his skin...

Pulse is already stronger , and I can actually get a femoral. I sighed with relief. “It’s working. Pressure’s up.” A few more seconds passed. “I doubt he stopped perfusing to his brain for long, so his head should be fine, if you’re worried about that. He’s gonna need a ton of fluid, though, and he might need some more help with that leg-“ I started, but then Mrs. McBain wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. Once I was over the initial shock, I hugged her back.

“Thanks,” I murmured. Mrs. McBain laughed.

“You saved my husband, Isaac! You saved his life!”

I nodded and tried to free myself from the asphyxiating hug. Unfortunately, Mrs. McBain was a teensy bit stronger than me. “I don’t even know how to thank you. Do you want caps? We- well, you know we aren’t rich, but we have a tin of caps hidden away under the floorboards!” Still struggling in vain to free myself, I shook my head.

“No- no, Mrs. McBain, I don’t want no caps! I just need you to work with me here for these next couple weeks to get your husband healthy again. I mean, he just caught a bullet, he’s gonna need some help getting back to normal...” I was lying about the caps. I would have loved caps, considering how much I was hurting for supplies. But I also wanted to establish that I didn’t charge for my services, and Mrs. McBain had a way of inadvertently spreading that sort of information.

“Oh, but I can’t just let you go back to work like that- look at you, you’re all filthy!” she said, finally releasing me from the hug. I stumbled back and fell onto my rear. “Why don’t you come over to our house- You can get those clothes washed, and I’ll get you some lunch. And a shower too, what would Penny say if she saw you like this?”

Well, I couldn’t disagree with her on that count. Just hugging Mrs. Mcbain, I’d gotten spots of blood all over her dress. Momma had already had to warn me about tracking blood in the house before...

“Alright,” I said. The ringing in my ears was tolerable now. I was starting to be able to think straight again, even if I was still shaking and sweating like hell. I noticed that Beagle had offered me his hand.

“Um- yes!” I said, pulling off my glove and allowing him to haul me up to my feet. He held on real tight to my hand and looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t parse.

“I owe you one, Isaac. I know that this is my fault, and that I’m not always nice to you, but I- I really do appreciate this. I don’t know what I’d have done without my brother.” I tried out a smile. Beagle smiled back at me, and it almost made me forget how much of a prick he’d been when I was a kid. Almost.

“Water under the bridge, Beagle,” I replied. I thought about winking, but I once made a girl run away from me when I tried to wink at her, so I held off.

“Isaac, sweetie-“ I turned around. Mrs. McBain was standing in the doorway. “The door’s unlocked, why don’t you come back to the house first? We can lay my husband down while you wash up.”

I considered. The sheriff seemed stable enough for that proposal, but no one else seemed to quite understand the extent of what he’d just suffered, or the long road that lay ahead for him. I mean, hell, he’d had his leg blown open, lost a third of his blood, and then had a stimpack injected right into a central artery! There were some things I wanted to take care of before I attended to myself.

“I like that idea, but can I borrow one of you to help me finish sorting out Beagle first?” I asked. Mrs. McBain looked at Beagle.

“Beagle, seeing as how you’re the one who shot him…” she started. Beagle put his hands above his head.

“I’ll handle it, ma’am. What should I do?” I raised my hand.

“We’re gonna try to get him on a mattress, if we can. Start him on some Saline and get him drinking water when he wakes up, the stimpack and his body will sorta work together to replace all that blood he lost. He’s going to be in a lot of pain, so we’ll have to give him morphine when he wakes up. I’ve got powder and IV’s with me,” I said, trying my best to cover all my bases without over-explaining. Mrs. McBain started to walk away.

“Alright! You two do what you have to, I'll be getting the house ready for him.” she said, and disappeared through the doorway. I looked at Beagle.

“He didn’t hurt his back none, right?” I asked. Beagle shook his head. “Good. I’m gonna grab his legs then, you grab his arms- let’s get him on one of them cots over there, then move him from there.”

He nodded. We grabbed a hold of the Sheriff’s limbs.

“Alright. Three, two, one-”

[+]

#fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout fandom

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zoud · 4 years

Text

Not So Green With Envy

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word count: 2,675 / Warnings: bondage but no sex, abandonment, angst

____________________________

You and Beetlejuice were not dating. He made that fact very clear to you every time you even thought to use the "b" word (boyfriend) around him, once going as far as to snap your mouth shut with a bit of demonic flare that had your guts coiled tighter than a set spring.

It didn't bother you enough to cut off the relationship, however.

Beetlejuice liked you, and you liked him; at least in a sense perhaps more complicated than the typical mutual reception of romantic feelings, given how he responded to titles. You could come home from a long day and say his name in the same cadence as any familiar mantra is said, and he would hang out with you, watch a movie, eat pizza, and/or roughly pin you against any and all surfaces in the apartment. For him, you supposed, it was all fun and games; low risk, high reward.

But you wanted something more than that. He might have an eternity to blow, but you had just graduated college and your life wasn't exactly set on a path ad infinitum. It didn't feel so wrong, then, to accept the pitch of a blind date from a coworker—to search for something more sustainable in the long term. That was how you ended up with date plans on a Wednesday night, with work in the morning, and Beetlejuice angrier than the time you threw his suit jacket in with the wash and "ruined its vintage feel."

You and your mysterious date were set to meet up at eight o'clock that evening in front of a local movie theater, and you arrived at a quarter 'til.

Sitting on a bench outside while waiting, you rubbed the sore circle around your wrist where Beetlejuice had grabbed as you tried to leave. It was impossible not to notice how upset he was about the prospect of your date, but he was upset by a lot of things and you knew if the date didn't go too well he would still be home for you to return to. It wasn't fair for him to be upset, anyways. He had gone to great lengths to make it clear he "couldn't be tied down," but all that meant to you was there were some cracks in your relationship he felt the need to fill elsewhere.

You slouched on the bench and rested your chin in your hand, elbow propped against your knee. The date had seemed like a good idea, you had fought for it, but now that you were actually here, the static buzz of anticipation had dulled into stale acknowledgement. You checked the time, 8:05, and wondered how much of tonight was just you trying to get petty revenge. If you weren't enough for him, then why should he be enough for you?

"Hello?" You shot up, startled, and the man in front of you tensed. "Oh, sorry; I thought you might've been my blind date."

You smoothed out your top and laughed in a way you hoped was apologetic. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you blinked slowly and looked up to meet the man's eyes.

"Adrian? It's nice to meet you! You didn't make a mistake, don't worry, I guess I just zoned out."

He smiled and nodded once, seemingly in contemplation, before turning and walking into the theater. You were surprised he hadn't wanted to chat a bit more, but he was a little late and the movie was going to start soon. Instead of dwelling, you followed suit inside, a little put off as the door nearly closed on you.

The movie was loud and boring, an action flick that felt more like an attempt to make money than contribute anything culturally significant or genuinely entertaining to the franchise. Still, you kept your eyes on the screen, choosing not to fight your brain when it tried to carry you away.

You wondered what Beetlejuice was up to. After he had grabbed your wrist, which you were back to rubbing idly, you had sent him away to make your life a little easier. He had mentioned a sort of other world he lives in sometimes, boasting proudly about dual-citizenship and green cards, but all you knew for sure was that wherever that was, it wasn't here; as your date made a snide comment about one of the female leads, you sort of wished it were.

The movie ended about an hour too late and it was clear your date disagreed. He seemed to have enjoyed the movie well enough, but was having even more fun complaining about aspects of it you would never care to notice.

"-and what was with that girls outfit?" he droned on, "What's the point of casting attractive actresses and then making them cover up all the things that make them attractive. Like, seriously, she was in jeans half the movie."

You looked down and your outfit uncomfortably, running a hand absentmindedly against the blue denim of your own jeans. Adrian might've noticed, but didn't say anything about it.

"Well it's getting late, I should probably get home soon," you said, taking out your phone to check the time so you wouldn't have to look at him while you said it.

"Oh?" He was smiling now, somewhere between happy and unsettling. "I should walk you; it isn't safe for a fine young lady to walk home alone."

One hand grazed your upper arms and the other went straight to your ass, which you shifted quickly away from. He couldn't possibly be serious, and you gave him a dubious look that hopefully said as much. For as thick as Adrian seemed, he caught on quick, if his anger meant anything.

"Oh, seriously? I should've known you were a prude." He was sneering now, leaning over you as if to emphasize the height advantage. "I should've left the second I saw you. All I was looking for was a good lay, and what? You seriously expected a guy like me to be interested in you for anything else? Wake up, bitch."

With that, he stalked away.

You didn't remember the walk home by the time you got to your apartment door, and you counted yourself lucky for it. Your date might've been a misogynistic asshole, but he was right about one thing—the door clicked when you locked it, and your bed squeaked beneath the weight of your back—you really weren't good for anything but a quick lay.

Your eyes stung, but the pain was dry, and although your uneven breathing suggested otherwise it was easy to tell yourself that you weren't bothered; to dismiss the guy as just another asshole in a too-small town. Still, your ego writhed as it shrunk, and you weren't in the mood to contemplate how worthless a single comment could make you feel. Instead, you rubbed your eyes a little too hard and opened your mouth to speak.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

And with that, he appeared.

His hair was darker than you would've liked, a little on the brown side as red mixed with green and created a murky swamp of obvious discontent. You did your best to ignore the pit in your stomach as he looked down at you with a deep frown.

"Hey, Beej," you tried weakly, only a little surprised by the cold greeting, more so by the silence.

"How was your 'date'?" He spat, choking out the word as if it were a damnation aimed in your direction.

"Fine," you brushed off, not wanting to admit that maybe he was right, maybe had been all along. "How was your night?"

Beetlejuice climbed into bed with you and planted a knee on either side of your torso. He licked his lips as he leaned down to graze your ear.

"Better now."

You smiled a little, relieved he wasn't giving you the silent treatment or putting a hole through your wall. Still, red peppered the tips of his hair and you tentatively reached up to touch it.

"Ah, ah," he grabbed your wrist again, action a little too rough to match the soft manner in which he scolded you, and with even less care, yanked the wrist up to your bed frame.

"Beej-?" you began to question, tugging gently at his grip, more to test the strength then try and escape. Iron-clad. You gulped.

He laughed and snapped with his free hand; suddenly you were bound to the bed, hands high above your head. It wasn't the first time, but you still struggled a bit.

"I don't know if-"

He cut you off with his lips over yours, licking a small stripe across your bottom lip.

"Come on, babes," his voice was low; measured and calm in a way that felt exceedingly unfamiliar. "Trust me."

It was silent for a minute. You tried to think, but your brain was radio static. If it really was all you're good for, there wasn't much to lose. You nodded.

Suddenly, your feet were spread apart and given the same treatment as your hands, stretching you near the full length of your bed. Beetlejuice still looked above you, the calculated smile he wore increasingly disconcerting as time went on. You tugged at the restraints again. They had no give to them, taut even as you shifted. They were metal, a realization you made rather quickly, the cold surface unforgiving as it bit into your skin. You stopped wriggling and returned your attention to Beetlejuice.

"You look amazing tied up like that babes," his voice was raspy—even more than normal. He pulled two strips of cloth out from his jacket and you probably would've been impressed by their cleanliness were you not preoccupied. He snaked the fabric under your head and brought the strips around, one at a time.

The first piece went around your mouth, friction mildly uncomfortable against your chapped lips. He kissed you through the fabric and laughed when you tried to reciprocate. The sound brought some semblance of comfort, and you didn't fight it when the second strip was tied over your eyes.

The last thing you saw as Beetlejuice finished the knot was red hair.

Your bed shifted as Beetlejuice stood up from it, mattress groaning until it had the opportunity to settle out again. What felt like a couple minutes passed silently, and you strained to hear the demon breathe. It seemed, however, he was deciding not to.

Thinking you had been left alone, your heartbeat quickened and suddenly being tied up wasn't quite so bearable. You tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself, but the cloth restricted your breathing just enough as to make it uncomfortable.

"I know babes," you heard a mockingly happy voice announce from across the room. "I don't like being hung out to dry either."

Panic quelled in your chest as your bedroom door clicked shut, breath quickening to the point of burying an ache deep in your lungs, dry and scratchy as you inhaled the lingering dust ingrained in the fabric against your mouth. You rubbed hard at the restraints, knowing full well they wouldn't give in for you, not if Beetlejuice wanted them to stay in place.

The metal wasn't quite so cold anymore, having sucked warmth from your body to heat the surface, but it bit all the same. You stilled your wrists to prevent the skin from actually breaking, eyes moving rapidly from behind the blindfold.

You should've known better than to expect anything else. The man you summoned today wasn't the Beetlejuice you knew, at least, not a part of him that you had ever met before. You had seen him mad, hair fiery red and practically glowing with the heat emitting from his usually cold body, seen him scream and shatter mirrors, punch holes in walls and leave singed footprints in your carpet that smell like burned fiber and sulfur. You had gotten the silent treatment before, only once, when you hadn't summoned him for a week because of final exams, wanting to give you a taste of how it felt to be ignored. But not anything like this.

Realization dawned on you and settled as an additional weight against your stomach that only made it harder to breath. That's what he had meant; left out to dry. Tears gathered in your eyes and dampened the fabric against them. You wanted to be angrier, but this really was your fault, wasn't it? You left him alone, trapped wherever the hell he was, and he was only returning the favor.

It was getting hard to stay awake, exhaustion and panic blending into a sickening paste that caught in your throat and had lights dancing in your vision: or lack thereof.

The last thing you remember thinking before passing out was whether restricting your breathing was accidental, or just another part of him showing you how he feels.

Waking up didn't dawn an acceptance for your situation, but rather renewed the initial panic of being bound and abandoned.

You woke with a start and tried to shoot into a sitting position, but succeeded only in tugging your shoulder so hard it might as well have dislocated. You screamed in pain and shock from behind the gag and gave another sharp tug at the metal cuffs stupidly, as if it proved anything. The metal was almost slick now from your sweat, near hot to the touch, and you wondered helplessly if you could slip out.

Trying to remain otherwise still and failing miserably, you pulled hard on the arm that didn't quite hurt so much, nearly sobbing in relief when you felt the smallest hint of give around your hand. Slowly, painfully, you worked your hand out, moving carefully until the metal decided to bite back.

A particularly sharp edge sunk its teeth into your hand, pinching the skin back and tearing it messily. You made another sound, quieter still as adrenaline pumped through your body and made the pain bearable. Blood—slick like motor oil and equally metallic—dripped from the cut and to your morbid delight, allowed you to slip your hand free easily.

Just as soon as your hand was free, you heard your door fly open and slam into the wall. You heard drywall break and pieces of it fall back into the hidden space between rooms. You heard breathing, labored and panicked, and genuinely struggled to tell whether it was yours.

God, Beetlejuice was mad wasn't he? He had set up a punishment for you, drastic and over dramatic as it was, and caught you in the act of breaking free. You quaked against your mattress, free hand dripping and shoulder aching, tears soaking through the blindfold. You heard footsteps approach quickly, tensing before a thud sounded next to your bed.

Suddenly, hands were working at the fabric around your head and you could breathe again. You gasped for a full breath of air and a moment later you could see.

Beetlejuice was on his knees beside your bed, pale as snow and hair so blue it was practically black, deep like the jagged chasms lining the ocean floor. You screwed your eyes shut, the dawn blue light filtering in through the window too much for your eyes. The bed sunk with a sudden excess of additional weight and as a snap sounded, your tense limbs sagged bonelessly onto the mattress for the first time in hours.

"...babes?"

You opened your eyes, and hated yourself for being relieved his hair was still blue. The demon shifted so he was straddling you, all gentleness and caution until you flinched away from him. Beetlejuice laughed; an awful, watery sound. He looked at your wrists, skin red and angry, then at your blood-slick hand.

"Oh, I've really fucked up this time, haven't I doll?" He shifted a little further away but didn't get off the bed. From how he was looking at you, it might've been impossible for him to do otherwise.

You cradled your bloody hand close to your chest and saw the Beetlejuice you knew sitting close enough to touch, though you'd never quite felt further away.

He was on his knees now, taller than you but not towering, and clearly at a loss for what to do. It was silent, but only for a minute.

"I could smell him on you."

You smiled weakly. Your shoulder didn't ache quite so much any more and although the adrenaline was wearing off, your hand didn't hurt unbearably. Looking at the cut, it really wasn't all too bad, not enough to need stitches anyways. You scooted closer to the wall your bed was pushed up against and patted the spot next to you.

The demon didn't miss a beat. He was beside you in an instant, dirty hand hovering just above your uninjured one. He cleared his throat and moved to place it next to yours on the mattress.

You forced yourself to lean into him a little, let him know it was okay, but it was obvious he could feel how tense you were.

"It's okay that you don't want to date me," you whispered, trying to keep dejection from leaking into your tone.

He didn't respond verbally, instead sitting up straight and stiff like a soldier called to attention. With a sigh, you lay back a bit more, relaxing into the demon's side.

"I wouldn't want to date me either."

Getting pulled fully into his chest wasn't a memory you had as much as the knowledge that it must've happened given how you were suddenly sat in between his legs.

"Babes, you know I don't hate you, right?"

Instead of responding, you looked dubiously at the bright red rings around your wrists and tried to ignore how you shoulder twitched. Feeling defeated, you let your forehead fall against Beetlejuice's chest and took an uneven breath.

"Yeah," he mumbled into your scalp, letting his chin rest atop your head. "I guess I'm not making too good a case for myself, am I?" His tone lifted at the end as if to imply a joke, but his voice shook with sincerity. "I wanted you to know what it felt like to get left behind. I guess I was hoping you'd see how bad it was and…"

He trailed off and you mumbled into his chest, "And never do it to you again?"

Beetlejuice pulled back a bit, separating your head from his chest, and took hold of your chin. The move wasn't quite so suave, rough around the edges and a little awkward because of your position, but he craned his neck and kissed you anyways.

"You're too good for me, ya know that?"

Feeling a little less uneasy, exhaustion began to nibble at the edges of your consciousness. You tried to kiss him again, but missed just so and caught instead the corner of his lips.

"More than a fucktoy?"

If you were thinking a little clearer, those words wouldn't have left your lips. You wouldn't have seen Beetlejuice look down at you with shock scrawled around his widened eyes or the guilt and concern that creased the space in between his brows. For a second, you thought your slip up would be the start of a conversation you absolutely didn't want to have right now, and relief flooded your body when instead of taking the comment and running with it, the demon just curled around you a little tighter.

"Of course, doll," he mumbled softly. "More than that. Always."

You fell asleep soon after, and the last thing you remember thinking was how badly you missed when his green hair.

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice #betelgeuse #female reader

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moralesmarkers · 4 years

Text

Teen Wolf as things i found in my groupchat

Liam: guyyyyyyys i have to tell u something reeeeeaaaaally important

Stiles, in the same minute: yea

Stiles: i'm here

Stiles: huh

Stiles: wow

Stiles: hello

Stiles: no?

Stiles: ok

Lydia: hey

Allison: hi 🍍

Lydia: nvm

Allison: why 🦘

Lydia: i wanted to ask u something but i remembered the answer to my question while i was typing

Kira: hey do u guys wanna meet up? :))

Lydia: bois

Lydia: boys

Lydia: whatever

Lydia: i'm shopping i can't

Scott: what the fuck

Stiles: bitch i'm cackling

Isaac: wtf is going on

Scott: i got a D- on my chemistry test

Scott: Stiles copied the whole thing off me and got an A

Isaac: now i'm cackling too

Cora: it's period time

Erica: what

Cora: cuz i'm bleeding

Cora: out of my vagina

Erica: does it hurt

Cora: yea

Erica: how much

Cora: QUAGHJGFGHJGHF

Liam: [random picture of his feet]

Kira: i really like your socks

Liam: ikr they're awesome

Allison: i'm hungry

Allison: but i just had sumn avocado

Lydia: aw girl now i want sumn avocado too

Malia, two hours later: i wanna eat a horse

Lydia, on vacation: theres a cannabis shop nexx 2 our hotel

Boyd: Are you already on some of that? Your grammar is weird

Lydia: u can buy hookahs hereeeee

Boyd: Lydia i'm sweating please tell me you aren't smoking cannabis

Kira: how du u politely insult someone

Malia: ur a humanly human

Boyd: that's not polite, that's the heaviest insult known to mankind

Lydia: guys i'm going shopping again what should i buy?

Stiles: b a t h b o m b s

Stiles: t o i l e t p a p e r p e r f u m e

Scott: what the heck is toilet paper perfume

Lydia: i need more ideas

Stiles: d e c o r a t i o n

Stiles: p e n s

Stiles: d e c o r a t i o n p e n s

Scott: Stiles what the FUCK are decoration pens

Stiles: i d k

Stiles: s o u n d s g o o d

Lydia: ok thx babe, please stop doing drugs and sleep instead, have a nice day

Stiles: t h x

Stiles: w i l l d o

Scott: something tells me u won't but alright

Scott: what did you get on your essays guys

Lydia: 98

Scott: what

Scott: how

Scott: Stiles you better have a low grade or else i'll kick u

Stiles: i have 105

Lydia: how in the fuck did you get a 105

Liam: what was your essay about

Lydia: we had to write an instructional essay about a mathematical concept we used this year

Lydia: preferably the quadratic formula

Stiles: i wrote 5 paragraphs on how to add single digit numbers

Stiles: 105 for creativity and accuracy

Lydia: youve gotta b kidding me rn

Stiles: i got the idea off a tumblr post

Lydia: i think im having a stroke

Erica: fuck off i don't wanna do school work in quarantine i've got enough to do already

Cora: wtf u doing we're literally quarantined

Erica: sleeping

Erica: bitch

Stiles at three am: W H AT 'S JE S U S C R IM I N AL R E CO RD

Derek: ffs stiles its 3 am go to sleep

Cora: why does my perfume have more curves than i do

Erica: why does the pineapple have more joy in life than i do

Stiles: why does everybody have more talents better mental health and prettier faces than i do

Liam: Stiles

Liam: are you ok?

Stiles: yeah totally anyways guys what are we doing today

Erica, completely out of nowhere: I HATE THIS FUCKING BITCH

Cora: big mood

Kira: hiii guys does anyone want to videochat?? :)

Allison: i have to take a shit later maybe

Kira: oh

Kira: ok

Erica: w h e e z e

Cora: guys i'm feeling down can anyone call me

Kira: yup hun i'm here

Allison: i'm pooping but alas

Cora: no Allison i don't want to talk to you while you're taking a shit

Cora: but thx

Allison: ... you're welcome

Kira: the smolest house in europe is 57 centimetres smol

Stiles: don't know where i'm gonna need this information but i'm pretty sure i will someday so thank u babe

Kira: uwu

Theo: fuck off how does charli damelio have 6 million likes on a tiktok of her drinking a slurpee and i can't even get thirty likes on a text post she's such a stupid whore

Stiles: thats because you're untalented, ugly and unsympathetic as fuck and nobody likes you

Stiles: including me

Stiles: get the fuck off our group chat you heinous jealous slug

Liam: slowclapinthedistance

Kira: guys what do you think of the drama bryce hall got into yesterday

Isaac: nothing

Scott: i'm a potato

Stiles: who the fuck is bryce hall

Kira:

Kira: the holy trinity

Derek: okay, so we're meeting at my house at two o'clock. possibly/most definitely without scott, because he's not reading or answering any texts.

Stiles, twenty minutes later: i found a wild scott ima drag its ass to dereks now

Theo: idk i don't feel good lately

Theo: like i'm just mentally not alright and i feel down all the time

Stiles: HAHHAHAHAHAHA

Stiles: I'M SORRY BUT THIS IS THE FUNNIEST SHIT I READ ALL WEEK

Stiles: ssshhhh erica

Erica: what

Stiles: do u want crack

Derek: Stiles for fucks sake stop trying to get Erica to do drugs with you

Erica: yes

Derek: wait

Stiles: YES

Derek: NO FUCK

Scott: that's it

Scott: theo ima throw u out of our friend group u are toxic asf

Scott: stiles i'm gonna put you into therapy

Stiles: AHAHHAHHAHAHA LIKE I'M ANYWHERE NEAR RICH ENOUGH TO AFFORD THAT

Stiles: BITCH

Stiles: MY THERAPY IS CHEAP MARIHUANA

Liam: i'm gonna go to sleep now good night everyone

Theo: have nice dreams

Theo: about murder

Allison: i really want to go shopping anyone down??

Lydia: YES

Lydia: that's the spirit sis

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finleyjayne · 4 years

Text

Break A Leg

{Chapter 1: Auditions}

Summary: After your accident, everything in your life changed. Your shared dream of being on Broadway with your best friend, Amanda, was over. But just because YOU don’t think you want the same things in life doesn’t mean that your friend won’t see through you. Taking matters into her own hands, you end up at an audition you’re sure that you’ll fail since SHIELD Theater Company is known the world over for typecasting. And you don’t fit any of your typical actress types. Little do you know that the company’s new writer - nihilistic, pessimistic, and resident drunk; Bucky Barnes- is looking for someone out of their normal choices.

Characters: Female Reader, OFC Best Friend, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, and all your other favorite Marvel Characters, hopefully in the long run it will end with a Bucky Barnes/Reader ship.

Series Warnings: Guys, this is based on my own experiences within the Acting community after gaining weight and height after an accident. There will be fat-shaming, mentions of eating disorders, unhealthy expectations, unhealthy coping mechanisms, also like bias based on looks.

A/N:this originally was inspired by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan s follower celebration challenge. I was given the opportunity to use the text prompt “No fucks given, Next please.” Thank you Star! Thank you Thank you. Also a big thanks to the lovely @cavillanche for giving me a gentle nudge to write for myself and for being an amazing sounding board.

"Come oooooon, Y/N. I don't care if you don't want to go out. I haven't seen you in what feels like literal months. That's saying something since you know we LIVE together. I won't take no as an answer." Your best friend, Amanda, said as she flopped on top of you.

Amanda burst into your bedroom this morning at way-to-fucking-early o'clock in the morning, on a warpath to get you to come out with her. It didn't matter to her that you were finally getting some sleep after working all-nighters for the last week. There was no way to ignore her either, her sunny personality and eager persistence would cause you to roll over in your grave if she wanted you to.

With a groan, you smothered your complaints behind a gasping wheeze. "Kay, Manda, where are we going?"

She rolled off of you with a high-pitched squeal and used the momentum to pull you out of bed. "Yay! I have so much planned. I was talking to my manager about how well we used to work as a pair on stage. I may have mentioned how much I would kill to be the Penny to your Tracy. Or the Meg to your Christine. The Judy to your Betty. The Glinda to your Elphaba." Her words started to fade into background noise as she milled on about the parts you had once wanted to play together.

The dream used to be that you both would move here, to New York, and play in all of the big theaters on Broadway together. Sadly, your broadway dreams were not as much of a reality as Amanda's were. And you were okay with that. You were thrilled for Amanda. Living vicariously through your best friend, helping her prepare for her shows while working as a Math tutor and Accountant for a local firm.

It didn't help that you weren't necessarily what people consider the typical standard of beauty. Standing just under six feet tall, a little plushy about the middle, and some nasty scar tissue leaving one of your legs in a constant state of ghostly paleness. Not that people notice since you tend to find yourself just as pale as the damaged tissue. After so many failed auditions, you figured your best life was lived outside of the theater. You were happy, and honestly, you are kinda glad that you are where you are.

"....So hurry up, I'll pick your outfit, we have an appointment with Rijah in half an hour." Amanda finished pushing you into the little cubical shower. When did she turn it on? Where are we going? Needless to say, you did what she asked and stuffed down your confusion, focusing on waking up more before you accompanied her to yet another one of her 'private' lessons with your pianist friend.

Thirty minutes later, you were dressed, primped, polished, and not all that much more awake. Amanda stuffed a binder of music into your hand as Elijah spread his copy over the lip of his pristinely kept upright. "You know this song, I think it will be perfect. A little overplayed, but with a fresh interpretation, they'll overlook it. All you have to do is sing. They are bound to cast you. I've worked with them before, and Director Rogers values skill over appearances. So we'll show them your ability, and he'll love you."

Looking at your rambling best friend, Your confusion amplifies. Your jaw cracks as you don't even try to stifle another yawn. You rub your eyes, not questioning her pushiness. "Uuuuhhhhh, okay?" You scan through the score, making note of the cut before looking to the triangular-shaped man sitting on the piano bench. Since you had already been taken through the typical vocal warm-ups by Amanda while she played dress up this morning. You smile at your expectant friend/accompanist. "Will you give me a playthrough with the melody line in it as a refresher, please, Rijah, Repeat, and I'll join you?"

"Of course," He said sweetly with a nod, turning to the keys and playing. Quietly you hummed along, mentally noting which registers each phrase should be sung in. Where the notes would be stretched, what you would use to your advantage. The accompaniment was simple, repeated strummed chords like most modern musical use. It gives freedom rhythmically when it comes to melodies. You could have fun with the piece. Smiling to yourself, you open your mouth and join the simplified accompaniment on the repeat.

When the second run-through finishes with a very extravagant arpeggiation. There is a moment of complete stillness as the resonance leaves the space. You are high on the feelings of intense emotion and absolute peace, yet somehow buzzing with unlocked energy. You miss this feeling, of connection with everything and nothing, The feeling of knowing that you did something right, it's heady, and it drives you to ask yourself why you ever stopped performing for a brief second. Amanda was always saying that she would drag you to an audition one of these days if you didn't get over yourself.

You are knocked out of your musical high by Amanda's enthusiastic clapping. Elijah looks at you with a smirk, opens his mouth, and is swiftly cut off by your friend. "God, Y/N. They won't be able to stop themselves as soon as you open your mouth!" You smile at her very biased opinions. Before she can get any crazy ideas like dragging me along to more than just her sessions with Elijah, you place the binder the music into her hands, "Why don't we go over Take me or leave me? After all, this is your rehearsal time, I'm just here to help you."

Amanda gives you a devious smirk as she nods. "Sure. You heard the woman, 'Rijah." She sends him a sly wink that you are too tired to really read much into. He just nods with a conspiratory smile and spreads the music for the RENT song over the previous.

"Whenever you are ready, ladies," He says when he's ready. Sighing internally, you place yourself back into your 'supportive friend' role, playing out the simplified blocking of Amanda's latest show.

Before you even fully realize it, your hour with 'Rijah was over, and Amanda was pulling you into a nearby taxi to your next destination. "If you don't let me at least have a coffee, I will not be held accountable for my actions, Woman." You warn your best friend as you eye her. You were starting to worry that you would need to be more awake for whatever plans she had for the rest of the day, You were now to the point where you could see her scheming something, but were still too out of it to figure out what it was.

She looked at you, trying to hide behind her mask of sickeningly-sweet innocence. I knew this look and all that it implied, and it worked to shake me into a slight panic of what she was walking me into. "I don't know what you mean, Y/N. I told you where we were going this morning, I promise this is the last stop before we can go home and you can sleep the rest of the night away. But if things go as I hope, we may have a repeat of this occasion sooner rather than later." The taxi pulls up at a building with a line heading out the door and around the corner.

That's when it hits you; That promise that Amanda had made to you all those months ago about dragging you to an audition wasn't just one of those 'get moving your ass, or I'll move it for you' speeches to get you out of bed, she was going to do it. No, she wasn't going to do anything. Amanda had already done it. She had gotten you into an audition.

You were suddenly wide awake. The knowledge that you were at an NYC Broadway audition, with your best friend hitting you like Celie's babies being alive in The Color Purple. It is unexpected but brought with it such excitement and fear all at once. You grasped onto Amanda's arm. "Amanda Jenivive Brendon, if this is some kind of joke, I don't know if I can forgive you. Please say this is not some kind of joke." The words are a desperate snarl. The hope pressing against your chest mixed with the fear that you jumped to incorrect conclusions was absolutely unbearable.

Amanda lets out a loving laugh before playfully scowling at you. "You really haven't been listening to a single thing I've said to you all day, have you?" The accusation was slightly bitter, but you knew she was laughing on the inside.

You squeeze her arm as your panic escalates. What am I going to do? How am I going to do this? What if they don't accept me just because of how I look? Shit, what am I going to do about a resume? Your vision blurs as you watch your best friend take your hand, leading you into the building past the line of girls and down a hallway to a dance studio styled room.

She leads you to a table set before the long wall of mirrors where a cute little redhead sits. Taking out a binder and handing her two sets of papers, "Hey Wanda, It's good to see you. Is it standard issue today?"

With a bright smile, Wanda accepts the papers. "Sure is Amanda, Do you need a copy of the company notes, or do you still know them by heart?"

Amanda chuckles before shaking her head, "I don't need a set, but you probably should give one to Y/N here, She could use the distraction of going through all the legal jargon while we wait."

Wanda's eyes grew wide as she turned to face you. "Y/N? As in 'shower singer Y/N'? Oh my Atlanta, Buck is going to lose his shit!" She jumps up and claps her hands. "I gotta go tell them!"

Amanda's hand snaps out to stop the woman from leaving. "Hey, none of that. I want to see their surprise when they hear her, especially after Tony's last casting rant."

Wanda immediately calms, her face splitting into a devious smirk. "OOOOooo, you are evil. I love it. Want me to film it for you?"

"It's like you read my mind," Amanda says, turning to see your expression of confusion. "Y/N, hey, Y/N/N? You in there?" She snaps her fingers lightly in your face. "Come on, girl. Wanda here is the Stage Manager for the SHIELD Theater Company."

"Wait, what?" Your voice cracks as your heart hammers even harder into your ribs. SHIELD Theater Company was one of the prominent troupes in New York. They were world-famous, they were the equivalent to The Royal Shakespeare Company in America. Were you at an audition for them? I thought you had to be part of a Union to even be considered for an audition with them!

"Really, Y/N? Still not paying attention? Come on, let's take a seat, stretch a bit. before they put us through our paces." Her eyes are bright with amusement as she sticks your number on the left side of your dress.

"I'm sorry? In my defense, I have had a total of 8 hours of sleep in the last week. So not the point, though!" You follow her to a set of chairs in the room. At her reproachful glare, when your voice breaches into a louder panicked screech, you take a few breaths before continuing in a harried whisper. " I mean, how am I even here? I am not Unionized, I haven't paid my dues for months! I don't have-" Your internal concerns continue to pour out of your mouth as Amanda slams her palm over your mouth.

"Hey, take a deep breath for me, Y/N. I need you to stay conscious... maybe I should have gotten you a coffee before we came, but you always complain that it makes your vocals all gummy." You rip her hand off of your mouth, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Hey, you're the one who woke me from my first decent sleep this week, you can't really blame me for being a little lack-of-sleep drunk. And Coffee does make me phlegmy, but, again, that is not the point. The point is now that I know what you've set up, how can it be possible?" You whisper scream at the aggravatingly calm Amanda.

She rolled her eyes, "Well, I told you I was going to make our dreams come true, and I have had enough of your lame excuses about how you don't want to get back on the horse. But I saw you today. You WANT to be here. I've seen your secret tears when you go over our old cast photos. I hear you belting in the shower, so I've taken it upon myself to continue paying your dues to the AEA, and cashed in a favor with my agent to sign both of us up for this particular call."

Before you could make a rebuttal, seven people walked into the room that had slowly filled with fifty or so women while you were distracted. A short brunette plants himself in the center of the mirrored wall as the others take seats next to Wanda behind the white foldable table.

"Welcome, ladies, It is inspiring to see all of your beautiful faces. Before we start, I wanted to say a few words. First, thank you for taking the time to come and audition with us today.

"As you know, we only hold one set of auditions for the full season and look at that, all of you have made the initial cut for this season. Now it's time for the fine-tuning. Just know that even if you don't make it into our troupe this year, it's nothing personal. We have a specific set of personalities and abilities that we are looking for. If you don't make it this year with us, don't be afraid to come back next season.

"Now, to kick off this lovely party, let's have you line up, no particular order." The man smirks, and you gasp as you realize who the cocky man is: Tony Stark. You were being lined up for your first NYC cattle call by the eccentric, theatrical genius Tony Stark. You didn't know whether to be honored or terrified. He had a notorious reputation as a type-caster, and the only type he favored was the short, petite woman. FUCK.

Amanda dragged you into the line as she plastered a knowing smile on her face, "Just remember, sing. if you open your mouth, let that beautiful song sing from your heart."

"Sure, whatever you say," you reply to her whispered reassurances, holding your head up high as the legendary man started down the line."No, No, Yes, Yes, Yes, Sorry, Sure, Yes. Not this time, sweets. No, Sorry, Yes, Yes, Yes... " And so on until he reached Amanda. "Miss Brandon, nice to see you again. I look forward to hearing your choices today."

"Same to you, Mr. Stark, and I look forward to showing you my progress from last year."

"Good, good" His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her for another few seconds before skipping over you entirely, "yes, yes, yes, No…"

Well, it looks like you made it through the first cut, Amanda drags you back to where you left your purse and Amanda's backpack. She shares a conspiratory glance with Wanda, who just rolls her eyes. "Take a deep breath, then they'll start pulling us up in small groups to rotate through our song choices."

"Amanda, I'm pretty sure you voodooed Stark into overlooking me." Amanda just laughs.

"Sure, whatever you wanna tell yourself. I think it was just you being here, it's fate." Now it's your turn to roll your eyes at your friend's everlasting optimism.

Once Stark finishes going down the line, he takes his place back front and center. "Okay, ladies, now it's time for the fun bit. I'm sure you were all smart cookies and gave Wanda your music cuts along with your resumes, so now it's time to put those voices to work. We'll call you up in trios. Wanda will read out your name and call number, Thor will wait for you to count out a tempo before playing for you. Wanda?" Stark calls out the woman before taking his seat behind the table.

Wanda smiles brightly, calling out the first three people as the Hulking blond man stands from the table and makes his way to the piano. Wow, I hope I don't mess this up. It's not just my ass on the line anymore. You are brought back out of your thoughts by a gentle tug on your arm.

"Stop overthinking things, you'll do fine, Your resume is prime, your song choice is brilliant, and like they couldn't choose someone more theatre conscious if they had hired Idina Menzel."

You shudder at the actress's name, "I would hope so, she's terrible."

"Yet she had been a mainstay in theater for years."

"So what, just goes to show people don't necessarily want talent. They want beautiful mutants who can screech out songs without killing their vocal cords."

"Y/N, Shut the fuck up. You can do the same things, you may not sing in a scream like she can, but you know how to sing, you can dance- don't give me that look I caught you practicing your fouettes last week- and more importantly, you can connect. You connect in everything, you have so much to offer, and I know that once these people hear you, they will hire you. I know it."

You sigh, you weren't sure that everything she was saying was true, but you knew that she believed the words with all of her heart and didn't want to be the reason her hope died. So you just sighed in resignation before turning to the group that was in the midst of their auditions. They were outstanding, and the longer you went on, the more self-conscious of your own lack of preparation. Subconsciously you reached out to grab Amanda's hand and ended up clutching onto her dress front.

"Amanda, Amanda, I don't deserve to be here." Your hushed whisper, dragging harsh against your throat. Your chest tightening, your panic acting as a hangman's noose. "Amanda, I don't know what I'm singing. Amanda, what is it from? What is the song's name? How will I slate if I don't even know the name of the song? Wait, what is MY name? " Your breath started to tear through your lungs, your sinuses stung with oncoming tears.

"Y/N, take a breath, let go before you give everyone an unexpected flash." Amanda's whispered reply was almost biting in its directness. Even if you consciously didn't hear the words, her tone cut the noose from your neck. Your lungs immediately expanded with much-needed air, your fingers loosening their grip to let her replace the fabric with her own firm grip. "Good girl, now, Y/N, what is your name?"

"Uhhhhhh…" Even if you were calming down, your brain was still coming back to grips.

"The next three are as follows: Y/N Y/L/N, Amanda Brendon, and Savannah Moffat." Wanda's lyric call cut through the silence that had filled the studio while you were trying to remember your name.

You stood automatically, all your years of auditioning kicked you into performance autopilot. Your shoulders take their place slightly back, head high, chest on display, the skirt of your dress flowing around your thighs as if they were the mist rolling over the valley at dawn. Your face hid the horror that was filling your mind, it didn't matter that you didn't remember the name of your song, you were Y/N Y/L/N. You could fake it till you make it to perfection. Amanda was right, all you have to do is sing, and they will see you. It doesn't matter if you don't look like you used to, you are still capable, and even if you don't make it, you can't say that you didn't try. Just remember what Doctor Ellis said, 'every audition is a performance, even if they don't choose you, you were able to perform.' You can do this. After all, you sang it this morning, you could see the sheet music just behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. Just keep breathing.

Amanda gave your hand a final squeeze as she recognized the look of horrified determination in your eyes. Smiling to herself as she saw the bored looks on the panelists' faces. She met eyes with Wanda, who gave her a smirk nudging the blond man sandwiched between her and Tony. Turning his attention to your regal appearance before Tony also decided to look up from whatever was so important on his phone.

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself, and Tony's voice filled the space clearly, saying the words that had shattered your own will to find your auditions.

"I'm sorry I must have missed you before. There is no need for you to sing today, collect your things."

Your face fell into an imitation of a polite smile as your brain processed the rejection. Guess Amanda really did save me from being culled. Before you can say or do anything, though, the blond man sitting next to Tony spoke.

"Tony, you had your chance. Now it's my turn to decide whether or not she is cast. Now sit down."

"No, it isn't too late, Steve. I bankroll this group I get to have a say. And I won't have someone who looks like her representing my Acting Company."

"You already had your say. Now sit down and let the girl sing."

"No," Stark turns from the blond man and back to you. "No fucks given, Next, please."

CHAPTER TWO

#Marvel #reader insert #star's celebration challenge #Theater Company AU #Slow burn Fanfiction #stole my boyfriend's computer to write this.#he wasn't happy #It died twice #what even #also like leave me an ask or something #ofc fic #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

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ladyfiresfanfiction · 3 years

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Moth to a Flame - Supernatural Fan Fic - John Winchester and Castiel x OCs

The night was suppose to be a strict girls night. Willow Skye and her best friend, Dana Baker, were going to have a relaxing night in their brand new place in Kansas. It had been torn down and rebuilt two years ago, and it was the lowest priced house within ten miles of their hometown of Lawrence.

Willow didn't know what, but something drew her to the house. It was like a moth to a flame, she didn't understand why, but for the price of the place, she wasn't going to ask questions. Dana moved in with her after their junior year of college started. They were scraping money together to survive alone, so they decided moving in together was going to be a wonderful idea. No more struggling, and they could live together. That was one thing on each other's bucket list, and now they could proudly scratch it off. But Dana didn't like the house. She said it felt ominous. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Willow, being the ever stubborn optimist, said her friend was being silly. The house was a steal and it was beautiful. But deep down, Willow had the same feelings, but she decided to bury them deep in the back of her mind and enjoy her own home. It was a dreary Friday in October, exam week had finally ended and both girls' heads were spinning. They weren't in the mood to hit up Lawrence's night life. Instead, they were going to grab a couple pizzas, two six packs of smirnoff ice apple, and watch horror movies and play video games. It was the perfect night. They got all the classics, like the nightmare on elm street series, the exorcist, and new favorites like Paranormal Activity. They ordered two large cheese pizzas, and stocked their booze in the fridge. As it hit ten o'clock, they went through their first movie. Terrified, Dana began to beat Willow with a pillow and accuse her of turning out the lights, although she was sitting no more than two feet from her on their leather couch. "Damn it, Dana, quit!" Willow yelped. "You fucking did something to the lights, Pixie!" Dana shrieked. "Oh for the love of God, one bad haircut and I'm stuck with that horrible nickname forever." Willow growled. "Ha! You changed the subject!" Dana said, taking a swig of her smirnoff. "Yeah I did, dumbass, because I'm sitting right here and haven't moved in two and a half hours. Now tell me, how did I fuck with the lights?" "I.. Well.. Oh fuck you." she said with a mouthful of pizza. There was a loud bang from the upstairs bedroom, Willow's bedroom. Willow and Dana looked at each other, growing very pale. Outside the storm was raging and lightening kept cracking every ten seconds. Thunder boomed and made the windows rattle, and rain pounded the window pane with rage. The power went out after the second bang from the upstairs. Both girls were terrified now. "W-what the fuck?" Dana stammered. "I.. I don't know." Willow whispered. "I'm fucking scared, dude." she said, wrapping her hands around her friends arm so tight Willow was losing circulation. "I'm no good dead, Dana. Let go of my arm." she said. They started for the stairs, holding a lighter and trying to keep their dinner down. Dana glanced outside and saw a beautiful Impala on the side of the road. She thought it looked familiar. She saw the car door open and four men get out. Before she could tell Willow, Willow had raced up the stairs on the third bang. The front door was kicked down and Dana screamed her head off. "Hey, hey! It's us!" A man with deep hazel eyes said. "DEAN!? I swear to fuck I will kill you if you EVER-" "No time for that sweetheart, where's your friend?" he asked. "Upstairs." she said, nervously. "I'll go with dad, you and Cas stay with, uh, what's your name?" a tall man with shaggy brown hair asked. "Dana. I only told you a dozen times when you interrogated me this afternoon." she snapped. The man, who she assumed was Cas, stared at her with big blue eyes and studied her. If this wasn't one of the scariest nights of her life, she would have gone over there and flirted with him. Instead, she just smiled and then peered upstairs. It was too quiet. Dean went into the kitchen, and Cas stood a few feet from Dana. She didn't know if she should trust these men, but she had no choice since they broke in to her house. "Cas?" she asked. "Yes. Dana?" he replied. "Yep, that's me." she smiled, stepping closer to him. "So your friend knows about the demon?" he asked. "DEMON!? WHAT!? A DEMON. A FUCKING DEMON IN MY HOUSE?" Dana shrieked. "You didn't-" "A FUCKING DEMON? Like, like those nasty pointy eared motherfuckers who like to.. to.. To fucking pounce on unsuspecting girls like Willow and I?" Dana rambled in a panic. "Good going, Cas. This is why I tell you to keep your mouth shut." Dean said, walking into the living room again. Dean took the mumbling Dana into the kitchen to explain. The house that was on the grounds before this was his family's. He didn't go into too much detail, only enough to make Dana try to flee from the house in a pair of daisy duke shorts and a system of a down tank top. Cas ran after her and brought her back inside, although she scratched his face to Hell. "Look, you're going to be alright. Dean and his brother and father are the best at getting rid of these things. Plus, well, I'm an angel. So, I'm pretty helpful at kicking Demon ass." Cas grinned at her. "Angel? Look buddy you may look like a very delicious.. heavenly.. God given gift to women but you are NOT an ANGEL." She barked. "God given gift to women? Seriously?" Dean looked at her. The next thing they heard was Willow's high pitched scream and her flying down the stairs. She too tried to escape, but Dean's father grabbed her by the waist and took her to the couch. She slapped him across the face while swearing at him, trying to fight him off and escape, not only from him, but the damned house, too. He had to pin her down with his own body and he began to whisper in her ear. She finally stopped struggling, and she looked up at him with fear eminating from her aqua-golden eyes. He helped her to her feet and brought her over to where Dana, Dean, and Cas stood. "Where's Sam?" Dean asked. "He's putting salt in all the rooms upstairs. Stay with the girls, I'm going to help him. "No! I'm coming with you." Willow piped up, grabbing his hand. He looked from her hand in his, to her eyes. He shook his head and got her to let him go before trotting upstairs. Dana still stared at Cas in awe. If he really was an angel, then she had to rethink everything. She had been raised as a catholic, but when she hit her teens, she considered herself an atheist. She never had reason to believe in God or Angels, or even the Devil and Demons. She scoffed at anyones mere thought of them existing. But now, she wasn't so sure. "I'm going to help, um, what's his name." Willow said. "His name is John, and no you're not." Dean said. "Oh, I would just love for you to try and stop me." Willow snapped. "Is that a dare, or a double dare sweet heart?" he asked, taking a step closer to her. "You come near me and you'll be missing your manhood, pal." "I'd listen to her, Dean. She's kind of.. um, well.. a bitch." "Thanks, Dana." Willow murmured. The lights came on, blindingly white. It made Willow cover her eyes and trip backwards, falling on her ass. The light went back to it's natural wattage and Dana helped her friend to her feet. Willow dragged her to the isolated edge of the livingroom, right near the couch and started to whisper fiercely. "Who are these guys? Demons? Seriously?" Willow asked. "I know, dude. They showed up after my World Religions class, ironically enough. At first they said they were with the health department, but then the blue eyed one slipped and said the house had something evil. I didn't give it a second thought. But then when all the weird shit started happening, I saw their car and well, you know the rest." she explained. "Dude, what if this is because we can see shit? I mean, plus my messing with Witchcraft when I was fourteen.." Willow replied. "Hey, Dean said whatever this thing is, was here way before us. It's always been here, so quit thinking this is your fault." Dana said, giving Willow a hug. They joined the guys at the foot of the stairs. It was quiet, and the lights were off. The shaggy haired guy, named Sam, came down and he had a cut on his cheek. Dean and Sam went to their car to load up on what they called "an arsenal of weapons against our little house guest", and Cas stood by Dana. Willow smirked as she saw her friend grow a light pink and then tried going upstairs. "No. No fucking way, Pixie." Dana gasped, and grabbed her friends arm. "Number one, call me Pixie when John is around and you don't have to worry about the demons getting you, because I will first. Number two, I'm a grown ass woman and I paid for this house, I'm going." "I didn't know you were a fairy." Cas said, rather child like. "Excuse me? I'm not a Fairy you twat!" "Willow, he's an Angel! He doesn't know any better!" Dana snapped. "Whatever, see you ladies in a bit, I'm going to find John." Willow said, and ran upstairs. Cas and Dana sat on the couch, fidgeting. Cas looked at Dana and couldn't believe how beautiful she was. It had been centuries since he had ever had feelings for a woman, or even noticed one for that matter, but Dana was different. Her eyes showed how good her soul was, her voice was so soft and promising, and her lips looked like perfectly shaped rose petals. As she shook in horror at the flickering lights, something came over him. He put his arms around her protectively, bringing her shaking frame close to his. He whispered soothingly in her ear, that no matter what happened, she would be safe. Dana sat there, looking at him. His eyes were full of emotions. Unfortunately, they were ones she couldn't quite decipher. If she wasn't so incredibly frightened, and hopelessly attracted to him, she could probably figure it out. But between the howling wind, the darkened house, and the intense fear of being killed and ending up in Hell, she had her mind on other things. But, that didn't stop her from wanting to kiss him. His lips were plump, and looked so warm and inviting. She wasn't in to one night stands, but if this was any other Friday night, and he was some random guy, she would have jumped his bones as soon as their eyes met. Dean and Sam were back inside, and going through everything they collected. Dean saw that Cas and Dana were snuggled on the couch, but saw no sign of Willow. He groaned and walked over. "I hate to intrude on your beautiful moment, guys, but where the hell is that pain in the ass best friend of yours, Dana?" "She went to find John." "Damn it! That girl better hope she found my dad, and not that demon." Sam added. "Willow's smart, she can take care of herself." Dana said. Willow was walking slowly and quietly in the hallway, looking for him. He was so gorgeous, she was surprised he had two full grown sons. He seemed so mysterious, though. She couldn't tell if that was what really attracted her to him, or the fact that his wet, black v-neck clung to his body, which showed how good of shape he was in. Or maybe it was his messy brown hair, or those piercing eyes. She tried to shake the lustful thoughts from her head, and when she did, she tripped. "Damn it, fuck that hurt." she mumbled to herself. She went into her room, but didn't find John. All she could see were these weird images on the ground, and the pristine white salt in the window sills, and in front of her closet door. She moved in, and the door slammed shut. She stifled a cry and looked around the room, there was no one. She heard sounds coming from the closet and her heart began to slam in her chest. As she began to back away, she bumped into someone and screamed. She was spun around and came face to face with John. "Didn't I tell you to stay downstairs?" he demanded. "Yeah well, I'm not obedient." she smiled. "You're gonna get yourself killed, Willow." he whispered. "Look, I'm not a damn damsel in distress, I can take care of myself." she said, growing irritated. "You have no idea how dangerous these damn things are. I've hunted them for the last twenty some years, sweetie. Trust me when I say it's safer downstairs." "If you're staying, then I am, too." she said, not budging from in front of him. "Fine, your choice. But stay close." he replied, frustrated. She stuck right beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He didn't know why, but he wanted her as close to him as possible. He didn't want anything to happen to her. His sole mission in life was to save people. This girl may have been getting on his last nerve, but he liked her bravery, her determination, and she was pretty on top of it. He wondered why she wanted to be up there with him, but he didn't ask. It was nice to have a woman with him, standing by his side through this. Willow felt safe with John's arm around her. She wanted to hold on to his waist and convince him to run away with her, from this place, far away, and hole up in some motel for the night. But she could tell he wouldn't go for it. She squished herself against his side as much as possible. The windows started to rattle, and Willow made her way to the bedroom door. It wouldn't open. She kept her cool, although inside she was panicing. Dean was on the other side, trying to kick it down, but nothing would work. John stood in front of Willow, trying to figure out what his next move would be. Out of nowhere, she felt herself go flying against a wall, pinned against it. She was deathly afraid, she couldn't even speak. John tried to grab her, but he was thrown against the opposite side of the wall. Dean finally managed to kick the door open, and Sam was right behind, with a large leather book. "Now's not story time, guys!" Willow shrieked. "Relax!" Sam snapped. The thing appeared, right next to John. Willow was struggling to free herself so she could get to him, which caught it's attention. It's pitch black eyes stared at her, and it's lips turned into a cold smirk. Sam's book went into flames and he went flying backwards and the door slammed shut behind him. Dean was knocked into the wall and went unconscious. John was swearing at the thing, trying to get it's attention, to bring it to him instead of Willow. But Willow didn't even shake, or shut her eyes. She stared at it with hate. She struggled to free herself, but had no such luck. "My, how you've grown." It hissed, like a snake. "Fuck off." she choked. She felt a white hot pain on her abdomen, and screamed. The thing flipped her shirt up to show blood dripping down her body. She stared at it, and fear started to sink in. It ran it's tongue over her cheek, and then whispered that she was going to Hell, with it, and there was no stopping it. She stared it down, showing that she wasn't weak, or scared. It slapped her, and then she felt more pain in her chest, and her fore arms. She was turning in to a bloody mess. "Let her go!" John demanded. "What's wrong, Johnny? A little upset that this will be the 2nd woman you've lost?" it smiled evily. "Take me. Let her go." he said. "Nah, this is too much fun watching you watch her slowly die." it said, and turned to Willow again. The door blew off the hinges, and Cas stood in the doorway, Dana was behind him. Cas raised his palm and now the demon was on the ground, on its knees, before Cas. He began to speak in a foreign tongue, and the thing started to scream. It's head moved side to side at the speed of light, and with one loud bellowing symbol, the demon's black spirit was expelled from the decaying body. John and Willow fell to the ground, and Sam ran to call an ambulance. Dana kneeled beside her friend, who was slowly going unconscious. Willow came to in a hospital, it was dark out, and she figured it was the same night. She moved slightly to the left and saw John asleep in the uncomfortable chair beside her bed. She peered down and saw his hand holding hers. Dana and Cas had just walked in and saw her eyes were open. Dana went to say something when Cas motioned for her to stay quiet, so they didn't wake John. Dana walked over and whispered in Willow's ear. "He's been here ever since you were admitted, that was two days ago. Someone's getting hospital sex later on!" She chuckled before walking out with Cas. Willow giggled but winced quickly afterward. It hurt to move at all. She had never been in this much pain before. She wondered what happened, she was out for two days. She also wondered if he was okay. She gripped his hand, and smiled. He was sleeping peacefully beside her. Cas told Sam and Dean that Willow was awake and that they could head to their motel. He was going to drop Dana off at her motel and then come back to see how Willow and John were getting along. But Dana had other plans. They got to her motel and Cas walked her in. She smiled at him as they stood awkwardly in the doorway together. He knew something was up, but he couldn't exactly tell what. She looked up into his eyes and he felt like he was going to melt. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, but they had a violet hue to them. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. He tried to remind himself that this girl was just that; a young girl. He couldn't possibly get feelings for her. In his line of work, and location, it could never work. But still, what he was feeling inside wouldn't go away. "You saved my friend, and myself. I could never thank you enough." Dana whispered. "It's no problem. I would have done it for anyone." he replied, being modest. "It's really late, isn't it? Maybe you should crash here. Besides.. It does get lonely." she hinted, taking his hand in hers and bringing him to the bed. He sat down and she straddled his lap. He looked at her, unsure of where to put his hands. She grabbed them forcefully and held them against her perky breasts. His touch sent a shiver up her spine, and he started to feel tension in his pants. It was all new to him, but he was enjoying the sensation. He laid back and brought her down on top of him. She groaned and attacked his lips. He pressed his lips hungrily back against hers. She was forcing her tongue in to his mouth, and the texture of his tongue against hers was turning her on. She could already feel her panties getting soaked, and she felt his boner poking her through their jeans. She gasped when he flipped her on to her back, climbing on top of her. His blue eyes swam with lust and what appeared to be genuine, human emotion. He slipped her tank top over her head and began to kiss her chest, up to her collarbone and neck, and each kiss was deeper and rougher than the last. She squirmed under him, whining and unable to control her animalistic sounds. She ripped off his trenchcoat, and soon was able to slide off his shirt. His skin was warm and smooth, and felt good against her chilled body. His tongue swirled on her sweet spot, and soon his teeth nibbled, causing her to arch her back. Her legs unvoluntarily opened, giving him room to place his lower body between them. Their lips met with passion, and he gripped her sides. She kept arching into him, her hips bucked against his own. A devilish smile formed on the corners of his lips, and he began to playfully bite her bottom lip. For someone who had never done this before, Dana was dying from the pounding in her cunt. She already wanted him to just shove it in, over and over, and make her scream until no body part worked. He slowly stood up, looking down at her. One of his hands gripped at the button of her jeans, and he quickly undid it. He ripped her pants off her legs as she fumbled to undo his button and zipper. She couldn't even form a coherent sentence, and her lips began to trace down his body, from his chest to his stomach and back up. His pants flew off and across the room, and she pulled him back down. The head of his cock was making an appearance in the hole of his boxer shorts, and she placed her hand inside them, giving his dick a small squeeze. He grunted in her ear, which made her pump his dick in her hand. He yanked her hand out and pinned both of her wrists above her head. He kissed her again, with force. He grinded his lower body against hers, letting her feel every solid inch against her wet pussy. She was able to break free, but she steadied her urges to rip his boxers off and ride him like a bronco. Instead, she slowly slid them off, and he looked down at her. She suddenly felt her heart swell in her chest, and it was a feeling she knew all too well: Love. He gently pulled off her soaked thong and helped her up into the middle of the bed. Slowly opening her legs, he slid inside, and the sticky, hot mess made it easy for him to slide in deep. She cried out and dug her nails into his back, panting in his ear. Her legs were in the air, her back arched as far as it could, and their eyes were locked on each other. They smiled and kissed deeply, passionately. Their tongues locked and slid deep into each others mouths as he penetrated her deeply, roughly, and continually. She was already cumming and drenched his dick with a hot load of cum. He wasn't too far, behind. He began to pound her cunt mercilessly, grunting and groaning in her ear, then he would add little butterfly kisses to her earlobe and neck before sucking hard on the sweet spot of her neck. "Dana, you make me feel so many things, that are so foreign to me. But God does it feel wonderful." he panted gruffly in her ear. "Jesus fuck, Cas. More. Oh God. More, please!" she begged. He did as he was asked, shoving it all inside, pounding her sweet spot, making it hurt. She finally was reaching her final orgasm, her muscle wrapping around his cock and squeezing as she screamed his name. His eyes clenched shut and he bit his bottle lip as he let his own cum rush out of him and drench her insides, and slide down her shaking legs. He fell on top of her, his whole body quivering. She clung to him as he wrapped his own arms around her body. They gasped for air and held each other, realizing this was more than a fling, it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Willow woke up around eleven o'clock the following night. The doctors had given her pain medication since she was crying in her sleep. When she woke up, she awoke to John hovering above her. Her heart pitter pattered in her chest, and she let out a small, shy smile. He traced the back of his hand against her cheek, in which she leaned in to it, and he told her she could finally go home. "But I don't have a home." she said. "You can stay with me, for a few days, you know.. If you want." he said. "Really?" she asked. "Yeah, if you want." he smiled. "I'd love to, John." she replied. He helped her sit up, and as the nurse unhooked her from the heart machine and took the needle out of her arm, Dana came in with a huge smile on her face. She gave her friend a set of clothes and helped her into the bathroom to dress. "God this all hurts." she cried. "I know, but John will take care of you. Cas is gonna help me go apartment hunting, for us." she replied. "John's letting me stay with him for a few days." Willow smiled. "Awww!" Dana cooed. "Oh shut up. Um, Dana? Isn't this kinda.. much?" she asked, looking in the mirror. Willow was wearing a long sleeved, low cut fishnet tshirt with a black lacey push up bra underneath, a frilly black g-string and skin tight dark blue jeans, with her tights and knee high boots. Dana put on black eyeliner and mascara, to make Willow's eyes really pop. She combed her messy hair and when she was finished, you would have never have known Willow was attacked. She walked out and saw John talking to his sons, who apparently had a lead on some new monster two states away. John slowly turned and laid his eyes on a new Willow, and he turned from his sons and walked over to her. She heard Dean mutter 'get some, dad!' and Sam dragged his brother off to their Impala. Dana walked off to find Cas and said she would call Willow tomorrow to see how she was doing. John wrapped his arm around her shoulders gently and they walked off to his car. The entire way to his motel was silent, but she kept looking at him once in awhile. More than once she caught him staring and smiled when he looked away. They got inside his motel and he helped her to the bed. She laid down and looked at him as he put his guns on the nightstand beside the opposite bed. He sat down on it and looked at her before lying down.

"Aren't you going to lie with me?" she asked.

"I wasn't sure you wanted me to." he laughed.

"Well, I do, so come here." she giggled.

He slowly got up, and took his shirt off, tossing it on the ground behind him. She laid on her back and watched him get in bed. His body was so perfect; a nice looking chest, perfect abs, and his arms were strong, and when they locked around her, she felt like putty. She looked up at him, and his eyes changed; they were full of lust. She was so glad she wasn't the only one who wanted to have sex at that point. She broke away long enough to slide her shirt off, and he slid his fingertips slowly up and down her arm. She shivered, and he quickly brought her right up against his body. His arms were around her tight and she could feel his heart beating against hers. She melted against him, taking in his scent and closing her eyes. He rubbed her shoulder blades gently with his hands, still keeping her safe in his arms.

"You were brave back there, you barely made a sound or.. Anything." he whispered in her ear.

"Thanks.. I don't know what came over me, I just.. I.. I wanted to make sure you were okay." she said, peeking up to see his eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know, John. I just did. At that moment, you were more imp-"She was cut off by his lips hitting hers.

His body carefully rolled on top of hers, making her squeak. Their lips never broke the kiss, but instead, deepened. His hands gripped her hips and his tongue slid easily in to her mouth. She was already shaking and could feel an angry pulse in her pussy. Their tongues locked in a war of dominance, and he was clearly winning. She tried to push him off, but he was too strong. He pinned her wrists down by her sides and broke the kiss, then began to bite her bottom lip, hard. He lips brushed against her jawline, down to her neck, the kisses were wet and hard, and the more she fought to free herself, the more he tortured her with his passionate kisses. She saw the muscles in John's arms flexing from holding her down, and she let out a whimper.He let her go and helped her sit up. He was on his knees, straddled over her lap so he could undo her bra, as he slowly let the straps slide off her shoulders, he looked down at her cleavage. She slid her hands down his abs and slowly back up, while putting butterfly kisses to his chest. He shut his eyes, groaning. His own hands slid down her breasts, down to her stomach and slowly back up. He cupped her tits in his hands, and as he sweetly kissed her, he began to squeeze her tits, making her gasp and groan. She began to quiver, and he had her lie down.She opened her legs, inviting him in and he placed his lower body right against hers, she gripped his shoulders, and her head was swimming. Her heart raced painfully in her chest, and he pulled away to look into her eyes. He smiled and kissed her cheek while letting his hands glide through her hair. She was quickly falling for him.

She was nibbling on his neck while gripping his strong, broad shoulders. He began to undo her pants and she hungrily attacked his lips. The kisses were quick and sloppy, but full of emotion and passion and... Need.

"Don't leave after this." she begged.

"I won't, I promise." he whispered assuringly between kisses to her chest.

"God, I need you." she moaned.

"I need you, too, baby." he groaned.

They pulled each others pants off, and she could see his boner in his boxer briefs. He jammed it against her several times, making her lose her mind. She whipped off her g-string while he took his boxers off, and climbed on top of her. His hands were propped up on either side of her, he was now above her and looking for him to signal it was okay for him to enter her. She kissed him twice, the last kiss lasting for several long seconds, and he slowly slid inside her. He let several inches inside, then began to torturously slide the rest in, inch by inch, it was so slow. She wanted him to force it in quick, but he knew what he was doing. He wanted this to last all night, he didn't want to let her go. She was growing wetter by the second, making it easier for him to penetrate her. She arched in to him, their kisses becoming more and more frequent and full of need. His arms wrapped around her shaking body and he whispered in her ear that she was his. He didn't let go, and he was bumping his hips into hers, it hurt but felt so good at the same time. She cried out, groaning and begging for more. Their bodies were sweaty and it made them stick together.

She bucked her hips into his, smiling as she raked her nails down his back, making him grunt. He looked a little angry, but it made him so much hotter. He kissed her hard as he shoved his cock inside her with one swift move. She screamed, and he began to shove it in, each time harder than the last. She bit her lip, suppressing a scream, and then he put kisses down her chest, to her stomach and back up. He placed one loving kiss to her lips before shooting a load of cum inside of her. It was hot and sticky, and it warmed her insides. Afterward he kept going, not stopping until she finally came, squeezing every last drop of cum out of him. He laid on his back, pulling her close to him. He kissed the top of her head and pulled the comforters over them. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and enjoying his rhythmic breaths. He fell asleep holding her tight, and the last thing she remembered was whispering that she loved him.

"I love you, too, Willow." he whispered back.

She smiled and clung to him tight, and they fell asleep tangled in each others arms and sleeping comfortably for the first time in weeks.

#fan fic writing #fic writing #fan fics #supernatural fan fic #castiel x oc #castiel x you #john winchester x oc #supernatural fanfiction #fan fic stuff #fan fiction #fics #fan fic comission #spn fan fics #spn fics #supernatural smut

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phantasticworks · 4 years

Text

Never Stop (You Still Get My Heart Racing)

hiiii!! (Two updates in one day??? who is she???) I hope you all are having a great week and enjoy this little birthday fic that I am posting late because i forgot to start it until yesterday (whoops) enjoy!! <3

read on ao3

Words: 10k

Summary: Dan and Phil celebrate Dan's 29th birthday at home. A cute, fluffy engagement fic that somehow took me two days and turned out to be 10k words.title from Never Stop by SafetySuit

Warnings: Swearing, smut

"Dan," a whisper says, right next to his ear. "Dan, come on, get up." The voice is insistent, and quite honestly, grating on Dan's last sleep-deprived nerve.

"Fuck off," he mutters into the pillow, muffled voice losing some of its heat.

There's a low laugh, and then a hand settling in his unacceptably long hair. "Dan," he sing-songs. "I've got a surprise for you."

Dan cracks an eye open. "Hm?"

Phil grins at him. "You're so easy," he teases. He tugs on a curl, light enough that it doesn't hurt.

"Ow," Dan says anyway, just to be a brat.

"That didn't hurt," Phil replies, doing it again.

"How would you know?" Dan huffs.

Phil rolls his eyes. "You like it when it hurts, so bitching about it wouldn't make any sense."

Dan narrows his eyes. "Did you wake me up at the ass-crack of dawn just to kink-shame me?" He demands.

Phil's lip twitches like he wants to smile. "It's nearly one in the afternoon."

"And?" Dan grumbles.

"It's your birthday," Phil says, almost conversationally.

"Cheers," Dan says dryly. "One year closer to death, eh?"

Phil frowns. "I told you I don't like that joke," he says, his voice soft and quiet.

Dan sits up at that. "I know. Sorry." He leans in, kissing him softly in apology. "Good morning," he says when he pulls away.

There's still something unsettled in Phil's eyes, and Dan feels a sinking guilt in his stomach for causing it. He really wasn't feeling all that existential today, at least not yet, but the comment was just a knee-jerk reaction of his, as it always was. Still, he hated seeing Phil upset, especially when he knows he's the cause. Rather than follow that rabbit down the hole that would likely ruin his whole day, he smiles at Phil tentatively. "I heard something about a surprise?"

Finally, some of the light comes back to Phil's face, and he grins, nodding excitedly. "Yep, Norman and I have been hard at work all morning," he declares.

Dan snorts. "Our fish son is a free loader, I seriously doubt he contributed much.

Phil splutters, looking horrified. "Talk about our fish son like that again and you won't even have joint custody after the divorce!"

He's joking, and Dan knows he is, but that word still unsettles him in the worst way. He smiles, a little shakily. "I don't like that joke, either," he reminds him gently.

Phil's face falls in concern. "I- right, I'm sorry. I wasn't even- I was joking, Dan."

Dan nods, leaning in and kissing Phil's lips once more. "I know that. It's okay."

Phil tries to deepen the kiss, and Dan lets him. Even after ten years together, some mornings he was still awkward about sharing kisses when one of them hadn't brushed their teeth yet, but today was his birthday, and he fully planned on accepting every kiss that was offered to him. Phil's fingernails scratch gently at the back of Dan's neck, a shiver creeping down his spine at the feeling.

"Surprise?" Dan whispers against Phil's mouth, pulling away just enough to let the word out.

He expects Phil to let it go in favor of more sleep-warm kisses, so he's surprised when instead Phil puts more space between them, his eyes lit up with joy for whatever he's got planned. "Out of bed, sleepyhead, we've got places to be!"

Dan grumbles as he's pulled from the bed. "We can't even leave our flat, Phil, I seriously doubt we've got anywhere to be."

Phil tuts at him. "You have no idea what we're doing for today, so zip it." He suddenly spins to face Dan at the door, tilting his head consideringly. He studies Dan long enough that Dan starts wiping at his face and brushing off his t-shirt.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He demands, feeling embarrassed.

Phil smiles at him, shaking his head. "No, of course not. Do you want to brush your hair or change?"

Dan snorts. "For who? Our fish?" He shakes his head, incredulous at the very suggestion he wear anything other than pajamas and bed head around their empty flat. "I'm fine, the surprise can see me in my fresh out of bed look, I don't care."

Phil has a very suspicious grin on his face at that, but shrugs. "Okay, suit yourself," he says with an amused voice.

He leads the way out of their bedroom and heads for the lounge, a certain skip in his step that leads Dan to drag his feet behind him, suddenly cautious about what this surprise could possibly be. It can't be a dog, they'd agreed that can't happen until they move into the new house. Other than a fluffy animal or food, Dan's not sure what else Phil would be so excited for him to see, so he feels a little unsettled, like he's going in blind.

The first thing he sees in the lounge is decorations. Black and silver streamers hang precariously from the tops of the open windows, fluttering gently in the breeze floating inside. Black, white, and grey balloons dot the ceiling, and Dan notices a bag on the coffee table. He smirks, thinking about how Phil probably just got lazy and stopped airing them up after he got so many done. His gaze flits around, stopping on the table where they keep Norman's tank. He notices two things at once, and his breath catches in his throat.

Norman's tank is decorated on the outside, two balloons anchored to the top with candles, and a little black party hat balanced (or probably taped) to the corner, as if Norman's tank is wearing it. As cute and thoughtful as that gesture is, that's not what stops Dan in his tracks. Because next to that, on Phil's laptop, is a Zoom call, several very familiar and smiling faces beaming at him from the screen.

"Happy birthday!" They cheer, waving at him. Martyn, who's in a little square with Cornelia, pops a birthday popper, laughing when it startles both Kathryn and Karen, who are in their own squares at the top of the screen.

"I..." Dan starts, voice a little choked. He blinks the blur out of his eyes, his gaze searching the room for Phil's.

Phil's got such a pleased fucking look on his face, looking fond and smug and happy- and Dan can't really help himself. He stumbles forward, clutching Phil's arms and pressing a sloppy kiss right on his mouth, right in front of their family. Even with as long as they've been together, in private and in public now, it still sends a little nervous thrill through him to display his affection so publicly.

"Happy birthday, Dan," Phil whispers in his ear, wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders in a tight hug.

"Thank you," Dan chokes out, his head going to rest on Phil's shoulder. He smiles at the screen, laughing a little before wiping his eyes and waving at their families. Pulling away, he goes to sit down in front of the laptop, pulling Phil along by his wrist. "He didn't tell me that he called you guys," he says instead of a greeting.

Karen laughs. "I told him he should make it a surprise," she says brightly.

Dan rolls his eyes. "You're awful, all of you, for being accomplices in this."

His nan is there, too, and he feels a brief flash of panic thinking about what she just saw, but her kind, loving smile is enough to reassure him. Phil squeezes his knee then, and Dan blinks at him, smiling brightly. "I figured if I told you it would take you at least half an hour to make yourself presentable, and I just didn't have that kind of time," Phil teases.

Dan goes to argue before suddenly realizing his hair is an absolute mess. His eyes bulge out, and he swings his head around to look at himself on the screen, groaning when he sees it. Predictably, everyone laughs at him. "I look like I have a whole dog on my head!" He whines.

"You could've let me cut it," Phil says cheerfully, miming scissors and putting his hand close to Dan's head. Dan swats it away.

"Absolutely not!" Dan disagrees. "I like being not-disfigured," he says, rolling his eyes as he looks back at the screen, shaking his head.

Kathryn and Nigel are grinning at their banter, as is Martyn. His mum just rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic, child," she scolds playfully. "But, speaking of dogs, someone here wants to say hi!"

Dan laughs, but coos when his mum tilts the screen down, Colin popping into frame.

"Colin! Hello," Dan says in his puppy-talking voice. "Hello, Colin. You good boy! Did Mum make you some cake for me?"

Karen snorts. "Not hardly. I'd rather it didn't become tradition that he eats every single thing I try to bake."

Kathryn laughs at that. "It's a compliment to the chef, dear! He doesn't want to miss out on the lovely food!"

Now it's Dan's turn to snort. "Not quite, Mum, he sicks it back up immediately after. It's not even edible for a dog, apparently," he cackles.

Karen looks betrayed. "Don't go telling on your mother, young man!"

Dan can't help but laugh. "Yes ma'am," he agrees sarcastically.

"Did Phil give you your birthday present yet?" Martyn asks.

Dan turns his head to look at Phil, quirking a brow in surprise. "Is this not it?"

Phil looks pleased with himself as he shakes his head with a little smile. "No, I got you something else, but you can't have it until later."

Momentarily forgetting they're literally sat in front of their whole family, Dan quirks his eyebrow suggestively. Phil blushes, shoving him. Dan grins, turning back to shake his head at the faces on his screen. "Is it another candle? Or is it like a box set for an anime? Ooh! Or is it-"

Nearly all of them are laughing at him. "Dear, why on earth would we spoil it?" His nan asks.

Dan narrows his eyes. "Does this mean that all of you know what it is?"

No one answers.

"Oh, you f-"

Before he can swear, Phil interrupts. "It's one o'clock, should we try him again?" He asks.

Dan's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Who?" He asks.

Phil doesn't even look at him. Karen nods on her screen, reaching for her phone. "I'll text and ask if he's gotten his computer sorted.

Dan pinches Phil's side, and he squeals, squirming away. "Ow!" He whines.

"Who are you talking about?" Dan demands.

Phil only smiles, not responding. Dan fully intends on bullying it out of him, audience or not, but then Kathryn is speaking and he loses the opportunity.

"I really do hate that we can't come visit, love," she says, sounding ashamed. Nigel nods along.

"It's alright," Dan's quick to reassure her. "Not everyone can have Philip's birthweek of endless celebrations," he jokes, nudging Phil gently.

Everyone laughs, except Phil, Dan notices. He only looks slightly embarrassed. Dan risks another affectionate gesture, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "It's okay bub, we know you can't help it, you're the baby, you're spoiled."

Phil laughs at this, smiling at Dan sheepishly. "A little bit," he admits.

Dan smiles, shaking his head. They're interrupted by the sound of someone else joining the call. Dan blinks at the screen in confusion, waiting for their shitty wifi to load the pixels.

"Speaking of the spoiled baby of the family," his mum says, her voice amused.

Adrian smiles and waves. "Happy birthday, Dan!" He greets.

Dan stares at him, more than a little surprised. It wasn't like they didn't talk at all anymore, if anything they talked more now than they used to. But Adrian had texted him an early happy birthday yesterday, so Dan wasn't expecting to hear from him again anytime soon. "Hi," he greets, a little late. "What're you doing here?"

Adrian laughs. "I can't pop into your zoom call to say happy birthday?"

"I mean, you already did," Dan says, rolling his eyes. He smiles to soften the sarcasm. "Thanks, though." His brother nods, grinning back at him. Dan's eyes flick across the screen, taking in all the faces of these people he loves so much. It fills his heart with something warm and gooey to think about how Phil arranged all of this for him, because he knew how bummed Dan was that he couldn't see anyone on his birthday. Despite the fact that he typically didn't mind not seeing his family, the fact that the option was taken from him hurt more than just choosing not to see them would. He knows he's got to think of a good way to thank Phil for this, but he knows that whatever he decides on will be something his family will not be present for.

They're talking amongst themselves now, his mum and Phil's talking about recipes or something, with Dan's nan nodding along and giving advice like grandmothers do. Nigel has disappeared, predictably, as the other introvert in Phil's family is definitely not a fan of big family zoom meetings like this. Dan doesn't blame him, honestly, and appreciates that he was there at all.

Phil puts his arm around Dan's back, rubbing his hip gently. Dan can't help but smile at the small gesture, dropping his hand to Phil's thigh and squeezing. They get dragged back into conversation eventually, and spend the next half hour or so chatting to everyone and getting caught up on all the family gossip that everyone has to share. Eventually, Adrian has to sign off to get some work related thing done, followed shortly by Dan's Nan, who has tea to prepare. They both tell him happy birthday again, and Dan's face hurts a little from grinning when they say they love him.

"I think Corn and I better hop off too, actually," Martyn says a few minutes later. "Happy birthday, mate. Eat lots of cake for me, yeah?"

Dan grins and nods. "You know Phil will eat enough for a small village, Mar."

Phil's brother laughs in the face of Phil's following protests. "He's right, don't argue."

Phil rolls his eyes anyway. Cornelia steps in, ever the pacifist. "It's rude to fight on Dan's birthday," she chastises. Martyn mimes zipping his lips and Phil huffs. "Happy birthday, Daniel. I hope you like your birthday present." She winks then, but logs off the second Dan opens his mouth to ask.

"Damn it," he sighs.

Phil giggles. "They wouldn't have told you anyway. I had them all swear to secrecy."

Kathryn makes a noise of disagreement. "I did no such thing," She argues, smiling broadly.

Dan smiles slyly. "Kath," he begins. "My favorite mum-in-law, you could just give me a tiny hint and-"

"And nothing!" Phil interrupts, shaking his head adamantly. "No hints, just secrets here."

Dan rolls his eyes and Kathryn laughs. "Well, Philip, if you really didn't want me to tell-"

Phil narrows his eyes at her. "I'll hang the call up, Mum, I swear."

She chuckles at this. "Fine, fine. Daniel, happy birthday, dear. We love you very much. Nigel and I sent you a gift and I believe Phil is hiding it somewhere, like the scoundrel he is." She winks when she says it.

"You told me to make sure he didn't open it till his birthday!" Phil argues.

Kathryn shrugs. "I didn't think you'd actually have the self-restraint for that, dear."

Phil huffs, and Dan hides a giggle behind his hand. "Bye, Mum," Phil says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"Bye, dear. I love you both. Ta, Karen! Send me that recipe when you get a chance!"

Karen waves at her with a smile and a nod of agreement, and then it's just the two of them and Dan's mum. She smiles gently at Dan. Phil leans over, kissing Dan's head softly. "I'll let you guys talk for a bit."

He stands, but Dan reaches out for him, confused. "Where are you going?" He says, his voice full of complaint.

Phil rolls his eyes. "I'm going to set up your next surprise," he says with a wink, and then he's gone.

Karen waits for Dan to get his bearings, watching him with an amused look on her face. "He's very thoughtful, Dan," she says, catching him even more off-guard.

"What do you know?" he asks immediately.

She laughs, but shakes her head. "You know I won't tell you. But just seeing him with you, he's very sweet."

Dan's heart speeds up a little. They'd talked a little about Phil and their relationship when he visited for Christmas, but it was still a little thrilling to hear his mum talk about him knowing what she knows now. "Yeah?" He asks, clearing his throat.

"Yes," she nods. "You picked a very good one. I'm quite a proud mum, actually."

Dan blushes, looking down as he tries to bite back his ridiculous smile. He hates that he's so easily pleased by this news, but as deprived as he was throughout his childhood, he craves that affection and pride. "Thank you," he says eventually. "He... He's really wonderful, yeah."

"I can tell," she says, smiling. "You know I've always just wanted you to be happy, love. I know it's been a year since you came out to us, but... even before, we've always just wanted you to be happy."

He's not going to cry on his birthday. He's just not. Rubbing at his eye and pretending like he has an eyelash trapped there, he takes a moment to collect himself and force his tear ducts to behave. "I am," he whispers. "I'm the happiest I've ever been, I think."

His mum nods, and smiles. "That's good, love. That's so good. I'm happy for you, for both of you."

Dan nods too. It gets quiet then, but it's not awkward like it would have been only a few years before. "Thank you, for doing this, by the way. I know he probably didn't think of this all on his own," Dan laughs, rolling his eyes a little.

Karen nods, but looks a little surprised. "I mean, you're welcome, but he actually called me and asked me to."

Dan blinks. "What?"

Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "Yes, he called me a few days ago and asked if I'd do this. I didn't help him come up with it, I'm afraid."

Surprised, but definitely impressed, Dan nods. "Well... Thank you, anyway. For calling and everything. This was a really nice surprise."

She has a knowing grin on her face. "You're welcome, love. I hope the rest of your day is just as nice, but I know it will be."

Dan shakes his head, exasperated. "You people and your secrets," he says in mock disappointment.

"I promised not to tell," she informs him, raising her hands in surrender. "But I think he's probably waiting for you, so I'll let you go find him." Dan nods. "I love you, Daniel. Happy birthday, little Bear."

He smiles at the nickname. "Thank you, Mum. I love you too. Talk later," he says with a wave.

There's that look again, and she grins. "Oh, I fully expect it."

He rolls his eyes but bids her a farewell before signing off and closing the laptop. He stands and stretches, realizing with a start that they'd started the call nearly an hour ago. Passing Norman's tank, he gives it a little pat, greeting their pet. "Hello, Norman."

Dan wanders into the kitchen, sighing at the smell of coffee. He spots Phil doing something at the counter, so he hops up onto the opposite one, sighing loudly to alert him to his presence. "That was a really nice surprise," he says after a minute.

Phil turns to look at him, offering a soft smile. "Yeah?" Dan nods, holding his arms out for a hug. Phil willingly steps forward, wrapping his arms around Dan's waist and stroking his back. "I thought you might enjoy it. The next best thing to seeing them in person, for now."

"Yeah," Dan agrees. He kisses Phil's forehead. "It was really nice." He sniffs the air, pulling away. "Is that caramel?"

There's a laugh as Phil retreats back to where he was, doing something else before returning to Dan with two mugs, full of something that looks vaguely like- "Here you go. A caramel macchiato."

Dan blinks at the cup, a little afraid to accept it after Phil's terrible Easter Dalgona coffee disaster. "Babe... Is it edible? I know you like to try new things, but-"

Before he can complain too much, Phil takes a sip of his own mug, and smiles. "I've been practicing it for about a week now. It's good, I promise." Suddenly all of Phil's late night jitters recently make loads more sense.

"Okay," Dan says, still a little cautious. He takes a sip of the drink, his expectations very, very low. He's pleasantly surprised when instead of whatever he'd expected, he gets a lovely burst of flavor on his tongue. "That's... That's actually really good, Phil," he says, going for another sip.

"Told you so," Phil says triumphantly. He takes a drink of his own and sighs, smacking his lips loudly to annoy Dan.

Dan gives him a look, but drinks some more of his coffee, something nagging at his memory. Before he can piece it together, Phil pats his thigh. "C'mon, lets go sit on the balcony and drink our coffee and name some more of our pigeons."

Dan is so, so fond of this man.

~~~

They sit out on the balcony for what feels like hours, lounging around and taking selfies, at Phil's insistence. He even brings out Dan's polaroid and gets a few cute coupley photos that Dan knows will be pinned to their fridge by tomorrow. Eventually, Dan decides he wants a snack.

"I was actually going to make you dinner, did you want to help?" Phil asks.

Dan makes a happy noise. "What are we having?"

Phil bites his lip, pretending to consider it. Dan doesn't buy it for a minute. If Phil's planning this day out like Dan thinks he is, he already knows. "I was thinking I'd do some chicken katsu, maybe. Does that sound alright?"

Dan leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. "That sounds great."

There's a smile on Phil's face when Dan pulls away, and he wants to kiss it off. Before he can, Phil takes his hand and guides him back inside and to the kitchen. He starts pulling ingredients out, instructing Dan to grab any pans that they might need. Dan rolls his eyes at this but does as he's asked before going for the cupboard where they keep wine glasses. He goes about filling them up while Phil starts getting the food started.

"Here," Dan says, handing him a glass of wine. "What do you want me to do?"

Phil smiles at him, kissing his nose gently. "You can just sit and watch, baby. It's your birthday, so let me take care of this."

Dan gives him a look, crossing his arms. "This isn't how we usually do birthdays," he finally says. It's been nagging him all morning. "You're starting to make me feel like a shit boyfriend because I don't do all this for you on yours," Dan says, feeling genuinely a bit put out.

Phil turns to look at him, a his lips turned down in a frown. "No, love, you're not a shit boyfriend," Phil argues with him immediately. "I just wanted this one to be special for you. This is your tenth birthday that you and I have spent together, you know."

"Yeah, but-" Dan starts to argue.

"Just let me do this, yeah? Try to relax, okay? I'm allowed to spoil you on your birthday, you know," he says, voice teasing.

Dan steps closer before Phil turns away, putting his hand on the back of Phil's neck and guiding their lips together. He deepens the kiss almost immediately, sliding his tongue into Phil's mouth. "I love you," he says when he pulls away.

Phil looks a little dazed. Dan swells with pride knowing he can still do that, ten years later. "I love you too," he says, offering a smile. "Now, go sit. I need some thinking space to cook, and you're a distraction."

Dan smirks at this. "Am I?"

Pursing his lips, Phil nods once. "Absolutely. Shoo, go sit at the table and look pretty."

"Alright, fine, fine," Dan agrees, going to sit down.

"Actually," Phil says, spinning around to face him. He gestures in the direction of their bedroom. "I think you should go shower and get dressed."

Dan gives him a weird look. "Oh...kay?"

Phil smirks. "Wear something nice, okay?"

There's a prickle of something then, in Dan's heart. This is starting to feel strangely staged. "Alright. Something nice." He waits a beat before asking, "Are we going on a date?"

Phil grins proudly. "Maybe," he says conspiratorially. "But you can't go unless you're all dressed up.

Dan snorts. "I hope that extends to you as well, Mr. Cookie Monster Pajamas."

Phil rolls his eyes. "Go, shower, dressed, now."

Giving him another kiss, Dan mumbles an agreement before disappearing down the hall.

He's thrilled at the effort Phil is putting into this, and a thrum of nervous excitement is under his skin, making him nearly vibrate with anxiety. He puts his energy, nervous as it is, into choosing a nice outfit. He knows they aren't leaving the flat, but somehow that doesn't deter him any. He finds one of his many black t-shirts, and after a moment of deliberation he also grabs his monochrome flowery shirt he likes to wear over it. It’s been a while since he’s had to pick out a date outfit, so he takes a while to consider it before finally deciding it’s fine and Phil will probably compliment anything he wears.

After a thorough shower, he gets dressed and spritzes some of Phil’s cologne on, taking one look at his hair and deciding to let it air dry. He’s as ready as he’s going to get by then, so he waltzes back into the kitchen, pleased when he notices the way Phil looks at him when he comes in. “Hi,” Phil greets with a grin.

“Hi,” Dan parrots, smirking at him when he realizes Phil’s changed clothes as well. He’s wearing the only pair of ripped jeans he owns, matching Dan’s, and his maroon button-down, dotted all over with little white flowers. Dan laughs when he notices the theme. “I see we both went with flowers today,” he says in a teasing voice.

Phil smiles at him. “I guess we did.” He reaches for Dan, and he goes willingly, stepping into his face and wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck before bringing their lips together. They kiss languidly for a bit but eventually Phil pulls away, nipping at Dan’s lower lip. “I love this shirt on you,” he mumbles. “It makes your arms look so nice.”

Dan snorts at the compliment. “Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”

Something about the clumsy phrasing has them locking eyes, and in an instant they’re nearly doubled over with laughter. Dan can’t remember a time he felt so awkward accepting a compliment from Phil. It feels like they’re on their very first...

Phil gestures outside, where Dan is just now noticing two places set at their little balcony table. “It’s not exactly a skybar, but... it’s close enough,” he says softly.

Dan blinks at the scene before his eyes flicker back to Phil’s. “You... you’ve been recreating our first date?” His voice pitches up a little on the end.

Phil looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Dan’s eyes. “I mean... yeah, kind of. I knows it’s not nearly the same, because it’s not Starbucks and the Apple store and the skybar but really-“

Dan interrupts him with a firm kiss. He cradles Phil’s face in his hands like he’s precious cargo, because he is. This is the most precious gesture anyone has ever done for him, and he feels love and warmth and affection singing in his veins as he sucks Phil’s lower lip into his mouth. "That's so fucking sweet," he mumbles into Phil's mouth.

"I love you," Phil says in response, pushing his hands up the back of Dan's shirt.

He pulls away too soon for Dan's liking, and Dan can't stop the sad noise from leaving his throat. Phil laughs at him, predictably. "C'mon, none of that now. We need to eat dinner."

Dan pouts. "Maybe I'm hungry for something else now," he argues.

Phil gives him a cheeky smile. "Later, I promise. The night's still young, bub."

Glancing at the clock, Dan's genuinely surprised to see that it is already almost seven in the evening. Well, time certainly flies when you're having fun, he guessed. He follows Phil onto the balcony, smiling when he sees several candles flickering on the table, as well as two places said on either side. There's a bottle of wine there, as well as their wine glasses from earlier, which are now empty. Dan chooses not to ask Phil if he drank them both for the aesthetic.

"Alright, have a seat and I'll bring the food out, okay?" Phil says firmly. He waits until Dan follows the instructions, then drops a kiss to the curls atop Dan's head.

"M'kay," Dan hums, his eyes fluttering shut, absolutely content right now.

Phil smiles before disappearing back into the flat. He's gone for several minutes, and when he's back he has a plate in each hand, stepping very carefully so as not to drop then. Dan grins fondly as Phil very, very carefully sets Dan's plate in front of him, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Thank you, waiter," he says, voice teasing.

Rollins his eyes with a grin, Phil shakes his head and returns to his own seat. "Wine?" He asks, holding the bottle up and filling his own glass first.

Dan nods. "Please," he says, holding onto the base of his own glass in case Phil gets a little too overzealous with his pouring. "Thank you," he says when Phil takes a seat. "This is really lovely."

Phil has a proud little smile on his face. "Good, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," he says with a clumsy wink. Dan has to laugh at him. Ten years in, nearly eleven, and Phil is still absolutely uncoordinated in nearly every way.

They tuck into their food, making appreciative noises and small talk as they eat. In a lot of ways, it does feel like a first date. Not only is the setup similar to their own first date, but something about the nerves Dan feels reminds him of that very first day in Manchester all those years ago. And if Phil's plan was to make Dan feel wooed, it's absolutely working, just as it did then.

Something occurs to him then and he can't help but glance up at Phil and tilt his head in question. "You know the one thing you can't recreate from our first date?" he asks, a smile in his voice already just remembering it.

"What's that?" Phil replies, smirking. Surely he's already thought of this, if he's thought of everything else.

"The Manchester Eye," Dan reminds him. "Unless you've built a Ferris Wheel somewhere, I think you get no stars for that part of the date," Dan announces, mostly joking.

Phil doesn't even look bothered. "Ah, but we haven't finished the day yet, have we? Don't doubt what tricks I have up my sleeve, Danny boy," he says with a suspicious grin.

Dan's nose crinkles delicately at the nickname. "Alright, fine," he concedes easily. He's not that bothered about it, honestly. It's not like he doesn't love and appreciate everything Phil's done already in and effort to recreate that first day, and the fake Starbucks, the balcony date, it's all so well-thought out and lovely that Dan could never be bothered by the lack of some recreation of the finale of their first date.

“How was the food?” Phil asks, nodding to Dan’s mostly empty plate.

Dan grins. “What do you think?” He says in a jokey kind of voice. “I finished it, didn’t I?”

Phil rolls his eyes, kicking him gently underneath the table. “Thank you for the compliment, rat,” he says drily.

Hitting his foot against Phil’s again to prompt a footsie match, Dan smirks. “Oh I’ll give you a compliment alright.” He punctuates his terrible line with a wink and Phil rolls his eyes once again.

“Not in front of the food, please,” Phil replies in a deadpan voice.

Dan snickers and Phil cracks a smile. “Why don’t you go inside and get ready for bed while I clean up?” He suggests.

As sweet as that is, and as much as Dan really does want to be lazy, he shakes his head. “No, I think I’ll stay and help.”

Phil starts to protest so Dan quickly stands and starts collecting dishes. When Phil pouts, Dan smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth. “It’ll get done faster if we both do it. And if the itinerary for today is following our first date...” he smirks. “Then we’ve got a busy night ahead of us.”

There’s a pink flush across Phil’s cheeks, but he doesn’t argue, going to collect the things Dan couldn’t grab and blowing out the candles while Dan walks inside. They make quick work of filling the dishwasher and putting leftovers away and Dan makes the executive decision to take the wine bottle and their glasses into their bedroom. They didn’t normally drink very much but Dan was feeling very happy and very thirsty and maybe a little in love. Getting wine drunk with his favorite person in the world sounds like the exact best way to end the day.

“Do you want to watch a movie before bed?” Phil asks, surprising Dan into turning around.

“Uh... aren’t we gonna...” he trails off. Sex doesn’t embarrass him, not at all, but he doesn’t want to be wrong about the assumption that they’d be fucking tonight.

Phil smiles at him. “We will, later. But we just ate and I wanna watch a movie.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but shrugs, going to put the wine up. He didn’t want to risk spilling it on the sofa they don’t own. “Okay. Let’s watch a movie, then.”

“Pajamas first, then Netflix and Phil,” Phil announces with a grin.

“That joke’s past it’s expiration date, bub.”

“Of course it is. And you laugh anyway,” Phil retorts.

And Dan can’t exactly argue that, so he follows Phil to their room to pick out the coziest pair of pajamas he can find.

~~~

Dan’s not surprised when Phil asks to pick the movie and he’s even less surprised to see the Wall-E loading screen pop up on their TV. That’s not to say he doesn’t immediately snuggle with Phil on the sofa as the movie starts, because he does. He also kisses his cheek, nuzzling it like a cat before dropping his head to Phil’s shoulder.

“Blanket?” Phil asks, gesturing to the other end of the sofa where they left their sad pimp blanket the other night.

Dan tugs it over and allows Phil to tuck them in, feeling kind of like a little kid but enjoying the attention anyway. He curls up as close to Phil as he can, swinging his legs over Phil’s lap and snuggling close under the comfort of the furry blanket. The movie has already started and Dan knows the story by heart by now but he’s still just as captured by the beautiful animation and touching themes as he was the first time.

“We didn’t do this on our first date,” Dan whispers against Phil’s neck.

Phil pinches his hip. “So? Maybe I just wanted to watch it.”

Dan huffs, swatting Phil’s hand away from his side. They swat at each other for a few seconds before eventually Phil settles it by lacing their fingers together. Dan kisses his neck, but nibbles some skin as reprimand. Phil makes a noise and squeezes Dan’s leg but otherwise doesn’t move, and Dan smiles, knowing he’s winding him up.

They watch the rest of the movie in relative silence, occasionally quoting lines from it and making jokes but when the credits start rolling Dan finds himself a little sad that it’s already over. Phil pats his leg beneath the cover, letting his hand go. “Alright, babe, let me up. I’ve got some things I need to take care of before bedtime.”

Dan quirks a brow at him as he moves his legs off Phil’s lap, allowing him to stand. “Is it birthday related?”

Phil ruffles his hair with a smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just emails.”

A frown tugs at Dan’s lips but he nods. “I might scroll through Twitter for a bit,” he says.

Phil nods before leaning down and pushing Dan’s curls off his forehead to kiss the skin there. “Alright. Come find me in a bit, yeah?”

Dan nods, his eyelids fluttering at the feeling of Phil scratching gently at his scalp. “M’kay. Half an hour?” He asks.

“Sure,” Phil agrees with a smile.

He leaves Dan with another kiss before he heads to their room, so Dan occupies himself with social media for a bit. He answers some happy birthday messages from friends and distant family, and eventually he makes his way to twitter. He smiles when he sees the pictures Phil’s tagged him in. After tweeting a cheeky reply, he scrolls through all the fan art and edits, seeing lots of familiar usernames on his screen as he scrolls. He tweets a thank you to the people who donated to Mermaids in his name, his eyes misting a little at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Every year it made him so proud to see how much his fans cared about the things that were important to him.

Eventually his half hour is up and he’s on his way to the bedroom, eager to see what his birthday present is. He’s not even particularly concerned about what it is at this point; the gesture of the day itself has been plenty for him.

His expectations aren’t set on one end of the spectrum or the other, so he’s not really expecting or hoping for any particular thing when he opens the door. And even if he was, it probably wouldn’t have crossed his mind to expect the lights off, aside from some newly hung fairy lights over the bed, casting the room in a soft glow. He steps around the moving boxes that line the wall next to the closet, looking around at all the glittering lights. He’s smiling already, his gaze taking in the candle on their dresser, the nice expensive one Phil got him for his birthday a couple years ago.

His gaze catches on something shiny on the bed. The low light of the room makes it hard to tell right away, but when he looks closer Dan sees that it’s a circle made of metal. He’s confused until he reaches out to pick it up, then he gasps. Holding it closer to his face, he sees the little stand it’s sat on, and each little cart dotted along the line of the circle. It’s obvious what it is now.

Before he can get too emotional over the gift of a little metal statue of the Manchester Eye, Dan hears a throat clear behind him. He whirls around, heart in his throat, confused when no one is there. He’s about to panic when his eyes flick down and- oh.

“Hi,” Phil says in a soft, quiet voice. “You told me on my birthday that I could do this when I was ready, and be as romantic as I wanted. I planned a trip to Manchester for real, but obviously that didn’t happen.”

Dan lets out a choked sound, his eyes wet. “Phil,” he starts. “I didn’t know-“

“Shh,” Phil shushes him gently. “It’s okay.” He reaches for Dan’s hand, smiling when he allows him to take it. He strokes his thumb across Dan’s hand, looking at him with affection in his eyes. “Are you okay with this? Are we ready for it?”

Dan nods, feeling a little light headed all of a sudden. “I need- can I-“ he stumbles back, sitting on the edge of their bed.

Phil smiles, dropping to both knees and settling between Dan’s, still holding his hand. “So. I wanted to take you to Manchester for this. I’ve had it planned for... several years, honestly. Probably since the other flat.”

That’s news to Dan, and apparently the look on his face proves it. Phil giggles. “Oh,” Dan says dumbly.

“I knew we weren’t ready then and wouldn’t be for a while, if ever, but now that we’re on the same page... it just seems like a good time. And since we can’t go anywhere, this at-home date was the next best thing I could think of.”

Dan smiles, leaning in and kissing his forehead. “I loved it,” he assures him.

Phil looks pleased. “I wanted this to be something you remember forever, and I know you’re a slut for a good story telling experience, so I figured you’d enjoy telling people how I proposed,” he teases with a grin.

Dan blushes. “Phil,” he whines.

“Shh, let me talk,” Phil chastises. He smiles at Dan, pausing for a moment just to look at him. Dan squirms, nervous under the attention. “Our first date was everything to me and we didn’t even know we were on a date at the time. It wasn’t until later, after you kissed me on the wheel and then when we slept together at my parents’ house that we talked about it and decided that was where our story began. And, this is where the next chapter of that story begins.” He stops again, taking a deep breath. “So. Daniel, my best friend, my companion through life-“

“Phil!”

He’s shushed once more.

“My actual soulmate,” Phil finishes with a grin. He kisses Dan’s knuckle softly. “The love of my life,” he adds, nuzzling the spot on his left hand where a ring would go. “Will you marry me?”

Dan’s breath catches in his throat. He knew this was coming, obviously, after the speech Phil just made and honestly the day as a whole. Still, hearing it now, out in the open like that, fills him with warmth. He wraps his arms around Phil’s neck, pressing their foreheads together gently. “Yes,” he whispers. “Of course I will.”

Phil makes a pleased noise before leaning in to kiss him firmly on the mouth. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“I love you too,” Dan giggles back, petting Phil’s hair. “This was very romantic,” he says. “I’m very impressed.”

Phil kisses his dimple. “I thought you’d like it,” he says with a grin. “Oh!” He says suddenly, jumping back and shoving his hand in his pocket. “I did it wrong.” He sounds sad, or disappointed.

“Did what wrong?” Dan asks, confused.

“The proposal!” Phil whines, holding up a small black velvet box. “I had the ring and I forgot to get it out and do the whole thing.”

Dan kisses him. “It was perfect. It wasn’t wrong at all.”

Phil kisses back, allowing Dan’s tongue to sneak in a little bit before pulling away enough to speak. “You wanna see your ring?”

Dan nods, suddenly very excited. Phil hands him the box and sits back while Dan opens it. “Oh,” Dan gasps, brushing his finger across it. “It’s... it’s gorgeous, Phil, fuck. How much-“

“I’m never telling you how much it was so you can forget that question,” Phil says immediately, not meeting Dan’s eyes.

“Phil,” Dan says, fondly exasperated. “We’re buying a house! We’re supposed to be saving money! What if-“

Phil, who’s normally the kind of man who lets his boyfriend speak, interrupts him with a kiss. “I’ve been saving up for it for a while now. I promise none of it came from our forever home fund.”

Dan eyes him suspiciously. “How long?” He asks, just out of curiosity.

There’s a twitch of Phil’s lips before he lets himself properly smile. “Since 2011.”

He doesn’t mean to start crying again, but hearing that date, which doesn’t even seem like a real year anymore, causes Dan to duck his head and suck in a few calming breaths. “Fuck,” he breathes wetly. “You really... you’ve really wanted to marry me that long.”

Phil offers a sheepish smile. “Longer, actually,” he admits. “I knew I wanted to marry you sometime after that first day in Manchester, probably the week in November.” He smirks then, clearly up to something. “But it took me until 2011 to realize your expensive taste and how I might want to save up for it.”

Dan gives him a look but Phil only laughs easily. “Can I... is it okay if I go ahead and try it on?”

“Of course,” Phil says immediately with a soft smile. He holds a hand out for the box and Dan hands it to him, letting him take the band out and slide it onto the ring finger of Dan’s left hand. “Perfect,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing the ring.

Dan can’t help but hold his hand up closer to look at it more carefully. “What’s it made out of?” He asks, turning his hand this way and that to see the light reflect off the tiny diamonds embedded in it.

“Black titanium and black sapphires,” Phil says. “I figured we’d consider the one you gave me and this one our engagement bands and when it’s time for an actual wedding we can get a matching set.”

“I like that idea a lot,” Dan replies, his gaze flickering from the ring to his fiancé. He grins at the sound of the word in his head. “How do you feel knowing that you’re going to be married to me?” He asks teasingly.

Phil leans in and kisses the side of his mouth gently. “Like the luckiest man alive,” he whispers.

Dan can’t help but blush at that statement, but rather than argue, he puts his arms around Phil’s neck and kisses him again. “I love you,” he says for maybe the twentieth time today. “I think this has been my favorite birthday yet.”

Phil sighs, resting his head against Dan’s chest. “I love you too, Bear. I wanted you to have such a good day today. I’m glad you liked it.”

Dan smiles against his hair. “It was lovely, really.”

“Good,” Phil says, kissing his clothed chest. “There’s cake in the fridge, by the way. For later.” His voice is muffled by the fabric as he kisses his way down.

“For later?” Dan taunts.

“Yep,” Phil replies, winking up at him. “We’re busy right now.”

“Oh are we?” Dan says, voice hopelessly sarcastic.

“Shh,” Phil whispers, kissing the front of his pajama pants. “Less talking. More taking clothes off.”

Dan snorts at the lack of finesse. Ten years in and Dan guessed there was only so much they could do to keep the romance alive. He pets Phil’s hair as he kisses the band of Dan’s pajamas, hooking his fingers under the elastic and tugging gently. “Can I?” Phil asks, always the sweetheart.

"Yeah," Dan murmurs, lifting his hips and allowing Phil to pull them down his legs. He's gone for no pants, something not lost on Phil, who rolls his eyes.

"You're so lazy," he mutters, leaning down to kiss Dan's thigh before throwing the pjs across the room carelessly.

"You pretty heavily implied I'd be getting laid tonight, bub, so my pants-free decision was your influence too, you know," Dan says, quirking a brow in challenge.

Phil hums agains his skin, kissing up his thighs. "Alright, fine," he says finally. He kisses the soft dip of space where Dan's thigh meets his hip. He's so, so close to where Dan really wants him, and Dan makes a low whine in his throat. "Ten years later and you still have no concept of waiting," Phil taunts.

Dan bucks his hips pointedly. "I can wait. I just don't want to," he argues. "Unless... Did you want to..." He gestures vaguely to the chest by the closet where they keep their toys.

Phil smiles but shakes his head. "Not tonight. I think we'll stick to the basics, yeah?"

Dan nods, a little relieved. As much as he loved when they tried new things in the bedroom, he really was quite tired and that kind of exploratory sex took a lot out of him, physically and emotionally. And tonight he's honestly had enough on the emotional front, so he's happy to hear they'll be sticking to what they're best at.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Dan asks, brushing Phil's hair back.

"Yeah," Phil answers simply, mouthing at the skin at the base of Dan's cock. "Do you want me to?"

"Mhm," Dan hums. "Are you gonna suck me off first?"

Phil blinks up at him. "I can, yeah. Do you wanna go twice?"

Dan considers it, then shakes his head. "I'm actually pretty sure I'm gonna pass out the first time I orgasm, so no. But you can blow me while you prep?" Dan suggests cheekily.

Phil narrows his eyes. "You're just trying to get me to do all the work," he complains.

"But Phil," Dan says sweetly, stroking his cheek. "It's my birthday."

"I knew you would use that excuse," Phil sighs. "Go fetch the lube, you brat."

Dan grins, crawling up the bed and rummaging through Phil's drawer. He hears the sound of soft clothes falling in a heap somewhere, probably thrown in a random direction of the floor for them to trip over later. "Here you go, bub," Dan says, handing him the bottle. His gaze rakes over Phil's naked body, smirking appreciatively. "Someone looks happy to see me," he teases, gripping Phil's cock and giving it a few tugs.

Phil groans, swatting his hand away. "Cut it out," he whines. "Your hand's all dry."

Staring Phil dead in the eyes, Dan brings his hand to his mouth, spitting in it and bringing it back to his cock again. "Better?" He asks when Phil's eyelashes flutter.

"Mm," Phil hums, pushing his hips into Dan's hand over and over. "It's good, babe, yeah." His eyes flicker open again, and he smiles softly at Dan, a total contradiction to what they're doing. It makes Dan's skin burn with excitement. There's no preamble to it as Phil leans in and kisses him, wrapping a steadying hand around the back of Phil's neck. Dan sneaks his tongue into Phil's mouth, licking excitedly. "Lie back, love," Phil whispers when he pulls away eventually.

Dan does as he's told, making himself comfy on the bed before spreading his legs, holding onto his thighs tightly to keep them there. He watches the way Phil stares at him appreciatively, running the dry tip of his index finger over Dan's perineum and tracing over his hole. "Lovely," he murmurs.

"Fuck off," Dan says, voice full of affection.

Phil smiles down at him. He bends, kissing the bend of Dan's knee. "Ready?" He asks, popping the cap on the bottle and spreading the lube over his fingers.

"Mhm," Dan hums, wiggling his bum. "C'mon."

"Bossy," Phil mutters, circling Dan's rim for a moment before gently pressing. Dan sighs as that lovely finger slips inside, nearly without any pause. He's so used to being full these days, when their days are filled with little to do other than have sex and wonder when life will go back to how it was before. But he's not thinking about that right now. Now, right now he's thinking about the way Phil's finger stretches him open just right, how his added finger slides in just the way he needs it too in order for it to feel really good.

"Good?" Phil asks after a few minutes, glancing up at Dan's eyes.

"God, yes," Dan gasps. "So good. Go ahead and add a third."

Phil complies without second-guessing him, and Dan nearly goes cross-eyed at the burn of the stretch. It's so fucking good. Phil's still cautious and slow, his movements gentle even as Dan begs for more, faster. It's at moments like this, when Phil puts Dan's wellbeing and safety over his own desires, that Dan really appreciates how he really is the perfect partner.

For some reason, he feels like now is a good time. to share that thought. "Phil," he moans.

"Mm?" Phil replies, sounding distracted.

He taps at Dan's prostate then, and Dan loses his train of thought for a second. "You're perfect," he mumbles when he remembers.

"What?" Phil laughs, his eyes glittering with amusement.

Dan feels too good to feel embarrassed for how seemingly random his outburst is. "I love you so much," Dan murmurs. "You're so good to me."

Phil kisses his knee again. slowing the movements of his hand. "I love you too, baby. Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Dan says vehemently. "No, keep going. You can fuck me now, I'm good."

He feels the loss keenly when Phil pulls his fingers out completely. "Are you sure?" He asks, stroking Dan's thighs.

Dan nods. "Yeah, I want it to hurt a little."

Phil rolls his eyes. He himself didn't usually like it when he could feel the burn, but Dan was an odd one like that. "How do you want it?" He asks. Dan waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Phil huffs. "Don't make it weird," he says.

Dan only laughs before rolling over onto his side. "Could you, like... Stand on the side of the bed and do it from there? Or lay down behind me?"

There's something fond in Phil's gaze as he leans down and kisses Dan's chest. "Sure, bub." He climbs off the bed and tugs Dan back towards him by his hips. There's a moment of pause where he lubes himself up, Dan assumes, and then there's that familiar pressure at his hole. "Relax," Phil reminds him, pointlessly.

"Yeah," Dan mumbles, arching his back and taking a deep breath to allow his body to go lax and pliant. The slide goes easier, then, and Phil sinks in slowly, stretching him just enough for Dan to feel the stretch. He moans quietly, covering his face with his arm to quiet the noises. They've had many complaints from neighbors over the years, and he's learned the measures to take in order to quiet himself a little more.

He's surprised to feel Phil shove his hand away from his mouth. "Don't do that," Phil quips. "Be as loud as you want, tonight."

Dan feels his chest flush at the words. That was new, for them. "Is this what all engaged sex is like?" He says breathlessly as Phil slowly begins moving his hips, trying to give Dan plenty of time to adjust before fucking him properly.

Phil laughs behind him. and then he feels hot breath against his neck. "Soon," he whispers. "When we have a home of our own, with no nosy neighbors. Then you can make all the noises you want."

The idea sends a shiver down Dan's spine and he clenches around Phil's cock. "Fuck," he whines when Phil grinds against him helplessly. "You can move, baby, go ahead."

Phil kisses his shoulder. He keeps his lips there, pressing open kisses against the skin stretched across his shoulder blade as he starts properly fucking him, hips knocking against Dan's ass with a noise that leaves very little to the imagination. The position, paired with the way Phil's cock naturally curves, has him hitting Dan's prostate on every thrust, something they generally have to work a little harder for.

"So good, fuck," Dan gasps, clutching at the sheets as he pushes his ass back against Phil, matching him for every thrust. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last long, Phil."

"Me either," Phil replies. The confirmation that they're both right there together has Dan's eyes rolling back in pleasure. Sex with Phil is always earth-shattering for him, but there's just something about sex with Phil when they're both this happy, this in love- it makes things about a hundred times more intense.

Dan is working his ass back as much. as he can lying on his side, but eventually he feels a cramp in his side and has to give it a rest. He's already close, but he needs something else to get him there. Reaching back blindly, he grabs Phil's hand, guiding it down to his cock. "Touch me," he begs.

"You needy little thing," Phil teases playfully.

Those words don't spark joy the way they sometimes do and Dan whines. Phil, who knows every nuance of sound Dan's ever made, understands immediately.

"I love you," He whispers in Dan's ear, slowing his thrusts. Instead of hard and fast, he starts going slow and deep, pumping Dan's dick at the same pace, thumbing at the head on every upstroke, just how Dan likes it. "You're so good for me, every time. So good. Love you so much."

Dan keens under the affection, baring his neck for attention, which Phil immediately gives, licking and sucking at the skin there with a heat and focus that Dan didn't expect from him, considering the other tasks literally in his hands. "I'm-" Dan cuts himself off with a moan. "Gonna come, gonna come," he pants, bucking his hips into Phil's fist.

"Let it go, bub," Phil whispers to him, kissing his neck. "I've got you."

And that's what gets him. Just that affection, that reassurance, is the sexiest thing Phil could ever say. Dan's a goner, releasing into Phil's hand with a punched out sigh. "Fuck," he whines as he works himself through the aftershocks. When he's finally finished, he slumps against the bed, exhausted. He can still feel Phil inside him, moving faster now that he's chasing his own release. Dan clenches around him to help, and Phil slows down.

"Want me to stop?" He asks against Dan's throat.

"No," Dan whispers, spreading his legs a little to give Phil a better angle. "I want you to come, too, baby. Go ahead."

Phil kisses his jaw. "Thanks," he mumbles. "Can I-" he pats Dan's thigh like he wants him to move.

Dan falls limp, allowing Phil to maneuver him however he wants. "How do you want me?"

Phil licks his lips. "On your back," he replies. Dan complies immediately, and Phil stays standing, dragging Dan's hips to meet his own. He slides back in smoothly, thrusting at a sloppy pace. Dan can tell he's close. "Can I-" Phil starts, taking Dan's spent cock in his hand.

Dan rolls his eyes, but nods. "I'll never understand it, but go for it, bub."

A giggle falls from Phil's mouth. The paradox of that sweet noise compared to the loud sound of smacking skin echoing in their room has Dan's dick twitching in Phil's hand. He grins. "It's neat. I don't know why I like it either," Phil says with a shrug.

With another roll of his eyes, Dan gestures for him to get on with it. He winces, just a little, at the overstimulation when Phil starts stroking him again, but Dan knows he's close, and he's not about to deny him of that sweet release now. It's almost better like this, he thinks, when Dan's already finished but Phil's still searching for that relief and Dan gets to watch the pleasure, pure and unhidden, as it washes over Phil's face when it finally, finally hits him. His eyes clench shut and he's nearly breathless for a pause before it seems to hit him all at once, and then he's coming inside Dan, squeezing his hand around his cock.

"Fuck, Dan," Phil says with a laugh. Dan's confused at first, until he looks down and realizes what just happened. "You were barely hard that time," Phil says, voice soft and incredulous as he looks down at where Dan has just come a second time, all over his chest.

"Yeah, well," Dan mumbles petulantly. "Shut up," he whines.

Phil laughs, sliding out of him and searching for the baby wipes they keep in the nightstand for this. "I didn't say anything," he argues.

Dan huffs. "Well you don't have to look so fucking pleased with yourself," he replies, crossing his arms as Phil cleans him up gently.

"Sorry," Phil says, not an ounce of actual sorrow in his voice. He tosses the used baby wipes into the bin before patting Dan's thigh. "Shove over, bub."

They get situated in bed together, Dan whining about being cold until Phil pulls the sheet over them. Dan knows, realistically, that he'll be burning up in less than an hour, but for now he just wants a cuddle under the sheets. They lie in blissful silence for a bit until Phil laughs.

"What?" Dan asks, blinking up at him.

Phil gazes at him, smirking. "Can you believe that our whole family knew I was going to propose to you today and they didn't tell you? I'll be honest, I didn't think they had it in them."

Dan sits up. "They... they all knew?" He asks slowly.

Phil nods, looking rather pleased with himself, like a little boy who knows he's gotten away with eating too much candy before dinner. "All of them."

"Even... Even my mum? Nan?" Dan tries to keep the panic out of his voice. He's not mad, he's just... surprised. Overwhelmed. In a good way, mostly, he thinks.

Phil looks a little hesitant now. "Yeah... Was that not okay?"

Dan shakes his head, leaning in to give Phil a reassuring kiss. "No, that's fine. I'm just surprised, is all."

"Yeah?" Phil asked.

Dan nods. "How did they take it?"

Phil grins. "They seemed very happy for us. I, er... I actually talked to your mum about it a while ago."

"How long ago?" Dan asks, warily. After finding out just how long Phil has planned on proposing to him, Dan isn't sure he's ready to hear the answer to this.

"After my birthday," Phil replies, surprising Dan. So, not years ago, which is a relief, especially considering he hadn't been out to his family until last year. "I called her a few days after we talked about it, and asked if she would be okay with me asking you to marry me."

Dan's eyes water at that. "Phil," he says in a very fond, chastising voice. "You asked my mum for permission?"

"No! I mean... Not really," Phil amends. When Dan gives him a disbelieving look, Phil shrugs. "I basically just said I love you and wanted her to know that I intended on marrying you. She was very chill about it."

Dan raises an eyebrow. "What did she say, exactly?" He asks, suspicious.

Phil grins sheepishly. "She said I better intend on it or else I'd just wasted ten years of my life."

There's a pause and then Dan groans, rolling his eyes. "God. She's the worst." He doesn't mean it, not really. Not anymore.

"No, she... It was nice," Phil says, shrugging simply. "We had a nice chat about marriage and you and everything and... I dunno, it was nice. I finally understood what you're always saying about how much you love my mum."

Dan smiles, tucking a strand of Phil's hair back into place. "Yeah?" He asks quietly.

Phil kisses the palm of his hand. "Yeah. It was really nice, talking to the person who birthed my favorite human on earth," Phil says with a wide smile.

Even ten years in, and Dan still flushes with embarrassment, ducking his head and nuzzling against Phil's neck. "Shut up," he whines.

There's a soft kiss pressed to his head. "Happy birthday, Dan," Phil whispers.

And what a happy birthday it was.

#phan #phanfiction #birthday #dan's 29th birthday fic heck yeah #smut #fluff #birthday cuddles #engagement #proposal #2009 first date recreation #quarantine diy date #no angst but lots of cuddles and emotions #this was a very quick and very late fic bc of who i am as a person #no beta either so if there are flaws i apologize i am running on very little sleep these days #enjoy!!#birthday fic

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

Text

Companion For A God

They were all spending a full week at the lake house with the Stark-Strange family. Of course Stephen had to use magic on the cabin so they could comfortably accommodate everyone, but it was a nice way to spend spring break. It was warm enough that the kids could go swimming and the adults spread around the property with their choice activity. Whether it be physical or just sitting around with a drink and talking to each other. Quill chose the latter, but his beer bottle quickly went empty and got up to get everyone they were sitting with another one. Scott, Sam, Clint, and Nat specifically. Stephen had felt too lazy to make lunch for everyone so he ordered a ton of platters. Veggie, fruit, lunch meat and cheese for sandwiches, even some dessert. Quill was going to make himself a sandwich after throwing the empty beer bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the house, but then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He closed the lid of the bin and looked toward the start of the grove a few feet away which seemed to be what was calling to his sixth sense. Something wasn't right and he wanted to make sure things were still safe, so he walked over to the grove and looked around for any potential danger. There were kids on the property and if anything wasn't supposed to be--

A whine caught Quill's attention and he followed the sound until he came across what looked to be a baby fox. If it hadn't been whining, Quill very likely would have looked him over since it was so small. The cause of its cries was what had the celestial fuming though. It was caught in a fox sized bear trap. Quill had no idea if it was leftover from the time he and Scott were turned into animals, or if it was new, but it made him livid. It was like seeing Scott trapped all over again, even more so when the small creature whined and struggled even more when Quill approached.

"Easy buddy." The celestial said gently as he crouched down.

The fox cowered and whined more and Quill readied some healing energy for when he released the trap. The animal would bolt the second it was released, but Quill didn't want to send it off back into the wild with an injured leg. So with one hand, he somehow managed to open the trap, and with the other he sent the healing energy into the fox's leg as it ran a good distance away. It stopped a few yards away and turned to look back at the god after stopping to lick its now healed paw, and then scampered away out of sight. Only then did Quill turn back to rejoin everyone after finally grabbing more beers for those (hopefully) still waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked as Quill distributed the beers and took his place next to Scott.

"Oh...just had to check something. Sorry about that." He responded as he popped the cap off his bottle with his thumb and then opened Scott's.

They sat around and talked some more for about another hour until Quill was roped into throwing the girls and Nathaniel into the lake, and then into helping Clint barbeque dinner for everyone. Seemingly endless amounts of hamburgers and hotdogs were cooked and consumed until everyone was full, and then when it got dark enough, everyone gathered near the fire pit where Steve had built a fire. Marshmallows were broken out and handed around to everyone to roast them to eat as is or to make smores...and Gerald got a little too interested. Since alpacas couldn't consume marshmallows, Stephen asked Thomas to put the creature in his pen for the night so he didn't accidentally get into a bag or three. Gerald was given an apple so he wasn't left out.

Valerie was old enough to enjoy the sugary treats, and she loved them. She helped Stephen eat a couple of his roasted marshmallows that he gave to her in small pieces, and Quill of course licked the small bit that stuck to Scott's bottom lip. He got something thrown at him for the display of affection in front of the kids in addition to being pushed away by his spouse. By his face.

Quill looked back at the fire with a chuckle and then up at the youngest member of the family when he saw her yawn. "Looks like it's bedtime for the baby."

"Sure is." Stephen nodded as he stood up with Valerie. "I'll be right back."

As the sorcerer walked toward the house, Tony came out and gave the baby a kiss on the top of her head as the couple passed each other. During the brief exchange, Quill watched Athena follow Stephen inside the moment he stood up and it still amazed the celestial. She was so incredibly loyal and it was of her own free will. Stephen used magic on her a total of two times, once to communicate telepathically before the wolf first came home with the sorcerer, and second to bind her lifeline with his. It would give Athena the immortality Stephen had, and when the sorcerer died, she would too. Of course, Stephen made sure the wolf was amiable to staying with him like that and she supposedly agreed.

It made Quill wonder what it was like to have an animal so loyal to oneself. He, of course, would have Scott for much longer than the normal human because of his ability to share his immortality, but even Scott could still be taken from him. Death would be permanent for the younger man unlike Quill. The celestial had already hidden his light so that if he was killed he would be able to revive, and only his light being destroyed would kill him permanently. Like with Ego.

Sometimes thinking about it was depressing. He hoped that he would have Scott by his side forever, but even he knew that was improbable. Quill would try his damndest to protect Scott (and Cassie), but he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that he would eventually be alone. Eternity begot loneliness.

Quill and Scott went to bed a couple hours after Stephen returned from putting Valerie to bed, and after a quiet romp in the sheets, they went to sleep for the night. They did get cleaned up and dressed after their carnal activities before they fell asleep, and Quill woke very briefly when he felt Scott leave the bed. He woke again just long enough to wrap an arm around the younger man when he returned to bed...but then a little while later he was woken up again. By some licking. On his face.

What the fuck kind of kinky shit was Scott trying to get him into now and at ass o'clock at night?

"Babe...I love you, but can we please revisit whatever this is at an hour that normal people--pbhft!"

Quill sputtered and hacked when a tongue entered his mouth that definitely wasn't Scott's, and he opened his eyes to look at whoever was licking him. It wasn't a who, it was more like a what. It was the fox from earlier.

"What the fuck?"

"It was just a dream big guy. Go back to sleep." Scott mumbled.

"No. No no. This is not a dream." Quill rubbed his eyes when the fox curled up in the crook of his neck. "Scotty...there's a fox sleeping with us."

"That's great Spaceman. Now sl--" Golden eyes snapped open before Scott sat up and turned on his lamp to look at their new bedmate. "There's a fox."

"You think?" Quill asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How did it get in here?"

"It must have used Athena's pet door...and I left our bedroom door cracked open when I came back in." Scott surmised and the celestial sighed when the fox licked his face again from its position next to Quill's neck. "It's just a baby. What is it doing here?"

"It's the reason I took a while getting the beer. I released him from a trap." Quill admitted.

"Well it looks comfy and unlikely to go anywhere." Scott turned off the lamp and laid back down. "Just like me. Go to sleep."

That had been the end of it. Scott went right back to sleep with his arm slung over Quill's chest, and the fox followed his example, leaving the celestial to wonder what had happened. He fell asleep to the sound of the tiny snores coming from the small creature, and when he woke up the next morning, he got out of bed while somehow remembering there was a tiny fox sharing the bed with him and Scott now. The moment he finished getting dressed for the day, the fox jumped onto his chest and climbed up to his shoulder where it draped itself loosely around Quill's shoulders until it was comfortably laying it's head on one of them.

Scott coincidentally woke up when it happened and burst into laughter the second the creature was settled happily. "You've got an animal version of Val." He said as he rolled out of bed and got dressed.

"I think he's worse."

"He?"

"Yes, he. Which reminds me...I better talk to Tony about the trap. I don't know if it's been there since our incident or what, but he should probably sweep the property for them before one of the kids gets hurt." Quill walked out of the room with Scott as the younger nodded and looked at the fox thoughtfully.

"What are you going to name him? He's clearly not going anywhere." Scott asked.

"I'm not. I'm taking him back."

"Quill, he may be a baby but he's old enough that he was probably recently left on his own. He'll just come back."

Quill sighed as they walked down to the kitchen and Stephen looked up from cutting fruit and raised an eyebrow when he saw the fox.

"Tony doesn't run a zoo."

"He doesn't run an orphanage either." Quill snarked and the sorcerer threw a strawberry at him. The fox just watched it fall to the floor. "He came to me."

Stephen looked back down at the fruit. "Well don't let that strawberry go to waste. Pick it up and give it to him."

"Is Athena going to try to eat him?"

"I'll make sure she knows he's like Tibbs and Gerald. Does he have a name?" Stephen wondered as Quill picked up the piece of fruit from the floor.

"Not yet. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I was woken up by him in the middle of the night and he's not leaving."

Stephen nodded and Scott joined him to help with breakfast while Quill walked outside to look for Tony after asking Stephen where he was. When he did find the engineer, he hardly blinked when he saw the fox, but he did scowl when Quill mentioned the traps. Tony didn't waste any time setting out to fly around the property with a magnet to hopefully pick up any remaining traps, and Quill made sure the kids didn't get too far from the house while Tony was cleaning up. Their biggest concern was Thomas who used the property as a place to run around and he was the one most likely to step in one while doing so.

Quill grimaced when the fox started licking his ear and he reached up to gently grab his muzzle to stop him. "Stop that. You'll get breakfast when the rest of us do."

After a brief thought, Quill released the fox's mouth (who playfully snapped at the celestial's hand) and grabbed the animal by his scruff to hold up in front of him. He squirmed in Quill's hold in an attempt to get back to his perch, but the god wanted to get a good look at him if he was going to name him. The fox had barely been with him for eight hours and Quill already knew he was going to be a big baby. He couldn't call him anything similar to that though.

"...you look like a Flynn." Quill finally said after a few more minutes of deliberation and the fox yipped happily.

"Like Rapunzel's boyfriend!" Diana said from behind him.

The god sighed. "Damn it."

The fox had his name the second he responded enthusiastically and Quill was too lazy to think of a different one anyway. He tried setting Flynn down on the ground, but the second his paws touched the dirt, he scrambled back up Quill's clothes and to his earlier perch which only confirmed Scott's theory. Quill was stuck with this fox.

At least he was cute.

#antlord #peter quill #scott lang #celestial quill #the avengers #the avengers kids #mama bear au #flynn the fox

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ill-skillsgard · 5 years

Text

A Proper Man - Henry Deaver X Mistress

Warning: 18+ mentions of sex/cheating/mature themes. This part: Sex, roleplay-esque degradation/little bit of bum play but not a lot. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: This one takes place directly after Cat Burglars, AKA when I left y’all with a smut cliffhanger ;) Enjoy!

Read more Henry x Mistress here > Masterpost

"Are you teasing me, Mr. Deaver?" Your question carried on a shallow breath.

Henry had you nearly naked on the four-poster bed where Mary slept every night. The soft duvet smelled like her perfume — powdery and fresh, but overloaded and nearly nauseating. It was easy to put from mind when Henry worked your shirt up over your breasts and leaned back to stare at them.

"Teasing? No. I just want to touch you all over first. Is that too much to ask?"

"Certainly not," you giggled as he pressed a kiss to your sternum, tickling you with his five o'clock shadow.

He unbuttoned his shirt and got his tank top halfway off before you pulled him against you and rolled over so you could preside over his body. His eyes grew wide with intrigue, his lips curling into a dreamy smirk. The blushing splotches on his chest matched the shade of the bed cover and you bit your lip to keep yourself from enjoying it too much.

Henry palmed himself through his boxers, expecting you wanted to see him looking needy for you. As delectable as it was when he displayed his stiffness through the thin material, you had a different idea in mind. You straddled him and wiggled your hips back and forth, causing a soft moan to leave his open mouth.

"So," you began, catching his attention right away. "Your wife thinks you like to fuck whores. Tell me, sir, am I just another one of your sluts?"

His eyes widened at first, but he settled his hands on your hips and smirked. "Of course, you are. My little whore."

"Mm-hmm, big man with a great big cock. Only a slut like me knows what to do with a dick like that."

"Come on then. If you want to be my whore, then show me what you do when you make me hard."

His confidence was growing. To look down and see him returning your gaze with ardency filled you with warmth and pride. He brought a slap down on your ass, extorting a squeal from you that made him grin. He clutched at your panties, pulling them up rather than down. He anchored his chin to his chest and watched the material pulling tight over your groin.

"Mm-hmm, squirm for me, baby. I know how bad you need me to spread that pussy open."

The cotton constricting against your clit created a small amount of delicious pressure. He murmured happily, coiling his fingers around the hem until you feared your underwear might rip.

"I can see a little wet spot on your panties. Are you hungry for my cock, you little slut?"

"Yes, sir. I need you to fill me up. Nothing makes me happier than having my whore cunt full of your cock."

Henry couldn't keep himself from throbbing if he tried. You felt the pulse beneath you and stirred your hips again. He sat up and threw you onto your stomach before tearing your panties down to your knees. There was no time to shed them completely as he pressed himself against your ass, letting you feel his erection but not entirely.

"God, you're a nasty one. You want to get fucked on this bed knowing she's going to sleep in it tonight? She's going to be thinking of me putting my cock in your filthy little holes already, so we might as well make it a reality, right?"

"Oh, yes, sir," you moaned with excitement, rubbing back up against him.

He thumbed your slit once and you seethed as he spread your wetness upward. The daring way he approached your ass made you look back with your lip held between your teeth. "Like the way my ass looks, don't you?"

You feared Henry might be losing steam as his brow contorted and a whimper escaped his throat. But he was only preparing to lean down so he could lick you from hole to hole. The move deserved the loudest moan of encouragement you could muster. You didn't know that pride and pleasure could walk hand-in-hand until his tongue flickered against a different tightness. It amazed you to witness his confidence spike every time he tried something new. And he was good at it. You reminded yourself to tell him how impressed you were with his exploration and aptitude.

"Like the way your ass tastes, baby girl. Fuck, I want to eat every inch of you."

"I'd love to let you, sir, but won't we run out of time?"

Henry squeezed your cheeks, absently stroked your velvety lips and gave the middle of your back one loving kiss before he nodded in agreement. "You're right. Suppose I'll just fuck that cunt now and save the rest for later."

He pulled his boxers down and tapped your clit with the head of his cock. He was already glossy with precum and the mixture of your fluid and his made for a smooth entry. A sharp intake of air through his teeth made you grin. Henry cursed under his breath, his hands gripping your hips before he made any movements. It wasn't the first time he paused upon entry. The man loved to bathe in your warmth; to revel in the tightness he deemed a gift for the years he missed out on over-indulgent sex.

"Tell me," Henry began to shift his hips forward. "If you're such a naughty slut, and you love big cock so much, how is it that your little pussy is still so tight for me?"

"My holes were made for you to fuck, sir," you said without skipping a beat.

He enjoyed your answer and made it known with a low groan that told of his astonishment. When you spoke to him during sex, he couldn't save himself for long. Every word and breath that left you nudged him closer to orgasm. It wasn't just the feeling of being enclosed, it was the show you put on for his viewing pleasure, the corruption that fell from your lips.

"You're a bad, bad man. You love whore pussy."

Lost in his pleasure, he nodded, swatted your bum and tried to slow the hurdle toward the end. Time was slipping, and he knew it in the back of his head, but the pressure around his cock, the wet smacking of skin, your ass bouncing against his pelvis; it was exactly what he craved. Henry almost regretted not saving it for home when you had all the time and privacy possible.

"I'm going to come inside you, and you're going to put your panties on right after, understand, slut?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Anything you want."

"That's right," he panted. "You're a good girl. We're not going to leave a big mess. But we'll know, won't we?"

"Yes, sir."

Instead of another groan, the clap of his hand meeting your ass punctuated the last minute before his entire body tensed. Each muscle contracted, even the ones in his throat and he let loose a choked growl as a blissful jolt of too much pleasure hit him. You clenched around him, tightening as much as you could in order to milk every drop he had to give. There was no time to bask in the afterglow. Henry knew that your ballsy romp in his old bed needed to end as fast as it started.

"Pull those panties up. Get dressed. We should get out of here." Henry hardly caught his breath before he planted one more kiss on the base of your spine and scrambled off the bed.

You listened to him without fuss, grabbing your discarded pants and tugging your shirt down to cover your tummy. He worked on smoothing out the wrinkles in the bedspread and then put his own shirt back on. The fading hickey on his collar was hidden away again, but you knew it was there and that was enough. Just like it was enough to know you had both violated his marital bed.

From the bedroom door to the hallway, you giggled and sighed. Henry promised you an orgasm or three after the rescue was over. He combed his fingers through his hair, stopped dead and took in a sharp gasp of air. Your heart flipped from the cut of his shock through the air.

An old woman with strips of grey hair spiralling into a bun on her head inspected Henry and then you, determining quickly that whatever you did in the master bedroom was nothing short of indecent. She clicked her tongue as Henry stammered over an explanation.

"Loretta, isn't it Thursday? You're not supposed to be here today."

Loretta took another judgmental look at Henry and propped her fist on her hip. "And neither are you, young man."

"Um... Yes, I know. I needed—er, I had to grab something."

"And what might that be, Mr. Henry?"

Gromit appeared right on time and she followed his eyes to the cat strutting down the hallway, unaware of the incredible amount of tension between the three people. You had nothing to say in your defence and settled for toying with the hem of your shirt like a berated child. Loretta leaned over, peering past you at the door to the master bedroom. "Better not have left any sort of mess for me in there, Mr. Henry."

"No, no! Of course not! Loretta... I would never!" Henry's offence was genuine. "It's... Have you met my new assistant?"

"Hi," you peeped.

One of Loretta's eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. There was no fooling a woman like her, you could tell. She carried herself with the grace of a person that had witnessed many things, and not all of them good. She studied you, nodded her head and pulled an eyeglass cleaning cloth out of a deep pocket in her uniform. With a sigh, she took off her glasses and began to polish the lenses.

"Miss Mary has me come while she's not home. Schedule changed. Less hours now," she informed.

Henry's back straightened. "What? She's giving you fewer hours?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"I'm sorry, Loretta. I had no idea."

The woman didn't appear fretful over the situation. "It's no matter. More time to spend with my grandkids."

Henry bent down to scoop up Gromit. You saw the first touch of a smile crack over her lips as she placed her glasses back on her nose.

"I'm sure you're aware of what's been going on. Mary and I are getting divorced. I just wanted to gather the rest of my things," Henry gently explained, as though one slip of the tongue might send her into a fit. The woman was stoic though, only undulating a slow nod as your boyfriend revealed the reason for his sudden presence after weeks of being gone.

"Just the cat?" She asked.

"Yes, just Gromit."

Loretta sighed through her nose and you feared she might put her foot down and refuse to let you leave with the cat. Then a wave of mischief crept through the lines of her face and she smiled again. "I'll tell Miss Mary the cat ran out the back door while the kitchen floors were drying. Take that creature away from here and give him love. Lord knows, he needs some since you've been gone, Mr. Henry."

Henry giggled with boyish delight and kissed between Gromit's ears, dancing up to Lorretta to place the same happy smooch on her cheek. "This is why I love you, Loretta. And if you need more hours, call me. I still have the condo."

Loretta pointed at the grandfather clock across from an ornate credenza lining the vast hall. "Miss Mary will be back from her book club in thirty minutes. I suggest you be on the opposite end of town by then."

"Thank you, Lory."

"And girl," Loretta halted you. "Treat Mr. Henry proper. He's a proper man. Respectful. I reckon he deserves some good love."

You chuckled, nerves soothing beneath the warmth of her gaze. "I reckon you're correct, ma'am. I'll do my best."

"Begone now, children."

#henry deaver x mistress #henry deaver fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction

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allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

Text

An 80's Movie Apology–Noah Centineo

I woke up and groaned when I realized what day it was; my birthday. Most people loved their birthdays. Not me. Every year, it ended in disappointment.

My parents divorced when I was little and since then, my birthday is spent with me going back and forth between houses. I stopped celebrating it once I graduated high school. Until I started dating Noah Centineo.

Noah and I met on the set of The Fosters. He replaced Jake T. Austin as Jesus while I worked on the actors' make-up. We constantly flirted back and forth. At one of our season wrap-up parties, Noah and I got a little drunk and ended up making out in the prop closet. He asked me out the next Monday and we've been dating since the beginning of the next season.

"Tell me again why you're fighting this?" Noah's voice came through the speaker.

"I know that Taylor and Jen and Hailey mean well it's just. . ."

"You refuse to celebrate your birthday," Noah sighed. "Y/N, I thought we talked about this. I know you've hated celebrating it in the past, but the last couple of years have been okay. I mean, I usually take you to dinner and. . ."

"Yeah, well, you aren't here this year." I cut him off. I held my breath when he didn't respond right away.

"My flight gets in on your birthday. I'll be there."

"Your flight gets in at 4 in the morning, babe, and you don't sleep on planes. You're going to be exhausted. You're not going to want to come to a party tired and drained from a red-eye flight."

"I don't care," he laughed. "I'm your boyfriend and as your boyfriend, my job is to try and help you enjoy your birthday."

"Babe," I sighed.

"I'll be there," he cut me off. "I promise."

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

"How can you not want to celebrate your birthday?" Noah laughed as we ate pizza and watched Netflix.

"Because," I sighed. "Everyone makes such a big deal about birthdays, but they always end the same. A disappointment that was celebrated with presents you don't actually need and cake that was half frosting."

Noah looked up at me and sighed. "I'm determined to change that."

That conversation happened about three months into our relationship, the first birthday I celebrated with him and he did change things. He snuck into my house in the morning and made me breakfast in bed. He went with me and paid for me to get my hair and nails done. We had a picnic in the park, went to the farmer's market, saw a movie in the drive-in theater, and had a romantic dinner at my favorite restaurant.

I celebrated two more birthdays with him, each one better than the last. Until this one.

I stood in my kitchen, the house full of my friends, coworkers, and family. My best friends had planned this party for me, even though I tried to convince them not to. They were just trying to keep my mind off the fact that Noah wasn't in town. Even though his flight got in super early and he was technically here, I didn't want him to feel obligated to make a big deal about my birthday.

I took my phone out of my pocket and sighed when there wasn't a single call or text from Noah.

"Why is the birthday girl hiding in the kitchen?"

"I'm not hiding," I said to my best friend as she walked in. She sent me an amused look before glancing down at my phone.

"Still nothing from Noah?"

"No," I sighed. I quickly cleared my throat, adding, "But, you know, his flight got in at 4 am and I told him not to worry about it. I mean, he did promise he would come, but I just figured. . ."

I was unable to finish my sentence as my voice cracked. "Y/N," she sighed. "Come on. This whole party is for you. Get yourself a drink and relax."

"You're right," I sighed, slipping my phone into my back pocket.

"Good!" She giggled. "Come on. Let's go dance."

I spent the rest of the night dancing, laughing, and drinking with my friends. Even though we were having fun, I couldn't help but think about Noah. I found myself constantly checking the door or my phone. I tried to reassure myself that at least he texted me happy birthday before he got on the plane and again when he got off.

By the end of the night, my friends had left and I was cleaning up the random cups around my house.

"I'm sorry," Taylor said. I turned around to see her standing in the doorway, watching me clean up.

"What are you sorry about? I had a great time. It was a fun party."

"I meant that I'm sorry Noah didn't show up. I know he promised. . ."

"It's fine, Taylor. He said he would try." My voice broke as I thought about my boyfriend not showing up to the party I didn't even want to have. "Besides, his flight got in really early this morning and he probably got home and passed out."

"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "I'm sure he has a great explanation and will make it up to you."

"Exactly," I tried to smile. She gave me a hug and wished me a happy birthday before heading home. I sighed as I finished cleaning the living room and headed upstairs to take a shower.

Once I got out, I had just gotten dressed when I suddenly heard music playing from outside my window.

Noah's POV

I woke up to my phone ringing. I checked to see it was around 11 o'clock before answering my phone. "Hello?" I answered, my voice still groggy from sleep.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I cringed as Taylor, Y/N's best friend yelled at me.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" She scoffed. "I mean that you promised Y/N you'd come to her birthday party and you never showed. You know how she feels about celebrating her birthday and you didn't show up, Noah."

"Oh shit," I said as I sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Noah, Y/N really loves you, but you screwed up. Big time."

"What the hell am I going to do?" I panicked, running my hand through my hair. "How am I possibly supposed to make it up to her?"

"You need to Say Anything her."

"I need to what?"

"Say Anything," she sighed. "You know? One of Y/N's favorite old movies. How has she not made you watch it a million times? Then again, it is her breakup movie and you guys have been dating for three years."

"Three and a half," I mumbled.

"Anyway," she sighed, "after Diane and Lloyd have their falling out, he shows up to her house and plays her favorite song on a jukebox outside her window. You need to get a speaker, go to her house, and play her favorite song, which is. . ."

"Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur," I finished.

"Good boy," she laughed. "Now, get your ass to her house and fix this. You should've seen her face, Noah. She was really hurt."

"I know," I sighed. "I can't believe I. . . I came home and just passed out."

"That's what she figured, but you should still go over there."

"I'm on my way," I cleared my throat. "Thanks, Taylor."

"Anytime," she laughed. "Just keep in mind that if you hurt my best friend again, I'll kick you in the balls."

"Noted."

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

I put my car in park, grabbed my phone and Bluetooth speaker, and ran around the side of Y/N's house. I looked up once I was under her window and took a deep breath as I turned on the speaker. I took another deep breath as I pushed play on my phone, James Arthur's voice starting to play. I held my phone and the speaker above my head, holding my breath as I waited for her to come out.

It didn't take long for Y/N's curtains to be pushed aside and her window to open. I smiled as she poked her head out, looking down at me.

"Noah? What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry I didn't come to the party. I got home and barely made it to my room before passing out. I woke up when Taylor called me, yelling at me for being a dick and not showing up."

She looked down at me, a small smile forming on her lips. I put my phone in my back pocket and the speaker on the grass, the music still playing. "I'm so sorry, baby," I said looking back up at her. "I should've set an alarm or gone right to your house and slept on your bed so you could've woken me up or. . ."

I stopped talking when she ducked back into her room. I was just about to pull my phone out of my pocket and pause the music when I saw Y/N running around the corner. I smiled as she jumped into my arms, instantly wrapping her arms around my neck.

"I'm so sorry, baby." I sighed. "I can't believe I stood you up and. . ."

She pulled out of the hug and cupped my cheeks in her hands, quickly pressing her lips to mine. Our lips moved in sync as the song ended and started playing the next song on my playlist of Y/N's favorite songs.

She pulled away, a smile still on her face. "It's okay," she whispered.

"No, it's not," I sighed. "I love you, Y/N and I. . ."

She reached forward and covered my mouth, shutting me up. "I love you too," she said before pressing her lips to mine again. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me as our lips continued moving against each other.

This time, I was the one who pulled away from the kiss. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?" I asked, making her laugh.

"Nope," she shrugged, still laughing slightly.

"Well, now you do," I smirked down at her as I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I am going to spend the entire day making it up to you for forcing you to go through your birthday party alone. We will do whatever you want, spending literally all day together."

"I like that idea," she said as she tightened her arms around my neck. She bit her lip, her cheeks turning red. "We could," she cleared her throat, glancing at her window, "we could start right now."

"Now, I definitely like that idea." I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. I pulled away with a smirk on my lips.

"Happy birthday, baby."

#noah centineo #noah centineo imagines #noah centineo x reader

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jincherie · 5 years

Text

intermission • i | moonface

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 3.7k • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: oc feels regret and gets her first taste of murderous urges • ☽ — notes: this isn’t a full fledged chapter! this is more like.... a little dabble of backstory. in between each chapter, there will be one of these intermissions. they give a little extra info and context not included in each chapter... i hope u enjoy!

— posted; 11.05.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission i | next • —

[first year, semester one]

Coffee. Waffle. Bathroom stop. 10AM Lecture. Food. Class. Food. Booze? No, no booze.

That’s today’s agenda, and to be perfectly honest despite your brief moment of temptation, you’re pretty impressed with how far you’ve gotten into your first semester without turning to alcohol to cope. You’ve remained strong so far, but now as finals are right around the corner and you suddenly find yourself drowning in assessment, it’s getting harder and harder to resist the siren song of the conveniently bottled happy juice.

Smacking a hand to your cheek to snap yourself out of the thought before you start longing for it for real, you ignore the resulting sting and continue your trek into campus. You’re spectacularly early this morning, and while you’d like to take credit and say it was because you’re a morning bird who is on top of her life, the slightly less attractive and kind of sad truth is that you stayed up most of the night completing an assessment and only slept for one or two hours. Well… perhaps closer to one, two is a bit generous. You’re but one woman.

To be honest, the assessment piece you’d stayed up to finish isn’t even due for a few more days—you really wanted to put your all into it though, and you were actually thinking of going the extra mile and adding a cover page. You have a plethora of ideas for it but, regrettably, don’t have the graphic design skills to make it happen, so it seems it’s going to remain just a thought for now.

It’s as you plod into the section of your campus that you like to call your own little square of heaven, that fate decides to slap you in the face with an answer to your unspoken inquiries—quite literally.

You don’t get two steps past the corner of the first building in the food court before your face is suddenly meeting cold glass, the door pane making painful contact with your nose and mushing it so hard against your face you could almost smell the peach fuzz above your top lip.

“OW! MOTHERFUCK!” it’s a primal scream of pain that escapes you, your legs just barely saving your from falling right on your ass. Your eyes tear up from the sharp pain that throbs through your entire face, and when you attempt to crack your eyes open to find the culprit the area is barren and they are shamelessly long gone. So much for being even a little remorseful.

Sniffling and touching beneath your nose to make sure its snot and not blood dribbling from your nostrils, you wipe it on the back of your hand and spin your head to glare at the offending shop door that had caused you so much pain. It’s a combination of wood and glass, and the large, glossy wall-size windows next to it, as well as the glimpses of mirrors and squishy chairs you catch inside, tell you it belongs to a salon. The glass on the door, unlike the window, is littered with a bunch of flyers and posters and an obnoxiously retro open sign. You squint, momentarily distracted from your anger by a pretty A5 page of soft purple with flowers curling along the bottom right corner (astilbe, cornflowers and pink carmellias are what you manage to pick out— and that's only because you spent the past weekend with Sera trying to decode the bouquet of flowers someone left on her car and they're fresh in your mind) and cursive font across the middle. It seems to be a flyer advertising an art exhibition from one of the photography students that you've heard has managed to make a bit of a name for themselves.

You find yourself entertaining the thought of attending for a brief moment, before your attention is torn to the flyer next to it that glares obnoxious peach orange, black and blue background into your retinas. You blink, taking a second to observe it before realising that it's actually advertising the salon right in front of you. There is an attractive male posing dramatically against a hollywood vanity, wearing a princely outfit that has ribbons and tassels and probably isn't all that practical for hairdressing but damn is it something that he looks good in. There's some sappy bullshit scrawled along the bottom to lure hapless, lovestruck young adults who were probably Team Edward in Twilight, but you're not caught up in that. No, you're caught up in the pure genius of the design, the talent of whoever was behind the creation of this poster. As if by perfect coincidence, your eyes flick to the side just in time to catch sight of the same man on the poster inside the salon, a broom in his hand as he tidied up the fallen hair of whoever smacked you in the face with the salon door.

Making a split-second decision, you rip the poster from the door and burst into the salon, nearly tripping on the welcome mat as you do so. The male doesn't even flinch or jerk in surprise at your abrupt entrance— on the contrary, he finishes his sweeping motion and slowly straightens, spinning around with such grace and flair that you realise immediately he must be a theatre student.

"Oh, hello," he greets with the most charming smile you've ever seen.Your heart might have skipped a beat if you didn't by chance glimpse down and catch his toes wriggling at you in greeting from his slides. What the fuck. "You must be my ten o'clock. Come right in, and do hurry. As you can see we're very busy."

Your eyes flick to the rest of the room — there is no one, he is the only other person in the entire establishment — and then to the reception beside you, where the schedule book sits open and desolate— the entire day is saddeningly barren, with not a single time slot filled in that you can see. Brows raised, you turn back to the male. He knows you have found him out, yet he is unwavering in his act. Well, you're not going to break first.

"I'm here for this," you say, slapping the poster down on the counter. The male peers over with raised brows and puckered lips, making a face of realisation once he sees what you've procured for his viewing pleasure. "I need someone good at graphic design— did you make this?"

Perhaps, you think upon seeing the peculiar gleam his eyes adopt, you have made a mistake in entering this salon.

"I can help you out," he says, cocking his hip and leaning on the broom. He lifts his hand to examine his nails. "...For a price."

You don't even dwell on the fact he didn't exactly answer your question, and squint at him in suspicion. "I'm poor. The most you'll get out of me is three dollars and two food vouchers for the sushi place next to the salad bar."

"Food vouchers?" the male breaks character at the mention of food, eyes widening before he catches himself and clears his throat. "Fear not, little gumdrop, I don't want money from you. No, I want your hair."

"My hair," your tone is flat and you feel a bit like the second you stepped foot in this store you also set foot in another realm.

"Yes," he beams, striding forward and extending his hand with all the flair of a female pop idol dance move to grasp a strand that has come loose from where it was pinned. "Your ends... they pain me, they're a cry for help and I'm nothing if not a benevolent god aiding my creations in need. Well, I say ends, but..."

His eyes sweep over the mop atop your head and he inhales through his teeth. "Yeah, we're gonna have to make some sacrifices. But fear not! I'm very good at sacrificing! There's not a customer that leaves this salon that I'm not satisfied with!"

Something about that strikes you as off— isn't it meant to be the customer satisfaction that matters most? Even so, you find yourself considering his proposition like a fool. It's true, your ends are in a tragic state— you've been so busy with everything else in your life that your hair has, admittedly, suffered for it. Now that he's mentioned it, you know you're not going to be able to stop thinking about it, and all he's asking is a haircut in exchange for the graphic design service you're also in need of? Technically, he's doing you two favours.

You ignore the voice in your head that tells you not to trust this too-attractive, slide-wearing hairdresser, and give him a narrow-eyed look. "I let you cut my hair, and you'll offer your graphic design services?"

The male nods distractedly, already discarding his broom and taking you by the elbow to guide you further inside. "Yes, yes, I'll help you with what you need. Now, come sit over here! This shouldn't take too long at all, I already have an idea for what I want."

You send him a dubious look at his wording, wondering once more whether it should be what you want that matters more, but decide since you're essentially getting this for free in the money sense, you'll sit and be quiet. He points you to a chair and you plop down, barely having a second to orient yourself before he's snapping an apron over you and slipping a towel underneath.

The male slaps his hands together, zipping around behind you and wheeling a cart over. "Alright, my name is Seokjin and I'll be your hairdresser today! Sit back, relax, and I'll bring you up from your negative rating status in no time!"

It's hard to ignore the urge to punch him that arises at his words, but ultimately you manage. To pass the time while he goes to work — and also because you don't like watching hairdressers work in the mirror since it often ends in accidental eye contact — you pull one of your textbooks from your bag and begin to catch up on some readings you haven't been able to get through yet. Despite your reservations, you find yourself relaxing easier than anticipated as you read, enjoying the soft brushing and tugging of your hair. He has gentle hands, you note, but still don't bother to look up and verify. You're content to go off of sensations for now.

Unfortunately, it seems you're a bit of a fool, and this is just one mistake of the many you've unknowingly made today.

He mostly hums to the odd tune, but once he does attempt to make conversation with you. "So, Miss Dead Ends, the time has come for me to ask the most important question that can arise in any conversation. Where does your allegiance lie?"

You freeze where you're reading, squinting at the page but not bothering to look up. "What?"

You hear him huff, as though he can't believe you didn't give him the answer he wanted straight away. "I mean, who is your campus ship. Are you team Jihope, or team Namseok?"

For a moment, you sit there reeling. It was like he just asked you something in another language— you have no idea what the fuck he just said. Unsure what to do but panicking because you know he expects an answer, you pick at random one of the two options and throw it out there. "Uh, Namseok?"

Seokjin's movements in your hair still, several beats of silence passing before he eases into motion once more. "I see," is all he says, and from that point on he doesn't attempt conversation again. You feel like you've made a blunder of sorts, but also can't bring yourself to care. It's his fault for being so hard to understand, you suppose.

You sit through each phase of the haircut process, letting him comb, snip, spray and blow dry to his heart’s content. When he eventually drops the hair dryer back into the cart and claps his hands, you finally allow yourself to look up into the mirror. You freeze.

"Ta-da!" Seokjin the hairdresser is clearly more than overjoyed at the results of his hard work and toil. You barely register his voice through your shock. "Thoughts? I mean, I know it's the perfect funky little 'do for your funky little self, but I'm not the type to withhold praise from myself, you know? Let me hear it."

"It's..." you squint at your reflection, hoping that it might have just been your eyes playing tricks on you for what you see looking back. "It's..."

Seokjin waits eagerly in anticipation like a puppy awaiting a treat after performing a trick, beaming at you in the reflection. You balk, feeling your soul leave your body for a moment before it suddenly slams back to earth and you regain the ability to speak.

"It's hideous?"

The male is absolutely unphased and even has the audacity— the audacity— to grin and reach out and pat the hair he's massacred atop your head.

"Actually, my sweet little padawan, it's high fashion." He sniffs, a sympathetic simper curling his plump lips. "But since I know you're one of those... poor folk, I'll let it slide this time."

You sputter, eyes whipping over each detail they can and making you more and more horrified at each new one that brings itself to your attention. The sharp angles, the texture, the layers? You have no idea how he got your hair to behave this way with only a comb and a hairdryer but you're terrified its permanent. You've never been so affronted at the results of a haircut before and you're quick to let him know.

"This is the ugliest haircut I've ever had in my life!"

Still remarkably unbothered by your displeasure, the male hums. "All high fashion looks ugly when you look at it with poor people eyes—here, try on my slides. Gucci should help get you in the zone."

You just about blow your top, unsure whether you're about to scream or cry but accepting it’s probably going to be both. He's really about to step out of his slides to let you try them on when you stand from the seat, ripping the apron from your body.

"I'm not paying for this!" you cry, indignant. The male merely blinks at you.

"Correct. I believe this was the payment, wasn't it?"

You falter for a moment, having forgotten that you'd literally let him do this and signed away your reputation and self esteem without any prior knowledge of whether he was actually a good hairdresser or not. Alright, you're a fool, but at this point that's in the past.

"Alright— I'm going to kill you, but first you're going to do what you promised and help me with that graphic design thing I need or so help me Zeus I will sniff you out like a bloodhound and tie you down to give you a rat's tail in front of a crowd in the quad with your own scissors."

You've stomped over to the damn poster that brought you in here in the first place, and turn only at the sound of his voice.

"Oh, a tsundere? What is it about you tsunderes that you're all drawn to me, huh? I'm collecting you like pokemon at this rate. Oh well, lucky for you I like that sort of thing. Sounds like a date— will you be using rope or leather?"

On second thought, you don't need your cover page that badly. You're going to kill him now instead.

x x x x x x x

Unfortunately for you and the repressed anger that resulted from that whole event, the tall male had been saved from the full brunt of your wrath by someone actually walking in for a haircut. They did a double-take at the sight of you, clearly questioning their choice of salon, but Seokjin managed to swoop in and save his reputation while dragging yours through the mud in the very same breath— which, you hate to admit, takes talent.

"Wack, right?" he'd said to the confused male, holding a hand up to hide his mouth like it would remove your ability to hear what he was saying. "She came in wanting that, and I couldn't refuse; in this salon, we focus on what the customer wants, after all."

You were going to kill him and you were going to enjoy it.

Needless to say, you couldn't have a witness, and the rat bastard knew it too because he used it to his advantage. He whipped up a sharpie from the front desk and scribbled a series of numbers on your hand, telling you to send him what you wanted done. Then he dismissed you with a turn of his back and began guiding his next customer over to the seat next to yours, kissing their ass to kingdom come.

You left, stewing, and made a beeline for the chemist on campus that was the only place you knew that sold hats, even if they’re ridiculously overpriced. You'd rather be bald than walk around with the mess that demon gave you.

You sent him what you wanted done, begrudgingly, because you weren't about to let your suffering be for nothing. But after that, you didn't hear from him and, quite frankly, completely forgot you were even waiting for him to come through with his end of the deal. You blamed the fact that your brain was currently on damage control and trying to repress as much of the memories as possible.

In actuality, it isn’t until the very start of the next year that you even remember he exists.

You’re midway through the morning drama class you elected to take this semester when the doors burst open, a tall figure with dusty pink hair and obnoxiously familiar features striding right in as though this was his home and he’d just returned after a long trip away.

“Professor Kang!” he bellows, making a beeline right for your very suddenly tired looking teacher. You can barely snap your mouth shut at the ridiculousness of the situation you find yourself in. “I’ve missed you, you’ve been well? I know these months we’ve spent apart have been hard but I’m here now—”

"YOU!" you seethe, unable to contain the word as it bursts forth from your chest, absolutely ready to roll your sleeves up and end his career. The male whips around at your screech.

"Dead Ends Girl!" he cries, looking astounded to see you. His eyes zero in on your head and he seems almost disappointed to see you didn’t keep touching up the humiliating cut he gave you after visiting his salon. “Back to poor people looks, I see.”

Your fingers twitch with the urge to wrap around his throat and you barely contain the urge as it spikes with his next words.

“You must be really obsessed with me huh, tracking me down and following me all the way to my class. You really did sniff me out like a bloodhound!”

“Seokjin,” your professor rubs his face, adjusting the glasses slipping down his nose. “You haven’t taken this class in three whole semesters, you can’t keep coming back here? Why must you continue to torment me.”

Seokjin, evidently having found another poor soul to torture (read: you), doesn’t even acknowledge your poor professor. “So why are you here, huh? If you’re here for an autograph, I regret to inform you that autographs are a Tuesday only event. You’ll have to come back on a Tuesday.”

You’re too angry to even bother telling him that it is a Tuesday, about to tackle him to the ground in front of your whole drama class without a single regret. Well, if there ever was a time and place for theatrics, right?

“You absolute dinkleberry, where’s the graphic design task I was promised in return for letting you butcher my hair?! You were meant to do it in a week! It’s been a year!”

Seokjin has the nerve to appear oblivious. “Graphic design task? Listen lady, the most I’ve ever graphically designed is the banner for my nsfw tumblr account, and even then it kept getting me reported. Cons of having a massive schlong, I guess. But graphic designer? That ain’t me.”

You’re about to burst a blood vessel, the few classmates who were close enough in the beginning to see the whole thing going on continuing to watch avidly from the sidelines. Food isn’t allowed in this room but you bet if it was they’d be shoveling popcorn in their mouths with all the ardent desperation and energy of a horse grazing from their palm.

“You said you were the one that made the poster!” you burst, pointing at him in accusation. “You said you’d help me!”

“No, I think I only said I’d help you— and I did! I brought you from a -2 to a solid 3.5 in good lighting! You should be thanking me!”

“You made me look like Sideshow Bob!” you cry, the urge to kill him stronger than ever.

At this, Seokjin is unable to contain the giggle that tears from his throat, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “And it suited you, so well.”

“ARGH YOU ABSOLUTE—!”

Before you can really release the anger that had a whole year to simmer and build, your professor steps in and tells Seokjin to leave and go to his own class before he starts setting up security measures to zap him the second he enters the door. Affronted but not prepared to call your professor’s bluff, the pink haired male begrudgingly listens and leaves, but not before he stops in the doorway and calls over his shoulder, “I’LL BE BACK! JUST YOU WAIT! YOU’VE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF ME!”

You wish you could say that that was the last time you saw him, but the unfortunate reality is that Seokjin lingers like a bad smell and consistently rocks up to your class to both torment your professor and you in one go in the lessons following. Two birds with one stone for him, you suppose. It becomes an unfortunate routine.

You still haven’t received that damn cover image.

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