#i wonder what kinda drinks the neighbors would favor... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kugokizs · 8 months

Text

MAKE YOU MINE — GOJO SATORU (m)

Red lights make Satoru dizzy, but the promise of what’s to come allows him to ignore it. The lights flicker and his vision fights with itself to focus. He barely registers the hand sliding up his pants when his eyes flutter shut, his drink teetering over the edge of his glass and threatening to spill on the expensive leather. It’s the least of his worries, though, because all that’s on his mind is you.

GENRE: exes to lovers?, PORN with a little plot, angst (?) PAIRING: ex!gojo x afab!reader WC: 2.8k RATING: 18+

WARNINGS: mentions of a past toxic relationship, satoru wants you back, you are having none of it. but he's really hot, just really horny and a bit dark. sex club, banter, lust/hate relationship, praise, pussy eating, oral!m & f receiving, rough makeout sessions, mentions of drinking and smoking, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cum eating, petnames kinda, dom!satoru, sub!reader, messy sex, size kink, teasing, edging, begging, slight humiliation, hickeys, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, questionable words from satoru at the end.

A/N: this is a story me and one of my close friends wrote together a while back and i was rereading it and though gojo would fit this perfectly

Red lights give Satoru a headache. His eyes strain to see in the otherwise darkened room, the people around him just a mass of blurry figures grinding and moving against each other like a human version of dogs in heat.

Does he regret how things ended? Yeah, maybe a little, but that’s just how things are. He can’t help his nature and he can’t give you the perfect loving boyfriend that you want. It just isn’t him. He does miss you, and if you took him back he wouldn’t complain, but he already knows what would be in store if you did. Screaming matches every night, leaving and not coming back until late the next day, fighting and making up over and over. And then sex. lots and lots of sex. His favorite part if he had to choose.

He’s not keen on hearing you scream at him while he’s nursing a hangover like he quite often is, and neither were your neighbors. Going on and on until the birds started to sing and your voice was coming out hoarse. The exhaustion was clear on your face, the resignation that this was never going to work. After a while he was just waiting for you to give up and finally walk out like you should have done a long time ago, until you actually did.

Not even a goodbye. A fuck you before driving off. Nothing. And that hurt more than anything else ever could. So does he miss you? Hell fucking yes. Would he do things differently this time around? He has no idea, and somehow that’s reason enough for him to know everything would go to shit if you two did start again. He just isn’t made to love, only made to hurt, and he has enough of something in his heart where he won’t make you go through that again.

He doesn't know why he’s here. Partying every night is nothing new to him and he’d probably be at this club tonight anyway, but the reason he is still has him pacing in his mind and wondering if he should just leave now before he fucks everything up like he usually does.

It’s not often you ask him for favors. He didn’t think he would ever hear you ask for anything ever again, so when you asked him to meet you at Le coït, the most expensive club in the city, he said yes.

Now he has one girl whispering in his ear and another slipping her fingers into his open dress shirt. His head lolls on the backrest of the couch, his legs spread wide inviting anyone interested to take their spot between them when he spots you. Hair fluffed out, eyes shadowed by dark eyeliner, and lips a deep scarlet red. You’re standing over him, looking down at him like a mother would look at her naughty child. He smirks. “Hey, doll.”

Looking over at him you can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake. After all, who calls their toxic ex over to them instead of running the opposite direction? He’s still as sexy as ever, and even more promiscuous after abandoning the facade of ever being faithful.

He sits up when you don’t respond, shrugging the two girls that were draped over him into either side of the couch. They roll their eyes before standing up and sneering at you on their way out. You roll your eyes, “Can’t you control your little hoochies?”

“Not my fucking problem.”

You send a glare his way and he just stares at you from under hooded eyes as if he’s examining, assessing how much you’ve changed over the last seven months. “I met you here. What the fuck else do you want?” He snaps, standing up to leer over you.

“I want you to act like you at least have a semblance of decency, and not be a dick for two seconds.” You grit, looking him in the eyes just long enough to see him laugh.

“But isn’t that what you liked best about me?”

You look down, the subject of your sharp look being the outline in his jeans. “Yeah,” you say sweetly.

He pauses, lost for words, until “What do you want?” He growls, lips pressed together tightly.

“Oh please,” you tease, “don’t act like I’m sneaking up on you and you didn’t practically jump at the chance to meet me.” Satoru rolls his eyes, his jaw clenching and the only thing he wants to do is keep fighting, especially if that means he gets to talk to you longer.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Which is?”

“I- I want us to…” You stammer, and for a moment Satoru sees past the front you’ve put up and the girl he remembers. The one it was just too easy to make his own, following whatever he said until you finally put your foot down. “I want you to fuck me,” You grit, “At least to remind me of the one thing you always did right.”

He can’t help the laugh that leaves his throat. “Wow,” he grins, “You’ve seeked me out for a hookup?”

You shuffle your feet, switching your weight from one foot to the other. “If you’re gonna give me a hard time, I’ll pay you and you can act like you don’t want it just as much as me.”

“Pay me,” He huffs, “like I'm some whore on the street?”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

His eyes cut daggers into your own, but you don’t back down. He relinquished any power he had over you a long time ago.

“Fine.”

You shouldn’t, but you’re too pent up to care. When Satoru’s fingers slip under the waistband of your leather skirt, all you can think about is how good he’s going to make you feel. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers slide into his hair and grab. His mouth opens and a puff of air is visible in the smoke that leaves his mouth. You smirk, bringing him closer and pressing your lips together. A kiss much too tender for a causal hookup between two exes in one of the private rooms of a sex club, but Satoru fists your shirt and pulls you impossibly closer. His fingers dig into your hips as he kisses you like a man starved.

It’s sloppy, messy as ever as spit slicks your chin and you huff into his mouth, stepping backwards and tripping over the edge of the couch. You hate fucking on leather but Satoru loves it. His hand trails down past the hem of your skirt and trails along your bare skin, feather light touches that leave goosebumps in their wake and send a shiver up your spine. He pushes your legs down harshly, spreading them wide enough for him to slot himself between them. He hasn’t stopped kissing you and you can barely breathe, sliding your hand out of his hair and clawing at his back, gripping his silk shirt and tearing at it with your nails. You drag it upwards with an unspoken message of off off off.

He sneaks a hand over your neck and pushes your head upwards and into the couch. His breath ghosts over your skin, fruity and sweet from alcohol, before he sinks down and nips at your neck. You hear yourself moan before you register the harsh kisses he’s trailing along your neck, ripping open the white blouse you put on for the first time today and trailing kisses along your chest. He bites and sucks and licks over the marks he’s sure to have left before he finally pulls his shirt over his head.

You drag your fingers against his skin. You know the warm honey tone even if you can’t see it, the red lights casting a dark shadow over his features. His hair covers his eyes as he looks down at you, and you can’t even see the whites of his pupils from this angle. You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth, he’s like a devil clad in leather eating you from the inside out and making you his.

“You’re absolutely sinful,” he slurs, the movement of his spit slicked lips slowed by the lasting effects of whatever narcotics he’s spent his night taking. Satoru stares down at you— the way your hair fans out and your lashes flutter under his attention. Your lips are swollen and wet, open just wide enough for him to slip a finger inside. He does just that, slotting his thumb between your lips and pushing your top lip up, fighting the urge to drool over how plump they are. He can’t help but remember how full they look around his cock.

You moan around his finger, closing his lips around him when he allows, and suckle on his skin. The pleasure he gets from that alone has precum dribbling in his tight pants, the outline of his heavy cock visible to anyone who looked close enough. He shuts his eyes and sighs, slouching against you. Your legs bracket his waist and his crotch is right in front of your entrance. Your skirt rides up your waist so the view of your pussy and sopping panties is in plain sight, practically begging for pleasure.

He drags a ringed finger up your fold through your underwear, and your legs fight to close. You’re so sensitive from almost nothing at all, and a strangled moan leaves your mouth when he takes his thumb and pushes it against your clit, rubbing it through the fabric. The pleasure is muffled but still has you whimpering against him, crying out when he slots his lips against yours.

You break apart from the kiss and dart your tongue and swipe it across his lips. He hisses, his eyes snapping open and you lean closer and peck his lips, begging, “Just fuck me, please. A-and then we can go our separate ways just.. just—”

Breaths coming out ragged and sharp, Satoru cuts you off and smashes his lips against yours practically growling and ravenous as he pulls you impossibly closer. Your moans and whines leave your mouth like a garbled mess and Satoru doesn’t stop.

He pulls your underwear down leaving it dangling on your ankle as he creeps closer to your dripping cunt. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he sighs, and the cool air on your sensitive folds has your eyes fluttering shut.

Contrary to what you expect, he brings his fingers back against you, rubbing at your swollen nub as your eyes slip closed and you go slack against the sticky leather. A lusty haze settles over you like a dank fog seeping into your pores and taking over. Satoru’s fingers only speed up slightly, just enough to keep the arousal bubbling in your belly constant. Your hips jerk against him and you grind against his fingers, whining pitifully when it still isn’t enough.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself on my fingers and show me how badly you want to come,” Satoru groans in your ear and your hips stutter as a long whine spills from your lips. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes,” you slur, grabbing at his shoulders for support as you move your hips faster.

“Good girl.”

You whimper, and everything fades as you feel the knots in your stomach clench, your climax approaching steadily. You feel cum leak down your legs and onto the couch, but Satoru doesn’t stop. Only now does he speed up and your hips speed up with him. When the warmth leaves you and your hips shake, you cry out and Satoru finally stops, taking his wet fingers and putting them in his mouth.

Satoru groans at the taste, and almost loses his mind at the wet spot where you lay, your arousal still leaking down your legs. You felt his hands grab at your cheeks, massaging the flesh before leaning in and licking a stripe across your center. You yelped, grabbing onto his shoulders as he continued working on you, sucking dutifully on your clit and running his tongue up and down between your folds.

“Oh…”

Satoru pulls off and groans, “You taste so good.”

Your hand runs shakily through his hair, grabbing at the loose strands and pulling him up. “I want you to fuck me,” You groan, your lips wobbly and your eyes hazy where they meet his.

“Oh baby,” he tsks, “You still have some work to do, don’t you?” He pulls your hand from his hair and leans up, making quick work of unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down. There’s a wet spot in his boxers from pre cum and his cock springs out when he pulls them down. You feel your mouth go dry, his cock clean and pretty just like him, flushed and wet at the tip. The red lights become second nature and you barely notice them when they bounce off his skin and he leans forward dragging you down by your ankles.

“Suck.” He commands, pushing your head forward and dragging his heavy length over your lips. Your whines are muffled when he shoves it inside and you gag, too heavy and too big and much too quick. Your lips wrap around him sucking gently, your tongue lapping against the tip. Pre cum coats your tongue and you sink down even further, your throat closing and your nose tickled by pubic hair.

Satoru groans from above you, your hair in a vice grip as he steadily pushes you on and off his cock. His mouth hangs open and his eyes flutter as you work on him sucking and kissing all over his pretty, flushed skin. You can’t help the moan that leaves your mouth and the vibrations against his sensitive crotch has him jerking against you.

“Fuck,” he moans, “You were made just for me.”

You sob in his hold, it comes out choked and watery but he smirks all the same before pulling you off and pushing you backwards. His biceps flex when he grabs your thighs and turns you over, your cheek pressed into the sticky cushion— your back arched and legs spread wide. He smooths his hand over your arch before pulling back and spreading you wide and slotting his dick inside with no warning.

He stretches you out so well, a moan punching its way out your throat as he buries himself in your tight heat. His fingers dig into your skin so hard you cry out in pain but he doesn’t let up, determined to have you walking home with bruises that spell out his name.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” He growls, thrusting into you particular harshly when you cry out. “Thinking you can just walk away from me?” He says it almost like he’s shocked. He pushes your head down into the cushion, and his dick pushes even deeper. When you reach a hand down you can feel the imprint where his tip lays as he thrusts in slow and deep.

Your cheek is amused against the chair and drool pools out your mouth. You can’t think past anything but full. You're so, so, full. Satoru always knows just what you need to feel good.

You can’t stop your moans as he thrusts in and out of your sopping wet pussy. The sound of his cock drilling in you and stirring your arousal is filthy and rings in your ears, but the shame isn’t enough to stop you from moving your hips back and meeting him thrust for thrust. You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you and Satoru’s as well as his thrust become sloppier and lose their rhythm.

Satoru groans and you feel his cum paint your walls. Your orgasm follows when he thrusts lazily into you, riding his orgasm and continuing to cum deep inside.You try to protest but your body racks with shivers and you can’t stop cumming. Satoru laughs above you and leaves a heavy smack on your ass, and you can feel the skin heat up under his touch. He pulls out and you feel the mixture of your release dribble down your front. Your hips are still stuck in the air, frozen, while your body continues to shake.

“I did a number on you huh, baby.” Satoru teases, before leaning down and leaving a lazy kiss against you. You’re too fucked out to reciprocate and the smirk that adorns Satoru’s face is borderline cruel. “I turned you into my own stupid slut, didn’t I?” He laughs, smoothing his hand through your hair.

“You know you can’t stay away for long.”

You feel his lips press your cheek before everything goes dark.

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu satoru #satoru smut #satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk men x reader

88 notes · View notes

janedoe-eyes · 3 years

Text

Neighbors in a Mask

This is my Secret Santa gift for @theatreandcomicfreak - I hope you like it! I had the help of a wonderful Beta who made this infinitely better😂. Merry Christmas! @maribat-secret-santa-2020 - I’m also posting it on ao3 😁

“Ok - ok, you can do this! This is just a friendly introduction, what could go wrong? New town, new place, new start.” A wet nose nudged her hand in agreement with her little self-pep talk, and she smiled at her furry companion. Marinette squared her shoulders and knocked on the apartment marked ‘655’, the mantra ‘new town, new place, new start’ ran on repeat in the back of her mind. She fidgeted listening for signs of life on the other end of the door.

She jumped when the door suddenly and silently opened to reveal a man her age - half-dressed, extremely attractive, and wearing the least welcoming glower she’d ever seen.

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I… uh… next door… chest moved in… shirtless - I mean!” She sputtered, face resembling a tomato and she barely managed to grab the plate of macaroons she’d lost her hold on while she flailed. Holy hell, I haven’t sputtered this much since…

That thought sobered her right up, and she shook her head to clear the nervous clutter. She took a big breath and started again.

“Sorry - I just moved in next door,” she jerked a thumb to her left, indicating the other condo in the pair. “I wanted to bring these over and introduce myself - I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my dog Squishy.” She gestured to the cream-colored Pit Bull, and he glanced down for a half a moment. “I just moved here from Paris! I’m a fashion designer and novice gardener-”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do,” He cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “I am not interested in whatever you are selling - whether it is a product, business deal, or yourself.” Her jaw dropped. “I do not socialize beyond what is forced upon me by my family - so you have wasted your time. Good day.” He nodded stiffly at her and shut the door.

What the fu…

She stared at the same spot on the forest green door until Squishy whined and nudged her hand. She looked to see the dog leaning on her leg and slowly wagging her tail.

“Squish… did you hear him say what I think he said?” She asked, looking at the door. She received another nudge, this time from her purse on her other side.

She peered down to see Tikki’s blue orbs looking at her with concern. Marinette smiled in reassurance.

“I’m fine Tik - just rebooting.” A small giggle sounded from the bag, and Mari’s smile grew. She gave the door one last look and huffed.

“Oh well,” She shrugged. “Might as well head home.”

She stepped off his stoop and strolled over to her own, her deep red door already decorated with a spring wreath - little ladybugs hidden throughout. She shut the door behind her and caught the plate for a second time when a black blur zipped right in front of her face.

“Hey Bug, I overheard your little exchange… want me to phase over and cataclysm his TV or something?”

“Plagg! What have I said about startling me? You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” He ignored her, floating in lazy circles near her ear. She continued to grumble about the cat as she continued to the kitchen - Tikki flying out of Mari’s purse to join her other half.

“No cataclysms!” The Luck God scolded him, crossing her paws. “We can’t risk anyone becoming suspicious of where the guardian is - anyone who knows the temple returned will be on the hunt!”

“Please,” Plagg scoffed. “I can pop in and out without him noticing and not leave a trace - it’d probably at least annoy the hell out of Mr-stick-up-his-”

“As much as I’d like to get him back for his rude comment - seriously, where does he get off?!” Marinette interrupted with a sigh and a small smile. “Tikki’s right, and it wouldn’t be very guardian or Ladybug-like of me besides.”

“Fine - but the offer still stands.” The little floating cat huffed, flying over to where Squishy cuddled in her bed by the window, watching her owner for signs of needing her.

It was odd how well the dog and cat god got along - Plagg refused to acknowledge he was fond of the Pit Bull, but they were found more often than not sleeping curled together on Mari’s bed at night, and Marinette suspected he snuck her treats.

“As long as we don’t see each other much beyond going in or out of our places - it shouldn’t be a problem.” She shrugged, popping a cookie from the plate in her mouth and handing one to Tikki who happily accepted. “With how ‘busy’ he alluded to being - it shouldn’t be hard.”

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

Turns out - easier said than done.

She saw him the next day in line at a coffee shop accompanied by a man a few years older than him who looked as if death had warmed over. Mr. Grouchy made eye contact with her and scowled before turning away with a tsk.

She rolled her eyes and focused back on the barista. “Hello,” she smiled as much as she could manage at the buttcrack of dawn. “It’s a longshot, but do you happen to have any ‘Black Insomnia’ or ‘High Voltage’?” The blonde behind the counter paled.

“Not another one.” She whispered, her eyes darting over to the man being tugged along by her neighbor.

Marinette tilted her head in question, and the barista seemed to shake it off.

“We are well stocked with Black Insomnia, what size will it be and how would you like it made?” She asked, her customer service smile strained.

“The largest you have - as black as you can make it.” She smiled back and took her receipt, walking over to a booth, overhearing her call out for a “Suicidal Wayne” just as another worker called out for the same drink.

The older boy, the one who looked in desperate need of a good night's sleep, leaned on Mr. Pissy as if he was the only thing keeping him upright - but at the mention of the order, his eyes snapped over to her. He gave her a small wave, and she returned it with a quirked brow. He looked close to moving over, but Sir Scowls-a-lot stopped him with a hand on his arm. He spoke in a low voice, and the tired man’s face melted into a mix of disappointment and exasperation. The man shot her an annoyed look and turned back to the front.

She wanted to go over and demand to know what he could possibly say having met her once for five minutes, but the barista called out three names - hers, ‘Tim’, and ‘Damian’. She walked up before the two could move and grabbed her cup, thanking the woman, before brushing past ‘Tim and Damian’ on her way out. She was in a rush - there was a show coming up next week and she had fittings all day, she didn’t have time to deal with her asshat of a neighbor and his friend with good taste in coffee.

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

As the days passed, they continued bumping into each other. Their dynamic well-past talking, favoring annoyed glares and eye rolls. He wanted to scare her off (the Wayne lawyer way or Robin way - he hadn’t decided yet), but his father and brothers refused - insisting she hadn’t done anything deserving of any kind of action.

Yet. His mind supplied.

There was something off about her - the sixth sense he’d acquired through his life was never wrong, and she set it off like fireworks whenever she was near. He couldn’t get a read on her intentions, but he wasn’t one to wait for the other shoe to drop - he planned to keep his eye on her.

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

He saw her again on patrol a week and a half after she first knocked on his door.

He was in costume uniform tailing a group of five men who had recently left a warehouse that belonged to the Penguin. Red Hood stationed across the street following parallel to him.

The men turned the corner on Hood’s side, and Robin signaled he would wait until they were out of earshot before grappling over. Hood nodded and continued trailing them.

Robin waited for a beat, then shot his hook out to grab the highest ledge available.

“Shit.” Hood’s voice through his comm made his hand jerk and his grappling hook missed the mark. He released his own curse and reshot as soon as the cable fully retracted.

“Report, Hood.” He snapped, flipping at the arc of his swing and sailing over the first building.

“They’re targeting a girl - she looks your age, tiny, at least partially Asian,” Hood grunted lowly.

Damian groaned.

“Acquaintance of yours, Demon Spawn?” Red Hood teased.

“No names in the field, Hood.” He hissed. “And it’s my new neighbor - she keeps popping up like a bad penny.”

“The one you said tried to butter you up with cookies, and drinks the same motor oil as Replacement?” Hood asked. Robin landed beside him, leaning over the ledge to watch the girl’s progress as she leisurely strolled down the street with several shopping bags.

“<Tt>, idiot,” Robin muttered under his breath. “That’s her.” He glanced at Hood who nodded.

“You know - I still say you might have misjudged the situation - Timmy said she didn’t seem the cozy-ing up type and seemed kinda openly pissed at you.” Red Hood mused.

“No. Names. In. The. Field. Hood.” Robin grit out, tired of this conversation - he’d had versions of it with his family ever since the coffee shop incident.

Everyone insisted the Dupain-Cheng girl was trying to be nice - but he looked through her records, and found an unprecedented amount of bullying accusations against her in high school, and she’d quit her job at ‘Agreste’ with no warning - but that was oddly heavily-guarded information. He had been locked out of many of even the simplest social media accounts and public records - especially anything to do with the Agreste brand founder. A familiar itch on the back of his neck told him he was onto something big - and his suspiciously friendly neighbor was connected.

Hood took a breath as if to continue the conversation when Robin put a hand up and signaled downward.

They both looked to see the tiny girl turn sharply across the road and into a dead-end alleyway. She’s even stupider than I assumed , Robin mentally groaned as he and Red Hood scrambled to follow.

They dropped to street-level and ran over to the alley, prepared to find the young woman in need of saving, only to see three men passed out near the entrance. A dented trash lid resting nearby. The small girl, who looked like Red Hood could lift her with one hand, flipped a fourth over her shoulder with ease.

“Holy Mother-” Hood gaped at the scene and sidestepped the flying body - it landed behind him on top of the others.

Robin didn’t flinch as the man sailed past and ruffled his cape. His eyes were fixed on the girl as she high-kicked the last man under the jaw - knocking him out immediately. He couldn’t stop the words ‘almalak almuharib[1]’ from slipping past his lips in an awed gasp. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

He shook himself, scowling at the foolish thoughts that rose unbidden. Perhaps she is a shaman or spell caster. That is it - this must be a spell. He reasoned to himself.

He watched, still unable to move, as the girl dusted off her clothes and reached into her bag.

“Are you two gonna help, or do you plan to stand there with your mouths open like a couple of fish.” She asked as she turned around with a handful of zip ties, eyebrow quirked.

“You have one hell of a kick, kid.” Red Hood broke the silence, moving forward to grab a few of the proffered zip ties (even though he had plenty of his own).

“It was nothing.” She brushed off the complement with a wave of her hand and a light rose dusting on her cheeks.

Red Hood scoffed, “Whatever kid, that was the most badass take-down I’ve seen in a while - and I know Wonder Woman.” He extended his fist for a bump.

Her smile fell from her face as if she’d been slapped - her eyes fixated on the proffered fist and starting to water.

“Uh…” Red Hood lowered his arm, “I ain’t trying to hit you kid… you guys have fist bumps in Europe, right?” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“I… It’s nothing - you just... reminded me of a friend.” She whispered, taking in a shuddering breath and turning sharply to secure the last guy she knocked unconscious.

Robin shared a look with his brother (an odd thing to do through a helmet, but they knew each other well enough for it to work) and shrugged, before taking out his own zip ties and turning to the pile of three large men.

As they finished with the other four, Marinette walked past them with her bags and a quick “I’ll leave them to you, then” - and left the alleyway, disappearing from sight.

“That… was weird, right?” Hood said, staring after her. “Shouldn’t we make her stick around to give a statement?”

Robin shook his head slowly. “I think… it would be best to let her go... this time. We have both seen that look before.” In the mirror every time we lost a teammate in battle, he glared where he’d last seen her retreating figure, and puzzled over the new information.

“Wait, wait, wait, I agree she can fight and all, but are you really saying that the little pipsqueak...” He choked out in surprise, Damian could tell his eyes were bugging under his mask.

“I’m not sure, but she’s certainly no average civilian.” He cut his brother off with a shake of his head. “I suggest we keep an eye on her.”

“Hey, if you two have finished your little intrusion into the poor girl’s life and traumas, the police are a minute out.” Barbra, or rather, Oracle’s voice sounded from their earpieces.

Damian took one last look at where she’d disappeared to before turning away with narrowed eyes and a “<Tt>”.

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

Marinette withdrew following the encounter in the alley - barely acknowledging her surly neighbor, Squishy refused to leave her side, and Plagg and Tikki often needed to call her name several times before she’d respond… The Kwamii were worried.

“Tik… we only just pulled her out of the slump she was in back in Paris after…” Plagg’s normally light and expressive face fell, his tail, ears, and whiskers drooping.

“I know… It’s never easy to lose one.” She whispered with a pained wince, past memories flashing in front of her eyes. She floated over to her other half and pulled him into her, petting the back of his head as stuttering purrs overtook his shaking.

“If she continues to relive it, we’ll lose her too - remember Keket.” Tikki shuddered at the reminder of the young girl.

“No… we can’t let that happen again,” Plagg growled, the memories of the long lost kitten painful even all these years later. They couldn’t let that happen to Marinette. Tikki nodded firmly into his shoulder.

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

Marinette stretched out under a large oak tree in the city gardens, her sketchbook open on her lap and Squishy laid over her legs - keeping guard. She stared at the blank page with unfocused eyes, memories swimming in her head out of order and distorted.

“*Sniff* Mommy... Daddy…” A small voice sobbed, pulling her from her musings. She closed her book and set it aside. Squishy took that as a signal to get up and look around, her ears swiveling alertly.

“Where is it coming from, Squish?” She reached to rest her hand on the dog’s back, Marinette stood and looked around intently.

Her dog gave a soft *wuff* and tugged on the leash. Marinette turned and allowed the Pit Bull to direct her. As they neared the bushes the sound came from, Marinette stopped short at the sight of a familiar well-kept head of dark hair and moved her and Squishy to peek around them to the bench beyond.

From her position, she saw her prickly neighbor crouching next to a boy of about five or six whose cries turned into soft giggles as a Great Dane licked at his face, tail wagging wildly.

“Alright Titus, let the boy breathe.” The man grunted, tugging lightly on the large dog’s collar. “Now, have you calmed enough to tell me your name?” He asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, turning his attention to the boy. The kid nodded, sniffing and reaching out to pat the dog - who happily leaned in.

“E-Ethan… My name’s Ethan Sorensen, Mr. Wayne.” He said shyly.

“Ah, you recognize me?” The younger boy nodded, still stroking the dog.

The Wayne Heir returned the nodd. “Good - at least you didn’t talk to a complete stranger. You should be more careful though, the world - and this city especially - are dangerous places for someone young and inexperienced.” He scolded with a frown.

The boy shrunk in, and Titus nudged further into the boy, whining slightly. The temperamental man sighed and hesitantly put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I do not mean to be harsh - I am merely glad I found you first.” He gave the boy a strained smile and it received a laugh from the kid. His eye twitched in annoyance.

“<Tt>,” He groused, pulling back and taking out his phone. He tapped a few times before placing the phone against his ear. “Gordon, I have a boy named Ethan Sorensen alone in the Southeast end of Robinson Park, have there been any missing child reports?” He nodded at whatever response he received. “Good, let your father know we will wait for them on a bench... Yes, of course I plan to remain with him! He is no older than six!... Yes, yes, I will stay behind to issue a statement to the officer… Goodbye Gordon.” He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket before turning back to the boy.

“Your parents are on their way, would you like to play fetch with Titus until they arrive?” He received a shy nodd in return and handed over a yellow batman-themed ball which was enthusiastically chased once thrown.

Marinette watched a few more throws before retreating to the tree where she had left her bag and packed up.

“So he can be sweet,” she mused to Tikki under her breath.

The Kwamii poked her head out of Mari’s pocket and giggled. “Though he didn’t seem super comfortable with the situation, he went out of his way to be kind to the boy. He stepped up when needed.”

“Yeah, I guess our grumpy-goose next door can act like a human - now and then.” Marinette laughed, turning toward the park’s exit, a light flutter in her chest after watching her awkward frenemy do something kind.

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

That night, Marinette seriously considered donning her mask for the first time in over a year.

She couldn’t explain why, but watching Damian’s secretly sweet nature peek through had lifted her spirits. She felt more like her old self than she had in a long time.

The dark and handsome man was obviously out of his comfort zone in interacting with the boy, but his desire to help another person outweighed his own discomfort. Mari’s guardian senses could see the effort it took to overcome the deep-seated parasitic darkness that latched onto his being. .

Her bones buzzed with an energy that had been absent for a year. She didn't call for a transformation though - her Guardian duties came first, and she needed to understand the city as a healer before she could take on an active protector role.

Using the recovered energy, she took back up a project she'd been working on - knitting hats, gloves, and scarves with needles Wayzz helped her infuse with a warming charm. She planned to give them away at the shelter she volunteered at on weekends when the weather turned in a few months.

She had four sets of mittens done and adjusted the needles to start on a fifth when a loud crash sounded from the other end of the wall. She jumped up and grabbed the retractable baton she stored in her crafting room, sliding into a crouching position. Tikki and Plagg flew over from the cushion they were lounging on to hover next to her.

They waited in suspense - listening for clues as to what was going on beyond the wall.

After a few moments, a pained groan sounded along with another, smaller crash.

Was it… her surly Wayne neighbor?

She shared a glance with Tikki and Plagg, and the three nodded. Plagg phased through the wall, and Tikki flew to Mari’s shoulder. An anxious minute later, Plagg returned, stifling laughter with his paws.

“Oh yeah - he’s gonna need some help,” He snorted. “And what is it with you attracting all the weirdos?” He cackled, flying over to the mini-fridge she kept stocked with Kwamii food and phasing through.

“You’ll want to bring the first aid kit,” he continued, exiting the fridge with a small wheel of cheese and taking a large bite before continuing. “Probably keep the baton with you in case there’s trouble - the kid may not be much help watching your back.”

That snapped her to attention, and she rushed off to her bathroom to grab the enormous first aid kit she collected over years of hero work. She pulled on a coat - Tikki slipping into a pocket - and shoved her feet into her deep red combat boots, quickly tying them before rushing out her front door and over to the stoop she’d glared at in passing for weeks.

Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself before testing the door - which was of course locked. She huffed and pulled out the lock-pick set she stored in the inner lining of her boots. She unlocked the door after two frustrating minutes - it seemed her neighbor wasn’t satisfied with the standard locks that came with the condos and installed his own.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and re-locked it - noticing a blinking red light on a small black box along the side of the door.

Probably a silent alarm, she mused, No matter - I’m here to help and have no intention of harming… Oh geez, I don’t even know his name - what will the police think when they arrive here?! What names did the barista say at the coffee house? - Tim and… Damian? Gah! It doesn’t matter - he still needs help! She shook herself and continued along the hallway with the first aid kit in her left hand and the baton in her right - raised and ready for trouble.

“Um… Hello?” She called out, deciding it was better to alert any robbers than to scare her injured neighbor. “It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng - your neighbor next door? I heard a crash and someone in pain, so I let myself in…” Having cleared the first floor, she turned to the stairs at the back of the house past the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne?”

A pained grunt sounded from the top of the stairs and she tensed further, not foolish enough to rush ahead after the warning Plagg gave - even if it wasn’t bad enough to insist on coming himself.

“Is that you, Mr. Wayne?” She called, narrowing her eyes as she reached the top of the stairs.

“I...in here...” A deep male voice coughed from the last room to her right, and she heard a low growling as she entered the room.

“I’m going to turn on the light.” She called a moment before she did.

Muttered cursing sounded at the light and drew her eyes to the floor under the window where the young Wayne lay on his side, clutching a gash over his chest, and surrounded by glass. The man was dressed in a ripped Robin uniform she’d become familiar with due to all the merch that littered the city.

“Oh…” Marinette whispered, Plagg’s comment on attracting weirdos now making sense. She heaved a deep sigh.

“His name is Titus, right?” The dog twitched at his name, and his master nodded stiffly. “Will he let me take a look at your injuries?” She retracted the baton and set it on the ground slowly with the kit, keeping her movements slow, and returning to a standing position with her palms empty and up.

“Titus, hda[2].” The dog slowly relaxed his tense position and looked back at the boy on the ground behind him. “Rahab[3].” The man said, nodding toward her, wincing as it pulled at one of his many injuries.

Though she didn’t understand the language of the commands, their meanings were obvious - she sank to the floor again and turned to her side, slowly offering her hand for the great black beast to sniff. He cautiously approached her and watched her body language intently as he snuffled at her hand - leaving a cool trail behind, which would have made her giggle in another situation.

Finally deciding to trust her , he licked her cheek and released a whine - tugging her jacket sleeve over to his injured master. She reached back to grab her kit and allowed the dog to pull her forward.

“Where are you hurt most severely?” She asked, kneeling beside him, ignoring the few pricks of glass in her legs as she did so.

“The gash on my chest is the only one that needs looked at immediately... the others are superficial.” He wheezed lightly, his voice strained.

“Was your head or spine injured to your knowledge?” At the slight shake of his head, she carefully slid her arms under him and gently lifted him into a princess carry. He let out an indignant and surprised manly squeak and she tried to hide her smile.

“Your partners, do you want me to contact them?” She asked, entering the connected bathroom and flipping the switch with her shoulder.

“My communicator and tracker are busted - though if you came through the front door, they were alerted and will send someone to check when I do not respond.”

She nodded and set him into the tub as gently as she could, shooing Titus away from sticking his head in as close as he could get it to the man. She set her kit on the floor and pulled out a pair of scissors. He snorted at the sight.

“Those will not even make a scratch in -” She grinned at his stunned silence as she nearly glided through the material, snagging a few times on previously patched parts.

“...” He stared at the scissors as she shifted to cut the sleeves. “This is the highest grade kevlar… how in the…” He turned to meet her laughing eyes and quirked an eyebrow.

“I have my secrets,” She gestured to the suit she was tearing into. “And you have your’s.” He pinned her with a look, but she raised her own brow as if to ask ‘you don’t actually expect me to tell you, do you?’

He scoffed and turned to the wall.

She laughed and moved the last of the material out of the way - turning back to her kit to gather her supplies.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me give you any Lidocaine?” He gave her a ‘what do you think?’ look. “That’s what I thought - want something to bite on?”

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning away again.

“Alright tough guy, I’m gonna just dive in - if you need a break or want to change your mind, let me know.” He nodded, and she threaded the hooked needle, glancing at him once more before starting in.

She was amazed at how little he reacted - a few face twitches at most - and she made sure to get through it as quickly as possible. After tying it off, she cleaned around the wound and taped gauze over it, and nodded to herself in satisfaction.

She turned to grab more alcohol swabs, only to find the injured hero unsteadily climbing to his feet.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked, exasperated.

“The rest is livable - I will be fine. Thank you for-”

“Thank me when I’m done patching you up, you stubborn fool.” She rolled her eyes, pushing him back down.

“How are you so strong?!” He huffed. “I don’t know of many civilians who could lift a grown man without an issue…” He left the statement trailing like a question, and she laughed.

“I grew up in a bakery - I’ve been lifting bags of flour my whole life.” She shrugged, taping up his finished arm and moving onto another gash.

“Sure…” He scoffed, not believing for a second that was all there was to it. She shrugged in response.

They sat in silence until she finished , tapping on the last square of gauze.

“Alright,” She helped him to his feet and over to his bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shook his head, giving a soft ‘Thank you’ - reaching out to catch her hand as she began walking over to retrieve the baton she’d left by his door.

“Truly - I… I would have been in trouble if you had not found me when you did. The others are in the middle of a fight and my beacon was broken before I could activate it… there might still be time before they worry.”

“Happy to help.” She smiled, patting his arm. He nodded, breaking eye contact again and patting Titus who jumped on the bed to snuggle the man.

“By the way…” She started. “What is your name? I know your last name is Wayne - that’s what the boy at the park said anyway, and I think it’s either ‘Damian’ or ‘Tim’ - because those were the names the barista gave at the coffee shop…”

“Wait,” He stopped her. “You… don’t know who I am?”

“Um… should I? The way the boy said it made it sound as if you’re well known here - but I’m only familiar with Parisian celebrities.”

“Oh, then… I believe I may owe you an apology.” He scratched the back of his head, still avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, yes you do - but what are you referring to?” She started with a irked look, and he had the decency to look abashed.

“When you first came to my door… I thought it another instance of someone trying to get in my good graces because I’m a Wayne. My father and brothers have warned me against social climbers, and I find it best to avoid encouraging them by making my disinterest known right away.” He still refused to meet her eyes and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

She waited until he met her eyes before speaking. “I appreciate and accept your apology, and I understand. ” He raised a disbelieving brow.

“No,” she chuckled, “Really. Back in Paris, I had a few friends who suffered from the same problem - an Olympic fencer, a model, a rock singer…” She shrugged. “I get it… but I’d also like to start again if you’re up for it?”

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her sincerity, before he slowly nodded and extended his hand.

“Hello… I am Damian Wayne.” She grinned and grasped his hand.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

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

Dick burst into the apartment moments after Marinette returned to her own home - leaving her phone number behind with strict instructions to call if he needed anything. He explained what happened - causing Dick check for a concussion when he openly admitted to misjudging her - and was taken to the cave.

Alfred was impressed with Marinette’s stitch job, and only needed to re-bandage the wounds he’d checked. His father had interrogated him for several hours when he found out a near-stranger knew at least Robin’s identity. He was talked down from all-out kidnapping the girl for answers only because Damian insisted on it - and he rarely stood up for his family, let alone strangers. So, they decided to keep a close eye on her when she went out (Damian living directly next door kept them from over-bugging the outside of her home).

They discovered she worked in a small boutique in the Fashion District, and volunteered at a shelter. When she wasn’t at either of those places or running errands, she wandered the city for places to sit and sketch. They had the sneaking suspicion she knew of their presence , but hadn’t caught her looking directly at them yet.

They were all wary of her but eventually eased up on their suspicions the more they were around the little - but strangely strong - ball of sunshine.

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

A few nights later, Damian awoke to the sounds of muffled cries. He instinctively jolted out of bed and reached for the sword next to his nightstand. Listening, he found the sounds came from Marinette’s apartment. He popped open the door to his balcony located on the same wall as hers.

Leaping over - narrowly avoiding knocking over one of the many pots strewn on every surface - he slunk over to her door and peeked inside, expecting a struggle and looking for the best opening to intervene.

What he saw was his small neighbor (friend?) curled on her bed, tangled in her blankets, with tears streaming down her face. She thrashed, a whimper loud enough for him to hear through the glass slipping through her lips.

He sighed and set his shoulders - he’d seen enough night terrors from his brothers, the Titans, and even members of his grandfather’s League to know he wouldn’t leave her to suffer, but not looking forward to explaining how he entered .

Working on the simple lock, he slid the door open silently, and closed it behind him, leaning his sword against it where she wouldn’t notice it unless she paid attention. .

A whine halted his approach, and he paused, noticing the butter-colored Pit Bull at the foot of the bed - having obviously knocked off in her mistress’ movement - and reached a hand out. The dog sniffed hesitantly, her tail stuck firmly between her legs, and her ears flat against her head in worry.

“It’s alright, girl, I am here to help.” He soothed, rubbing at her ears until her tail uncurled and began to half-heartedly wag.

“NON!... CHAT!” The girl on the bed sobbed, her arms flailing as if reaching for something.

He was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arms and readying himself in case she fought him.

“Mari!” He called, shaking her none too gently, “Mari! It is a dream! You need to wake up!”

It took several tries, but soon her eyes shot open.

She sat up, latching onto the first thing she found, and as he still held her wrists, (and her dog was on the floor) he found his arms full of a sobbing Marinette. She gasped, muttering in French how sorry she was, how she should have been stronger, how it was her fault…

He held her, as his brothers did for him for months after he came back from the pits and awoke from his own nightmares. He started to rock back and forth - smoothing her hair, and she cuddled in closer, her cries pittering out.

The city’s ambience filled the room - interspersed with the slight creaking of the bed at Damian’s continued rocking motion.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” He asked after what felt like both a moment and an eternity.

She hesitated, before starting in a small, frail voice.

He learned what transpired in France with the villain the League had been forbidden from interfering with. She told him of the emotional trauma - having to police your own emotions, watching loved ones be used, watching them die horribly, only to have them come back with no memory of the fact.

And then - she told him about Ladybug.

She didn’t swear him to secrecy or threaten him if he told anyone - it spilled out with everything else.

She had been alone.

As a civilian, she was isolated, and as a hero - she had no one to lean on, especially once entrusted with the Guardian title. She had only her Kwamii (whatever that was - she made it seem like some all-powerful sprite) who knew her identity, and she couldn’t properly vent for fear of becoming ‘akumatized’.

She told him about the final battle. How it turned out to be the father of a friend who terrorized everyone, how her partner had nearly fallen apart in grief - as it was his father - and how her partner, her friend, had died saving her from his father’s blade. The blow caused his own power, a "cataclysm" to defensively implode, destroying everything in the vicinity - even the bearer of the ring. Marinette's saving grace was her own power, the ultimate balance to destruction, which shielded her from the blast.

She sobbed into his shoulder after the tale was done until she eventually fell into a deep sleep.

He set her back into the bed gently and covered her with the blankets. Moving to the chair in the corner he slumped down, head in his hands, absorbing the emotion and information her story had left him with.

A wet nose nudged his arm, and he looked down to see her dog slowly wagging her tail and giving him sad puppy-eyes. He gave her a small smile.

“It’ll be alright…” He shifted to search for a tag to find her name - not remembering it from Marinette’s initial introduction.

“It’s Squishy.” A small, high voice called. He jerked his head up to watch a red fairy-bug…thing float down to rest on the dog’s head. “Mari found her rooting through some trash in an alley a week after the final battle - they’ve been inseparable ever since.”

They eyed each other for a moment before he broke the silence.

“...Tikki… right?” That was the name from Marinette’s story. She nodded, her big sky-blue eyes analyzing his soul.

“I am Tikki, Kwamii of Creation and good luck. Thank you for helping my chosen tonight - Plagg and I couldn’t wake her.” She drooped. “This one was particularly bad.” He nodded, and another sprite floated over, this one pitch black with a tail, small pointed ears, and ancient, acid green eyes.

“I’m Plagg - Kwamii of Destruction and bad luck - and I won’t hesitate to cataclysm you into oblivion if you hurt my Bug with the info she trusted you with tonight - or at all, for that matter.” It should have been impossible, with all of his experience, to be frightened of such a tiny being, but Damian found himself shuddering at the fierce protectiveness all the same.

“Understood.” Damian nodded.

“Good.” And just like that, the eyes were half-lidded and looked bored. “Do you have any fancy cheese at your place? The Bug cut me off from the good stuff after I tangled her expensive yarn or whatever.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his ‘arms’.

“Plagg! Can you not think of your stomach for once?!” The red sprite cried, exasperated.

“I spent the whole night watching Spots and trying to wake her when the dream started, then I threatened the birdboy - that’s a long time!” He pouted, and Damian huffed in amusement at how much the tiny cat reminded him of Todd’s bottomless pit of a stomach.

“There’s blue cheese and brie in the fridge.” He pointed down and to the side where his kitchen lay, and was shocked as the cat passed directly through the wall without a word.

“Sorry about him ,” Tikki said with a fond sigh. “He’s worried about Mari, and pretending he doesn't care is how he copes.” She took on a serious look and pinned him with it.

“I know you’re a hero and used to keeping secrets, but the miraculous are the most powerful artifacts in the world. We existed before the dawn of man, and we will far out-live your kind.” He stared at her, the ancient power from the cat now pulsed from her, telling him she wasn’t to be trifled with.

“Mari is all alone in this, and we planned to convince her to seek help from your “league of heroes” soon, so this is not entirely inconvenient - but she trusted you. She is gifted with excellent instincts - both as a Ladybug and a Guardian - I don’t oppose her choice, but I warn you - should you cause any harm to befall her, you will answer to me.” Damian shuddered for the second time that night - the second time in years - and nodded solemnly.

“I understand.” She searched his eyes for another minute before her own softened.

“I see you do. You’ve endured your own trials.” He looked at the lump on the bed to avoid her stare. “I think you will be good for each other.” She mused, rising from Squishy’s head and floating over to the wall connecting his home to Marinettes’.

“I’m going to make sure Plagg hasn’t eaten everything you own.” She giggled, and phased through the wall.

He released a shuddering breath and slumped down from his stiff position - reaching over to pet Squishy’s head as she leaned in and began to thump her tail against the floor. He smiled softly at the sight and sunk further back into the chair with a deep sigh.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through how to help the neighbor he’d assumed was after his money and name. He winced at his previous misconceptions. He needed more practice at learning to accurately read people - perhaps he could convince Cass to coach him in nonverbal cues.

He shook his head, helping Marinette build a support system was top priority. He’d always bemoaned his family getting in his way - but at least he’d never been left alone. From her story, it seemed like she’d run the entire Paris operation on her own the four years Hawkmoth had been at large.

The first step was to involve his Father and siblings - they’d know how to execute a plan - but he felt it had to come at her own pace. From what she said, she’d had no choice but to play catch-up during her entire battle - since she was twelve.

He continued to chase his thoughts in a dizzying dance until he eventually succumbed to sleep, not noticing when the kwamii crept back and snuggled in alongside Marinette.

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

Three months later - a tiny girl in a dark red and black ensemble was spotted running on rooftops alongside Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing, her light, bell-like laughter ringing out into the Gotham night.

The local media pages blew up - the people of Gotham fell in love with their ‘Ladybird’ and her sweet nature which opposed the stoic and gruff bats. It was interesting for them to see her banter and fight alongside the other members of the team - especially Robin, who became her shadow, rarely leaving her side.

She had several blogs dedicated to her feats and theories about the miraculously healed injuries and repaired battle sites. It didn’t take long for people from France to find the numerous articles, and start the rumor she was once their ‘Ladybug’, but there was no solid evidence. The two looked and acted completely differently.

Ladybird was free-spirited and light of heart, whereas Ladybug was serious and professional. Many speculated the Ladybug miraculous traded hands, but, as there was no supernatural Cat seen, it remained an unlikely theory.

Unfortunately for the bloggers, it was hard to snag a good look at the bats, as they thrived in the darkness. Others commented on Robin’s costume change, but Ladybird’s appearance took the spotlight.

If they had caught a closer look, they would have found Robin’s red and yellow colors gone , and the forest green was replaced with a more muted-toxic tone. Thankfully, his hood hid the most significant changes as he now sported two small velvet ears that reacted to sound and emotion, and his usual katakana now had a pitch-black blade with green detailing on the hilt.

In completely unrelated news, the youngest son of Gotham’s resident billionaire was in the news frequently as he’d taken to hanging around a petite Asian-French girl who was rumored to be a famous designer from France. She was photographed numerous times on outings with Damian and both their dogs - who got along even better than their owners.

Due to her kind nature and enchanting smile, she quickly gained the nickname ‘Sunshine of Gotham’ and the tag trended frequently on Twitter.

During an interview with a fashion magazine, she was asked if she’d ever leave the city of crime, and the answer she’d given was proudly displayed in the Gotham Gazette the next day.

“The people of Gotham have heart and spunk which can’t be matched - I was welcomed here after a difficult time in France, and I don’t see myself growing tired of being challenged and cared for in the way only Gotham can.”

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

[1] Almalak almuharib - ‘Warrior Angel’ in Arabic [2] Hda - ‘calm’ in arabic [3] Rahab - ‘greet’ in arabic

#maribat-secret-santa-2020

164 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 13)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 2663 Warnings: fluff, light angst, brief mention of smut

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m still sorry... or am I? 😂

PART 12 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sunlight filters in through the part of the window not blocked by opaque curtains, the golden glow reaches Billy’s eyes making him throw an arm up to block out the brightness. He’s careful of his movements, not to disturb you as you sleep against him.

He had a good time last night bowling and meeting all your friends but when you accepted his offer to come back to his place that was when the real fun began. In the comfort of his apartment you sat curled against him on his couch, feeling warmth spread through your body from the amber colored drink in your hand, though Billy was more intoxicating.

You quickly found your way into his bed, tangled together as your hands and lips explored every part of each other until you reached soaring heights of passion and pleasure. Billy was an incredible lover and you hadn’t thought that simply because he had broken your dry spell. He knew how to please and did so generously. You didn’t intend on staying over but truthfully your legs felt like jelly afterwards you couldn’t do anything but stay beside him, falling asleep in his arms.

Billy puts his arm down, shifting just a little so he could face away from the sunlight, the slight movement unintentionally waking you. He felt bad, watching as your heavy lids blinked themselves open a few times before they focused on his beautiful smile.

“Sorry, go back to sleep babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

A smile pulled at your lips as you felt the soft lingering touch of his lips. “S’okay, I want to stay awake.”

Billy smiled at the soft noises you made as you took in a stiff inhale of breath, your body tensing up as you turned away from him, bringing your hand to cover your mouth as you yawned. The feel of morning breath was heavy on your tongue so you decided to go to the bathroom, hoping there would be mouthwash you could freshen up with.

Goosebumps prickled at your skin when you pulled off the sheets, sitting up as you scanned the floor for your clothes that had been scattered around the room amidst the throes of passion. Billy’s eyes roamed your bare skin, memories of last night bring warmth to his body, feeling himself ache for you again the longer he stared.

You spotted your sweater, pushing yourself up from the low platform bed to grab the crumbled fabric from the floor, stretching it over your skin. Beside it was your pants though you picked up your lacy bottoms and stepped into them before leaving his room to find the bathroom.

Billy leaned back against the arm he folded under his head, not feeling like getting up to find his phone wherever he last left it. He didn’t need to distract himself anyway since you walked back in, slightly shivering as your bare feet walked along the cold floors.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling back the blanket.

As you began to get back in bed your movements were halted by “nuh uh” as Billy shook his head. “No clothes in bed, it’s the rules.” He smirked, sitting up towards the edge of the bed.

A giggle escaped your lips as you moved towards Billy’s side of the bed, standing in front of him. His hands went under your sweater, holding you firmly by your waist.

“Those are the rules, huh?” You repeated, grinning coyly as you let your hands glide up his arms, caressing his smooth skin until your fingers met a raised ridge along his left shoulder.

Your brows furrowed with concern as you stared at another scar on his chest, having missed both in the dimmed lighting last night. They were clearly old but by the way Billy’s jaw tensed you suspected they weren’t fully healed.

His dark gaze wandered as he focused on something behind you, his trance dissolving from the sound of your sweet voice saying his name.

“There was… this guy, Arthur. He volunteered at the Ray of Hope group home I was in. We all thought he was so cool, playin’ stickball and hoops with us. I was ten or eleven at the time.” Billy clenched his jaw, clearing his throat of the lump that formed there.

His hands dropped into his lap and he began wringing them. “When a grown man tells you that you’re pretty you know nothing good is coming. Let’s just say I wasn’t interested in the kind of games that he had in mind. I went after him with the stickball bat, caught him a few times before he broke my arm… ripped my rotator cuff in three places.”

You had been listening quietly as Billy spoke, not realizing you were holding your breath until his hand cupped your cheek and you let it out shakily. His story wasn’t new– no, unfortunately you had heard about this situation too many times but despite being familiar with this in your line of work Billy’s story really affected you.

No matter who the person or what their story is, you care deeply about all the cases you have from Metro-General but Billy was different. You really liked him and hearing him talk about the terrible memories from his past reminded you about Pietro and what could have happened if someone had been there to help. Growing up in the system is hard enough as it is, but if the caretakers aren’t doing their job to protect these children…

Sighing, your lips flattened into a line of frustration. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Billy.”

“Hey… don’t, okay?” His hands wrapped around your waist as he looked up to meet your sympathetic eyes. “Everyone’s got a story, this one’s mine.”

His lips stretched across his face into something that wasn’t quite a smile but not a frown either. You knew it wasn’t easy to share, something he clearly can’t forget though you appreciated his openness, feeling closer because of it.

Leaning down you cupped Billy’s cheeks, feeling his scruff scratch at your palms as you placed a gentle kiss to his lips. You felt him smile against you as he kissed back, his hands grabbing the hem of your sweater and breaking the kiss for him to pull it over your head.

Billy kissed your exposed skin, softly, slowly as he laid you down on the bed. His touch was like heaven, setting fire to your soul, and together you climbed higher and higher until you reached the apex of pleasure a few more times over.

You got home late in the afternoon knowing you had a novel’s worth of texts to return from your friends, mainly the girls wanting to know all the details. Bucky’s was the only text that you replied to right away. He hoped you would get home safe, and behind your shared wall he let out a sigh of relief, reading your message that you did, even if it meant you were only getting home now.

Bucky shuffled reluctantly to his door, wondering why there’s a knock. Looking through the peephole, he can’t help but let a smile stretch over his face.

“Hey neighbor!” you said, with a beaming smile.

He hadn’t seen you in a few days, throwing himself deep into his work, thankful for the distraction. “Hey Y/N.” Bucky takes note of what you’re wearing, a comfy hoodie and oversized polar bear pajama pants. You always had the cutest pajamas.

“You busy? I was gonna watch a movie and order a bunch of food since my period came and all I want to do is eat. Sorry was that TMI?” you asked, seeing his expression change in a multitude of ways.

He let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “Where’s Billy?”

“Working.”

Bucky wasn’t happy with that answer, making him feel like you were settling for plans with him since Billy was busy. He was about to decline, making up a lie about anything just so he didn’t have to feel bad about himself before you continued.

“But I’d rather hang with you anyway. Not that Billy would care about my period like that but, I don’t know, we’re not at that point yet, you know? Like I feel like I can always be myself around you.”

His blank expression turned into a smile as Bucky nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah I get that. I feel the same about you.”

Bucky felt a weird sensation in his stomach as he stood there smiling at you, breaking out of his trance as you spoke again.

“Okay so hurry up and come over. I don’t know what I want to eat. I kinda want tacos, but also pizza. And if you have cookies bring them over because I already ate the ones I had.”

It felt right, sitting beside you on the couch, stuffing your faces and laughing as you watched a movie. Bucky took it upon himself to grab the bottle of Advil from your bathroom, bringing over a full glass of water for you to take for your cramps.

“Thanks. You know, I know you hate relationships and stuff but you’d make a really good boyfriend.”

Bucky was frozen, the only sound he could hear was that of his heart drumming rapidly in his ear. “Y-you think so?” he croaked out, swallowing down the thick knot in his throat with a gulp of his drink.

You nodded, leaning forward to set the glass down on your table. “Why, you don’t?”

“No, that’s… That’s not it.” He turned away from you, silent and contemplative.

It wasn’t always like this. Bucky was a young boy that grew out of the idea that girls had cooties long before his friends did. It started with Olivia. They met in sixth grade, two nervous kids in a brand new school that happened to sit next to each other in homeroom.

Her eyes were like honey and Bucky was stuck, letting himself get lost in her beauty. He memorized the freckles speckled across the nose and cheeks of her sandy brown skin like a galaxy of stars, each one more dazzling than the last. Her hair was polished bronze packed in tight corkscrews that Bucky loved brushing aside so he could kiss her; every morning before they got to class, during lunch where he neglected his food in favor of her lips, and after school when they parted.

Bucky loved her as much as a young man could love a young woman, his first love, the girl he thought he would have everything with. He was a fool to think he could have it all, blinded by his utter devotion to Olivia before he realized his relationship was more one-sided than he realized.

They spent seven years together and not once did Olivia tell him she wasn’t planning their future the same way Bucky was. Olivia meant everything to him and when she was accepted to college on the West Coast Bucky immediately started looking into transferring to a school out there. It didn’t matter that their music program wasn’t as accredited, he was willing to do anything to make what he and Olivia had last.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Olivia didn’t feel the same. Not anymore. She fell out of love with him and was hoping to use graduation as a clean break. She broke his heart and Bucky was devastated.

He didn’t understand how she could stop loving him just like that. How it was so easy for her to let go of all their history; wondering what the turning point was in their relationship and why she didn’t tell him. His trust was broken. She strung him along for months, years maybe? It wasn’t just the fact that they broke up, she had moved on. Olivia was with someone new and every day Bucky asked himself why he wasn’t worthy of love.

He shut down, losing himself in composition, letting the melody of strife carry him through the sea of heartache. It was decided then, by a boy who was barely a man, to take what he needs and never be vulnerable again. It was easy.

It was easy.

Over the past few months everything has changed. There was a moment Bucky was ready to abandon his beliefs. He had grown up, matured; he knows his boundaries and knows there is so much more of himself to give to someone.

Bucky thought that someone could be you. It was a silly idea. You were just friends. But he was friends with Olivia first too. He felt the same ease as you did with him, enjoying spending time with you even if you did nothing. He thought there might have been a chance, somehow for him to break free of the mold he set upon his life and ask you out but someone beat him to it.

You and Billy had been seeing more and more of each other. He remembers that feeling from so long ago, desperate to spend every waking moment with the person that sent your heart a-flutter. Bucky understood when you cancelled plans with him, for the times Billy was able to make a last minute date after work arrangements changed. He understood, even if he didn’t like it. He couldn’t object even though he wanted to. You were happy and Bucky felt worse the more he thought about even thinking of taking that away from you.

He changed the subject, letting the movie resume but the thoughts never left his mind.

For the first time in a very long time Bucky is lonely. While the world is out overspending on chocolates and roses, fancy dinners and champagne Bucky lays in bed, trying to distract himself with a movie. He’s usually alone on Valentine’s Day, by choice. It’s too complicated to sleep with one of his regulars, not wanting to get their hopes up by any means on the day that celebrates love.

Bucky exhaled a heavy breath, upset with himself for being unable to keep his mind off everything. His heart is a dilapidated shack lost in a desolate wasteland. Abandoned after so many years, it’s dust covered, with a haze of cobwebs clouding over the part of himself that used to thrum with life.

And suddenly the walls become unsteady. His heart begins to crumble at the sound coming from the other side of the wall. It’s you, with unmistakable cries of pleasure, in a duet of passion with Billy.

Bucky shudders, feeling uncomfortable for being able to hear something that should be so intimate. It’s payback perhaps, a taste of his own medicine for all the times he’s disturbed you in the same way.

His mind runs wild against his will, imagining you in bed as the soundtrack of your lovemaking permeates the thin walls. It’s bittersweet poison to his ears.

Bucky throws the blankets off him, nearly tripping over the boots he haphazardly toed off earlier as he rushes towards his desk. He grabs his headphones to block out the sounds, a painful reminder of what could never be.

He grabs his phone, scrolling through his contact list. So many names and yet he feels nothing for them. He stops at your name, his chest hitching with agony. He wants what you have. To love fully, and give himself completely to someone. To renovate all the broken pieces inside of himself.

His fingers tap away and Bucky refuses to stop himself of their doing. He’s scared but excited, knowing the threat of getting hurt again is very real but he’s had enough of telling himself that the way he’s been living is what he’s really wanted.

With his own melodies playing in his ear Bucky is ignorant of the way you cry out Billy’s name. He is blissfully ignorant, opening the Tinder app he’s just downloaded, creating a profile because he’s finally ready to give dating a real shot.

PART 14

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #billy russo x reader

657 notes · View notes

ready-to-obeyme · 4 years

Text

[OM!] Domestic Ship Meme: Satan/MC

//sure thing Satan-anon ;)

[Domestic Ship Meme]

who reaches out to new neighbors

Satan is your boy-wonder in making connections everywhere he goes. By the time you get home the week after you move into a new neighborhood, your neighbors are cheerfully greeting you and giving you baked goods-- gushing about how adorable the two of you are and how you’re more than welcome to knock on their door to ‘return the favor’ because Satan already invited them once.

When you ask Satan about it, he plays it off as not a big deal. This is just a natural part of his charm-- and well, you get free food from it, so you aren’t about to complain.

who remembers to buy healthy food + junk food

Both of you do! The two of you work together to remember what the other doesn’t. Satan’s big on nutrition facts and you’re well-versed with what you normally need to eat just based off experience. He’s the type to get you to buy a vegetable of every color to get the proper vitamins you need-- you like it when your food has color so it’s a win-win.

For junk food, you’re more likely to buy it, but Satan’s prone to buying junk food for you if you happen to forget.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Satan does-- he’s probably read up all the possible instructions in a book or online that tells him how to fix the oven, and he has no problems getting down and dirty to fix it when it breaks.

Given, of course, this oven is your shared oven. If this was the House of Lamentation oven, count him out-- unless you ask him to help, of course.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

You water the plants, and the both of you feed the pets. Satan especially would dote on your pets if they were cats-- to the point you’re a little jealous and slightly concerned about whether you’re spoiling your cats too much with gourmet wet food. You always end up watering the plants because Satan forgets. He’s busy reading his books and, quite frankly, they aren’t cats, so he’s liable to just forget to water them for days on end and end up killing them.

who wakes up earlier

it’s a competition to see who can sleep the latest smh

Regardless of whether you sleep late or stay up with him, chances are Satan can and will go some days without sleeping, or at least stay up until dawn trying to finish a book. I mean, sometimes, it really be like this:

So normally, you’re the one who wakes up earlier-- probably hours later before Satan does, and you always think it’s cute every time he wakes up drowsily, blearily opening his eyes and calling out your name slowly.

who makes the bed

Satan does! He usually doesn’t really care about making his room too neat, but since the two of starting living together, he’s started to care just a bit more. Also, he tends to leave the bed later than you do, so it’s usually up to him.

who makes the coffee

You do, only because Satan doesn’t drink coffee.

If you do prefer tea over coffee like he does, he’ll gladly make a cup for you, choosing your favorites and brewing them. Just don’t expect them in the morning haha he’ll gladly make it for you in the afternoon or evening.

who burns breakfast

Neither or both-- there is no in-between. Satan is pretty attentive when it comes to his cooking duties, and you’re not keen on wasting any food or burning any of it either. When you’re in the kitchen together cooking, there is an immensely greater chance that something will be burnt because the two of you are too busy making conversation or continuing your morning trysts.

Satan’s definitely the type of guy to wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck until you’re unbearably ticklish and entirely focused on him.

A fire probably started on the stove behind the two of you and neither of you noticed earlier because you were too busy making out.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

You can do whatever you’re doing in the house and Satan will never fail to come up to you and press a kiss to your brow. “I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, touching you on your shoulder, elbow, or lower back briefly before leaving the house.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

It’s a ritual going out and coming home-- the little kisses you give each other. Satan really does prefer the kisses he gets when he comes home though-- they tend to be more thorough, less rushed, where you can bury your hands into his hair and tilt your head to press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey there, handsome,” you say with a lilt of teasing. “Welcome back.”

“I missed you,” Satan tells you every time, and he means it every time. And he always ends up smiling into his kisses.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

Satan brings home so many things to you that you’re thinking of installing another bookshelf just to keep all of the memorabilia. Sometimes it’s travel gifts from friends that visit that he thinks is fascinating and tells you all about them. Other times, it’s things he encounters during the day. Maybe a bouquet of roses from a florist he walked past today or little lucky cat trinket that caught his eye when he was talking to a friend. The man is always on a look out for something that you will like or at least amuse you.

It’s endearing how much he’ll do just to see you laugh.

who picks the movie for movie night

The two of you switch off. Satan wouldn’t want to deprive of you of the choice to pick out your favorite movies, especially if they’re of different genres from his favorite ones. Actually kind of likes the days when you get to choose because it gives him a little insight on what you like, what you find important, what themes do you gravitate towards? Movie nights in general give him a chance to discuss these types of things with you.

their favorite kind of movie to watch

Satan looooooves watching mysteries and documentaries of all kinds. Definitely a nerd for Sherlock Holmes (probably his hero) and other variations of them like Detective Conan and Elementary. He also likes crime shows too as long as they’re done right. Documentaries are basically books with a visual and Satan adores being able to learn about all there is about the world.

Very intrigued by thought-provoking movies in general but enjoys the occasional rom-com and horror movie.

who first suggests a pillow fort

You do! Satan doesn’t get it at first, but after the first time you guys make one and spend the night in the dim lights, he’s hooked and he starts suggesting it more on relaxing days.

who builds the pillow fort

The both of you do! Like most of your lives together, it’s a combined effort that the two of you manage to create a pillow fort to an intense scale, possibly using all the pillows in your house. Satan loves it when the two of you just spend time in the fort talking to each other. If you end up sleeping, he has no problems just having your head on his lap, hand absently brushing through your hair and the other hand holding his book.

who tries to distract the other during the move

You do it more often than Satan does because he’s usually more engrossed in the movie than you are. Sometimes you don’t even notice that you’re doing a pretty decent job distracting him, putting your hand on his chest as you lie on his shoulder and curling your fingers against him. Or when you take his hand into your lap and start tracing lines in them, curling up your legs and wrapping them around his.

He’ll look over to you a little confused in the middle of the movie when you do this. If you do it on purpose, he’ll flush and clear his throat and try to focus on the movie... just a little more. (Though, to be honest, there are times where he just does NOT notice.) If he notices that you’re actually invested in the movie but still somewhat distracting... just by being you, he’ll actually be WAY more flustered because what the hell is he that smitten with you?

Probably has a hard time trying to focus on the movie after that and starts to distract YOU instead.

who falls asleep first

You fall asleep first. If it’s in bed, in the pillow fort, in the backyard when you were looking at stars, Satan always lets you sleep. If it’s cold, he’ll take off his jacket to drape it on your shoulders and just enjoy being in the moment with you by his side.

His mind always drifts to how lucky he is to be where he is now.

who is big spoon/little spoon

You’re little spoon more often than not. It just happens that way because you fall asleep first and when Satan climbs into bed with you, he puts his arm around you waist and keeps you there.

If you really want to be big spoon, you’d have to tell him and you’d have to lie in bed together. Doesn’t mean you won’t fall asleep first, but your arms are around HIM first so he stays put because he doesn’t want to wake you up... and also because he kind of likes it. Kinda blushy even when he’s reading his book.

#obey me #obey me satan #domestic ship meme #obey me headcanons #fluff #satan/mc #satan/reader

249 notes · View notes

stevesnailbat · 4 years

Note

hi!! can you write something where steve’s having a pool party at his house, and he invites the new girl in town (reader), cause he’s got a crush on her, and when he sees her in a bikini he goes crazy. kinda smutty but not so oblivious you know? more like, teasing and steve being super flustered and hard thank you love!

warnings: teasing, a little steamy, nothing too smutty

word count: 2.0K

There was no denying the fact that every guy in Hawkins had their eye on the new girl. Her family moved into town in the beginning of June just after the school year had ended, but word spread of them fast—mainly about her. She was stunning, to say the least. She was like summertime personified—like a golden ray of sunshine brought into the typically dull and boring Hawkins.

Steve first laid eyes on her when she walked into Scoops Ahoy! in the middle of a Tuesday, their slowest day of the week. She had the brightest eyes and most inviting smile that he had ever seen, and the look on his face would have told her that he was enamored with her from first glance if she had been looking at him. His mouth was slightly agape as she approached the counter, but he closed it quickly and gained his composure.

“Ahoy there!” he said a little too loudly, trying to hide his nerves behind some smooth talk. “What can I get for you today?”

“Just a one scoop of strawberry in a cone, please.” she replied, a smile dancing on her lips as she locked eyes with him.

“You got it.” Steve said coolly, pulling his ice cream scooper out while reaching for a sugar cone. “Y’know, I haven’t seen you around here. Are you new to town?”

“Yeah, my family just moved here last week.” she shrugged casually, digging in her purse for her money. “Today’s really the first day I’ve gotten out of the house, though. My parents have kept me busy with unpacking for the last ten days.”

“Oh, so you haven’t seen many of the great wonders of Hawkins then.” he said sarcastically while scooping the pink ice cream from its tub.

“Yeah, not many.” she giggled, sliding two one dollar bills onto the counter. "Starcourt is my first stop of the day, then I’m going to find my way around the rest of the town after this.”

“Well, if you ever get lost or need a tour guide, I’m happy to help.” he suggested as he handed her the cone and gathered the money. “It was nice to meet you—“

“I'm Y/N. And thank you for being so kind…” she trailed off, eyes flickering to his name tag as she licked the ice cream. “Steve. It was nice to meet you too, I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And she was right. Steve saw her around all the time, which might have had something to do with the fact that she actually lived two doors down from the Harrington’s. He had never paid too much attention to his neighbors in Loch Nora, but his parents always did. They came back from some business trip the day after he met Y/N, he knew he wouldn’t be there for long, though. Come Friday, he’d have the house to himself again and planned on having a pool party.

“Oh Steve, you’re home! I need you to do me a favor.” his mom said to him after his Wednesday shift at Scoops, she was about to leave the house as he walked in. “Take the cookies that are on the counter over to the new family that moved in two houses down, will you? I have to run to a meeting in town.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll take them in a minute.” he said, dropping his keys on the counter next to the plate of cookies.

Steve went up to his room after saying a quick goodbye to his mom, finally able to change out of the stupid sailor outfit he’d been stuck in all day. He was halfway tempted to change and throw himself into bed as soon as he did, but he knew his mom wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he didn’t bring the cookies to the newcomers. His parents were always trying to welcome new neighbors in Loch Nora, but he knew they’d barely be around to even meet them. They always sent him to deliver housewarming treats, because they were always busy, of course.

So, he trudged two doors down with the cookies in hand and knocked on the door, expecting the mother of the family to answer as usual. What he wasn’t expecting was for Y/N to be standing on the other side of the door, but there she was. She was just as beautiful as he had remember from the day before, her eyes were just as inviting and her smile was just as warm.

“Steve?” she said as she opened the door, the bright smile on her face as she looked to the very caught off guard boy in front of her. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh—Hey, Y/N!” he stammered, giving her a nervous smile as he pushed the plate of cookies in her direction. “I—My parents always have me bring a housewarming gift to newcomers in the neighborhood, I didn’t even realize that it was probably you. But here you go. Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Oh, well that’s very sweet of you guys! Thank you, Steve.” she giggled, taking the plate from his hands.

“Did you have any luck with finding your way around the town yesterday?” he asked and she nodded with the grin still on her lips. “Make any new friends or anything?”

“I mean, I met a few people, yeah.” she shrugged. “I did meet you yesterday, so that was pretty cool.”

“Oh yeah? Nobody cooler than me?” he teased, she shook her head and giggled once more. “Well, in that case, maybe I can introduce you to some of my friends.”

“When?” she questioned, looking up at him hopefully.

“I’m having a pool party on Friday if you want to come. It’s not gonna be a lot of people, but it’ll be fun, I promise.” he offered. “I told everyone to come around four, so you can come around then. I just live two houses down from here.”

“Well, that’ll be great.” she said. “I’ll make sure to be there.”

Steve thought he was crushing hard on her before that day, but seeing her show up to his house that day made it even worse. She was wearing a thin, black cover-up dress when he answered the door for her, and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She looked that good in a cover-up, now he was getting of scared about how he’d react to her in a swimsuit. He stayed cool as he led her through the house and to the backyard where a few unfamiliar people were in the pool. She recognized one of them as the girl who worked with Steve at Scoops. He introduced her to them all, then pointed them out one by one: Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Cameron, Lucy, Ali and Tyler.

“Do you want anything to drink or anything? I have some beers inside if you want one.” Steve offered.

“Oh, sure!” she said, and he nodded before slipping inside through the sliding glass door to grab them.

When Steve came back outside, he almost dropped the two beers he was holding after catching a glimpse of Y/N after she had stripped out of her cover up. She was wearing a red bikini that showed her in the best ways, and was sitting on the side of the pool with her feet in, talking to Robin and Ali. Robin had noticed the way Steve was drooling over Y/N but kept it to herself. Steve finally made his way over to where she sat and joined her on the concrete, handing her one of the beers as he tried to stay calm.

Y/N could tell as soon as Steve sat down that he was getting a little frazzled by the situation, and knew exactly why. He hadn’t really made much of a move on her, but she could tell he had a crush. And she couldn’t lie, she did too. Seeing him shirtless, a little sweaty and a little flustered was just confirming the crush she had developed in the last few days. Of course, she couldn’t be upfront about it with all of these new people around. So, she opened her drink and began her teasing.

Steve was surprised to see her sudden change in attitude as she sat by the pool, any shyness that she had slipped away quickly. The girls seemed to like her, Robin even gave Steve a few suggestive looks as if to tell him that she approved. Two beers and an hour passed and Y/N was starting to get a little too warm just sitting on the edge of the pool.

“Wanna get in with me?” she suggested to Steve as she finished her second beer, who was halfway distracted with staring at her breasts. “I’m sweating."

“I will in a minute, not yet.” he said with a blush on his cheeks, snapping his gaze to her eyes knowing that he’d gotten caught.

“C’mon! You’re the only one that’s not in!” she teased, tugging on his hand as she slipped into the water.

He sighed teasingly and followed suit by wading into the water from the side of the pool after her. A satisfied grin spread across her face as he slid in, feeling him come dangerously close to her in the water. A breath hitched in his throat as she brushed past him, her hand running along his arm as she sent a wink in his direction. She continued her conversation with the other guys in the pool as if nothing had happened, but he couldn’t get past it. He was glad they were in the water now, because anyone would be able to see his growing hard-on if they weren’t.

The night came quickly after that, plenty of jokes and teasing exchanged between them as the day turned into dawn. Once the sun began to set, everyone started to wind down and make their way inside for more drinking. Y/N was getting out of the pool alongside Steve when she noticed that the necklace she had gotten from her mom on her sixteenth birthday wasn’t around her neck anymore.

“Shit.” she mumbled, checking along the concrete by the edge of the pool for any glimmer of silver.

“What?” he asked, sitting down on the edge by where she was searching. “Lose something?”

“Yeah, the silver necklace I was wearing earlier.” she said, still searching along the ground. “Wanna help me look?”

Steve nodded and climbed back into the pool, diving under the water to search for the chain as she looked along the side some more. It didn’t take long for Steve to find it, since it was near where they had been sitting most of the day. It must have slipped off when she slid into the pool the first time. He came from below the water and was right next to her once more, catching her off guard this time.

“This it?” he asked, holding it up as she nodded at him. “Here, I’ll get it.”

He snaked his arms around her neck to clasp the necklace around it. After getting it on, he realized how close they were to each other. He couldn’t stop himself from dipping down and pressing his lips against hers gently. She stood on her toes as he did, leaning into him to deepen it. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed her against the wall of the pool, his hands traveling to her waist. Their wet bodies pressed against each other, adding to the heat of the moment. She pulled away from the kiss and grabbed one of his hands, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she guided it to her breast.

“You’ve been staring at them all day, so I guess this is only fair.” she giggled, pushing some of his wet hair from his forehead.

“Hey, Dingus!” Robin called, standing at the sliding glass door. “Hurry up, we’re about to play some stupid drinking games!”

A deep blush spread across Y/N’s cheeks as she peered over Steve’s shoulder to see Robin with a grin on her face. She hid her face in Steve’s chest for a moment, letting out a groan of embarrassment at the interruption. Steve hooked his finger underneath her chin, making her look up at him as he smiled down at her.

“We can continue this later, right?” he questioned hopefully, kissing her cheek gently.

“Of course we can."

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @charmed-asylum @lemonypink @daddystevee @jxnehxpper @a-magey @igotmadskills @heart-eye-harrington @queenofthehairharrington

#steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 1 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader

248 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: The Royal We ch.1 (baon)

Summary: Family helps family. Sometimes right into the path of an oncoming car.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

When they first came to this universe, it hadn’t taken long for Edge to realize that things were very different here than back home in Underfell, (no, not home, not for a long time now). The changes took some time to absorb and some might never fully integrate, as his freezer filled with stocked up meals would attest. But there were a few universal constants and while all of them grew up with their brother as their only relative, they all knew that family helped family. Even when that family was a pack of alternates who appeared later in life.

Which was how Edge found himself on his day off sitting on the floor of what was currently Papyrus and Blue’s house, making party favors for Undyne’s baby shower.

The living room was strewn with decorations waiting to be placed, streamers and banners in an eclectic rainbow of colors, uninflated balloons spilling out of a bag like the leftover skins of a particularly garish fruit. The party itself wasn’t until tomorrow, but that left little time to waste, considering the plans Papyrus had drawn up.

Plan was perhaps an overstatement, but Edge could never fault Papyrus for his enthusiasm. His color scheme, on the other hand—well. He’d never approved of the way some Humans were so obsessed with gender that they actually assigned colors at birth but there was a great distance between that and a design that might cause any guests with fleshier eyes to scramble for sunglasses.

Papyrus was bustling around setting things up while the rest of them were sitting on the floor in a circle around a coffee table that was cluttered with craft supplies. He’d paired each of them off to work on separate projects and for all that the occasion was a joyous one, the mood was decidedly not.

“how many of these things do we need, anyway?” Stretch grumbled. His and Jeff’s assigned duty was to pour a mixture of toffee-coated popcorn into small plastic bags, tie it closed with a ribbon, and then affix a sticker on the front that declared in cheery letters ‘Ready to Pop’!

Edge was morbidly curious as to how Undyne felt about that particular sentiment this close to the end of her pregnancy.

A glance at the finished bags confirmed that Stretch’s ribbons were less a bow and more a tangle of colorful knots, Jeff’s only a slight improvement. The bags were sealed at least, and Papyrus was more than content with the effort, which was all that really mattered.

Besides, Edge was busy with his own task; planting tiny succulents into miniature pots, each with a painstakingly attached tag reading, ‘Watch Me Grow!’. Privately, he thought the small cacti were a far better representation of Undyne than any snack, but then, he wasn’t the one actually throwing the shower.

“How many do we need,” Papyrus repeated thoughtfully. Edge pointedly did not ask about the garland in his hand which seemed to be made of dangling fish ornaments and…was that tomatoes? Edge decided it would be best not to know, lest he end up lying awake tonight with the answer still haunting him. “Well, there is Undyne’s co-workers in Security and Alphys’s at the lab, plus their neighbors and friends, and of course us!”

“i don’t need no damn cactus,” Red muttered sullenly. How Papyrus even got Red here was another burning question, though the answer was likely Sans sitting placidly right next to him. His collar was visible over the neckline of his t-shirt, the buckle glinting in the light. Occasionally he reached up absently to touch it as if to verify it hadn’t wandered off when he wasn’t looking. Their entire duty seemed to be putting cans of sparkling water into drink koozies emblazoned with such witticisms as ‘nacho average baby’ over a cartoon of a tortilla chip. It was anyone’s guess as to if that task was actually assigned to them or simple the one they’d decided on doing, but between them, there were four cans done after a half an hour of work.

Sans managed to slide another can into a koozie, bringing their grand total to five. “paps, that didn’t really answer the question.”

“That would be because I am not finished counting!” Papyrus scolded. “There’s also Undyne’s ‘Cooking with Krav Maga’ class and naturally all the Dreemurr family will be coming.”

“great, ass-gore will be here,” Stretch muttered, fumbling to tie another ribbon with varying success. “i’ll be sure to bring my headphones.”

Edge sighed inwardly. Stretch was in a prickly mood and had been all day, and it didn’t take a scientist-level IQ to know it had something to do with the baby shower. They’d known about this for days; when Papyrus asked if they would help, Edge hadn’t hesitated to agree. Now he was wondering if he shouldn’t have asked Stretch in advance. He hadn’t refused to come, but he’d been twitchy and snappish since getting up that morning, only getting worse when they came over. If the party were for anyone but Undyne, Edge would have suggested they go home.

Adding to the irritation was Red in a poor mood of his own and he hadn’t a single qualm about casting sparks around a gasoline spill. “good, no one wants to hear you flappin’ your yap, anyway. save your 280 characters for your twitter freaks.”

“aww, jealous?” Stretch cooed, “‘cause, you talk so much crap, i dunno whether to you need toilet paper or a breath mint.”

Edge exchanged a weary look with Blue, who returned it with equal exasperation. Those two had been sniping at each other all morning and it was Blue’s turn to attempt a least a little fire prevention.

“Really, Papy, that’s enough,” Blue said reprovingly. That might stop them briefly, but they all knew from past experience it wouldn’t last. Red and Stretch were alike in a number of dissatisfying ways, past the darkened circles of exhaustion that were currently visible beneath both their sockets. For one, most of them weren’t above returning a good insult with a better one, but Red and Stretch could be particularly vicious about it. Usually it was better to let them simply work it out between themselves; trying to intercede past a little mild scolding usually ended up getting you mixed up in the spat.

This time Edge was tempted, if only because Jeff looked supremely uncomfortable. He fumbled with his latest little bag of popcorn and ended up with a good portion bouncing into his lap rather than the treat bag.

For the time being, Sans seemed content to allow them to try to rein in their brothers, and that would likely last until their petty squabbling might upset Papyrus. Who thus far either hadn’t noticed or was content to allow the others to handle it. Edge hoped it was the latter. The crack in Papyrus’s skull was still starkly visible, although his balance seemed much improved, if the way he all but leapt from the ladder was any indication, digging furiously through an overflowing box of even more decorations.

“sure, bro,” Stretch said to his brother’s scold, and then promptly added a mumble of, “don’t see why he has to be here, anyway.”

“’cause it ain’t your party, it’s hers, and she’d want ‘im,” Red grumbled. Then, in a smirking sotto voce, “’sides, i figure he’s the baby daddy so be kinda rude not to at least give ‘im a party favor.”

“There is no baby daddy, since neither Undyne nor Alphys want to be called daddy, and it’s much ruder to speculate,” Papyrus called primly, confirming that he was indeed listening to the ongoing bickering. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing the growing balloon sculpture critically. Edge joined him in looking, biting the tip of his tongue to hold back any questions, especially on whether the design was supposed to be Undyne or an eggplant. Never ask when you didn’t want to know the answer and Papyrus wove in another long, purple balloon as he went on, “and also Asgore can’t be the donor because I am.”

A hush of silence fell, along with a number of wide sockets and eyes turning to Papyrus’s direction. No one’s were wider than Sans’s at what was obviously unexpected news to him as he blurted, "seriously, bro? you're the one who handed over the baby batter for undyne?”

Papyrus frowned at them all reprovingly. “That is rude AND crude, I'll thank you not to refer to it that way.”

"sorry, bro, but fuck,” Sans sputtered, “you didn’t say anything!”

"Is there a reason I would need to?” Papyrus asked, brow bones raised, “Undyne is my best friend and wanted a child, so of course I would help provide the necessary material in her time of need!"

“necessary material,” Stretch muttered, his face scrunching up, and in that Edge could only agree, “right.” He nudged Jeff with an elbow, who yelped aloud and jumped, sending up another miniature shower of popcorn, “uh, andy, i know we're best buds and all, but if you ever need--"

“Nope, I’m good,” Jeff said, a touch too loudly.

“happy to hear it.” Stretch gave him a grin that slowly faded. “see? so if asgore didn’t donate his, uh, time and effort, he can stay home."

“Honestly, Papy you can’t—" Blue began reprovingly, only to be drowned out by Red’s loud snort.

“what the fuck is your problem with asgore, anyway,” Red grumbled. He picked at his gold tooth, a tell that sent tension winding up Edge’s spine even as his brother added with lazy viciousness, “get over it already, you act like he’s your ex who fucked you over.”

The day seemed to be one for unexpected silences. Only this time the stares were directed at Stretch, who said nothing. He only sat white-faced, cellophane crinkling loudly as his hands fisted around the bag in his lap, his skull draining of color as he managed to look at anything but those stares.

Red let out a harsh chortle of laughter, “seriously? all this time you’ve been holier than thou about his lv and it’s actually ‘cause you used to give him the bone over in your ‘verse? fuck, now there is a mental picture,” Red moaned out gleefully, “oooh, fuzzy ass, stick it to me good! ram me with your furry wand of wonder and i’ll get your goat!”

A chorus of protests rose up, with Edge’s snarl of, “That’s enough!” rising to the top.

But Stretch was already standing, a litter of colorful ribbons shedding from his lap as he walked swiftly to the door.

“Rus—" Edge stood to chase after him, cursing his damned leg as it threatened to buckle under him. It was an exercise in futility from the start, as he’d known it would be. Stretch shortcutted the moment he was out the door, heading off Angel knew where to lose himself in the stew of his own thoughts. The temptation to look up where he’d reappeared on the phone app was strong, but Edge resisted it. Stretch had the right to be alone if that was what he wanted, particularly after that dig.

He sighed and went back into the house. Only to pause as he saw the various looks had transferred to him, all of them guarded, particularly Blue; his starry eye lights seemed to be anticipating anger at Stretch. As if this made any damned difference between them. Even Jeff looked near tears, like he expected Edge to already have Antwan on the phone demanding him to draw up divorce papers. It was damn well insulting, and he glared back at them all until those gazes dropped, Blue’s reluctantly last.

All except for his own brother. Red was grinning, savagely pleased, and if they wanted anger, the simmering urge to shout at his brother was rising to a roiling boil in him, his LV waking in his soul to twinge eagerly at the heat of it. Only that was likely exactly what his brother wanted, to be punished for his casual cruelties. Whatever was troubling Red, Edge wasn’t about to reward his masochism.

His own anger fell swiftly into disappointment; lately Red had been bordering on kind with Stretch, if it could be called that, treating him as a brother, or better, if Edge were honest with himself. A brother that needed his protection as Edge decidedly did not. It’d been some time since he’d deliberately needled Stretch and Edge couldn’t even understand why he’d chosen to do so today. Whatever his petty reasons, they weren’t sufficient enough to excuse that.

Edge kept his voice low and even as he said, “That was cruel.”

That satisfied smirk faltered and Red shifted to lean forward. “yeah? well, it's about time he starts getting’ over it. it ain’t the same guy and he’s married to you.”

“Affection for someone else is not any kind of betrayal and considering that all of you calculated our worlds have ceased to exist, there isn’t much opportunity for closure, is there,” Edge said, acid creeping in. "The state of my marriage is no concern of yours."

Red’s sockets fell half-closed as he said, dangerously soft, "you think so, boss?"

Then he flinched suddenly, yelping as Sans slapped him upside the head. "you’re so eager for stretch to get over shit, how about you practice what you preach.” He shoved a can of sparkling water into Red’s lap. “shut up and put on a fucking koozie.”

Red scowled hard and Edge did not miss his crimson gaze flicking to the collar around Sans's throat. Grudgingly, he did what he was told.

“Do not interfere with my marriage,” Edge said coolly. Not that such a statement would stop his brother, but at least it was said between them. Then to Papyrus. “I am sorry, but."

Papyrus only flapped his hands at him, shooing him away, “No, no, go, talk to Stretchy Me! I’m sure Cherry here would like to think about how much he hurt Stretch’s feelings and yours, his own brother, who has recently suffered an injury. And there are my own injuries to consider as well, sticks, stones, and words do hurt!"

Edge let him ramble and started for the door, then hesitated. The others were accustomed to a certain amount of internal friction, some of it formerly his and Stretch’s, from the moment they woke up in this universe. Their Human companion was not so inured to it and Edge crouched to set a ginger hand on Jeff’s shoulder, “Jeff, I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” Jeff waved it off, offering up a lopsided grin. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen Thanksgiving at my grandparent’s place. Don’t think my grandma ever got the gravy stains off the ceiling.”

“can’t just drop a hint like that and not give the story, andy,” Sans said, lightly. The others murmured agreement, eager to latch onto another topic.

Edge could hear as he went out the door, “Well, uh, see, my grandpa was originally from Norway, and—”

There were any number of places Stretch might go to nurse his internal wounds, but Edge had a fairly good guess as to the likeliest one. He drove home, parked his car in the driveway, but instead of heading up to the front porch, he went around the side of the house towards their fenced backyard. Before he was even close, he could hear Stretch talking and he went quietly through the gate to see him sitting outside the coop with Noodle settled into his lap, the laces of his untied sneakers trailing into the grass for Dumpling to peck at.

His skull was resting against one of the support posts, still too pale, his sockets closed and his vape drooping loosely from his long fingers. Vaping instead of smoking cropped up sometimes when Stretch was truly irritated, as if he subconsciously wanted control over something and settled for his nicotine addiction. Or perhaps it was to protect his feathered companions from secondhand smoke.

Noodle didn’t seem bothered either way, chirring softly as Stretch stroked his free hand down her back.

“—not like i don’t know i’m being a dick. that guy just pisses me off sometimes. asgore, not red. actually, they both piss me off, now that you mention it.”

Noodle made an inquisitive sound and Stretch sighed out a cloud of vapor. “yeah, yeah, i was in a mood before we even went over. i dunno, all that baby shit gets on my nerves for some reason.” He scratched lightly under Noodle’s chin and she cooed contentedly. “you’re right, it’s no excuse for being shitty. especially to papyrus, he’s all excited about throwing this party. even if the balloon thing was creepy, you should’ve seen it, like cthulhu’s second cousin after failed plastic surgery.”

“You weren’t being a dick.” Edge said, quietly. Stretch tensed and his sockets slid open, but he didn’t look up, his pale eye lights straying down on his poultry pal. Edge walked over and sat next to them, keeping a careful distance away, easily breached if Stretch wished, or a comforting barrier if he didn’t. “Perhaps a little rude.” Edge held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “A little. My brother, on the other hand, was embracing his dickish nature.”

Stretch made a faint, amused sound, “red embracing his dick was not a chat i was expecting today.”

Then he leaned to the side, crossing the distance between them to rest his skull on Edge’s shoulder. He took the unsubtle hint and slid an arm around his husband’s slim shoulders, holding him in close, closing his sockets against the faint tremble in Stretch’s voice as softly spoke.

“he wasn’t my boyfriend. fuck, i never saw him get out of the ruins. i…might’ve given it a shot if he had,” his voice dropped to a bare whisper and Edge hummed encouragingly, already anticipating what was coming, “but i was fucking everyone back then. i was maybe a little infatuated, okay? that’s it.”

“All right,” Edge said, calmly, even as he tightened his arm around Stretch, holding him closer still. He was not jealous of Stretch’s yesterdays; his only commitments were his tomorrows, and despite what his brother might think, Edge was certainly not about to allow anything so trivial as a former crush on a dead man come between them.

Stretch heaved a watery little sigh. “but that isn’t it, not really. he was my friend and i promised him i’d take care of the kid. instead i—"

“Did what you had to do,” Edge interrupted firmly. He understood impossible situations better than most, his own LV-tainted soul aching to think of Stretch enduring what he had for so long, an impossible choice to make between his world and the intent of a murderous child.

Yet, even now, Stretch couldn’t be convinced that was true. He only sighed out a quiet, “sure.” Then, louder, “anyway. he was my friend. he would have hated to see what he was in this world. it’s just…it’s hard sometimes.”

“I know.” Hard to see alternates of people they’d known, a lifetime of memories to be set aside while learning a new person with an old face. Undyne was his own personal struggle and Edge could call her friend, but it wasn’t the same, it couldn’t be.

Next to him, Stretch snuggled in closer even as Noodle let out a querulous protest over the lack of petting. “i’ve been thinking. my hp is on the rise, right?”

“It’s 5 and a quarter, love,” Edge said dryly, reaching over to offer the chicken a gentle pat, Noodle’s dismay quickly turning to a rapturous croon, “and as happy as I am for it, I’d prefer if you didn’t decide to take up hang gliding or street fighting.”

"you're hilarious, babe." Another long, slow breath, before Stretch blurted, "i know i kinda railroaded you when we talked about this before. if you really want kids--" he faltered, his voice breaking as Edge listened in dismayed confusion, "i mean, if that's…we could…"

Suddenly Edge knew precisely what Rus was going to offer and he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want him to think in even the tiniest way that he’d lost some measure of Edge’s love by preferring not to have children and and he didn’t know how to stop him from strangling out the words.

So Edge cupped his face in a hand and turned Stretch’s head towards him to kiss that stammering mouth lingeringly, until he stopped trying and simply melted into the gentle touch. By the time he drew away, Stretch was the one making thin, dismayed sounds, trying to chase after that kiss for more, his eye lights hazy soft. Instead, Edge pressed a light, teasing kiss to the slight nodule of his nasal cavity.

"No, I don’t think so,” Edge told him, slow and carefully. Watching that much-loved face to make sure Stretch was hearing him. “I’ve considered it and I’ve decided I’m entirely too busy to add parenthood to my schedule. I’m going back to the Y this week, I think I’m better off trying to secure a place in this world for the children already in it.”

Poorly hidden relief flickered over Stretch’s face and Edge leaned in to kiss him again, silently hoping that he was truly believed this time. There was no doubt in his mind that Stretch would force himself to endure the stresses of having a child if he thought Edge wished it, but making Stretch bear the weight of unwanted parenthood was a nightmare not to be considered. He’d love the child, surely, but at what cost? Far higher than Edge would ever consider paying.

A sudden cackle came from inside the coop and Stretch jerked away, sitting bolt upright.

“the egg!” Stretch gasped, scrambling to his feet, “i never did get a chance to research her adopted egg. you think maybe it actually—” hatched, he did not say, almost superstitiously hopeful.

“It’s possible,” Edge hedged, doubtfully. They both started into the coop, only for a voice calling over the fence to stop them.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone home?” The words were couched with near panic and the voice was a familiar one. Stretch beat him to the fence, opening the gate as he limped as quickly as he could over.

“Janice?” Edge said, surprised and concerned. The fur on her face was matted and wet with tears and she wrung her hands, shaking as she tried to speak. It brought back unpleasant memories of the attack at the Embassy, when one of the protesters threw a brick at her. Even then her pain and fear were tempered under practicality as she asked Antwan to bring her children to the hospital, her thoughts on keeping her boys from fearing Humans more than they already might. To see her bereft of her usual firm control was concerning.

“Calm down,” Edge soothed, pulling her into his arms without a thought, even as he cast a wary glance around the neighborhood. Nothing seemed out of order, not yet, “What’s happened?”

She leaned against him heavily and he nearly staggered back a step. Tall as he was, they were of nearly an equal weight. “It’s Jude, he didn’t come home for lunch and I can’t find him anywhere!” She hitched out a sob. “None of the other children have seen him, my family has been looking but we can’t find him, I can’t—”

Her voice dissolved and Edge gave her a last pat before firmly pushing her into his husband’s startled arms.

“Stretch, stay with her,” Edge commanded, reaching for his phone, “I’m going to make some calls.”

“yeah, sure,” Stretch agreed hastily. He rubbed a soothing hand down her back as Janice struggled against her tears. “hey, we’ll find him. little guy couldn’t have gotten too far.”

Edge was already pulling up his contact list and couldn’t help the darkly sour thought that if this didn’t pull his brother out of his bad mood, nothing would.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #kustard #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

44 notes · View notes

terreisa · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Gift

Emma Swan has gotten away with trading out her pick for Secret Santa for three years. When she’s finally forced to keep the first name she pulls from the Santa hat it happens to be Killian Jones, the one person in the office that irritates her to no end. She makes it her mission to find him a perfect gift and ends up discovering there’s more to the office Casanova than she’d ever suspected.

AO3

~*~CS~*~

“You’ve gotta be shitting me. Let me pick again!”

Emma Swan groaned as her friend and co-worker Mary Margaret twisted at the waist so the Santa hat in her hands was well out of her reach.

“No. I’ve let you, and only you by the way, re-pick for the past three years,” Mary Margaret said pointedly, raising her brow at her. “It’s not fair to the others who actually follow the rules of Secret Santa.”

“Rules you came up with,” Emma grumbled, scowling down at the name on the slip of paper in her hands.

“It can’t be that bad-” Mary Margaret sighed, “Zelena was transferred and Walsh was fired so there’s really no one truly terrible participating this year.”

“I think I’d prefer them over the one I did get. Forget the fact that I can’t stand him, I don’t know what the hell to get him!”

“Who-” Mary Margaret began before her eyes widened and a pleased smile unfurled on her face, “You know exactly what he wants and it won’t even cost you twenty-five dollars.”

“Mary Margaret!” Emma hissed, embarrassed and shocked that her normally prim and proper friend went straight for an innuendo. “Gross.”

“Oh, come on, it’s no secret that Killian has had a crush on you from the moment he stepped foot in this office.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the familiar and franky ridiculous refrain. Killian Jones was a well known film critic from England that had been hired two years before in an effort by the higher ups to expand their newspaper’s readership. When he had walked in on his first day, with artfully tousled inky black hair, ocean blue eyes glittering with excitement, and tailored clothes that showed off a trim and toned physique, nearly every single woman in the office had attempted to help him set up his desk. Emma, on the other hand, had appreciated the new eye candy and then returned her attention to the article she had been working on at the time.

She figured that it was her indifference that had Killian asking her later that day if she’d wanted to get coffee with him. Of course, after watching him flirt and banter with all the helpful women in the office all morning she’d given him a withering look and a resounding no. She’d been burned badly before by interoffice dating and she wasn’t looking for a repeat performance, let alone dealing with a no shame lothario. He had merely given her a puzzled smile and wished her a good day before retreating to his desk. What followed was a year of watching him pull the same tricks with every available woman in the building while still brushing him off every few weeks. As glad as she was that she hadn’t fallen for any of his pretenses there was an annoying stab of something in her gut whenever he walked someone new out the door with his hand low on their back.

Things had only taken a turn for the worse when Emma had been promoted to a full time writing position in the entertainment section. While she’d been vying for a byline in that section for years she almost turned it down knowing she’d have to work almost daily near the man that had become the bane of her existence. There had been an intervention from Mary Margaret, her husband David, and her roommate Belle to convince her to take the position. Even her own boss Tink, editor of the home and garden section, had had to sit her down and talk sense into her. She’d emerged from her office an hour later, cheeks burning with the praise Tink had heaped on her and ears ringing with the passionate arguments she’d made in her favor. By the end of the week she’d moved her things to a desk across the office, one that was unfortunately situated next to Killian’s.

From the moment she’d unpacked her admittedly meager personal belongings Killian had seemed to take it upon himself to get on her last nerve. He was constantly leaning over to ask her inane questions about her day or bore her with random bits of trivia he collected like a magpie with shiny things. Though, she had to admit, it broke up the monotony of trying to think of a new way to write a review for a show that had jumped the shark three seasons before. She also couldn’t find it in her to really complain about the perfectly made cup of coffee that was always annoyingly waiting for her when she was running late, which happened to be almost every day. What really got on her nerves, however, was that his movie reviews were insightful, hilarious, respectful even when he hated the movie, and aligned with her own opinions so perfectly that she’d wondered more than once if he could read her mind.

Of course, everyone in the office saw all of that as tantamount to Killian having feelings for her. Worst of all they saw her laughing at something he said, or drinking the coffee he made, hell even talking civilly with him as her returning those non-existent feelings. When it was really that she just found it easier to go along with his ridiculousness than to wear herself out actively loathing him. She truly couldn’t stand him but no one else seemed to believe her.

“It’s not a crush,” she refuted though there was no heat behind it because she knew Mary Margaret wouldn’t believe her.

“Sure, uh-huh,” Mary Margaret singsonged with a grin. She walked backwards away from her, still grinning, “Twenty-five dollars and we’re doing the exchange at the holiday party. Good luck!”

Emma stuck her tongue out at Mary Margaret as she pivoted on her heel and made her way to the advice column's and editorial’s small cluster of desks. She sighed, slightly glad she’d been cornered in the breakroom instead of at her desk where Killian would have definitely overheard something she didn’t need him to. Then again she wouldn’t have had to once again brush of Mary Margaret’s ridiculous ideas of crushes and might have even stood a chance at getting to repick a name. With a groan of frustration she grabbed her now lukewarm mug of coffee and a random loose granola bar and headed back to her own desk, already mulling over and rejecting ideas for what to get Killian.

Twenty minutes and a thorough search of Killian’s almost too neat desk later and she was still at a loss. She was fiddling with a paperclip to open the locked bottom drawer but knew she had already pushed her luck, time wise. Killian and Robin, the editor of the sports section, always went out for lunch on Wednesdays and were always back in the office by ten till one. Glancing at her watch she saw she had less than five minutes to jimmy the lock, dig through the drawer’s contents, get everything back in order, and be sitting innocently back at her desk. Gritting her teeth in frustration she stood, tossing the half straightened paperclip onto her desk as she looked over the personal effects on his desk once more.

There were a couple framed photos: one was of him and another dark haired, blue eyed man, brother she figured from the resemblance; another was of a woman in soft focus with dark auburn hair that was curled to eighties perfection, his mother probably though Emma could only guess why he chose that photo to put up; the third and final frame wasn’t a photo but his review for the movie The Village, clipped from a newspaper and yellowed with age. Aside from the frames there were only a few knick knacks: a small replica ship’s compass, a Rubick’s cube she’d seen him fiddle with when he was on the phone or stuck on wording for an article, and a potted plant she didn’t know the name of that he had somehow kept alive in their nearly windowless office. The only thing that seemed to give her any real insight was a thick, well worn paperback. She didn’t recognize the author’s name but the title rang a bell and having no other leads she resigned herself to jotting both down on a Post-It as a starting point.

“Interested in the works of Edwin Stephens?”

Emma jumped at the sound of Killian’s voice next to her. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d sat at her own desk to write the name down before realizing she had to come up with a reason for doing it.

“Uh, looking for present ideas-” she winced at her own stupidity, rushing on hoping he wouldn’t catch on to her, “For David. Mary Margaret’s husband? He’s a big reader. Of everything. Hard to get him something he hasn’t read yet, you know? Thought I’d check if he had any of this Stephens guy’s books the next time I go over for dinner.”

Killian chuckled, settling into his chair, “He might, Stephens isn’t particularly popular but now that his work is finally getting the quality adaptations it deserves more people are starting to read his books.”

“So he’s your favorite author then?” She teased, delighting in the tips of his ears going pink.

“Since I was twelve and a neighbor let me borrow Absolute Bearing. I was a bit young to be reading it but I loved it. Didn’t actually give it back to the neighbor, now that I think about it,” he hummed thoughtfully before shrugging and picking up the book on his desk. “If Mary Margaret’s husband doesn’t have Siege Perilous then it’s the one to get. It’s considered to be one of Stephens’ best, and not only by me I’ll have you know. It’s also going to be a limited series on HBO next fall.”

“Really? ‘Cause it kinda looks like you don’t like it at all,” she deadpanned, eyeing the well bent spine and slight discoloration of the pages.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Ha, bloody, ha, Swan. I’ll have you know this is the third copy I’ve had to buy since I keep rereading it until it falls apart in my hands.”

Surprised by his utter sincerity she burst into laughter. He grinned widely at her, absently thumbing at the pages of the book. As her chuckles subsided she realized that she’d never actually initiated a conversation with Killian, let alone one where she joked around with him. Suddenly feeling awkward she dropped her gaze to the note she’d written herself and tried to ignore the way she saw his shoulders slump out of the corner of her eye.

“Siege Perilous,” she muttered, carefully adding the title to her note just so she’d have something to do. She peeled off the Post-It and stuck it to her monitor, “Got it.”

“He should enjoy it-” she looked at him, confused for a moment until he clarified, “David. Don’t let the nautical themes put you off.”

“Right, thanks.”

She gave him a fleeting smile before turning back to her desk and made a show of throwing herself into her work. Nevermind that she’d already finished her assignment for the week. Cursing to herself she opened a new document and began typing nonsense until the feeling of him watching her subsided. She was highly annoyed when at the end of the day that all she’d accomplished was a page full of ridiculous phrases and the tiniest sliver of insight into the man she had to buy a gift for.

A week later she was no closer to narrowing down from over a dozen options. She knew she was way overthinking it and that if she asked Mary Margaret or Robin she’d have a gift purchased by the end of the day. Yet, somehow, she felt like that was cheating. It had become a challenge almost, the urge to crack the code to get her sworn enemy the perfect gift. Though, since their conversation about Edwin Stephens she’d let her guard down and had a few more surprising talks with Killian about the things they liked to do on their downtime. Which is how Emma found herself arguing with him over the best place to get pizza.

“Are you kidding? Their crust is garbage! The only good thing about that place is the sauce.”

“The sauce makes the pie, love,” he said vehemently. “Just because you prefer a paper thin crust doesn’t mean that every other option should automatically be disqualified in your book.”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine, I’ll give you that, I guess, but they don’t even deliver. Not even Postmates! How are they still in business when they’re missing out on all those potential customers?”

“Ah, so the truth emerges!” Killian said smugly as he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her, “You probably don’t venture to eat anywhere that doesn’t have the option of showing up at your front door. Think of all the delicacies you’re missing out on, Swan!”

“I eat at places that don’t deliver. There’s a great Dominican place that’s a whole twenty minutes away from my apartment and I go there at least three times a month,” she shot back before realizing she’d revealed a part of her life she hadn’t meant to. She scrambled to keep him from thinking too deeply over it, “Besides you can’t say that Angelo’s is the best when you haven’t even tried Pizza on Fourth.”

“With such an uninspired name how can their fare be any good?” He scoffed. Then he hesitated, looking at her consideringly, “How about we put it to a test?”

“Meaning?” She asked warily.

“Do you have plans for lunch or vehement standards about eating the same thing twice in a day?” He asked, matching her wariness.

She blinked at him, “You want to see whose pizza place is better?”

“It’s the only way to know for sure,” he answered seriously, though she could see the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“For scientific purposes or bragging rights?”

“Bragging rights, of course,” he said with a wink.

Ignoring the small flutter in her stomach she pretended to mull it over, “Will there be a medal? A trophy perhaps?”

“How about a free lunch?”

“Deal!”

He chuckled, “Since Angelo’s is closer shall we get Pizza on Fourth delivered for lunch, then we can walk over to Angelo’s after work?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said happily, already opening the app to order. “Should we go with the classic pepperoni at both to keep it fair?”

“I like the way you think, love, and add on a round of garlic knots to really spice up the competition. Just let me know when you need my card.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, busy tapping away at the ordering options.

Later that night, with a lot of hedging and dragging her feet she admitted that Angelo’s was the better pizza. What she couldn’t seem to admit, even to herself, was that she’d had fun hanging out with Killian outside of work. She also toyed with and then dismissed the idea of getting him a giftcard to Pizza on Fourth just for the petty satisfaction.

Four days before Christmas and two before the company party Emma found herself wearily scrolling through article after article on Buzzfeed for any kind of inspiration for a gift. She felt as though she’d had a hundred ideas but none of them felt right. It didn’t help that every time her and Killian hung out that a dozen new options for a gift presented themselves.

“I don’t think he’d want a Tub Shroom, no matter how many people have given it five stars on Amazon.”

Emma groaned at the sound of Mary Margaret’s voice, dropping her forehead to her desk. She felt a gentle commiserating pat on her shoulder and rolled her head to look up at her.

“He’s impossible to shop for,” she whined. “Is it too late to switch with someone?”

“He is not and yes it is,” Mary Margaret tsked. “Unlike you everyone else doesn’t wait until the last minute to buy something.”

“It’s not the last minute. I still have two days,” she grumbled, pushing herself up only to slump down in her chair.

Mary Margaret frowned, “Which is not enough time for Amazon to send something. You’re making this harder than it has to be, especially if you hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” she mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I said-” she sighed and prepared herself for a torrent of ‘I told you so’s’ and squeals, “I don’t hate him. He’s actually a good guy.”

Mary Margaret smiled widely but surprised Emma by remaining calm, “Then it should be even easier to find something. Right?”

“That’s just it!” She huffed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “There’s too many options now that I’ve actually gotten to know him. I should just buy him the best bottle of rum twenty-five bucks can buy and be done with it.”

“Then why don’t you do that?” Mary Margaret asked puzzled, though her smile was still too wide for Emma’s liking.

“It’s so…” she cast about for the right word and nearly let out a frustrated growl when none came to her. “Generic, boring, thoughtless? I don’t know but I can do better.”

Mary Margaret laughed, “It’s not a competition. He’ll appreciate whatever you get him. Probably even more so now that you’re friends.”

Emma opened her mouth to refute the claim but found that she couldn’t. Since their impromptu pizza competition they’d gone to several more restaurants under the guise of deciding who had the better taste. Even more than that they’d also gone out for after work drinks a few times, talking about nothing and everything, and once she’d gone with him to a critics screening of a movie she’d been looking forward to seeing for months. That he’d been just as excited to see it and they’d spent hours dissecting it afterward at a twenty-four hour diner down the street from the theater only drove home the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, her friend. She tried to push down the sudden feeling of disappointment she felt at that.

“Ooo, Siege Perilous? Isn’t that the set you get to visit next month?”

Mary Margaret’s voice dragged her back to the discussion at hand. She nodded absently, “Yeah, they start filming after the holidays and it’s the only time they’re allowing reporters on set.”

“Lucky, David wouldn’t let me read anything else until I gave it a chance. I was annoyed at first but it’s really good. You should read it too, get ready for that set visit.”

“I should,” she said slowly, staring thoughtfully at the Post-It she hadn’t thought about since she’d stuck it to her monitor. An idea started to form in her mind and with it a realization. She looked up at Mary Margaret, “It’s totally a crush isn’t it?”

Mary Margaret’s smile somehow grew wider, “For him? Or for you?”

Emma surprised them both by smiling herself, “Is it okay if I skip out on our lunch? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Totally fine,” Mary Margaret said, waving her off. “I think I’ll go out to eat with Tink, she owes me.”

She barely paid attention as Mary Margaret left, already distracted by figuring out what she needed to do and how little time she had to do it.

Two days later, when Emma arrived at the restaurant that was hosting their company party it was already in full swing. She snuck Killian’s present onto the table that held the other gifts before weaving through her coworkers to get to the bar. When she got there she was pleased to see Killian already there, chatting with the bartender.

“Gonna buy me a drink, Jones?” she asked as she sidled up next to him and grinned.

“It’s an open bar, Swan, so I’d be delighted to,” he said with a grin of his own. Then his eyes widened and she watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, “You look-”

“I know,” she said demurely, pleased that her blush pink dress had made the impression she was going for. She turned to the bartender and ordered a glass of wine, conscious of his gaze lingering on her. When she was handed her glass she turned back to see him still staring at her, “I know I probably already asked this but you’re not flying home for Christmas?”

“Uh, no-” he blinked, shaking his head slightly. It seemed to clear his thoughts and he gave her a shrug, “Never had a place there to truly call home if I’m honest. I tend to fly wherever my brother Liam is stationed at the time but seeing as he’s doing the whole first holiday with his girlfriend and her parents I figured I’d stick it out here this year. It’ll just be me and a yet undecided Netflix marathon to celebrate. What about you, off to visit your own family tomorrow?”

“Oh, I, uh,” she stuttered, caught off guard by the suspicion that his past seemed to mirror hers. She took a sip of wine to fortify herself, “I don’t have a, uh, family. I usually sleep in and then watch Die Hard before going to Mary Margaret’s house for the day. Nothing too exciting.”

She took another sip of wine to cover what was sure to be an awkward moment between them. Killian was watching her with a look she couldn’t understand, not saying a word. Finally after a few seconds that felt like lifetimes she glared back.

“What?”

“Sorry, love,” he said sheepishly, a blush blooming in his cheeks. “It’s just… sometimes you’re quite the open book but then you’ll do or say something that surprises me. I never would have guessed- well, I knew there was something but I didn’t want to pry and it didn’t occur to me-”

“Killian-” she interrupted, grabbing his arm to stop his rambling. “It’s okay, you can say ‘orphan’. It’s not like you’re breaking a story I don’t already know.”

He let out a tense laugh, nervously scratching behind his ear, “Perhaps I didn’t want to say it because I loathe the moniker myself. Schoolyard taunts will do that to a lad.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She had gone through most of her life not having much in common with people because of how she had grown up without parents or even a stable home. It was almost ironic that she had been so determined to dislike Killian when he had more in common with her than she ever could have expected. A hiccuping laugh escaped her as she realized just how much she had grown to like him over the weeks since she’d drawn his name from Mary Margaret’s Santa hat.

“I propose a toast,” she said with a wide grin, lifting her glass, “To a couple of orphans not letting a little thing like that get us down.”

Killian gave her a soft smile, raising his glass to hers and tapping them together lightly, “To a couple of orphans.”

They drank, though neither of them took their eyes off of each other. Emma felt the warmth from the wine spreading down to her toes, though she could have also blamed the look in Killian’s eyes with having something to do with it. Just as she was about to comment on it and possibly ruining whatever it was that was growing between them the music that had been playing in the background cut out and Mary Margaret was calling for their attention.

“Merry Christmas everybody!” She chirped merrily. David was at her side with two wrapped presents in his hands, “It’s time to hand out the Secret Santa gifts so when you hear your name come on up!”

Emma felt a thrill of anticipation zip across her stomach. She turned towards Killian with what she hoped was a calm demeanor only to find that he was still looking at her with a gentle smile, not even paying attention to the names Mary Margaret was calling out.

“Not looking forward to your gift?” She prodded, worried that he’d already figured out that she was his Secret Santa.

“Oh, I’ve never signed up,” he said, giving a fleeting glance towards Mary Margaret before looking back at her. “The past couple years I was flying to England and missing this lovely party. By the time I had my plans settled for this year it was far too late to sign up.”

“Emma Swan.”

Emma stared at him uncomprehendingly. She knew she had pulled his name, for one it wasn’t like anyone else in their office had the name Killian even though Jones was pretty common and for another she’d stared at the slip of paper for at least an hour when she’d gotten home the night she’d drawn it, willing it to be any name other than his. The only logical explanation was that he’d signed up and forgotten.

“Emma Swan?”

Killian’s gaze darted away and then back to her, “Er, Swan?”

“You forgot,” she blurted out. “You signed up and forgot. Right?”

“No,” he said slowly. “You know how tenacious Mary Margaret is about making sure everyone remembers their gift. I’ve never done it and still know what a terror she can be.”

With a dawning horror she realized exactly how much of a terror Mary Margaret could be.

“Has anyone seen Emma?”

Killian tilted his head towards the front of the room, “I believe you’ve been summoned for your own gift, love.”

“Yep,” she ground out, narrowing her gaze at Mary Margaret who was scanning the crowd for her. With extreme care she set down her wine glass, afraid she would shatter it in her anger, “Just going to go get my gift now.”

Wasting no time she stormed to the front of the room, pushing past everyone and ignoring their grumbles in her wake. Mary Margaret beamed when she caught sight of her but it quickly turned sheepish as Emma got closer. By the time Emma made it to her she was already whispering a rushed explanation.

“-sorry but you would barely give him the time of day and he’s really a great guy. I figured if you had to get him a gift you’d get to know him and see that he’s not actually terrible. And it worked! You’re friends now.”

Emma felt her anger leave her in a rush at Mary Margaret’s sincerity and the ridiculous lengths she’d gone to. It helped that she was right, even though Emma would never admit it to her.

“What if I had just bought him a Starbucks gift card and been done with it?” She asked with feigned annoyance, wanting to know just how invested Mary Margaret was in her scheme.

Mary Magaret scoffed, “I knew you wouldn’t do that. You complained about him too much to get him something that boring. I knew you’d use your gift as a way to prove something.”

She gaped at her, surprised by the confidence she’d had in her plan. Then a thought occurred to her, “You wouldn’t let me repick because every name in that hat was his wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Mary Margaret grinned. “And don’t worry about someone else getting left out. I kept your name out of the main draw to keep things even.”

“Then how do I have a present?” She asked, bewildered.

“Santa works in mysterious ways,” Mary Margaret said cryptically, still grinning like a fool. She plucked a green bag, its handles tied together with a length of red ribbon, from the table, “Here you go.”

Emma took it in one hand and held out the other, “Can I at least give Killian his gift myself? I don’t want him making a big deal about how he didn’t sign up and embarrassing us both.”

“Can’t-” Mary Margaret frowned dramatically, though her eyes were alight with mischief, “I sent David to give it to him when I first called your name.”

Sure enough, when Emma looked back at Killian he was trying to keep David from handing him the present Emma had brought. Giving Mary Margaret a withering look she hightailed it back to the bar before anyone else’s attention was grabbed by the escalating argument between the two men. She arrived as David pushed the wrapped box into Killian’s hands.

“Just take the present, man. It’s got your name on it so it has to be yours.”

“And I’m telling you there’s a mistake, mate,” Killian bit out, refusing to hold onto the box. “I didn’t participate in Secret Santa.”

“I got it David,” she broke in, grabbing the gift and stepping between them. “Tell Mary Margaret she still owes me answers.”

David looked at her apologetically, “I really tried to talk her out of it.”

“And yet you’re still her accomplice,” she pointed out. David gave her the same sheepish grin his wife had and she shook her head at him, “You’re both getting coal for Christmas.”

“Bah humbug,” David said cheerfully before giving her a hug and disappearing in the crowd.

“So that charming gentleman is Mary Margaret’s husband?” Killian intoned bemused behind her.

“The one and only,” she said, thinking about how she could cheerfully strangle the couple with tinsel for all their scheming. She placed both his and her presents on the bar and faced him, “They’ve been together since their freshman year of college and are really bad influences on each other. I sometimes have to remind myself that David’s a cop when he gets caught up in one of Mary Margaret’s grand plans.”

Killian’s eyes went wide, “Oh? And what was her grand plan tonight?”

“Well, it looks like you getting a present would be part of it,” she hedged, not ready for him to hear Mary Margaret’s true motivation.

“So it would seem,” he said thoughtfully, tracing the gift tag on his present with his finger. Then he frowned and pushed her gift towards her, “You should do the honors first, love, since you were actually expecting a gift.”

“Yeah?” She asked, relieved that she could put off an explanation for a few more minutes and highly curious what Mary Margaret’s Santa comment meant.

Killian nodded and said softly, “Go ahead, Swan.”

The tag attached to the ribbon gave her no clues since it was a square of paper with her name printed on it and aside from the ribbon holding the bag closed there were no other adornments. The ribbon was tied in a simple bow and with a gentle tug it came undone. When she pulled out her gift she couldn’t help but laugh at the copy of Siege Perilous in her hand.

“Mary Margaret was in a tither in the breakroom last week,” Killian murmured, keeping his gaze on the book when she looked up at him, “She was going on about how the person who had picked your name had quit unexpectedly and that she needed to find someone to replace them. I volunteered, of course.”

“Of course?” She breathed.

He gave her a lopsided smile, “It’s no secret that I quite fancy you when you’re not yelling at me.”

She felt the warmth of a blush in her cheeks and dropped her gaze to the book, running her hand over the cover, “Why get me this, though?”

“You were so skittish when we first talked about it and when you kept the note on your monitor I realized you never intended it as a gift for David. I overheard you telling Mary Margaret that you would be visiting the set of the new show but felt guilty about never having read the book. It seemed to me that getting you the book was rather fitting on all accounts.”

Looking back up at him she felt a swooping in her stomach as her eyes met his. He was still smiling at her but she could sense his nervousness at her reaction to his gift and his confession in the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot and scratched behind his ear. It was his nervousness that gave her the courage she needed to lay her own feelings on the line.

“It’s your turn to open your present,” she stated, nudging the wrapped box with her new book.

He looked askance at it, “It has to be a mistake and I don’t want to open a gift intended for someone else.”

“It’s part of Mary Margaret’s plan, remember? So you should open it,” she encouraged.

“Fine,” Killian sighed, picking up the wrapped box, “But I’d feel better about it if I knew what her plan was. Though you seem to have it all figured out.”

Emma kept quiet wanting to explain everything once he’d opened his gift. He waited for a moment, watching her, before shaking his head and focusing on picking at the tape holding the wrapping paper together. She bit her tongue at his fastidiousness, glad that she hadn’t used more than a few pieces of tape for the whole thing. Finally he pulled the paper off, without a single tear, and opened the box only to go absolutely still as he stared down at the present inside. Glancing up at her with a perplexed look he reached into the box and pulled out the hardback copy of Siege Perilous she’d luckily found at the small bookstore near their office.

“I know the one you have now probably has a few read throughs left before it completely falls apart but I figured you’d want a pristine copy for next month.”

“You bought me-” his gaze darted from hers to the book and back, his confusion easy to see, “Why would you- no, wait, what’s happening next month?”

“Mary Margaret thought that I wasn’t giving you a fair chance, which I wasn’t,” she started, ignoring his last question for the moment, knowing that she had to explain the whys first. “It was mostly me judging you off of my first impression of you and what I’d seen when you first got hired and not by actually taking the time to know you.”

“What was your impression of me, Swan? It must have been not very favorable for you to not have warmed up to me until recently.”

"I, uh,-" she felt herself flush and she only grew warmer in her embarrassment when he noticed and leaned closer. Rolling her eyes she huffed, "To be fair you flirt with everyone and there were a lot of women you left the office with when you first got hired."

"Were you�� were you jealous, Swan?" He asked incredulously.

“No, not jealous.” she contested hotly. “I thought you were making the rounds and I’d been cheated on by my last boyfriend with our former editor. I didn’t need to be a notch in someone else’s belt and I really didn’t want to be the focus of office drama again.”

Killian’s demeanor fell but she saw no pity in his gaze, “Oh, Swan, I didn’t know.”

“It is what it is,” she said with a shrug, “The gossip had finally stopped by the time you were hired and I wasn’t going to bring it all back up again with someone I thought was the same type of guy. Though I know now I was completely wrong about that.”

“You truly didn't know, Emma?” He asked so softly she could barely hear him over the music that had started back up.

“Know what?”

He grabbed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles as he held her gaze, soft and sincere, “You saw me chatting and going places with those women because I didn’t know a soul when I first moved here. I never led them on or asked for anything more than camaraderie while I got settled because it’s only ever been you.

"I first saw you by chance, you walked by in the background in my last Skype interview and I was smitten. Of course when I was hired and you rebuffed me while others were clamoring for my attention I was intrigued. Then we became desk neighbors and I got to know you, one small piece at a time, and I fell. For you. And then with these past few weeks of going for meals and drinks, talking for hours with you I began to think, even hope, that perhaps you might be beginning to feel the same.”

As much as she’d had an idea that he liked her, as well as been told numerous times by multiple people, hearing him say it out loud was like hearing it for the first time. In a way it was because there was a small part of her that couldn’t believe it wasn’t another conjecture of the office rumor mill. She felt her cheeks begin to ache and realized she had been grinning at him like a fool but had yet to address how she actually felt about him.

“I was really annoyed when I picked your name-” Killian winced and tried to take his hand from hers but she held fast, “and Mary Margaret wouldn’t let me switch and now I know it’s because she rigged it so it was only your name in the hat. So I was stuck with having to get you a present and practically knowing nothing about you. When we talked about Stephens I realized that it was the first time we’d had a whole conversation. Then we just kept talking and you were nothing like I’d believed you were and I liked spending time with you. Really liked spending time with you.

“The thing was I kept telling myself that I was only hanging out with you because I needed to figure out what gift to get you and it was impossible. I wanted to get you a perfect gift, something that was thoughtful and that you’d really appreciate. When I complained to Mary Margaret about it I realized why I wanted my gift to be perfect.”

“And why was that, love?” He asked hopefully.

“Because I fell,” she said simply. “For You.”

Killian beamed at her before swooping down to capture her lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. She sighed into him, reveling in the warmth of him encompassing her as his arms wrapped around her. All too soon for her liking he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

“One more thing,” she whispered, playing with the soft hair at the back of his head.

His eyes opened and he leaned back, looking at her quizzically, “What’s that, love?”

She grinned at the pet name she’d practically ignored before, “How good of a photographer are you?”

“Fair enough to keep things in focus. Why?”

“Because the other part of your gift is that you’re going to pretend to be one of our photographers so you can come to the Siege Perilous set visit with me. Edwin Stephens will be there too and I thought you’d like to get an autogra-”

Emma squealed as Killian picked her up and twirled her around. When he finally set her down she paid no mind to the stares that they’d surely attracted and pulled him into a kiss far more passionate than the one he’d given her.

Much later, after they’d allowed Mary Margaret a moment of smug elation and left the party to a couple of whistles courtesy of Tink and Robin they were laying in her bed, sweatpant clad legs entwined. Killian was running his fingers through her hair as she laid curled against his chest, listening to the rumble of his voice as he read Siege Perilous to her. With a contented sigh she figured that maybe Mary Margaret didn't quite deserve that lump of coal she'd threatened her with.

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs christmas #ouat ff #captain swan christmas ff #cs christmas ff #my writing #a little present for you lovely readers

103 notes · View notes

etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

A Quiet Normal Life

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When Bucky comes out of cryo for the last time all he wants is a quiet, normal life.

Warnings/ Content: Feels. Lots of feels. Typical sad then sweet fic.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I wanted to try my hand at a different writing style and so this fic was born. I’ve never tried a more narrative style before so it might be trash but I kinda like it. Hope you enjoy it on this dreary cold Sunday! XOXO - Ash

A Quiet Normal Life

After his final thaw from cryo Bucky has more bad days than good. He spends most of his time wandering around the new and unfamiliar world in a fog, caught between trying to forget the decades with HYDRA and to remember his fleetingly short life before the war. They promise him things will get better and he tries to believe them. It’s six months before the bad days balance with the good.

Slowly his prewar memories return, breaking free from his mind like waves; some soft and gently breaking the surface, others wild and crashing threatening to drown him with their force. Eventually though when Steve gets that far off look in his eye and says “Remember that time, Buck...”, he really does remember. He remembers the taste of Missy Hanson’s sweet pink bubble gum that she always forgot to spit out before he kissed her. He remembers the wailing sound of their neighbors cat that woke them up almost every day during the scorching summer of ‘41. Bucky prays that as his memories return he will feel less like the Asset and more like Bucky Barnes. The end result is something entirely new and he is working to make peace with that. He slowly starts to think about what he wants his life to look like.

It’s a year before the good days outweigh the bad ones. Bucky finds he’s able to hold a conversation with strangers for more than thirty seconds without having a panic attack. He stops surviving on take out and Steve’s kindness, and starts going out to the store for groceries and things for his home. He collects little succulent plants, liking how easy they are to care for even if he hits a rough patch and forgets to water them for days at a time. Bucky finds reasons to linger in public places, no longer hurrying straight home after his errand. He’s surprised he doesn’t mind small talk with the girl who runs the cafe he favors, and some days he spends an hour at the park feeding ducks bits of bread and watching the world around him.

The nightmares ease up and he’s getting sleep regularly again for the first time in seventy years. Everyone tells him he’s looking better, healthier, stronger. He looks for signs of these things in the mirror and tries to connect with what he’s seeing. It’s not just a hand, it’s his hand. The hair falling into his eyes is part of him, not an outside presence. Bucky thinks his body is nothing like The Asset’s and tries to take comfort in finding differences. His grey-blue eyes are clearer now, his skin is tanned from days spent outdoors tending his flock, a soft layer of fat now blurs his previously harsh, lean muscles. No one stops and stares at him anymore; the world seems to have forgotten he is an enemy, a danger. Or maybe, he thinks, he is so far from The Asset now he’s unrecognizable. Bucky starts feeling tentative hope that he’s going to have a normal life one day soon.

A year and half after cryo he meets you. You’re new at the coffee shop and he thinks your smile is so bright it could blind him. The way you repeat his name as you write it on his paper to-go cup makes his cheeks heat and he almost bolts from the shop when your fingers collide with his as you pass him his drink. The second time he sees you he’s prepared, he steels his nerves and asks you about the muffins in the display case. He’s never bought food there before but it seems a plausible reason to make conversation. You’re friendly, helpful, and he thinks he would do just about anything to keep you talking. Bucky chooses to sit in a corner with his coffee instead of retreating the way he usually does. He picks at the blueberry muffin, having bought it out of politeness and not hunger. New memories bubble up as he sits and he wishes absently that he had the blind confidence of his youth. Back in his early twenties he would have planted himself at the end of the counter and chatted you up until he had you blushing, smiling that perfect smile of yours, and agreeing to see him Friday night. But he’s over 100 now, not that he looks it, and has too many scars, both inside and out, that hold him back.

It’s two weeks of stopping in daily before Steve realizes something is going on. Bucky has tried a dozen new drinks and various pastries all at your suggestion. He doesn’t care what’s in his cup but listening to you describe the different drinks makes his chest feel warm in a way it hasn’t been since before the war. Steve finally asks about it one day when Bucky stops in to his office for their morning hello’s. Bucky’s blushes brightly and tells Steve all the quiet things he’s noticed about you that have him going back everyday. Steve hugs him tightly, assures him this is a good thing: progress. Steve tries helping Bucky build his confidence, reminding him everything he is feeling is normal and okay.

It takes four more weeks before Bucky is brave enough to ask you on a date. Not that he calls it a date. No, he stumbles over his words with shaking hands and a blush that spreads all the way down to his chest. He asks you to join him on a walk around the park after your shift ends in a few hours. You agree with a quick smile, relieved he’s finally asked you out. You know who he is, who he was, and it doesn’t dissuade your interest in him. You look forward to his morning trips into the cafe, your heart stuttering in your chest when he dares to look up at your face through those impossibly long lashes of his. He’s nervous and you try to keep from adding to that. You’re always calm and patient when it’s his turn at the counter, you don’t make any sudden movements and keep your hands where he can see them the whole time. Subtle, small things that most people take for granted but are ingrained in your habits ever since your brother returned from Afghanistan with his own set of demons. You know the steps to the delicate dance around a land mine filled mind.

The walk around the park is quiet at first, you let him take his time adjusting and give him quiet smiles when he glances over at you. Bucky worries you can hear the pounding in his chest when you smile at him. His breathing is labored but not from exertion and he tries to make conversation though he knows he’s not good at it yet. But you don’t complain, you just go along with the flow of things. He’s relieved you don’t push him when he stops mid-thought and needs a moment to collect himself again. The outing lasts all of thirty minutes and at the end he gives you a stiff, forced hug before parting ways. He wants to wrap his arms around you so badly, but the physical contact is almost a little too much and he’s terrified of how strongly he craves the feeling of your body pressed against his. You’re surprised when he begins pulling you towards him and you force your body to be still, giving him a chance to go as far as he’s willing with no pressure from you. It’s an exquisite form of toruture having him so near, wanting the physical contact so badly, and yet reigning in your desires to not scare him off. Bucky pulls back after a few seconds and you can’t hide the wide smile that’s formed. He smiles back, forgetting his hesitation for a moment, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight. Bucky retreats then, scared to prolong what had been a perfect outing for fear of ruining it in some way.

Walks in the park become a daily occurance and Bucky enjoys the easy flow of his days. There is a simple kind of peace in knowing what the next day will hold and he cherishes it. He feeds his flock, gets coffee, visits Steve and sometimes Shur or T’Challa, works on his little farm, walks around the park with you, and then heads home to read or watch TV during the heat of the day. Steve stops over most nights to hang out and it’s two months after his first walk with you that Bucky asks Steve to not stop by the following day. Steve is concerned but Bucky explains he is expecting a different dinner guest: you. The pride that burns in Steve is bright and radiates from him brilliantly. Bucky shies away from the attention but appreciates it all the same.

Two hours before you’re set to arrive Bucky throws up and then calls his therapist. He’s not ready to bring you into his home. He wants to be, but the fear that claws in his chest reminding him that he’s dirty, rotten, damaged, ruined, dangerous, keep him frozen in place. He’s shaking and cold against the bathroom tile as his therapist walks him through grounding techniques and affirmations. When the nausea rises again forty minutes before you arrive he’s able to fight it back and thinks that’s enough progress to keep on as planned.

Bucky feels your presence in his home on a visceral level; the air feels different, the light a little brighter. He wonders what his little collection of rooms looks like to your eyes. He knows it’s not much but it’s his and he hopes desperately that it meets your approval. Bucky hangs on every little sigh and hum you make as you wander around his living room. The delicate way you hold onto a terracotta pot with both hands, carefully admiring his Roseum plant, makes him want to feel your hands entwined in his. Bucky can’t decide if he loves or hates the way you are so painfully careful around him, and now also his home. He can’t help but notice the way you hold yourself back when you start to get excited over something, how you slow your movements so as not to startle him, always announcing your intentions if you have to move around him or touch him in some way. It’s a kindness he never expected and helps him let his guard down just a fraction more around you. He wishes it wasn’t necessary though; he wants to see you unfiltered, unrestrained, happy, and free. A long buried part of him wants to see you fall apart completely for him.

It’s another month before he dares to kiss you. The voice in his head that rails against him reminding him of his faults does not go away, but it quiets long enough for the briefest brush of his lips to yours. Two more months and you’re stumbling into bed together, literally stumbling. Bucky’s heel catches on the cuff of his pant leg and he falls gracelessly onto his grey blanketed bed. You flop yourself down next to him giggling, glad that the mood is lightened a fraction. You’re both nervous; Bucky worried about disappointing you, and you worried about doing something to trigger him. It’s awkward and stumbling and he wouldn’t have it any other way, because it’s with you. Things get better the second time around and even better the time after that. You take your time learning each other’s bodies, unhurried and patient.

A year and a half later you’re living together, choosing to move your belongings into his home where he’s most comfortable. The nightmares slowly receded until they are just distant memories. He feels safe letting you share his bed and secretly thinks your presence helps keep the nightmares away. You are more worried than he is about the change of merging your lives. Bucky likes the way your things fit around his, making his home feel full and warm. It gives him another layer of peace he didn’t know his life was missing. Bucky loves the quiet, sleepy mornings laying in bed with you when nothing else matters but the way the light hits your hair against the pillows. You whisper words of love in the dark at night, promises to each other for always. Bucky starts to think of his future in a broader sense than what the next few days will bring.

The future comes. The years blur together as time passes and Bucky is awestruck by how quickly a collection of days becomes a year and then years. Bucky proposes two years after you move in, it’s not a grand gesture, barely more than a hushed plea. Your wedding is equally subdued, exactly as you both wanted it to be. Life goes on whether you want to slow it down or not and you ride the wave of time together. From celebrations to mournings you face it all side by side and slowly Bucky comes to realize he got exactly what he wanted all along. A quiet, normal life.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #sweet bucky barnes #sad bucky barnes #bucky barnes feels #bucky barnes needs a hug #cannon divergent #we're just gonna ignore everything after they put bucky in cryo in wakanda #marvel #Marvel Avengers #marvel fanfic #Marvel fangirl #marvel fanfiction

91 notes · View notes

actuallykiwi · 4 years

Text

“My Monster Under the Bed” continuation

(This story was a prompt from @writing-prompt-s written by @bethanythemartian, and this is my continuation.)

The main reason I don’t like talking about it is because you have no idea how hard it was to explain it to the police. Do you really think anyone would believe “the monster under my bed ate an intruder”? Yeah, probably not.

His screams alerted all the neighbors, and I had to fabricate some story about how I was watching a horror movie and it was the screams of both the movie and I. The hard part was coming up with what horror movie I was watching, and I think I went with Scream or something.

The harder part was coming back to my room once they left and dealing with what was left of the intruder. They practically spit him out from under the bed, shaking and whimpering. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He seemed to be fine, aside from being obviously traumatized and missing his left foot.

Which, was funny, it wasn’t bleeding out. Oddly it was covered in some weird clear goop. I guess TUF (Thing Under the Fridge) let him off with a warning this time.

“Hey, I’m, uh, really sorry about your foot...” I crouched next to the guy, who cowered away from me. Another pang of guilt. “Sorry. My, uh, my Monster under the Bed is very protective of me. Could you do me a big favor, though?”

“Whatever you want, just keep the hell away from me!”

“Okay, if you could just tell the hospital, or wherever you’re going to get your leg looked at, that you were just attacked by wild dogs or something?”

I mean, his missing-foot-leg did have bite marks and what looked like slobber all over it, so it would be believable.

He agreed, and I helped him to the back door so the neighbors wouldn’t see him.

“You okay?” They asked as I plopped down onto my bed, shaking and a little traumatized myself. I would hear those screams for weeks. “Not really. Could you, like, not ever do that again?”

“Sssorry. Wasss protecting you.”

“I know, but, that was scary. But... thank you.”

See, I’m sure they would have gladly devoured the poor dude whole, but it was my pleading and begging not to kill him that made them hesitate. They settled for his foot, and kept him quiet while I dealt with the noise complaint.

That was a while ago. I hadn’t heard from the police since, so I guess they bought his dog story.

Life went on mostly normal from then on. It was weird having people over, though. One time, I brought a guy home, and we just watched movies and cuddled on the couch for most of the night. Anytime I wanted to drop food to TUF, I had to be discreet so he wouldn’t question it. I would make small chat with them when I went to the bathroom and they hid under the sink.

My discretion didn’t last, though. He eventually caught me getting ice for my drink and purposely spilling some onto the floor and under the fridge.

At first I tried to play it off as being clumsy and blaming my now non-existent back pain on not picking it up. This guy was smart, though, and he didn’t buy it.

I sighed and sat back down with him on the couch. I really liked this guy, and I figured if anyone should know about my hungry shy friend, it was him.

“Do you... Did you ever believe in monsters under your bed?”

He laughed. “I mean, I guess when I was little. Though it was more the one in the closet I was worried about.”

I laughed too. “Do you still believe, though? Do you ever wonder if they’re still around?”

Now he was growing a little concerned. “I... don’t guess so? I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

I sighed. “When I first moved in here, I accidentally found out that they do exist, well mine does anyway. I dropped some food under the fridge and they thanked me. And it’s kind of been our thing ever since. They are literally the monster under my bed.” Then I explained how it was actually kind, curious, protective, and always freakin’ hungry.

At this point, his expression was genuinely confused and a little worried, so I sighed again and gently kicked the side of the couch. “Hey, wanna say hi under there?”

For a few moments, I thought they were gonna leave me hanging, and make me look crazy in front of this guy.

Then, ever so quietly, almost shyly, “Hello.”

“Whoa!!!” He pulled his legs up on the couch quickly, but he was laughing nervously. “You weren’t joking... Holy crap, that is kinda creepy! It, uh... it won’t eat my feet right?”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.”

He laughed again. “Hey, uh, hey down there! How are you?”

“Good. Hungry. Cheeto?”

He looked at me and I nodded. Like a kid feeding a duck for the first time, he reluctantly tossed a Cheeto onto the floor.

“Can’t reach.”

At this point I was giggling. He looked like me a couple months ago when this all started. He gently nudged the Cheeto under the couch, then ducked upside down to try and see it. That same chuckle came from under the fridge. “Cannot see. Always move.”

“The Cheeto was gone! That was freaking cool!” He was like a little kid, and now I was in tears laughing.

This was what it was like for a while. He would come over to hang out often, though I think at this point it was to play with TUF. I didn’t mind, it was pretty entertaining.

Flash forward to 9 years later.

We’re married now, living in a big house with a dog and our 5-year-old little girl. TUF moved with us, like they always said they did. The dog knew they were there when we first got him. But it was very fond of its invisible friend, and loved them just as much as we did.

One night, while putting our daughter to bed, she finally asked the question.

“Mommy, why do you keep dropping food and ice under things?”

I exchanged a look with my husband, and smiled. So we told her. We told her about the Monster Under the Bed, but that it wasn’t mean, or evil, or anything bad. Just that it was shy, polite, and always, always hungry. She giggled and tested it out for herself by dropping a piece of candy under her bed.

“Thank youuu.”

She gasped and squealed with excitement, and maybe a little fear. Once we calmed her down, we finally got her to lie down. As we walked from her room, I heard her whisper. “Goodnight, Monster...”

“Goodnight, Little One.”

As I turned out the lamp for the night, I lie awake for a few minutes, wondering.

“Hey, Tuf...”

“Yesss?”

Their familiar voice slithered from our daughter’s room to ours.

“Do you think you could become her Monster, not mine? Not that I don’t want you around, but I think she needs you now more than I do. Plus, she already loves you.”

“If that is what you want, then yess.”

I smiled and got comfortable in bed, one arm hanging over the side. “Thank you. For everything.”

And then, maybe I imagined it from being half asleep or already dreaming, I felt something cool and smooth touch my hand, wrapping around it as if holding it.

“Alwaysss.”

7 notes · View notes

alliswell21 · 4 years

Text

This was a prompt I saw @lovely-tothe-bone had posted. You know me, I suffer “shiny-red-ball syndrome” or actually “puffy-tail-plot-bunny Syndrome”

Anywho... Rated M for language and adult situations. Modern!Everlark. Also, I stole a line from @mega-aulover and I’m not sorry! 🙃

The Garage

The Panem Mockingjays were in the Super Bowl for the first time in history, a true Cinderella story of perseverance and teamwork that brought them to play against none other than the legendary Capitol Mutts, who were getting the beating of their life! 27 to 3 with only thirteen minutes on the clock and one timeout left.

The trophy was in the bag, and it was beautiful!

The Mockingjays were in possession; the Mutts ran an aggressive defense, but the Mockingjays’ quarterback sidestepped a tackle and scored a 30 yard touchdown.

The whole room in the Everdeen home exploded in cheers!

Katniss had been squirming half the evening in the loveseat she occupied with her best friend, Peeta Mellark, and decided she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She had to do something about it.

Looking around, Katniss stood up and motioned Peeta to follow her. She put a finger to her lips to shush him, then wrapped her hand around his, and pulled him out of the den, where their families were celebrating raucously the victory they could practically taste.

“Where are we going?” Peeta whispered harshly, trying not to trip over his feet.

“Somewhere quiet, where we can be alone for a minute.” She responded in a similar tone. “Now, stop walking so loudly, would you?”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, and really tried to step lightly on Mrs. Everdeen’s pristine hardwood floors.

They made it to the kitchen, but instead of turning left, to the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms, Katniss went straight, out the kitchen door to the backyard, and on to the detached garage.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Peeta asked nervously.

The garage was Mr. Everdeen’s pseudo mancave, complete with a mini fridge, a rickety couch and an ancient TV set on top of his work bench. Their fathers hung out there for hours drinking beer, working on projects, deploring sports statistics and generally gossiping about whatever it was grown man gossiped about.

Katniss winked and closed the garage door with a click behind them.

"Our parents are so drunk, they won't even notice we left. Calm down." She told him as she fell to her knees, making quick work of his fly and undershorts.

Peeta tried to argue— honest! but Katniss was fast with those clever fingers of hers— her mouth on his cock shut him up quickly.

Peeta stood there uselessly, struggling between watching her suckle his dick while pumping the parts of him she couldn’t fit in her warm little mouth, and letting his head fall backwards and enjoy the ride until it was his turn to reciprocate the favor; and Lord in Heaven, did he wanted to reciprocate!

She had really gotten good at this, he thought when feeling the telltale tingling at the base of his spine. He was so close!

He couldn’t help his slow, whiny moan, “Katnisss… fuuuuck!” His eyes squeezed shut, his hands grabbed onto some surface he’d knocked his ass against when he started coming into Katniss’ gloriously wet mouth.

It wasn't until the door opened, that his eyes were able to focus again... on the angry face of Mr. Everdeen as he took in the sight of his daughter’s full mouth.

“What the fuck is this?!” The man slurred loudly.

Katniss scrambled to her feet, somehow blocking her father from seeing Peeta tuck himself back into his pants. But nothing prevented the man from watching his daughter wipe the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

It only took the man a surprising two steps to cross the garage and reach his child. He was about to grab her upper arm when Peeta pushed her behind his broader frame.

“I can explain!” Peeta shouted fanning out his arms to shield the girl.

“You can explain? What, how the two of you stabbed me and everyone else in the back by sneaking around like this?” Mr. Everdeen’s bloodshot eyes were crazed, spittle flew everywhere out of his mouth. “You can explain you disrespected my home and my daughter by taking advantage of her under my nose?”

“He didn’t take advantage of me!” Katniss protested ducking under Peeta’s outstretched arm to face her father. “I wanted to do it. I brought him out here ‘cause we like each other… a lot!”

Sensing danger, Peeta grabbed Katniss by the waist and shoved her out of the way. “Sir, I swear is not like—”

“You little shit!“ Mr. Everdeen took ahold of the boy’s collar and yanked him away from Katniss.

She leapt forward, scratching at her father’s wrist. “Stop it! Let him go!”

“What’s going on?!” Another man’s voice boomed in the chilly room.

As if the situation wasn’t mortifying enough, everybody spilled out of the house and crowded around the garage’s open door, watching the scene with wide eyes.

Mrs. Everdeen rushed forward to pry her husband’s fingers from Peeta’s crumpled, stretched out shirt.

Mr. Everdeen rounded up on his neighbor and best buddy, “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I caught your back-stabbing son defiling my daughter!”

“What? That is preposterous. Our Peeta is a good boy. He would never do such a thing. It was probably that wild child of yours that threw herself at him.” Said Mrs. Mellark in that condescending tone she liked using even on her own family.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Everdeen dusted her slacks exaggeratedly. “Katniss isn’t wild!”

“It’s that boy of yours! I knew his innocent, helpful, quiet kid next door facade wasn’t to be trusted! He better not had gotten my baby pregnant, or there will be hell to pay!”

“First you’ll have to prove it’s his. I’m more worried my son could’ve contracted something!”

“How dare you insinuate—“

“Enough!” Bellowed uncle Haymitch, whom usually had his moments of deep wisdom when really inebriated. “Y’all are acting like a bunch of morons! All you’re accomplishing with this yellin’ is making your kids even dumber than they already are.”

Ouch!

Everyone stopped bickering at once, looking rightly shamed and partly stunned by Haymitch’s outburst.

“Now, there ain’t enough booze in this house to make freezing my ass out here, worth watching y’all bitch over two fucking 18 year old college students who’ve been glued at the hip since I can remember, doing the horizontal lambada together.”

Nobody argued, so Haymitch continued.

“I’m not saying what the Boy and Sweetheart did was smart, it was in fact pretty stupid. But you too did dumb shit as horny teenagers,” Haymitch glared a both sets of parents, now blushing. “Give the kids credit, they’re legally adults. You’re blind if you haven’t noticed them making puppy-dog eyes at each other. Is sickening!

“I’m starving, and it’s too cold for this shit!” Haymitch burped, “I’m going inside now.”

Peeta and Katniss were wrapped around each other during the hullabaloo. But slowly loosen their hold to face their family.

“I’m not… pregnant.” Katniss squeaked. “Not even a small chance.”

“Neither of us has any diseases.” Muttered Peeta scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Not much chance for that either.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mr. Everdeen snapped, still not ready to let his anger go.

“What are you using for birth control? You can’t depend on condoms alone,” Declared Mrs. Everdeen.

“Mom!” Exclaimed Katniss scowling, “Geez! We are not actually doing it! What Daddy walked in on— and believe me, I wish he’d never seen that— is as far as we’ve gone.”

She peered up at Peeta and he smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in his.

“Look,” Peeta exhaled and then faced their parents. “We are sorry we didn’t say anything before, but we knew you guys would react… exactly like you did. We can assure you, nobody has anything to worry about. But just to put your minds at ease...” He took a decidedly shaky, deep breath and confessed, “We are still… virgins.”

“TMI, dude! Nobody needed to know that!” Called Peeta’s middle brother. His girlfriend’s bulging eyes followed the shit show with interest.

Peeta threw his brother a withering glare, but it was Katniss’ fourteen year old sister, Primrose, who answered.

“Oh please! Why the Hellman’s real mayonnaise are you here then, Rye?! You didn’t protest our parents belittling Katniss and Peeta in front of everyone, when Daddy interrupted their private moment! Grow up!” The teen crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

Maybe Prim felt a tad jealous and kinda out of sorts seeing her secret crush’s girlfriend at her house, but nobody messed with her sister and brother-in-law on her watch! The thought made Prim looked guiltily at her parents; but then she remembered how they’d been screaming, blowing things out of proportion, and felt smuggly vindicated. She could still hold a couple of secrets for her sister without blabbing.

“Everyone should be happy Katniss and Peeta are together. They love each other and will keep each other safe! Uncle Haymitch’s right, you guys are just selfish.” Primrose turned on her heels so fast heading for the kitchen, her long, blond braid smacked Rye on the chest with a dull thud.

Mr. Everdeen sighed. “I’m still angry with you both. And I still think you were disrespectful. But I guess Prim’s right. We’re lucky Katniss is not bringing home some lazy hooligan with a criminal record. I just wished…”

“I know, Daddy.” Soothed Katniss still holding Peeta’s hand. “I’m sorry. We both are.”

“We, all are.” Said Mrs. Everdeen sidling with her husband. Then she turned to the Mellarks, “I think we all owe the kids an apology. And each other.”

Everyone apologized for the things they said and promised to be more supportive and less reactionary, despite still being disappointed Katniss and Peeta hid their relationship from them.

“Well, that was terrifying.” Peeta whispered shuddering when their families finally left them alone.

Katniss chuckled. “I know. I wonder if we should’ve told them this all started ‘cause we got shit-faced and eloped two weeks ago?”

Peeta smiled wryly, wrapping an arm around his “for-now” wife. “Nah. My mom would’ve gotten an aneurysm. She’d probably drag us to the hospital to get tested for STDS, pregnancies and DNA. In that order.”

“Yeah but, they would’ve calmed down when we told them we were getting an annulment.” Katniss said a little unsure.

“About that…” Peeta trailed off catching Katniss’ curious eyes peering up at him from his chest. “What if… we just kept… married?”

Katniss bobbed her head, although there was nothing to consider, really. “We could apply for housing together.” She offered.

“Share expenses.”

“Go further... than oral?” The question came out high pitched and ragged.

Peeta breathed out a sigh of relief, he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

He nodded readily. “Together?” He bit his lip, and pulled a black pouch out of his pants pocket. A ring with an iridescent pearl on top spilled into his open palm.

Katniss’ eyes widened, but she lifted her left hand, spreading her fingers apart so Peeta could slip the ring in place.

Admiring her new jewelry, Katniss smiled.

“Together!” She confirmed rising on tiptoes to kiss her “for-Always” husband in the lips.

#everlark fanfiction #my fics #modern #fluffy ending ‘cause I cant help it

85 notes · View notes

killjoy-loveit · 4 years

Text

A Little Bit Like Clover

Request: Oh yay! May I please request a Rowoon/Seokwoo Barista!AU? One shot or scenario, Romance/Fluff, female reader, any POV where he falls for a a florist who works in a flower shop right across from his coffee shop. I don't really have a specific plot in mind other than that 😅 thank you! 💕

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took me so long :( I hope that the story lives up to your expectations!! Side note: I wrote this in a style similar to that of one I tried previously for another story, I personally like this style a bit so lmk what y’all think of it :)

Also this was proof-read by the absolutely wonderful 💚💚 @uwunnie 💚💚, whom I wish to thank for taking time out of her day to check over it for me!!

Word Count: 3,914

Genre: Fluff, overall v cute imo

May 3rd, 20XX

The nice old man, Mr. Jones, that owned the bookstore across the street decided to sell. He would always come in on Tuesday of every week to buy flowers for his wife’s grave- Tuesday’s had been their date nights he’d confided in you one day. Sometimes Mr. Jones would choose her favorite flowers, other times he’d tell you to make a pretty bouquet. You were sad to see him leave, but you knew it was inevitable. It was difficult for him to run the store on his own, especially with him going on in years. Now you just wondered who would become your new neighbor. Would they be nice? Would they change from a bookstore? The possibilities were numerous.

June 1st, 20XX

After almost a month the bookstore was successfully purchased. Still, you were unsure of who owned the space. You’d yet to see one individual frequenting the establishment, though it would be hard to pick them out anyways. There was always a gaggle of people moving about the old storefront nowadays, pulling out all of the old furniture and books. Clearly it wasn’t going to be a bookstore anymore. That small discovery made you a bit sad. You would miss going over there on your days off and finding new books to delve into.

July 15th, 20XX

Finally you met the new owner of the store across the street. He’d come in right as you were finishing up a bright bouquet that would be one of the samples for a party planner you worked with. You’d glanced up as the bell had rung, the typical customer service smile coming to your face. As he stepped up to the counter, you wiped your hands on the apron tied about your waist.

“Hi, welcome to Oopsy Daisy. How can I help you?” Your voice automatically switching into the chipper, vibrant tone you used to interact with customers. It must’ve shocked him, you thought, as you noticed his eyes widen a tad.

Nevertheless he smiled politely at you and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Rowoon, I bought the store across the street from you.”

Surprised, you reached out your hand to shake his, mouth parted slightly. “Oh, wow. I was wondering who’d bought it- now I know.” You laughed lightly, then proceeded to introduce yourself.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and introduce myself. I’m not sure if you know, I changed the layout into that of a coffee shop, so if you ever decide to come check it out the first cup of coffee’s on the house!”

“I’ll make sure to stop by soon!”

July 16th, 20XX

You were up earlier than usual as orders had piled up, what with it being the midst of wedding season. Oopsy Daisy wouldn’t open to the general public for a few hours still, which would leave you plenty of time to make decent headway on the orders. But you would make no progress without having a cup of coffee first. And what better time to try out the new coffee place across the street than right now?

Despite the early hour, right about the time typical business people would be floundering for their first cup of coffee, the shop seemed relatively empty. Two or three customers were placed throughout the shop, two at separate tables sipping on their coffee and looking at laptops, the other sitting in a comfortable chair with a book in hand and a coffee set on a table beside them. The store didn’t seem to change too much, despite the switch to becoming a coffee shop. Bookshelves lined the small brick wall that separated the coffee counter from the seating area. Small tables and comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the area, giving it a cozy feel.

Walking up to the counter, you saw Rowoon standing behind it- pretty relaxed, a book in his hand. A mix of to-go cups and porcelain mugs caught your eye as you got closer, each one had the store name and logo printed on. The logo being a heart made of coffee beans around the shop’s name, which is succinctly called ‘Kinda In Love With Brew’. That made you smile.

“Your store’s name is cute.” You said after reaching the counter, pulling his focus away from the book in his hands.

“Oh, hey! I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again.” Rowoon grinned. “And thanks, I came up with it myself.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Shifting on your feet, you fiddle with the zipper on your bag.

He just laughs, shaking his head. “A lot of people say that. Do I not seem like I could come up with a cute romantic name for my store?”

“No, it just seemed like a mild romantic sort of name and I guess I didn’t see you as that type. Clearly I was wrong and shouldn’t set out to find a job in profiling.” You joke lightly.

Rowoon sets his book down, leaning his forearms against the counter. “Now that we’ve adequately discussed my shop’s name, should we talk about yours? Or save that for another time?”

“Another time perhaps, I’m on a bit of a time crunch.”

With that said, you quickly order a drink of Rowoon’s recommendation. And once the drink is in hand, you make your way back across the street.

October 28th, 20XX

It’s been a couple of months since Rowoon opened ‘Kinda In Love With Brew’, and you’d met on many occasions. It had become a habit to pop across the street for a coffee when you knew you would be slammed with orders. And he’d taken to coming over and chatting whenever business was slow, leaving his store under the watch of one of his employees. Normally people got on your nerves, which is why you ran your store all by your lonesome- not one employee to help you out. But somehow Rowoon didn’t. You weren’t sure if he had some charm to him that made it harder to be annoyed by him, or if your personalities just meshed well together.

Either way it didn’t matter, you were well into becoming friends. Which is why it almost didn’t surprise you when he knocked on the door to your shop well past closing. After letting him in, you’d questioned his arrival.

“Well,” He replied, taking a deep breath. “I saw the light in your store still on and I wondered why you were still working. It’s almost one in the morning.”

Glancing over at the clock on the wall to confirm his words, your jaw dropped slightly. “I didn’t even realize… I just got carried away, I guess.”

Rowoon raised an eyebrow at you. “Carried away or frantically trying to finish an order before the pickup time?”

You smiled sheepishly at him. “Maybe it was more frantic than being carried away.”

“I just don’t understand why you refuse to hire some help around here.” He sighs, looking intently at you. “You’re practically running on fumes at this point. If you keep this up then you’ll have to start turning away customers.”

“I get annoyed by people easily, especially if I have to explain things multiple times. It just wouldn’t work if I tried to hire someone to help me. The cons would outweigh the benefits.” You mutter, picking at your apron awkwardly.

“I don’t think they would if you found the right person.” Rowoon chided. “But right now what you need is sleep. Go home, get a good rest and finish the order later.”

You shook your head quickly. “I can’t. They’re picking up the bouquets at nine and I haven’t even finished half of them yet.”

“Let me help you then.”

At first you’d been hesitant to let him assist in the bouquet making, but he’d actually done a good job. It turns out that he catches on rather quickly, so after observing you make two arrangements he was able to start making them on his own. It was nice having someone next to you, working in harmony, conversation flowing naturally. This wasn’t something you’d experienced before, and you found that you enjoyed it. Not to mention you actually finished a lot faster than you would have on your own. Hours faster. Once all of the arrangements were finished though, before Rowoon could leave, you promised to repay the favor or at the very least treat him to a meal when he was free.

November 14th, 20XX

It was about five o’clock in the evening when Rowoon rushed into your store, completely frazzled and unkempt. Luckily there was no one inside your shop at the moment, though this was because you were technically closed to the public. The asters you were holding falling to the counter in shock. Never had you seen him appear in such a state, he was typically calm albeit a little goofy. Yet here he was, standing before you, out of breath, with panic written all over his features.

“What’s wrong?” You moved out from behind the counter to where he stood at the entrance, hand smoothing down his back in an attempt to calm him down.

Rowoon gulped in a deep breath. “There’s- there’s a lady in the store, and we already called the ambulance, but I don’t know what to do! How am I supposed to help her? I can’t-.”

You cut him off, worry seeping into your veins and activating your brain. “What happened for you to call the ambulance? Was she injured? Did she slip and fall? Is she bleeding?”

At each of your questions after the first he shook his head quickly. “She went into labor!”

Eyes wide, you stared at him, mouth agape. “And you just left her there? What’s wrong with you?” You smacked his shoulder lightly before rushing out of your store to his.

Sure enough, once you got inside you saw an obviously pregnant woman, sitting on a chair breathing heavily. A man was standing beside her, appearing very panicked, holding a phone talking to a person you believed to be an emergency operator. Only a few other people, all coincidentally men, were in the store, but each one of them appeared nervous and anxious on behalf of the lady who had just gone into labor. All of this energy couldn’t be good for her. The lady in question, looked scared, and all of the people around her weren’t calm either- which was helping nothing.

Hearing the door close behind you, you determined that Rowoon had followed you. “Go get wet a cloth with cool water, wring it out and bring it to me.” You stated without looking at him, but he quickly followed your orders and moved past you.

Without hesitation you raised your voice to address the people in the coffee shop. “Everyone who is not with the woman in labor, please leave! I understand that you came here for a coffee fix, but right now might not be the best time.”

As the other customers departed, you were left alone in the store with three other people: Rowoon, the lady in labor, and the guy standing next to her. As you approached, her gaze was flickered between you and the guy next to her.

“Hey,” Voice calm, you pulled a chair up beside her and sat down. “What’s your name?”

“V-Vee.” She hissed out, teeth gritting in pain.

You worked on keeping your voice as calm and soothing as possible as you conversed with her, trying to help ease some of the nerves. Rowoon had appeared with the cloth in the midst of your conversation, which you’d handed to the guy standing next to her, telling him to help keep her cool. Overhearing the emergency operator state that the ambulance was still a little far out, Vee became panicked. She was blubbering about how she didn’t want to have her baby in a coffee shop, she wanted to have it in the hospital after getting an epidural, how she wasn’t ready yet.

“Breathe,” You reminded her, while you tried to come up with some words that might help. “The ambulance is coming, and soon enough you’ll be able to get to the hospital.” You locked eyes with her. “You can do this. Just think, in a matter of hours you’ll be holding your little one. Isn’t that amazing?”

She nodded slowly, muttering under her breath. “I can do this.”

It wasn’t long after this that the ambulance arrived, sweeping her and the man with her away. Which just left you and Rowoon in the store. Of the two, you were clearly the one with the level-head currently, as it appeared that he was mentally checked out at the moment. After guiding him to a seat and getting him a glass of water, you flipped the sign on his door to say ‘closed’. Then you began cleaning up spilled drinks, most likely occurring from witnessing a woman go into labor. Cleaning the spilled drinks didn’t take too long, thus you continue cleaning the rest of the store as you’d seen Rowoon do many a time through the wide windows of his cafe.

Even after you finished cleaning, Rowoon still seemed to be in a state of shock at what had just happened. So, you did the only thing you could think of- you took his store keys from him, shut off all the lights, dragged him outside and locked up.

“Come on,” You murmured, hand wrapped around his wrist. “I’m going to make you a cup of chamomile tea.”

Making your way across the street, you led him into your store, which you locked after entering, and up the stairs in the back to your apartment. Minutes later Rowoon was sitting on your couch, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. You were starting to get a little worried, as he’d yet to say a single word.

Sitting down beside him, you looked at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

He turned to look at you, the glaze that had previously taken over his eyes dissipating. “I think so,” Rowoon breathed out softly, taking a sip of tea. “I wasn’t expecting anything like that to happen in my store.”

Laughing quietly, you patted his arm. “I don’t think most people expect a woman to go into labor in their place of work, unless you’re at a hospital that is.”

Cracking a joke, it seems, was the right move. Rowoon was able to relax a bit more as your conversation went on. Stories were exchanged of the wildest things to happen in your stores, though you were pretty sure he won, what with what happened tonight. He expressed how amazed he was at your ability to keep calm in such a situation, praising how you’d even helped to calm the soon-to-be mother. That night, Rowoon stayed over- the two of you falling asleep on the couch with a worn-out blanket covering your legs, an old rerun playing in the background, his mug of tea sitting empty on the coffee table.

December 22nd, 20XX

Snow gently floated to the ground, setting the perfect atmosphere for the holidays. Normally it didn’t snow in this area until January, so it was exciting to see it appear before the new year. However, the snow did nothing to calm your nerves as you built the courage to go to the holiday party currently taking place in Rowoon’s cafe. Through the window you could see the crowd of people smiling and laughing, even managing to hear snippets of the music playing inside each time a new person went inside.

Wringing your hands, you finally resolved to pull yourself together and walk across the street. It couldn’t be that hard to step into a building you’d been in numerous times before, could it? Rowoon had invited you, said he was looking forward to seeing you there- you couldn’t just not go. With a particularly deep breath as your fuel, you stepped out of your store and quickly crossed the street after checking the road was clear. You hadn’t been in front of the door to the cafe for more than a second before it was opened by Rowoon himself, a bright smile on his face as he pulled you inside.

“I’m so glad you came!” His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Do you want some cider? Or hot chocolate? I also have eggnog, a few different wines and ales, or water, if you prefer.”

“So many options,” At your words, a dusting of color rose to Rowoon’s cheeks. “But I’ll have to go with the first one, cider.”

His hand remained wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the party, weaving around multiple groups of people, smiling and greeting them as he went. Rowoon only letting go of you to pour a cup of warm cider, which he handed to you with a grin. Shortly after, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, observing the party-goers together. That is until someone came up, pulling Rowoon away for some reason you couldn’t quite catch. Rowoon had seemed reluctant to go, glancing back at you as he was led somewhere else.

As you didn’t really know any of the people at this party, you kept your place beside the refreshment table. Time passed by rather slowly as you watched everyone socialize, Rowoon having disappeared somewhere among them. Despite his tall stature you couldn’t manage to pick him out in the crowd. Heaving a sigh, you continued to sip at your drink, wondering how long you should stay. With the amount of people in the cafe, if no one stayed around to help Rowoon clean up, he’d probably be here hours afterward. Since he’d helped you on multiple occasions before, the desire was there to help him in return.

Although maybe it wasn’t just that you wanted to help him. Rather, maybe you just wanted to be alone with him. Your mind flitted back to the week prior, when Rowoon had invited you to the party.

He’d walked into your store, head bent slightly, teeth denting his lower lip, and almost walked right into a display of primrose and snowdrops. If you hadn’t moved fast enough he would have bulldozed right into that display, one that had taken you a bit of time to get just right. You had run right over to him, grabbing his wrist and jerking him away at the last second. Rowoon had looked up then, shocked as he stumbled and had to keep himself from toppling over.

“I’m sorry,” You’d apologized breathlessly. “I just spent so long on that display and you were about to walk right into it.”

Rowoon glanced back at where he’d just been, eyes widening a fraction. “No, I’m sorry I should’ve been paying attention. I was too lost in my thoughts.” He offered a sheepish smile.

Eyebrows raised, you cocked your head to the side. “What were you thinking about so deeply you forgot to pay attention to your surroundings?”

“Oh, I was thinking…” He paused for a minute, eyes flickering to the ceiling. “Of the holiday party I’m having next week. Would you be able to come?”

At first you’d been a bit hesitant, mainly because you were aware there’d most likely be a lot of people you didn’t know at the party. But Rowoon had managed to convince you to come. Besides, it was much too difficult to say no when he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

Hours passed by- hours you didn’t note because at one point you’d left the safety of the refreshment table to find Rowoon. Instead of finding him, though, you’d managed to find an old book of poetry half-hidden on a bookshelf. This book had kept you entranced as the party continued and as it eventually wound down.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You glanced up from the book to see Rowoon standing next to you, and the rest of the cafe empty. “Is the party over?”

He nodded, a tired smile overtaking his face as he sat next to you. “Yeah. Sorry I left you alone the whole time you were here. I kept trying to come and find you, but I kept getting pulled about by other people. Being a party host is exhausting.” Rowoon finished with a sigh, elbows coming up to rest on the table as he set his head in his hands.

“It’s fine,” You murmured, setting the book down on the table. “I managed to keep myself occupied.” Silence permeated the air between you for a minute before you stood up. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“What? Oh no, you don’t need to help clean up.”

“But nobody else stayed behind to help. You shouldn’t have to clean this all by yourself, look at the mess!” You gestured at his cafe, which had empty paper cups and plates strewn about and streamers hanging loosely on the walls.

He stood up, taking in the state of his cafe, lips pursed. “You’re right, it will be hard to clean on my own.”

You waggled your eyebrows at him. “Of course I’m right! Now come on, let’s get to cleaning.”

Before you could walk away to find a dustpan and broom Rowoon’s hand grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait, I… I need to tell you something first.”

Turning back to face him, head tilted, eyes focused on him. “What is it?”

He blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing a few times before he blurted out a sentence so jumbled you couldn’t properly understand him. You had to ask him to repeat himself, which he did, but he was so quiet you couldn’t hear him.

Finally, after you couldn’t take the anxiousness anymore, you propped your hand on your hip. “Rowoon, please, will you just say whatever it is? It can’t be that difficult to say.”

“I’m so happy that I bought this place, and that I was able to meet you because of it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship if you don’t feel the same way as I do, but I need to tell you that I don’t want to be friends with you- I want to be more than that.”

You watched as he bit his lip, his eyes flitted nervously around the room as he awaited your response. “You want to be more than friends?” He nodded swiftly. “Are you saying you have feelings for me?” He nodded once more. A smile broke out onto your face, one that he hadn’t caught yet because he was avoiding looking at you. “Hmm, well, I guess we can’t be friends anymore.”

Rowoon’s eyes jerked to you, going wide, mouth parted slightly. “Huh?”

You stared at him innocently. “Does this automatically mean we’re a couple, or do we need to go on a date first?”

He sighed, relieved. “You really drew that out.”

Most people tended to grate your nerves. Most people made you want to whack your head against a door repeatedly. Most people were capable of making you wish for a solitary life. Most people felt like weeds, popping up at the most inconvenient of times. However, Rowoon wasn’t like most people. If he were compared to a weed, he wouldn’t be the kind that covers any and everything like Kudzu, rather he’d be the kind that helps a garden thrive, like Clover. In this way, it’s safe to say that he grew on you unexpectedly.

#sf9 #rowoon #sf9 scenarios #sf9 fanfic #sf9 rowoon #sf9 seokwoo #sf9 rowoon scenarios #sf9 seokwoo scenarios #sf9 rowoon fanfic #sf9 seokwoo fanfic

33 notes · View notes

renaer-is-allegedly-hot · 4 years

Text

session 15 notes

Ok true crime as in my new addiction is true crime podcasts specifically about serial killers

Back to the session

After getting a bit of a reality check from durnan about the supposed strength and power of the xanathar guild…

Protected our home w glyphs of warding

Last day of our contract

Spell is set to fade soon

Asyna is feeding ot

Ot looks at asyna like he's a cornered animal

"ot here's some meat"

Why is krystal roasting me about my lover

He wants poison

Ot is calling his jailers idiotic

Oh no aerana might be spilling beans

I really shouldn't be allowed to play games

Because I will always turn to the chaotic evil character

Aerana isn't giving anything up

Theo tells us about the plumbers who came over last night

Aerana is going to typ, rest of party is staking out house

Shifts to watch ot, adam takes front, asyna tower lookout (it's foggy tho so perception check at disadvantage, 9; city looks a little eerie in the fog)

Cel puts immovable rod across cellar door

Ot is suspicious whenever cel comes in

"you cannot fool me xanathar"

Cel making theo a new cloak

Ot asks cel when he'll turn him into dust

The xanathar can turn ppl into dust

Flare ?

Is flare the brain boy ?

I don't like the energy we've created around the word "enlightenment"

Cel rolls 18 insight check

Ot doesn't think cel is cel

Cel is gonna just vibe witth him

"WHEN U SLAY ME I WILL THINK NOTHING BUT HATEFUL THOUGHTS"

Sorry didn't mean caps but too lazy to fix

Everyone else

Adam in front hissing at neighbors and cats, 7

Hears pavement scuffle, someone approaches and reddish gtray beard person w non-descript gray cloak approaches; trench

Doesn't remember cellar and plumbers guild coming by night before

Trench says he can help

Help get bar open

Used to drink there a lot

Gets parchment and quill with ink

Rolls insight to see if bar was only thing he wasd interested in, 13, trench seems v interested

Works in surveillance, protection

Gives him cel and theo's name "5 copper please"

Gets 5

Adam picks his nose

Theo patrols entrances

13 for perception

Overlaps path w adam's

Aerana to typ

Afternoon when there

Similar pattern to those there; frequent patrons

"if I'm making up words, it's not really hitler"

8 perception

Place feels open, not as packed as it usually is

Still feel sensation of cold from the well

Wizard w pointy red hat a regular

You see goliath wizard talking to a dwarven woman

Aerana sees an elven man (bard) w "ugliest guy you've seen in your goddamn life" dom says but only after we point out he looks like legolas, tuning a lute

Sense you've seen him before

The wellllllllllllllllll

It is better told by a bard

Some patrons old and strange, others just like to drink

But ritual in the storytelling

Durnan built

Gwyliam

Talking in elvish

Place formerly not too populated

But one of durnan's ancestors came over to build upon it and discovered the well

Network of tunnels underneath

20 for history check

Familiar with some of what he's saying

Parents would throw you into the undermountain if you were bad

Undermountain = stirs weird memory in your head

Being told as a child stories of undermountain

Deep dark fearsome place

Mt waterdeep wizard came here once named hallister the black cloak

Hallister - ppl don't know where he was from / if he was real but legendary

Brought apprentices trained in magical arts

Tunneled on peak of mt waterdeep

Legend of undermountain could not be verified as truth

Durnan's ancestor came to typ

Climbed into well

"I wouldn't bring this up around him" - doesn't talk abt

When ancestor returned was fabulously rich

Split money with best friend

Built typ

Occasionally engages in ritual of going

No one truly knows what lies in undermountain but there's something there bc some return but most do not

"it might just be the sewer" - "but don't tell anyone I said that"

Differing renditions

Some say durnan was the one with magical powers and killed everyone in there, or more nuanced speaking only of tragedy of those who return who come back fearful or returning with smaller parties; others talk more of hallister and argue over his life; every night a different story

Ask if he knows anyone who's come back

Gestures to half-orc in corner playing variation of solitaire; great celebration when he returned, he came back with riches

He is a regular

21 history check

Undermountain

Familiar name

"Deepest dungeon of them all"

When sewers were built many passages abandoned bc other halls + passages found, many teams from cellars and plumbers guild died during construction of the sewers

Prisoners often thrown into "undermountain"

Says even tho he's here most days there's still stuff he doesn't understand about it; new community reforged every night

At some point durnan talking to wizard and having a conversation which is odd ? Eventually wizard looks at aerana (old man) skinny pointy red hat

Wizard squinting at aerana then turns back to conversation

Try talking to half-orc

Interesting plated beard almost like that on dwarves wrt ornamentation; jewelry running through it

Wiry half-orc

Not skinny but muscled

Weird tattoos covering one side of his face looking like they change a little bit

Balanced a little precariously

Ask if he wants to play a two-person card game bc he's playing solitaire

Ask for his favorite game, Skipper (slapjack)

Dexterity check

5, 20, 10

First round you lose, his fingers have strange looking rings beautiful but rough-worn bands of steel or other heavy metal

Second you win

Third round he takes

"say not many people can beat me in that game"

"luck favors the bold"

In the well

Hell but now look at him can gamble all he wants

City of balder's gate

Large city rough place to grow up

Turned into rough child living on streets

Says his name is Sand

Balder's gate warlords make life difficult so he decided to leave

Was found in youth by someone who turned his anger into smth holy

Ran into thieves and plunderers of forgotten relics, became brother and sister and decided to take on deepest dungeon of them all

Horrible things - asks if you've heard the song

The yawning portal song

Not many people know the full tale

Was taught to be skeptical (it's in his nature or maybe his name)

Not sure how long he was in there or didn't know when he was in there

No light

Tunnels are confusing and without it would've been lost; found room with throne with snakes for arms

Great hallway with ancient trap

Living things also in there; all manner of beasts and creatures; ppl don't come back bc of those

Killed goblins down there but after the things he's seen and after the things he'd had to do could've gone with killing a few more goblins

Advice ? Some will sell maps of what they found or what they think they've seen; anyone can tell u abt beasts down there

Durnan wouldn't lower us down

Durnan doesn’t send ppl to their deaths

Durnan lowers people he deems worthy

Strong brave smart fast bold enough or some combo

But even then not everyone comes back

It's a place of death

Not buying him lunch lmao

Has broken into dangerous old elf dungeons like in the ones up north and would do it again if he could unsee some of the things he saw down in the well

A place of death but things move in the shadows w tombs down there and tunnels for miles hallways great and tall, treasures, beasts keeping it for themselves

Ask about tattoos

Gift from master

The person who saved him in balder's gate

Steeped in magic of shadows

Powerful bc he is strong but qi is stronger still

Aerana gets back home but starts to rain heavily

Ppl still patrolling

Adam

Sees drow ? W purple colored eyes silver-ish hair hiding weapons under his cloak steps up and says "pardon me" and asks if adam's seen a cat

Large cat - would've know if saw it

Adam sends drow to trench

Adam gives him good up and down look, can he see weapons ? Carrying two cinotaurs ??? Sinotaur ???? Adam rolls insight for cat

14, seems like he's talking abt a cat

Heads off to trench

Asyna in watchtower guessing ppl's names

Cel and theo switch

Theo says hi to ot, ot curled up in corner

Whispers "hey ot what's up"

Says he should've gone with his gut on the day theo arrived

"dark elegance" "the way you glided into the room" - ot on theo

Ot says he knows how the xanathar pays theo

"I guess seeing you was a realization of my deepest fear" a fear he couldn't name or place or knew he had but out of the darkness theo stepped forward

"I'm curious . How long do you leave your victims like this"

Ot starts to cry and says he would beg her to keep him in this place

"this voice you're using I find it sweet"

"I just don't want to wake up before the end"

Theo is gonna get him food

"the poor dead tiefling told me yesterday"

7 insight

Theo does not know what's happening

Says the water theo gives him looks real

Looks at the wall drinks some water

"and it tastes real"

We kinda fucked ot up LMAO OOPS

"I know that you don’t have a heart… but if there's any chance that anything I've ever said or thought about you could take root in your soul"

Theo says she'll consider his request

Sits there for a half hour then asks if that's her real name

"nithlur" or smth like that

Nihloor

"where'd you hear that"

In his head lmao

What if this is like

A tapeworm

In his head

"what does knowledge taste like"

Asks if it's a feeling or a thought

Theo says it's a feeling

Ot says whatever knowledge is it's valuable to the right thing

Wonders if he can take a nap

Gonna take a nap

Adam forgot he made ott think he was dead

Aerana is taking over for theo

Adam takes first watch

Perception check, 22

Raining ohp so at disadvantage gotta do it again

New roll, 12

Rain is still falling

Hears a weird noise coming from outside the house

Uses thaumaturgy to boom voice saying "wake up"

Everyone sleeping wakes up

Goes toward sound

Hears weird growling noise

Goes semi-toward noise w pyrotechnics prepared; darkvision does he see anything

Sees shape

It's not the cat

Unfamiliar, looks like it's flying but more like it's floating

Bobbing up and down in air

Creature w large glassy eye and sagging mouth w lots of sharp teeth

Sticking out from form are eyes attached to a slug protruding off it w glassy eyes hanging off it

Intense stench making icky moaning noise

Adam shits his pants

It's big

The size of its mouth is human size

I've been listening to serial killer podcasts all day

#dnd #d&d #sn #15 #oh god

1 note · View note

theladylovingcrow · 5 years

Text

Skin On Skin, Hearts Laid Bare (Sanny)

Ch.1 Autumnal Camping is the Perfect Oppurtunity for Snuggles

Warnings/Tags: camping, sharing a tent, sharing a sleeping bag, sharing a bed, cuddling, cuddling for warmth, flirting, a bit dialogue heavy like usual, no sex yet

Length: about 1650

Ch. 1 Summary: It's survival 101 - body heat is the best way to keep warm. And skin on skin is the best way to generate that body heat.

It is an unusually cold night on a camping trip: Sam and Danny need to heat up if they want to go to sleep and still have toes in the morning.

Author's Notes: Because I plan on each chapter being different, I will give each it's own section of tags/warnings/summaries/notes.

I absolutely love the sensation of skin on skin contact, not even in a sexual way - just as a primal, intimate, platonic form of human connection. It grounds me, and I'd like to think it grounds them too, though honestly I couldn't resist myself and I DID make this turn sexual. Oops (not)

Absolutely inspired by Luna65 and her lovely work, and everyone else who writes Greta Fiction. I love this community and all that it puts out

@satans-helper here dear, I hope you enjoy it if you haven't read already!

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

"Get your ass inside, Wagner, stop fucking around before you catch pneumonia, " Sam yelled, voice carrying harsh through the frigid, crackling air.

Danny huffed out a breath, a cloud of vapor dissipating from his mouth.

"Nearly done, Sam-a," he called, throwing his voice over his shoulder so it would carry towards the tent. "Just need to finish locking away the beer and fishing stuff."

"What, afraid the 'coons are gonna steal our tackle?" Sam snorted.

"No, but the neighbors might. Rowdy Rudy is here again."

"Oh god, not that asshole. When did he even arrive?"

"Right before you got in here," Danny said, finally crawling into the tent after finishing cleaning up and taking his boots off. "You probably didn't notice that monstrosity of a truck pull up in your drunken haze, but I sure did."

"Man, he's so annoying. Always sleazing around looking for alcohol to mooch, or for someone to listen to his god-awful stories."

Danny nodded in agreement. Rowdy Rudy was rude as hell, crude, lewd, smellier than a drunk skunk and always trying to butt into things in the hopes of getting some free drugs. And, he always seemed to come around about the same time as the boys went camping and disappear right before they noticed all of their missing stuff.

"Also, hey, I'm not completely drunk! I just wanted to stay warm. And get some of that Mullberry wine before Josh gets back and drinks it all," Sam added on, sipping from the bottle.

"Okay, but honestly, who brings *Mullberry wine* on a camping trip?" Danny asked, completely perplexed as to why Josh insisted on it. Wine was not a camping alcohol.

"I'm not sure, but I don't really care. This stuff is fucking delicious!"

"Okay, well don't drink it all or Joshie will be pissed at you. He seemed to want it for something."

"Like what?" Sam pondered, handing the bottle over so Danny could try it. "Is he trying to woo someone? Who? We're in the middle of the fucking woods!"

"Maybe he's trying to get it on with a tree, he seems to really love them!" Danny cracked.

Sam laughed.

"I don't know, but you're right, this is really good."

Sam nodded, taking a final swig of the now mostly empty bottle and setting it aside. Whoops. Well, Josh shouldn't have left it there.

"Hey, what do you think J and J are doing right now? Can't believe they'd wanna get away from us," Sam said, belching loudly.

"Well, Joshie is probably trying to photograph the local nightlife," Sam snorted, "and Jake's definitely getting drunk, if he didn't already drain his supply. I wonder how he'll like the hike back when he's got a killer hangover."

Sam unzipped one side of the sleeping bag and scooted over so that Danny could crawl inside. The other pulled it shut again, switching off the battery powered lantern and trying to get comfortable.

"I'm sure he brought enough to drowm a small circus, he won't run out. Where did they even go, again?" Sam asked.

"I've never been there myself, but there's supposed to be a cliff a few miles from here with an amazing view of the valley we passed on the drive up. I'm pretty sure that they took one of the trails starting on the other side of the river, maybe a quarter mile down from where we were today, up to the main road, and then fron there they hiked alongside it until they got to the base of the hill half of the cliff, then they could just climb up it. I heard Joshie talking about it before they left."

"We should have made them leave a map of where they were going. I know they're both experienced hikers, but I'd hate for them to get stuck or hurt somehow and have us take a long time to get there because we don't know where they are," Sam said.

They both got quiet, slightly worried.

"I think they'll be okay," Danny said after a minute. "Didn't they used to come up here for boyscouts?"

Sam nodded. Danny could barely see him in the inky darkness, he felt the movement and heard the rustling of the sleeping bag more than saw it.

"Then they know where they are, and Jake said it's not a particularly dangerous hike unless he gets so drunk he falls off the cliff. And you know Josh would never let that happen. We helped them pack their food back at the house, and all of their gear is sound; the only problem I can think of is the chill, but even then if they cuddle they should be fine for one night."

Sam shivered at the mention of the temperature and subtly wormed a bit closer to Danny to try and gain some body heat. Autumnal camping was fun as hell and incredibly beautiful out in the Michigan woods, but it was unusually cold for this time of year. Danny took notice and turned his body a bit closer to Sam as well, sharing some heat from the front though a bit of space remained in between them.

"Dude, what the fuck is up with the weather? I swear it's never gotten this cold this early. I wouldn't be surprised to wake up to some fucking snow tomorrow," Danny said. He tentatively reached out an arm and Sam eagerly got underneath it, snuggling right up to him.

"Climate change. And I hope it doesn't, we could get stuck on the roads, not to mention Jake and Josh would have to hike back in it. I don't think we have the snow tires on yet."

"What kind of Michigonian are you?"

"A stupid one."

Danny smiled, shaking his head and holding onto Sam tightly now. It seemed like, even with the full on cuddles and fleece lined sleeping bag, they couldn't get warm enough.

"Mother*fuck* it is cold. Wanna survival 101 it?" Danny asked.

"Now who's wooing who?" Sam cajoled, but he was *so* down for some skin on skin if it meant he could get warmer.

Danny unzipped the sleeping bag again and they sat up, shivering as their protective cacoon was removed. They both pulled off their hoodies, leaving Sam in a long sleeved thermal and Danny in his Marley tee. Wiggling around, Danny tried to get his jeans off but it was a serious struggle.

Sam bit his lip and giggled, fumbling under the covers for Danny's hips so he could help them get back in quicker.

Danny stiffened a bit when Sam's cold fingers found his midsection, sliding down until they reached the waistband of his jeans and popped the button.

"Why the hell are you wearing jeans in bed? You better not have gotten any dirt in here," Sam scolded.

He unzipped Danny, hands brushing over his package and pulling the denim off of his hips. They worked together to rid Danny of his pants, then Danny returned the favor with Sam's sweats. It was unneeded, but neither of them said anything about that.

"I was cold! And I didn't want to take them off to change," Danny responded after they had enclosed themselves in the bedding again.

"Well that was stupid. It wouldn't have taken more than half a minute, and you've taken them off now, anyways."

Sam wrapped his arms around Danny's waist and rubbed their legs together, relishing in the warm friction of skin and hair. His hands crept up the back of Danny's shirt, settling in the middle of his back where they could be heated up by skin on one side and fabric on the other.

Danny sighed, burying his cold nose in Sam's bed of hair. He worked one arm under Sam's neck to cradle his head and laid the other on his side, bunching it in the cotton of his shirt and rubbing it back and forth, trying to work some warmth into his freezing fingers.

"This is kinda nice, now," Sam whispered. His lips brushed Danny's throat, and his best friend could feel how soft they were, liberal and frequent applications of chapstick preventing cracking despite the weather.

"Yeah," he agreed, just as quiet.

It was starting to heat up in the sleeping bag, body heat finally taking control in their micro climate of polyester bedding and male pheromones. Sam was honestly in heaven, he hadn't been this warm and comfortable in months. And he was sleeping on the ground in 34 degree weather.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Danny, the long day finally catching up to him. He snuggled closer to Sam, pressing those bodies together until not even a blade of grass would have been able to come up between them.

He smirked tiredly when Sam purred like a cat, the reaction to his hand on Sam's side coming to rest underneath his short, gently stroking the skin there. It was soft and fiery warm, finally, Sam's ribs gentle hills across the landscape of his torso.

Outside the tent, somewhere off to the to the left, across the river, along the road and on top of a hill, the twins were in a similar position. Josh held his warm brother close while they shared Jake's whiskey, sleeping bags propped against a sturdy, incredibly broad tree.

In the morning, the twins would awake early to a most glorious sunset over the edge of the cliff. Danny and Sam would wake up entwined, warm and well rested. They'd be slow to rise out of their blankets, relishing in a few more minutes of quiet, intimate connection. No words were spoken; none needed; just the mental conversationa of an appreciation of nature, and the extreme luck that allowed them to be together exactly as they were designed to be.

All was at peace with the world. That is, until the boys decided to go fishing and all of their poles were missing, as was Rowdy Rudy's monster truck.

#fanfiction #greta van fleet #slash fiction #sam kiszka #danny wagner #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #sanny #samxdanny #fluff #flirting #slow build #multi chapter #my writing #lulucrowproductions

25 notes · View notes