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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

...And Forever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

AU: MCU A/U, after TFATWS

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Alternate MCU facts/timeline, lies, cursing, angst, oral, (F, M receiving) fingering, spit play rank kink, size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), sex on a pool table, semi-public sex, a special surprise, stalker-ish behavior, almost Dark!Steve? Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: I am an MCU nerd but not a timeline detail gal. Please forgive me if the timeline is off. This is an alternate universe and a work of fiction. Please have fun with it! This is the second part to Always. Enjoy!

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

You opened your eyes to see that you were in what looked like a break room. There was a coffee machine, a round table with five chairs, a row of lockers, two Captain Americas, and a Winter Soldier.

There was some strange conversation going on.

“Then who gave me the shield at the lake…?”

Sam was questioning Steve, but he stopped talking when you started moving around. You must have still been in the wedding venue, because you saw the name of the historic building on various items in the room.

You scowled up at Sam, Bucky and Steve.

You moved to sit up and Steve was at your side. “Easy…”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You squinted at Steve. His hair was shorter and he was clean shaven, but he was still gorgeous. Those blue eyes were full of concern.

You raised your hand, and he held it, holding it and caressing it as you raised it to his face.

“Is it really you?”

Steve smiled ruefully at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You held his cheek and looked at him, bringing your other hand up to the other side of his face. He smiled at you.

You grabbed him and hugged him hard, and then pulled back again as he held you in his arms. He moved back and pursed those ruby red lips.

You had this irresistible urge to...slap the shit out of him. And so you did.

The sound reverberated in the room. Steve just stared up at you, with that fucking beautiful face, and then smiled, rubbing his jaw as if it hurt.

But you knew it didn’t. And you were tired of the bullshit.

Sam and Bucky moved to calm you down, but you were too quick for them, pacing to the other side of the room.

“All of you can stay the hell away from me. Y’all have some fuckin nerve. Especially you, Steven.”

Your Houston accent was shining through with your anger.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that was harsh. But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You pointed at Steve.

“Fuck you.”

You were seething, especially when he raised his eyebrow at your comment. But he quickly fixed his face when he saw the rage on yours. You looked at Sam, who just looked down, and at Bucky, who looked like he was in pain.

Fuck thier feelings.

“I deserve your anger. I didn't tell…” Steve tried it.

“You don’t deserve a got damn thing. Not even my anger.”

Steve was stone faced at your vitriol. You were shaking, trying to control your emotions and not cry. You were so hot. You fought to keep your voice steady.

“I thought you were dead.” It came out as a ragged whisper. But you knew everyone heard you.

Your voice was low, even, and scary. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes. Your own were brimming with tears.

“I thought you were dead and that they didn’t want to tell me.”

You waved your hand at Bucky and Sam. And you waited until Steve looked you in the eyes again.

“I thought you were in prison, that someone, on some alien star, forced you to play some sick gladiator games. Or that HYDRA was still around and they turned you into an agent for them. Or that you lost your memory in the blip. So many scenarios played in my mind, Steven.”

Steve knew better than to talk. This was his time to listen.

“But I never ever once thought that you chose this. Never thought it was your choice to leave and to stay away.”

“Listen…” Sam started speaking.

“Shut the fuck UP, Samuel.”

If you had Bucky’s knives, all of them would be seriously injured right now.

“You knew that he was alive and you didn’t tell me. Despite me begging for any kind of information.”

Sam just pursed his lips and returned your glare. You were right.

You went and stood in front of Bucky.

“James…”

He looked at you, those pained eyes making your stomach flip.

“How could you? You knew?”

He just stared at you. Retreating into not speaking.

Steve spoke up.

“Yes, I left. Yes, it was my choice. I thought I could… Well, let’s just say that hindsight is 20/20 and you can’t ever go back. I swore Sam and Buck to secrecy and I asked them to take care of you. This all just got out of hand. Didn’t it Buck?”

You watched Steve in disbelief and you swiveled your head toward Bucky and Sam again.

“You both lied to me. And Sam. Did you tell Steve to come back and ruin my life?”

Sam scoffed, offended. “No. I didn’t. S.H.I.E.L.D gave Steve quarterly updates. You and Bucky happened so fast…”

You ignored his explanation.

“But you knew exactly where he’d gone.”

“Yes.” Sam was cornered.

You turned back to Bucky.

“I asked you a question earlier. Did you know?”

He nodded, imperceptibly. “Doll… I…”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You knew?” Your heart was breaking even more than it was.

“Yes, but it’s complicated. He didn’t come back, at least not the way he left, and I thought it was a done deal. I thought he found…”

You interrupted him.

“What. Happiness?”

You turned back to Steve. “Is that what you were looking for, Steve? Happiness?”

“Sweetheart, you made me happy, I just had the chance to finally settle some unfinished business.”

You nodded.

“So James here took advantage of your little vacation to get with his best friend's girl while you explored your other options. Cool.”

It was not cool.

“Do you remember when you asked me if you could trust me, Steve?”

He just gave a little smile and came to stand before you, looking down at you in that way of his. He was trying to shake you. You were unshakeable. You raised your chin and looked right in his eyes.

“What you don’t understand is that you can’t pick and choose the pieces of life that you want, Steven.”

You moved away from all of them. Steve stepped toward you, but stopped when you held up your hand.

“I’ve lived my life for everyone else, for this country, for as long as I can remember. I deserve a little piece of life, Sweetheart.”

Steve really believed what he was saying.

“What about me? Do I get a choice?”

Steve looked around at his two best friends, who were now best friends, and his best girl.

“You’re right. I think you should. You should choose.”

Your mouth hinged open. You spoke at the wall, then looked at Bucky.

“What about you, James? Do I need to choose?”

Bucky walked in front of you

“No Doll. You don’t have to choose.”

You looked up into his eyes. Damn, he looked so handsome in his bespoke grey suit that he chose for the wedding. And the tie that you gave him set off his eyes.

“I just…. I just wanted a piece of happiness too. I knew you were Steve’s girl.” He took both of your hands in his.

“I don’t deserve you. When Steve didn’t come back, and you and I connected, I couldn’t help it. I was just going to keep an eye out, but…”

He gave you that cute little side smile of his. And then he kissed you. It was short and sweet and oh so hot. You looked up at him, shook to the core. And then he ruined it all.

“I love you Doll. It was nice while it lasted.”

Bucky was giving up.

You nodded and backed away. Not believing this situation.

“Ok. I’m making my choice.”

You raised your chin and looked at Steve and Bucky.

“I’m not some fucking marble that you pass around, play with, and trade with your friend.”

You took a deep breath. “I choose me.”

You were gone in a flash, before they could even register it. And although they ran, they couldn’t catch you before you were out of reach.

-----

Three months later, you walked through the late August soup of Houston heat to the bar, pausing when you thought you heard footfalls behind you. You used your speed to zip along to Willy’s; you were safe there.

You were back sharking with the best of them. But your training was put to good use. You never got burned and you never got caught. You were making a good living.

There were a jumble of misfit super humans who had gathered there with you. You were a leader now. And you were doing well on your own. It was a life.

You already knew he was coming, and maybe that’s why you moved to the back room to play.

You were prepared, but when you felt him, you still lost your breath. But you recovered quickly, straightening your spine, despite the fact that he was standing so close to you.

You looked at the dartboard on the wall across from you and chalked your cue.

“Don’t you have other things to take care of? Other wheres? Other whens maybe?”

You learned more about time travel since you’d left New York, and you understood more of what happened.

The Avengers had access to time travel. If only you could go back… but no. You were stronger than those men. You could live with your decisions. And move forward.

“No. What I need to take care of is right here. Right now.”

His deep growl stirred something inside you, and you fought your body, which was becoming moist at his proximity.

You bent over the table, super soldier dick poking you in the ass before you drew your pool cue back sharply into his stomach. Abs of steel met the cue and nearly broke it. He just stepped aside and shook his head at you.

You turned your head to look into his aqua blue eyes and you fell in love all over again. Shit.

You gave up and turned around, leaning back against the pool table, because he wasn’t giving an inch, not moving from your space.

You scanned the room and your people were watching, but keeping your distance. They all knew who he was, and your history. They gave you space, but wouldn’t let you be hurt without a fight. You nodded at them and they all went to the front, giving you more privacy.

He nodded in their direction.

“People fall under your spell fast, I know that all too well. They trust you.”

You lifted your head. “I’ve never done anything to make them not trust me.”

He sighed. “Point taken.”

“Why did you come here? I know that you’ve known where I was. Sam must have told you.”

“I’ve known where you were. How could I not? I didn’t need Sam to tell me. It’s not like you were trying to hide.”

He cocked his head at you.

“But the reason that I’m here, now, is that I’ve always been slow at math. And I just put two and two together.”

You smirked up at him. “You’re right. This is home. A leopard doesn’t change her stripes.”

He just chuckled at your evasion.

“You wanna play a game?”

His eyes followed you, undeterred by your challenge.

You walked around to the other side of the table, leaned over and gathered the balls to be racked.

You held two in one hand and looked at him. He smiled and the electricity at the small of your back was everything. He slowly walked around to you as you racked them.

He took in your form (including your ample cleavage) as you bent over the table and your mouth as you said the word, “Break.”

“I’m tired of playing games, Doll. I’m just here to win you back.”

You turned around and faced him, looking up at him, now aware of his smell. You closed your eyes and inhaled leather and metal. You opened them again and his eyes were blazing.

“James.. I”

Bucky grabbed your face, hands gently cradling your head, and cut you off with a kiss, his lips gentle at first. Then his hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto the table. He slotted himself in between your thighs, your bodies separated by the same brand of black denim.

His lips and tongue seemed determined to possess you. Bucky kissed and felt your body like he hadn’t in a lifetime. His hands roamed you like they were starved from touching you.

Your hands were on his neck and in his hair, relishing the feel of him. You’d missed him so fucking much. You drew apart, and his breath fanned your face as you two panted together, his forehead resting on yours.

“I am never going to let you go again.”

“James…”

“Hold on Doll, I’ve got to say this.”

He smiled and gave you another quick peck. You nodded, solemn.

“I said the wrong thing back in Brooklyn. I don’t care that you were with him first. I don’t care if you think that you might want to be with him. When I fell for you, I fell harder than I ever have. Even from the train.”

He was whispering the words you wanted to hear months ago, causing you to cry. But a lot of things caused you to cry lately.

Bucky smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in that adorable way that you loved. You opened your mouth to speak and he kissed you, silencing you again. You responded with a smile. He continued.

“I know that you think that I folded and just gave up on you on our wedding day. I was just thinking that I don’t deserve you. Especially next to Steve. I mean, you won’t find a better man. But in the time since, I’ve realized, even though it’s hard. I’m a good man too.”

“You are, James…”

“You helped me come to terms with everything that’s happened. Sam has helped me deal with everything I did...and I’m not perfect, and neither are you, but we can be perfect for each other.”

You nodded, smiling a little.

“I’m in love with you and I deserve you. You deserve me. We deserve each other. And I’m not saying this because I think you saved me. But you are the strongest woman I know, enough to be with me when I am weak. I figured out that I can be strong for you too. I have to be now. I am so sorry that I let you walk away. But I’m not going to let you out of my sight now, even if you don’t want to be with me. But I am asking you, again. Be my family. Make one with me. Choose me.”

You shook your head as tears fell from your eyes.

“James Barnes, there was never ever any choice. It’s you. It will be you. Forever.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief and started kissing you all over your face, down your neck and into your cleavage.

“I was scared shitless, Doll! I love you so much,…”

You kissed him now, your hands under his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. Next, you went under his shirt, feeling his nipples, playing with them as he shuddered. Then your hands went up to one cold shoulder and one warm, grasping them as he ground his hard jeans covered crotch into yours.

“Too many clothes.”

You ended up helping him pull his shirt over his head. You trailed your hand back down his abs to the button on his jeans.

“I missed you James. My hormones are going crazy, Baby…”

His eyes got wide as you popped the top button and bit your lip. Bucky moaned. He was about to explode just being near you.

“Th-that’s what we need to talk about…”

“Talk later. Fuck. Now.”

Bucky looked over your shoulder to the other room. To his surprise, the door was now closed.

“Wow, they…”

You hopped down from the table and got on your knees in front of him.

“You gonna let me suck your dick or not James?”

He looked down at you smirking up at him and could feel himself leaking in his jeans. Three months of his hand had been torture, thinking of you.

It seemed as if he unfastened and pulled himself out without knowing. For a moment he feared mind control.

But it was just love and lust.

You grasped him, testing his girth and admiring how your fingers did not meet around his cock.

“Mmmmmmmm,” you moaned while you thumbed his tip, collecting the pre-cum and lubricating him as you pumped.

He stared at you, slack jawed and sexy as he watched you. He reached down and put his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

You commanded him. “Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky locked eyes with you and watched as you licked your lips, opened your mouth, and spit on his cock.

“Fuck.”

You pumped him a couple of times before you opened wide and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of his wide, smooth, hard unit in your mouth. You pulled off of him with a pop.

“Damn I missed this dick.”

Then you deep throated him again, making Bucky have to hold on to the side of the pool table as he held your head while you spluttered around him.

“And I missed your pretty little mouth, Doll. Damn.” He watched as you did it a few more times.

When you looked up and he saw your ruined face, Bucky went feral.

He pulled you up by your shirt, pulling it over your head and wiping your face with it. Then he kissed you.

“Fucking love how you do that, Doll.”

He started kissing down your chest, pulling your breasts out of your bra, pinching and rolling your nipples gently, a little more carefully than usual. He looked at you knowingly as you squirmed in pleasure.

“I’ve been doing my research.”

Then, he leaned down and suckled them with that mouth until you almost came, writhing in his arms. Bucky unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down, kneeling, and staring up at you as you leaned against the green felt table.

You stepped out of your jeans and panties and watched as his flesh hand glided from your ankle to your ass, palming it and then sliding back down as he lifted your thigh on his shoulder. You shuddered as you could feel his breath on your cunt.

“I’ve been dreaming of this.”

His eyes held yours as he leaned in for a kiss, then a long wet lick of your cunt. You grabbed his brown hair as his blue eyes hypnotized you and as he ate you out. When his metal fingers came up, whirring, you started begging.

“Please, James…please…please…..”

He laughed, mouth still fucking your pussy. He pulled away, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers began pumping inside you, the vibration driving you up the wall.

“Are you begging me to stop, or to continue, Doll? Talk to me.”

“Unnnh, unnnnh, oooohhh shittttt. Don’t ever stop.”

And then you came all over his face, Bucky slurping it up happily. He stood up, taking you with him and maneuvering you so that you could feel his thick tip at your hole before it breached you.

Bucky’s cock stretched you out and made you see stars as you slid down his thick pole while he was standing up, pumping inside you as he deposited you on the table.

You wrapped around him like a vine as he held you, cock pounding from the feeling of being inside you again. He pulled back to kiss you again. He was grunting in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Fuck you feel so good...Fair warning, Doll. I’m not going to last. Been too long.”

You let go of him, and leaned back on the felt, arms braced behind you as you replied, “Just fuck me James.”

Bucky took in your body, from where you were connected up your torso to your breasts and the beautiful fucked out look on your face and started moving.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk.” You took him, looking down to see the impossible stretch.

“Yeah, look at that. Looks and feels so damn good, doesn’t it, Doll? How the fuck are you so… so… fucking… tight….?”

“Yes, fuck, James, FUCKKKKK.”

All nerves were in your cunt as you went down to your elbows, and then to your back flat on the slate table, pool balls going everywhere.

Bucky pulled your hips off the table and really started digging in, hips snapping at a frenzied pace as his metal hand slid down your body. You could tell that he was almost there.

“Cum with me Doll.”

When that metal thumb touched your clit, it was over. You came as soon as you felt his white hot ropes of cum drench your walls. You closed your eyes for just a second, and then opened your eyes wide.

‘Why am I curled up on a pool table after being fucked by my 106 year old fiance? What is life?”

Bucky laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head and helped you off the table. He looked around, going to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine.

“You good?”

Bucky eyed you as you got your clothes together. He leaned next to you as he watched you drink the water.

“Baby okay?”

You ducked your head, smiled and grabbed his hand, putting it on your slightly rounded stomach.

“Yeah. I can feel him moving around. Can you feel that?”

Bucky just stared at his hand, then at your face.

“Not really… Him?” He was astounded.

“That’s normal. I’m gonna be able to feel him before you can, And yeah, Him.”

You turned more fully toward Bucky and he took you in his arms.

“I had all kinds of tests, to make sure that he was okay. I wanted to know if… if what they did to me would affect…. “

You shook your head, then smiled up at Bucky.

“He’s healthy. I’m 20 weeks. I figured we’d call him Jamie?”

Bucky beamed at you and nodded.

“How did you know?”

“Well, I figured out that you didn’t faint at the wedding just because of Steve. Why didn’t you tell me, Doll?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you really asking me that question?”

Bucky blanched and you decided not to be salty.

“Well, At first, I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I was so happy that you asked me and didn’t know.” You beamed at him. “ But then…” Your smile faded.

“I’m an idiot, Doll. Forgive me. It’s me and you. And Jamie. Forever.”

You two shared the kiss you missed at the altar. It was going to be okay.

“Now, let’s go get some food. I know you’re hungry.”

You laughed as you punched his arm.

“Ass. But you’re right.”

You two walked down the street to Ninfa’s Restaurant hand in hand. Bucky turned his head and gave an imperceptible nod as you two passed by an alley/

Steve returned the greeting as he stepped out and watched you and Bucky make your way down the street.

“That’s okay Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Buck’s a good man. But I know you’ll choose me. In another time.”

He walked to the quinjet, which was pointed toward New York.

-------

Did Reader make the right choice? What do you think about the surprise?And what the what is Steve thinking? Let me know if you liked it by commenting or reblogging!

Tagging:

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archived-kin · 3 years

Text

local cashless god nearly loses you your job (but you’re okay with it)

note from kin: *throws this at you* please take it i’ ve been stuck on the blasted thing for hours (peepaw i promise i’ll write you something where you’re better characterised another day)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, zhongli, xingqiu

pairing(s): zhongli/reader

warning(s): none! (though i do want to give a heads up for some out of character stuff since i started this when i still wasn’t too familiar with the liyue characters)

genre: fluff

“How many copies of Encyclopaedia of Liyue does one man need?”

You shush Xingqiu as the man just across the shop continues to browse at his leisure, golden eyes furrowed in concentration as he trails his gloved fingers across the books’ spines. “Maybe he’s here to buy something else this time! You never know.”

“He’s bought the exact same book seven times in a row now,” Your little brother insists, pulling his nose out of his novel for once to regard the tall figure drifting listlessly from one end of the shop to the other. “I doubt he’s going to break the cycle now.”

“He could be a collector,” You suggest, dropping your voice slightly when the man’s eyes flicker over to you briefly. “This shop’s older than us - maybe it has a bunch of different editions that he wants to get.”

“Well, wouldn’t it make sense for him to find all the different editions and then buy them all at once?” Xingqiu whispers in reply, tapping restlessly at the countertop with one hand. “Then he wouldn’t have to stop by every day and charm you into paying for him.”

You don’t have a reasonable argument for that, so you don’t reply. Xingqiu really is too smart for his own good sometimes.

The man - who you can see is now flicking curiously through a copy of The Founder of Diabolism - isn’t someone you know particularly well, but he’s visited the bookshop where you work enough times that you do know the essential facts: his name is Zhongli, he likes drinking tea, and he’s broke. In every sense of the word.

That last point is quite the source of exasperation on your part. No matter how many times you remind him as he leaves, he never fails to turn up with a completely empty Mora pouch the next time you see him. At first it hadn’t been so much of a problem - he’d just come in, browse the books, start a little small talk with you, then leave. But then he’d actually started wanting to buy the books, and buying usually involves money - something that Zhongli seems to forget exists.

If it had been any other ridiculously handsome guy, you might have sent them packing, but there’s something about the lost look on Zhongli’s face when you ask him for his payment and he realises that he has no way of giving you one that never fails to make you get out your own Mora pouch and suggest that you foot the bill for him instead. Zhongli always tries to refuse your offer, but, in kind, you always insist. You have no idea why he has such an affinity for that particular book, but the way he smiles at you as you as you drop your own coins into the payment pouch is more than enough to make up for the money you lose. It’s not like you actually need the funds, anyway, considering who your father is.

Today, however, Zhongli has neglected the shelf of encyclopaedias in favour of drifting over to the Xianxia section. You’re not sure what’s spurred this change in interest, but maybe it’s the little toy dragon you’ve set on top of the shelf? Zhongli seems rather enamoured by it - he keeps glancing up at it while he reads.

Speaking of the book that he’s skimmming through, it’s a rather odd choice on his behalf. You haven’t gotten the opportunity to read it yourself, busy as you usually are between your work shifts, adventurer’s guild commissions, and making sure your little brother doesn’t get himself into trouble by wandering directly into a gang of hilichurls in the middle of reading a book again. You’re pretty sure Xingqiu has read it at some point, though - to be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already read every book in this shop several times over. (Part of you wonders if the only reason he’s so supportive of you venturing into the world and taking this job is because he gets to sit with you and read all the books he likes during your shifts.)

You don’t remember all the details he’d spewed off to you over the week or so he spent reading it, but you vaguely remember him crying into your sleeve about something to do with trees and lanterns and hugs. You’re also pretty sure that it got kind of… what’s the word? Risqué? Adult? Well, whatever word you use to describe it, it doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing that someone like Zhongli would read. Then again, you wouldn’t have ever expected your innocent gentleman of a little brother to read something like that, either.

“At least he seems to have good taste in fiction,” Xingqiu sighs as Zhongli continues to skim over the first few pages, looking rather intrigued. “I suppose that’s about as much as I can ask for…”

“He seems pretty invested,” You observe. “Reckon he’s going to buy it?”

Xingqiu shakes his head. “No. He’s going to come up here and realise he’s forgotten all his Mora again, and then you’re going to end up buying it for him again because you have a giant crush—”

You shove him in the shoulder so hard that he falls off his stool. “Oh, shut up.”

Xingqiu quickly catches himself on the side of the table and shoots you a glare, fumbling to retrieve the book that he’s accidentally dropped in the process. “Hey! This book doesn’t belong to us, you know.”

“It’s one book, A-Qiu,” You sigh as he turns away from you, clutching the book to his chest like it’s some precious child that you’re threatening to kidnap. “Mr Yao isn’t going to condemn you if it gets a little dusty.”

“Books should be treated with respect,” Xingqiu sniffs, turning up his nose at you like some nobleman - which he technically could be considered, now that you think about it. “You of all people should know that.”

“Just because I work at a bookshop doesn’t mean I think they’re Morax’s gift to man like you do,” You snort, noting in the corner of your eye that Zhongli’s eyes had flickered over to you briefly as you spoke. “Sure, books are neat, but they’re not holy.”

“‘Books are neat?’” Xingqiu repeats disbelievingly. “Of all the words to—”

“Excuse me.”

Both you and Xingqiu jump in startled surprise - neither of you had noticed Zhongli approach the front desk. You gather yourself quickly and smile at him as he quietly sets the book on top of the counter and pushes it towards you with a small nod.

“Will that be all?” You ask, reaching for one of the complimentary bamboo bookmarks that you’re obligated to give out with every purchase. You’re pretty sure that Zhongli has more than enough at this point, but you don’t want to risk getting into hot water with Mr Yao for not doing it.

Zhongli takes the bamboo bookmark with a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod and flick the book open to check the price label on the inside of the cover. “Alright, that’ll be… 5000 Mora, please.”

Xingqiu mutters something resignedly under his breath as Zhongli reaches into his pocket and fumbles about for a moment, clearly not particularly hopeful that the man has actually brought his money with him today. Your little brother, as usual, is perfectly correct in his intuition; after a second of slightly embarrassed silence, Zhongli pulls his hand out of his pocket with nothing in it.

“My apologies,” He sighs, bowing his head in shame. “I’ve forgotten my money pouch again.”

“I knew it,” Xingqiu whispers.

“A-Qiu, shut up,” You hiss back, then turn back to Zhongli, your smile back in place. “No worries, I’ll buy it for you.”

His brows pinch together slightly in the smallest of frowns. “No, no, you shouldn’t. You’ve already spent so much money on me…”

“It’s no big deal!” You assure him brightly, already reaching into your lapels to find your coin pouch. “You seemed to be really into it earlier, so it’d be a shame if you couldn’t keep it, right?”

Zhongli’s frown deepens. “Even so...”

“You could always pay back with something else,” Xingqiu chimes in, the exasperated look on his face replaced with a shit-eating grin that you know all too well. Before you can step in and shove him into the cabinet or something to shut him up, though, he continues, turning to you in a parody of innocence, “What do you say? Mr Zhongli clearly has some time on his hands…”

You narrow your eyes at him, not liking what he’s implying with that grin. “I’m still on shift, A-Qiu, I can’t just up and leave. Mr Yao would probably kill me.”

“You’ve been working shifts for two weeks straight,” He counters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I can mind the shop for a long enough for you to take a walk. He won’t notice a thing.”

“You won’t ‘mind the shop’, you’ll just sit there and read,” You shake your head and tussle his hair with a flippant hand. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up those antiques at the back.”

He looks affronted. “Are you accusing me of stealing intent?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” You explain patiently. “I’m just saying that your moral compass is very easily diverted when it comes to books.”

“If I may,” Zhongli begins, cutting off Xingqiu’s indignant spluttering. “I do not mind the idea.”

You turn to look at him in shock, only to see that his golden eyes are already fixed intently on you. He has the sort of gaze that makes you feel as if he’s seeing right through you, as if all of your faults and flaws and wishes and dreams are laid out bare for him to examine at his leisure - but Zhongli doesn’t look at you with any judgement. In fact, if you hope hard enough, you think that there might be some affection in his eyes.

“W-well, I—” You glance quickly back at Xingqiu, who pointedly refuses to help you, evidently offended by the moral compass comment. “I- I’d love to, honestly, but I need to finish my shift…”

“This young gentleman has already volunteered to take care of that for you,” Zhongli counters. There’s a strange intensity to the way he’s looking at you now - hope? Determination? “I know of a quiet spot just outside the harbour. If you would…?”

You glance at Xingqiu, who, despite still looking a little miffed, gives you a begrudging nod. After another moment of thought, you turn back to Zhongli, who gazes expectantly back at you.

“I’d love to go for a walk,” You say, standing up. “Lead the way.”

He smiles then, holding the door-curtain open for you to exit first. You pause briefly to wave a goodbye to Xingqiu, who pointedly sticks his nose in his book and pretends not to see it.

The two of you walk in silence for ten minutes or so, with him in the lead and you occasionally glancing behind you to make sure Xingqiu hasn’t already set the bookshop on fire or something. Zhongli walks rather more quickly than you’re used to, mostly because you usually walk with Xingqiu, who has refused to grow more than half an inch in the last three years and still has legs substantially shorter than yours. Zhongli seems to notice you lagging behind a little after a minute or so, slowing down his pace slightly so that the two of you can walk side by side properly.

“The breeze is pleasant this time of year,” Zhongli comments as the two of you cross the bridge to the mainland and begin to leave the harbour. “Particularly as the sun is going down.”

“I’ll have to get out to see the sunset more often, then,” You sigh. The amount of people milling about around you thins out the further the two of you walk from the harbour and along a grass-lined path, until the two of you are alone.

“I’d be happy to escort you,” He says, glancing quickly back at you, then snapping his head forward again. “...that is, if you’d like me to.”

You’re glad he isn’t looking at you, because you’re pretty sure that the look on your face is smitten to an absolutely ridiculous degree. It takes everything in you not to reach forward and grab Zhongli’s hand right then and there, but you restrain yourself just in time, knowing full well that initiating sudden physical contact with someone that you still don’t know all too well is incredibly rude.

“Of course I would,” You answer. “Just name a time and a place.”

He looks at you again, a gentle smile curving at his lips. “I’ll be sure to.”

The walk takes the two of you through a grove of trees dappled by the rich afternoon light. Zhongli speaks at length about the various different species that you pass; part of you is listening attentively, but the other part of you is far too distracted by the elegance of his quiet footsteps and the way the sunlight glows softly at the edges of his hair to register the information.

Leaves and branches crunch underfoot as Zhongli finally leads you out of the trees and out onto a quiet spot on the mountainside overlooking the harbour. He sits down on the ledge, legs dangling precariously over the edge, and you follow suit, quietly settling down beside him, leaving about two inches’ space between the two of you. Zhongli doesn’t say anything for a minute or so; he’s absorbed in watching the city below him, golden eyes darting back and forth as he watches the tiny figures of the people bustle about the streets.

You notice that he’s still holding the book you bought him earlier, keeping it set carefully in his lap with both hands placed firmly on top of it, as if he thinks it might slip out of his grasp and off the mountain if he isn’t careful.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” You begin, catching his attention. He turns to look at you, and the sudden sight of his content expression, framed by the sprawling fields and trees in the distance behind him and the light casting his features into sharp relief, knocks all the air from your lungs for a moment. You very nearly choke on your words, but manage to gather yourself in time to ask, “Why the sudden change in interest?”

He cocks his head ever so lightly to the side in confusion, then realises what you’re referring. “Ah - the book? I just wanted a change of pace, really.”

You nod in understanding. “I see. A-Qiu’s read that one. He says it’s one of his favourites.”

“Is A-Qiu the young gentleman accompanying you in the bookshop?”

“Yup.” You sigh, leaning back and kicking your legs slightly, noticing with some fascination that you can faintly see yourself reflected on the water far beneath you. “Xingqiu. He’s my little brother.”

If you squint hard enough, you can see Zhongli’s reflection in the water as well. He’s shifting slightly - is he moving closer to you? You can’t quite tell from the reflection alone, and you’re not about to risk looking at him. Zhongli is a little like the sun in that respect: warming you indirectly with his presence, but damn near blinding (and incredibly flustering) to look directly at or make eye contact with. He’s almost ethereal-looking - as if he isn’t quite of this world.

“He seems a well-intentioned boy,” Zhongli comments quietly.

You respond with a light-hearted scoff. “I’m not too sure about that. He’s good at hiding it behind a book and all those airs and graces, but he’s always annoying me.”

“Is that not what younger siblings are for?” He counters, eyes twinkling slightly as you laugh in reply.

“I guess they are, huh?” You shake your head, a grin continuing to play on your lips as you finally turn to look back at him. Somehow the blinding beauty of before feels as if it’s mellowed out, become softer around the edges - like a surging river calming to a trickling stream.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. The late afternoon breeze picks up a little, and Zhongli’s hair dances about on the air, twisting and curling in swirls as if the very wind is playing with it. You’re so occupied by (subtly) staring at him that the small movement of him lifting a hand to adjust his tie makes you jolt slightly on the spot.

You can tell that he’s noticed as well, so you hurry to start a conversation before he can bring it up. “So… what’s the fascination with Yi Xichen?”

“...ah.” You might be imagining it, but you think you can see a faint flush forming over his cheeks. “The encyclopaedias?”

“What else?” You swing your legs back and forth restlessly, leaning forward and resting your cheek in your hand. “You must have at least fifteen copies by now. Are you collecting them or something?”

“Well, no...” He glances away from you, intertwining his fingers. “I suppose I’m not particularly good at ‘acting natural’, am I?”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli fiddles slightly with the seam of his glove, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I have no need for encyclopaedias, but after the first few days, I found that I had fallen into the routine of selecting one every time I visited.”

“Why did you visit, then?” You ask.

He glances quickly at you, then back down at the water. He doesn’t answer at first, as if mulling over what to say, until finally, he replies, “...I suppose I just wanted to see you.”

It takes you a good moment to fully process what he’s just said to you. Once you do, though, your entire body implode. Well, it feels it does, anyway.

“I— you— me— huh?” is all you manage to get out at first, hands dancing around in front of you like two birds trying to escape from a net, as if they’re trying to physically pluck some words to say from the air. It’s a bad habit you’ve always had, throwing your hands about when you’re stressed; it drives you mad sometimes, but you can’t stop yourself.

Zhongli closes his eyes and bows his head, and there’s no mistaking it - his cheeks are definitely pinker than usual. “Is that alright?”

You nearly choke on air, but you force yourself to take a deep breath instead, fanning yourself briefly with one hand. Getting flustered heats you up surprisingly quickly. “Y-yeah! Of course it’s okay.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles a little bashfully, leaning forward and tilting his head slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but, if it’s alright… could I see you more often after today as well?

The sheer adrenaline rushing through you is so intense that you’re surprised that you haven’t busted a blood vessel yet. Actually, as far as you know, you might as well have - you’re far too focused on the man in front of you and his… confession? Is this a confession? You’ve read romance novels, sure, but is that how it works in real life as well? What are you supposed to do?

Your head is so filled with pure chaos that you just know that, if you speak, you’re going to say something completely inane and stupid. So, instead, you reach forward, and take his hand in your slightly shaky one.

He looks down at your intertwined fingers with mild surprise for a moment, then raises his gaze to you once more, eyes lighting up slightly. “...I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

You nod quietly, hesitantly shuffling closer to him. He squeezes your hand almost experimentally, then glances quickly back up at you as if trying to gauge your reaction. You offer him a smile; he returns it wholeheartedly.

You’re sure that you’ll have missed the rest of your shift by now, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Zhongli doesn’t let go of your hand, and you in turn do not move away from him - if anything, you move closer, leaning slightly into his side. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t object.

The sun is slowly beginning its descent, staining the sky a pale orange that reflects from the waters below you. It seems that the two of you will be seeing that sunset together a lot sooner than you had anticipated.

#unedited #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin xingqiu #zhongli x reader #fluff #this whole scheduling thing seems to be working out pretty nicely

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zillennial97 · 3 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante | 112k | Mature

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) | 96k | Explicit

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles | 47k | Explicit

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other." "I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin. "It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips. "Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy | 43k | General Audiences

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet | 32k | Explicit

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 32k | Explicit

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups | 31k | Explicit

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | 31k | Explicit

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

After Hours by Velvetoscar for shipsdrifting | 26k | Not Rated

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the bane of each other's existences. Unfortunately, they're already in love--even if they aren't completely aware of this minor detail.

[A "You've Got Mail" AU]

When It's Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer | 25k | Mature

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Love Me Please by angelichl | 23k | Explicit

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

runnin' like you did by orphan_account | 20k | Explicit

“Should we tell him?”

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 20k | Mature

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

That's How I Know by allwaswell16 | 19k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Get Off of My Cloud by Marora_Daris | 9k | Explicit

Harry is the most annoying neighbour that sexually frustrated Louis could have. Niall decides it's a good idea to handcuff them together.

Featuring guinea pigs, animal print leggings and inappropriate boners.

Erase My History, (Expo)se Me by BayouSexual, pacificrimjob for Edandcurly | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

“My hair does not smell like strawberries.”

Louis blinks up at Mr. Styles. “I never said your hair smells like strawberries. How would I even know that?” Harry’s hair does smell like strawberries, Harry himself smells like strawberries, everyone who’s been within three feet of him knows this. ~~~~~~~~ Or the one where Harry and Louis both teacher history, their students think they should date, and one pink dry-erase marker is trying to ruin their lives (with a little help of course).

#larry fanfiction recommendations #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic recs #larry fanfiction masterpost #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #hate to love #enemies with benefits

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kaibutsushidousha · 3 years

Note

If the v3 cast were Masters, which Servants would they summon who has the highest compatibility with them ?

Akamatsu and Amakusa

Amami and Nursery Rhyme

Iruma and Caligula

Ouma and Nightingale

Ki-bo and Kotarou

Gonta and Bedivere

Saihara and Arjuna

Shirogane and Gilgamesh (Caster)

Shinguuji and Medusa

Chabashira and Xuanzang

Toujou and Queen of Sheba

Harukawa and Jason

Hoshi and Dantes

Momota and Mandricardo

Yumeno and Nagiko

Angie and Douman

Explanations under the cut in case you're confused, because you probably are.

First off, Twitter people might be wondering why so many choices are different from what I chose for this thread. Obvious consideration for who is normally summonable aside, the main thing I kept in mind here is that compatibility summon comes in two flavors. Pattern A is a hero similar in nature to Master (Sakura and Medusa, Ryuunosuke and Gilles, etc), and Pattern B is the hero the Master needs for the personal struggles of their character arc (Pepe and Ash, Erice and Voyager, Elsa and Arash, Jinako and Karna, etc). Pattern B is always more interesting than Pattern A, so that's what I'm using for all my choices. Now let me go over them one by one.

1. I say things will be different from the thread and immediately break the promise with Akamatsu. Akamatsu relied a lot on Saihara's brain to build her plan, but their relationship was never one of mutual trust because she knew Saihara would agree to her harsher and more definitive methods. The hero Akamatsu needs is someone both competent and like-minded. Someone who shares her earnest will to save everyone and willingness to use more extreme methods for it. Amakusa is the Servant for her.

2. For Amami, I'll go with Nursery Rhyme. Much like Raikou got Nursery in the Heian Singularity's Imperial Grail War as the emotional crutch daughter figure she needed, Amami gets an emotional crutch little sister figure to help him reunite with the twelve he lost. This pair would be interesting because it'd subvert Nursery's usual MO of simply forcing others to reconnect with their inner child. The whole reason why he lost 12 sisters is that his passion for seafaring and exploration distracts him from what he's supposed to do. Her role as the villain of the Santa Nightingale event shows she can be harsh when children are being neglected, so Nursery would be the force pulling Amami back on track, but she'd have to balance that with allowing him to enjoy himself to preserve his childish love for adventure. He'd be a tough and delicate case for our Hero of Children.

3. The hero Iruma needs is... anyone who tolerates her, really. My first thought was Karna, but he's about finding value where no one else does, and Iruma has her share of undeniable value, so I think he isn't the best choice. Their pair would be a watered-down version of Jinako's pair anyways. Fate/ actually quite scarce of Servants defined by being all-tolerant because that's a trait they push more on Fujimaru, but two examples that come to mind are Romulus, the man who loved all of Rome (read: human civilization) in both its sins and achievements; and Caligula, the man who went crazy trying to do the same. Romulus is too OP to help Iruma tone down her ego, so I'll go with Caligula.

4. Ouma is a hard case. He needs someone he can absolutely trust and finding one of those is a huge challenge. The only ones Ouma has expressed full trust to were Gonta, because he was unquestionably good and weak-willed enough to never stray away from Ouma's instruction without asking first; and chapter 5 Momota, who was in circumstances so complicated that he wouldn't dare to throw away the chance Ouma's script offered. Ouma is the kind of paranoid control freak who would intentionally go for a Berserker because even the ones who speak are single-minded in a way that makes them easy to plan around. The alternative would be someone so like-minded in methods and standards that he'd probably hate them but still trust as someone who thinks the same way he would, but only BB fits that bill and she's not normally summonable. With that card off the table, the only options Ouma has left are Berserker he can trust to never kill anyone ever, and the only Zerk valuing life this much is Nightingale. BB's fellow nurse, amusingly enough.

5. Ki-bo would be offended with Alaya if he summoned a robot or homunculus just because he's a robot. And he also wishes for a partner that will treat him as an equal without denying what makes him different as a robot. In short, he needs a human Servant that is used to have normal relationships with robots. But Chen Gong or Red Hare because they're too evil, nor Orion because he's too crude. That leaves us with robot Danzou's human son, Fuuma Kotarou.

6. Gonta's wish is to become a true gentleman his human family can acknowledge, and for that, he needs the example of someone who is both well-mannered and of noble heart. Bedivere is an easy choice.

7. As I mentioned a few times before around 2017~18, I strongly think the best thing about Saihara is his interactions with Hoshi. Saihara is a guy feeling eternally guilty because he made one "good guy" murderer pay for his crime and he tries to make up for it by forcefully validating Hoshi's mass-murdering of the mafia. Then in Fate/, we have Arjuna, an all-around excellent man who adamantly believes himself to be evil because he did one dishonorable thing once. Saihara is the stubborn validating Master Arjuna needs to make him understand that he is not the monster he believes himself to be.

8. The first thing about Shirogane is that she really doesn't like reality, especially when it concerns herself. She can't muster any interest in the boring, plain girl she is or the boring, plain world she lives in, so she makes a hobby and a job out of becoming someone else, a larger-than-life figure in a fictional world. She loves all Danganronpa characters but expresses greater adoration towards Junko and Kamukura, the most unreal the series has produced. Enter Gilgamesh, the Hero King with the comically large ego and literally all Noble Phantasm to satiate Tsumugi's craving for a break from reality. That said, Gilgamesh has the recurring hobby of playing therapist to a Master disconnected from their own self and is the franchise's greatest symbol of the willing departure from the Age of Gods into the Age of Man. As much as he fits her tastes on a surface level, he's the guy who transitioned the flashy world of fantasy she dreams of into the plain world she hates, and he'll use most of his free time to the same on a personal level for her. The Caster version is being specifically picked because Archer has childish beef with modernity, and Caster is intentionally making his arsenal more limited and unimpressive, which is self-demonstrative of the points he wants to make to Shirogane.

9. One of his Free Time Events has him explaining why Medusa is his favorite myth, and I definitely can't claim to know this shit better than him. Deep emotional attachment to a story can net you a compatibility summon, as Kiara is there to show, and Shinguuji gets bonus points from how TM Medusa became a monster out of living her life for her sisters rather than for herself.

10. Cute and righteous female Buddhist mentor figure who does martial arts. What else could Chabashira ask for?

11. Toujou takes self-worth from serving big important people with utmost perfection, so she needs her Servant to be a king or similarly important leader. But she also needs it to be a support Caster so can properly invert the Master-Servant relationship and personally fight the enemy Servant for her king. The only characters in the middle of the Venn diagram of kings and support Casters are Medea and Sheba, and Medea wants nothing do with the royalty life anymore, so Sheba it is.

12. The role of the hero Harukawa needs is already properly fulfilled by Momota in the story, so I'll go with Jason because he shares all of Momota's strenghts and flaws. He's someone who'll force her to be part of a team, relentlessly encourage her break out of her shell, and have a shitty personality she can never fully respect, making the relationship balanced. And things would go even smoother with Jason because his summon comes with Atalante, who is someone Harukawa can easily relate to.

13. Hoshi needs someone who would assure him of his choices and make him comfortably reconnect with his past like he did with Saihara in his Free Time Events. As practically the face of the Avenger Class, Dantes defines himself as an ally and guardian to the ones who were wronged and lashed out in less than virtuous ways, so he's a perfect fit.

14. Momota is too aware of himself as the protagonist of his own story to want a hero. He would instead want a loyal sidekick or a like-minded rival. Voyager is a good sidekick option due to his fit with Momota's wish for greater adventure further beyond, and is a Servant Momota mentions in his Free Time Events, so there's the emotional connectional to his story there. For a rival, a big name adventurer like Drake or Odysseus could work, and so could a wandering warrior like Musashi. But there's one option that fits both roles: Mandricardo. Rica has the adventurer experience necessary to eventually compete with Momota, but also Saihara's level of self-esteem, allow him to start on the sidekick role until Momota pulls him out of it and shapes him into a proper rival.

15. Like with Harukawa, the role of hero Yumeno needs is already fulfilled by Chabashira in canon, so we know what she needs is someone with high energy and a deep understanding of emotions. And Fate/'s biggest connesieur of human emotion is none other than our Kiyohara no Nagiko.

16. Angie is a complicated case because she doesn't react well to being disobeyed. My first idea for someone with a functioning partnership with her is a knight, but knights generally work on the premise that their king is selfless and righteous, which Angie isn't. There are people like Lan Ling, Liangyu, the ninjas, Mori or Okita, who submit their lives to anyone's authority, but for that same reason, they wouldn't help Angie improve. What she really needs is someone good at feigning humility, like Limbo. He wouldn't have good intentions for her Master, but by manipulating situations out of her control without letting her feel like her divine words are being challenged, he can force some level of change on her mindset. It's better than nothing.

#danganronpa v3 #type moon #kaede akamatsu #rantarou amami #miu iruma #kokichi ouma #ki bo #gonta gokuhara #shuuichi saihara #tsumugi shirogane #korekiyo shinguuji #tenko chabashira #kirumi toujou #maki harukawa #ryouma hoshi #kaito momota #himiko yumeno #angie yonaga

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maneskinrollercoaster · 3 years

Text

~ When Will You Finally See That I’m The One For You? ~

Pairing: Victoria De Angelis x Sara ( fictional character )

Word count: 1815

Warnings: A bit of swearing.

Summary: Sara reveals the truth about her feelings.

- I just don’t get why she dumped me! - Victoria said with tears in her eyes and crossed her arms.

Her and Sara were sitting on the bed at her room on a Saturday evening after Victoria’s date with her now ex-girlfriend. Vic was so excited when she’s gotten invited to this fancy restaurant for dinner, she got all dressed up and did her makeup and was talking about it for a week straight but it didn’t really go as planned. She came home crying, with her mascara smudged under her eyes and more sad than she’s ever been. Martina broke up with her and Vic couldn’t believe that something so good ended so quickly. She really adored this girl and was really happy around her and when “I think we should break up” rolled out of Martina’s mouth she was far more than surprised. She was speechless. She thought everything was going good and that she’s finally found someone perfect for her.

- As I said before, she didn’t deserve you Vic, I mean, you’re awesome! Who the hell would ever want to break up with you? - Sara said laying down next to her on the bed.

They’ve been talking about this situation for the past hour and Sara really couldn’t hear about that anymore. As much as she wanted to be a supportive friend, she couldn’t see Vic crying again after some stupid girl who dumped her over nothing.

- Yeah, sure, if I was so awesome I wouldn’t have been heartbroken now. - Vic sighed and rested her head on the bed frame.

Vic was really amazing. She was funny, spontaneous and the moment she entered any room she always brought this magical aura around her that made everyone happy.

- I don’t know what else to tell you. You just don’t see how good you are, maybe even too good for other people. - Sara looked at Vic and grabbed her hand.

Sara knew she was right. Vic was always so caring and loving and when she met a girl, she immediately wanted to show her all the affection and love she developed towards her. And somethings it scared them off, Victoria was fast and straightforward and never hid anything she has to say. She was too good for others and sometimes she didn’t see their true intentions but she’s never realized until she got dumped out of nowhere.

- I mean, come on, it was all going good. We were supposed to go for such a cool date and suddenly she said she wants to break up. I asked her why but the only thing she said was that it’s for the better. - Vic now also looked at Sara, lowering her head on he pillow.

- Vic you’ve said that for the fourth time tonight. I know the story and all I gotta say is that she didn’t deserve you. - Sara said annoyed.

She was in love with Vic since the day she first met her but back at the time Victoria had a girlfriend and Sara just let it go. Until they both broke up. Since then Sara always caught herself looking at Vic with something more than friendship. She admired her smile and her energy and she often found herself lost in her beautiful blue eyes. Victoria was the most beautiful and genuine person Sara’s ever met and she wanted her all to herself. Victoria quickly bashed those thought though telling Sara that she’s the best friend she’s ever had and that she’s almost like her sister.

Ethan was the only one to know. He’s became close with Sara and they’ve both shared secrets with each other. He attempted to convince Sara to tell Vic how she really feels but every time it was a misery. She only said that Victoria probably doesn’t feel the same way and she quickly cut off the conversation. And Sara kept on stealing glances at Vic when she was swimming in the pool and admiring her attractive body when she was suntanning. She was perfect but Sara knew that what they had was strictly platonic.

- Why are you so annoyed all of a sudden? - Vic said frowning with an offended voice.

Sara looked away and didn’t say a word. Instead she closed her eyes and stayed silent, just like she always did.

- Forget it, Vic. Really. You’ll find someone better. - she said not opening his eyes.

Vic was confused. Usually they both talked with each other for hours and Sara was the first person to make her feel better after a breakup but now she was weirdly tense.

- No. - Vic said getting up and crossing her arms again. - Tell me why are u so bothered that I’m talking about it! - she raised her voice a bit which made Sara open her eyes.

Victoria was stubborn. Probably the most stubborn person on this planet and Sara knew that she won’t get away without an answer. She knew exactly what she wanted to tell her but - as always - she was too scared. She didn’t want to ruin her friendship with Vic but it was slowly killing her inside, seeing Victoria with different girls, kissing, hugging, being affectionate. Because that’s what she wanted with her. A relationship, something endless that would make them both happy and even closer to each other.

- Are you gonna tell me? Or you’re gonna stare at me and not say a word? - Vic was still digging and Sara’s nerves slowly started to break.

She was on the edge of screaming that she loves Victoria more than anyone straight into her face.

- It’s nothing, Vic. Let it go, please. - Sara said also sitting up and looking down at her hands.

It was a lot more than nothing and Victoria could see by the look at Sara’s face. She knew something was up and she had to get to know what was going on.

- Hey, Sara, babe. Look at me. - Vic said gently grabbing Sara’s chin to make her look at her. - I know it’s not nothing and I want you to tell me what’s going on. You know you can tell me anything, I’m always here for you. - she said stroking her cheek and sending her reassuring smile.

At the sudden contact with Vic’s warm hand Sara’s heart started beating faster. She felt butterflies in her stomach and her cheeks turned red quickly making her look redder than a tomato. Sara felt this electricity between them, some kind of chemistry, connection that she’s never felt before. It all suddenly hit her. She loved her with everything she had and she couldn’t see herself with anyone but Vic.

- When will you finally see that I’m the one for you? - Sara broke.

Her eyes turned watery and she looked Vic deep into her eyes. Victoria couldn’t believe her ears. She never would have thought that Sara had feelings for her. Yes, she always cared for her and made her feel special but she always thought Sara was into boys. She’s gotten closer with Ethan and they’ve spent a lot of time together. Victoria thought that they like each other to the point she started joking around about them being in love and she simply didn’t realize that Sara saw her as something more than just a friend.

- What? What the hell do you mean? - Vic said, a little smile on her face.

- I mean that I fucking love you and I’ve loved you for the past 4 years we've known each other. I love the way you smile and the way you laugh and I love your eyes to the point I get lost in them, and your body, oh you’re body is all I look at when we’re at the pool. You’re always there for me to joke around and you make me so happy. You’re my best friend but I fell in love with you and I didn’t mean for that to happen but it did.. so.. yeah. - Sara said on one breath finally saying everything she’s been always hiding and her eyes were watery.

Victoria didn’t know what to say, she was speechless but happy. She loved Sara as well, she just used to have her as her best friend and that’s what kind of made her feel like she was unreachable.

Vic without thinking much jumped at Sara and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. Single tears started falling down Sara’s cheek and she wrapped her arms around Vic, hiding her face in the crock of her neck.

They were sitting like that for at least ten minutes when Victoria slowly pulled away. She gently cupped Sara’s cheek and looked her in the eyes, smiling widely and grabbing her palm with the other hand, intertwining their fingers together.

- Piccola, why didn’t you tell me earlier? - she asked her leaning her forehead against Sara’s.

- I was scared to loose you, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I thought you won’t feel the same way. - Sara said quietly.

- That’s bullshit. You know nothing would ever separate us, no matter how hard it would be - Vic said and looked back into Sara’s eyes. - I love you, amore. So much. I just thought you and Ethan were “a thing” and I didn’t really realize what I felt for you. Until now, babe. - she said and smiled, stroking her cheek.

Sara couldn’t have been happier. Vic really loved her back and she couldn’t believe that she finally got the courage to reveal her true feelings.

- Me and Ethan? Are you insane? We’re just friends and he was the only person who knew what I felt. We shared our secrets with each other. And yes he is handsome and loving but I only ever wanted you. - Sara said.

Victoria smiled and second later slightly brushed her lips against Sara’s. She was always passionate with her kisses but this time she wanted to be gentle. She wanted to show Sara that she really felt the same way. Sara also brushed her lips against Vic and then they both intertwined in a kiss full of love. Victoria’s lips were soft and sweet and Vic could feel a slight vanilla flavor on Sara’s lips. They both moved in sync and after a few seconds they pulled away trying to catch a breath.

- Until now I didn’t know, but I guess you’re all I need. - Vic said pulling Sara in for a hug squeezing her tightly and stroking her back.

- You’re all I ever needed. - Sara rested her head on Vic’s shoulder and they both smiled widely from happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My first Victoria fic, I hope you enjoy ❤️

If you have any requests let me know in the comments or on priv 🥰❤️

Tag list: [ @teenyweenynightghost, @superchrystaldrug ]

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lvlyhao · 3 years

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『wayv’s ideal type』

headcanons, WayV

A/N: i love yangyang. send tweet.

today’s theme is... um... none. no braincells for an aesthetic

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE GENDER NEUTRAL AAAA

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: fluff (♡)...?

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: i think like 2 swear words and as usual, my tough love for the neos. don’t be offended.

word count: 1.6K

pairing: wayv members x reader (includes kun, ten, winwin, lucas, hendery, xiaojun, yangyang)

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Kun

Kun, similarly to Taeil, would most likely fall for someone very mature and responsible. My dude is already the father of 7 children (I'm counting Chenle); the last thing he needs is one more.

Very closely related to that is what I think would be another of his priorities: whoever they are and however they are, they've got to get along with the rest of WayV—but it's even better if NCT as a whole likes them. As much as he'd love his s/o, I can't say that if it ever came down to choosing them or his members, he'd pick his partner. The guys are his family and a BIG part of his work, which takes over most of his life, so there's really no escaping it. Befriend the boys or bye-bye.

Once the boys approve of his crush, I think his interest would grow if they've got many pastimes or hobbies. I mean, c'mon, Kun can fly a plane on the same day as he sings his lungs out on Inkigayo and then goes home to cook some fancy-ass dinner. He doesn't need them to be on his level, though. Small, silly passions are the ones the loves the most. He'd listen to them talk about ANYTHING for like 3 hours straight, even if it's why their favourite type of constrictors are pythons. No, that is totally not about me. Shut up.

Ten

Y'all remember that one WayV live where a fan asks for dating advice? Yes, I'm taking a lot from it. If you've seen it, it's not hard to come to the conclusion that Ten likes honest and straightforward people. He values himself way too much to lose his time with someone who's playing games, making him chase them and things of the sort. It's simple, really. If you like him, great, he'll give you the stars if you ask, but if not, great too, he'll live.

I can see that either he'd get with a person as extra as him or someone on Jaehyun's level of unbothered. Not many options here. You either become his partner in crime and bring hell on Earth with him, or you accept it well. Just don't be judgy or ask him to tone it down. That's the way he is, so why should he, you know?

Speaking of that, AUTHENTICITY, FOLKS. Being authentic is a big deal here. Ten is very true to himself and is always encouraging us to be, as well. Anyone he even considers dating will be nothing short of unique and unapologetically so. Being confident is just so attractive for him, I can't even—and yes, even if they're a bit strange. His partner might be a weirdo, but they're HIS weirdo, and he'll fight anyone that disagrees.

Winwin

I think while other members might fall for someone as bright as the Sun, he'd love a person as calming as the Moon. You know that aesthetic? The gentleness, introspectiveness, wisdom, the tranquillity... yeah, fam. That's it for my boy Winwin.

Allow me to elaborate: all of those traits would make him very comfortable with the thought of being in a relationship. I can see Sicheng as having some trust issues, aside from not being very touchy or loud when it comes to affection. Having that peaceful aura would really help him grow closer to his partner because he knows they'll be patient with him and respect his boundaries.

He wouldn't mind if they're more on the talkative side, but he needs a person that can appreciate silence too. Something I see a lot for him is having loud thoughts that are hard to get rid of. Dating him would mean having nights when he's tired out of his mind and just doesn't have the strength to talk. His partner will have to understand that and stay by his side until his inner world is a bit less chaotic, just holding his hand and letting him take his time. I think allowing him to have his space and peace in the relationship is how he feels loved the most.

Lucas

Yukhei would not mind one bit having a more childish, carefree partner. He's a big baby, c'mon, being around another baby would probably make him the happiest. I also think he meant it when he said he doesn't care about age (that one V-Live from years ago). Younger than him, older than him, my boy doesn't give a fuck. He really just wants someone to be silly with and smile a lot.

Having said that, I really can't see anything pushing him away from getting to know someone. Lucas is very lighthearted and loves people, so I think he'd have his fun getting to know anyone—and tbh, he would be hooked if they're a bit mysterious too. His interest would probably get the best of him, and he wouldn't stop whining about it to the other boys until he learns something about them. Very random, yes, but I can 100% see him complaining to WayV during dinner, LMAO.

One thing he wouldn't enjoy too much? A partner that can't take compliments or doesn't like being spoiled. Yukhei's affection is LOUD, and he really thrives off praise, cute pet names and giving gifts. He'd most likely be heartbroken if he finds out they don't like any of it, almost like they're shutting down his love itself.

Xiaojun

Ah, my dear Dejun. The middle child of WayV. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, just look up "Xiaojun's middle child problems" on YouTube and go from there. If you don't feel like it, lemme break it down to you: he's an angel, but the boys mostly accuse him of everything and anything and will throw him under the bus for fun. It's very entertaining. At this point, my boy doesn't have a fight or flight response; more like fight or fight (shhhh, I'll get into the headcanon now).

I think since he's used to being so defensive around his members, he'd appreciate a person that makes him feel both understood and safe. They'd share similar tastes (mint-choco ice cream, cough cough) and interests, but they'd most likely have a fiercer presence than him. Kind of intimidating, tbh. Very nice. I can definitely see that his partner wouldn't let WayV's chaos get to them and would, undoubtedly, be as much of a savage as the boys are.

He'd probably like it if they (playfully) fight his members and defend him from whatever-the-fuck they're blaming him for atm, so, yes, a bit protective. I think Dejun would simply find it cute and admirable, you know, their braveness. Would 10/10 brag about it when they're alone.

Hendery

Kunhang is the ultimate crackhead, but a sweet one at that. Being a Libra (yes, I'm going there), I think he can actually be very sentimental around the people he trusts the most and needs to feel like he belongs. That leads me to point 1: his partner would also be a crackhead. That's REALLY not up for debate. Kunhang wouldn't even think about dating someone that's not as much of a weirdo as he is.

Point 2: he probably wouldn't like to be with a person that's too vain or superficial, whether that goes towards others or themselves. He's said before he hopes the fans can see him as more than a pretty face, and I can imagine that goes for his s/o too. He'd simply not feel connected to someone who's always dolled up or dressed to impress. Would definitely prefer a more casual style and personality.

I guess point 3 is kinda random, but it makes sense to me, so here we go. Kunhang would really like someone who's just in love with human nature. For him, it's the tiniest things: the way they laugh, how they drink their tea, which side of the bed they'd prefer... it all adds up to a person, and I think he'd feel over the Moon to be with someone who sees the same things as him. Comment on a small habit of his he thinks no one else would notice, and I swear he's yours.

Yangyang

He is a spoiled brat, and I say that with all the love in the world. We've all heard WayV say how he basically tries to exploit them (mainly Hyung-line) at every opportunity he gets, which makes me think Yangyang might be a bit lazy, yes, but also that he'd do great with someone whose love language is acts of service.

Now, I'm not saying he'd tyrannize them or anything of the sort, but things would work very well if that is how his partner expresses their love. They wouldn't mind fetching him a drink, cooking something—or ordering out, if they can't... you know, stuff like that. It would make him feel very validated and cared for. I see that, for him, that's the ultimate type of devotion.

The last thing I can imagine he'd consider is whether they can take his teasing and antics or not. Yangyang's affection is really not shown through super heartfelt, sugar-coated moments; quite the opposite, actually. If he feels happy around someone, his way of showing it is that playful banter, insults and teasing, you know? He really wouldn't know what to do if the person takes everything he says to heart, like—Yangyang.exe has stopped working. So, yeah. A thick skin and elastic heart are a great combo for my boy.

Bonus: he'd lowkey cry if they get super hyped with his work as an artist. PLEASE praise his dancing, rapping, visuals and all. I don't think many people do, and even if he denies it, the compliments make him all fuzzy inside. #appreciateyangyang2021, he's underrated af.

---

final notes: head empty, no thoughts, just 90′s love yangyang

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Riding On

Ch24: The Wheel Fell Off

Summary: There are some perks to having your own, personal mechanic…and Fliss isn’t the only one who notices.

Warnings: Bad language.

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So I gotta give a shout out to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork as she came up with a few gems of dialogue for this!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 23

And the wonder of it all is that you don’t realise how much I love you.

July 2020

Frank looked around at the team assembled in his office for the daily Stand-Up and nodded. “Okay, so I’ve nothing else to add, anyone got any other business before I call it?”

“Are we far behind on the repair time KPI for the Dolphin Tour fleet?” Mick, the finance manager looked at Frank and he shook his head.

“No, a day or so. Tim says he’ll have made the time back by Friday so we’re good.” Frank replied. “I’m not concerned. It shouldn’t have an impact on the incentivisation payments”

Mick nodded and Frank waited for a second. When no one else spoke, he dismissed the team and turned to his computer, leaning over to check the rest of the meetings and tasks for the day. He was midway through a very complicated spreadsheet detailing incoming repairs and timescales when his phone rang.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He greeted Fliss, leaning back in his chair a little. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, well, no. I was in the menage harrowing the surface and the wheel fell off the Quad Bike.”

“What do you mean the wheel fell off?” Frank pulled a face, scratching at his temple.

“Well, you know how it had four wheels? Now it has three,” came the sarcastic response.

“Dickhead.” Frank shot back and Fliss’ laughter hit his ears.

“Well, what did you think I meant?”

“You know what, I’m sorry I asked.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that means you want me to come fix it?”

“Yeah but it can wait until later if you’re busy, we managed to get it out of the way. Dad’s here snagging the extension to the tack room so he had a look and he says the bolt has sheared off so he can’t put it back on without a spare and I don’t know if you have any lying about in your Man Cave.”

“I will do from when we changed the wheels last year.” Frank clicked into his calendar to double check his schedule and smiled. “I’ve got no meetings this afternoon so I’ll come home at lunch. I can do the stock inventory at home.”

“My hero.”

“You know, if you carry on being sarcastic you can shove it up your ass.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” Fliss laughed. “You know I love the fact that you can fix all this shit for me.”

“No you love the fact I get filthy fixing all that shit for you.”

“Well yeah, that’s one upside to you being good with your hands.”

“One?” Frank grinned, leaning back in his chair. “So there’s more?”

“You know it Sailor. I gotta go babe, my next client is here but I’ll see you soon, and if you can’t don’t worry it’ll wait.”

“I’ll sort it. Love you, sweetheart.”

“You too.”

True to his word, Frank left the office at midday giving his team the instruction to call his cell if needed. Once home, he parked up, headed inside to change out of his office attire and pulled on a pair of worn, light jeans and a t-shirt. Once done, he grabbed his shades, went into his work shop and picked up his tool box along with a couple of spare bolts and wandered over to the yard. As he walked, he stopped for a moment to take in the building work and smiled. The extension to the office and tack room area was complete, giving Fliss a huge extra space to organise all her tack and equipment. The paint and plastering had been completed a few days before and the fittings had all been finalised yesterday which was what Bill was in there snagging, making sure it was all as they’d specified. The storage units and racks were all on order and due to arrive at some point tomorrow so Frank knew he’d most likely be busy fitting them in the evening, not that he minded. He loved being able to be involved and help out.

The diggers were in place, hollowing out the additional riding paddock at the bottom of the yard, this one slightly smaller than the current one, but would give more than enough additional space for people to ride, and the hedge along the bottom field had been cleared to lead out to the additional three acres of grassy space they had acquired, with a new gravel path to be laid as a walkway once the post and rail fencing was done. They’d also asked for trenches to be dug for water pipes to avoid the stable hands having to lug buckets and tanks up to the horses.

All in all, it was coming along really well and on schedule, the whole thing set to be completed by the beginning of August, well in time for their wedding, which was now just ten weeks away.

Frank made his way onto the main yard, Fliss waving at him from where she was teaching in the paddock and he waved back, wandering into the newly-constructed building as Bill was busy pointing to something on the wall.

“Yeah, that needs patching up.” He nodded as the guy besides him produced a packet of small stickers in the shape of yellow dots. He placed one on the area Bill was clearly not satisfied with and Frank looked around, noticing a number of them in various places in the room. Bill glanced over at him and smiled. “Hey, son.”

“How picky ya being, Bill?” Frank smirked and Bill let out a snort.

“Nah, the actual building and electrical fittings are all sound.” He gave a nod. “This is just cosmetic. The door frame is chipped, this plaster here is rough and there’s some patches where it’s too thin but other than that it’s good.”

“I’m glad you’re doing this as I wouldn’t have noticed any of that.” Frank mused, leaning in a little closer to examine what it was that Bill had spotted, and the older man shook his head.

“Well, I have over thirty years in the trade and my eyes are still pretty sharp.” Bill chuckled. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me she dragged you out of work to fix that Quad!”

“It’s no problem. Got nothing on this afternoon so I can work from home.”

“She’s got you wrapped round her little finger.” Bill shook his head and Frank arched an eyebrow.

“I could say the same for you.” He accused. “And with Mary too for that matter. And Verity. You’re a soft ass for your girls, Bill and you know it.”

Bill shrugged. “Guilty as charged. Some would argue I’m a soft ass for my boys too, all of you.”

Frank smiled back, his neck feeling a little warm as the sentiment of Bill’s words sunk in and he took a deep breath and jerked his head towards the door. “I best go do what I came to do before her majesty accuses me of slacking.”

Bill chuckled. “It’s in the barn,” he informed, waving him away and Frank emerged out into the hot, midday July sun and strode round to the rear of the yard. The Quad bike and offending wheel were indeed stored in the barn, which was slightly cooler than the outside and Frank dropped his tool bag to the floor before he knelt down to take a look. Bill had been right, the bolt had snapped but it was an easy fix.

Or so he thought.

Ten minutes later, after a lot of cursing, heaving and straining he’d finally managed to work the broken bolt loose. Standing up, he cracked his neck and back, tossing the broken item into his bag with a contemptuous glare as he wiped his sweaty forehead and reached for the wheel. Thankfully, that was easy and took him two minutes to fit, and once he was happy it was sorted he pushed the quadbike out to make sure it was on properly.

“Did you fix it?” A small voice asked him and Frank glanced up to see a little girl, who can’t have been much older than four, stood looking at him as she grinned, her dark pigtails poking out from underneath a cap.

“Sure did.” He smiled.

“It was funny when it fell off.” She giggled. “Fliss screamed and then she swore.”

Frank snorted. “Yeah, she has a potty mouth.”

“Alicia!” A woman spoke and Frank turned to glance up at a slim, dark haired lady, dressed in a pair of bright, beige jodhpurs and a tight, baby-blue polo shirt, both items of clothing looking like they’d never come into contact with a horse at all. “Don’t run off!”

“I just wanted to see if the wheel was back on.” The little girl protested and the woman rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She smiled, flashing off a set of perfect white teeth from behind a set of glossed lips. “She’s so nosey.”

“Kids for ya.” Frank smiled, shaking his head.

“Don’t I know it?” She laughed, a perfectly manicured hand flying to her chest as Frank straightened up, wiping his hands on the back of his loose fitting, slightly grubby jeans. At that point, Joanne came round the back of the barn and she smiled.

“You ready for your lesson, Leesh?” She looked at the little girl who gave a cheer. “Come on then, Fliss is waiting.”

“This is the best Phys-Ed ever!” The little girl grinned and shot off after Joanne.

“Phys Ed.” Her mom rolled her eyes. “Damned private tutor education. I swear, I could kill my ex-husband for suggesting this.”

“You don’t ride yourself then, I take it?” Frank asked and she shook her head.

“No, but when she decided she wanted to, I thought I should make an effort. I think it’s what they refer to in the business as possessing all the gear, but having no idea.”

Frank gave her a smile. “Yeah, well, when my girl decided she wanted to learn I wasn’t particularly keen either but, well, she’s hooked now.”

“Oh, your girl rides too?” The woman flicked her hair back over her shoulder and Frank studied her for a moment, her painted on eyebrows and heavily bronzed face arranged into a genuine look of interest. He realised then that she had absolutely no idea who he was. “Does she do that here?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckled.

“Huh.” The woman scanned him up and down a little, her eyes blatantly flicking to his left hand. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing coming here after all.”

Frank took a deep breath, recognising the flirting for what it was and he gave her a little smile. “Well, I better get on.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m sure Fliss has a list of a hundred other jobs for me to so.”

“So, are you like her mechanic or something?” The woman continued and Frank looked at her, his face remaining straight.

“Something.” He gave her another nod and moved to walk back onto the yard, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, well, we’re new here. We’ve not been here long. I’m Michelle.” She offered, following him.

“Nice to meet you, Michelle.” He looked back over his shoulder as she paused a few steps behind him.

“I err, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” He stopped, turning to look at her, a smirk flicking across his face. She bit her lip and grinned back.

“Are you gonna?”

At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh. “Frank. Frank Adler.”

“Nice to meet you, Frank.”

“You too.” He smiled politely, as he slid his aviators back down from the top of his head onto his eyes, before he realised they were dirty. Taking them off he pulled the bottom of his shirt up slightly to wipe at the lens and when he returned them to his face he caught Michelle’s focus was still on his waist line. Her eyes flicked up to his and she shrugged a little.

“Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t blame a girl for looking, huh?”

Frank blinked, glad his eyes were hidden, a little shocked at her forthcoming nature, before he let out a snort.

“Well I’ve done my fair share of looking in the past, not any more though. My fiancée would have my balls hung up on the wall.”

“Oh, erm, sorry, I didn’t, wow.” She blinked and ran her hand through her glossy hair. “That’s embarrassing.”

Frank shrugged. “I’ve been in far worse situations, believe me.” With that he turned, and as he began to walk along the side of the paddock he looked up to see Fliss was watching him over the fence, her hands on her hips. Her eyes were hidden behind her wrap-arounds but he could tell from her demeanour she wasn’t best pleased. With a groan he approached the white post and rail that ran round the ménage and leaned on it.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Her tone was friendly enough, despite her frosty body language, as she walked over towards him. “You get it fixed?”

“Yeah, took me a while to get the bolt off but it’s all good.”

“Thanks.” She slid her hat up a little and wiped at her brow with the back of her arm. “Fuck, its warm today.”

“Well, take your clothes off.” Frank grinned. “It’ll help you cool down.”

“Pervert.” She snorted, before she nodded behind him. “I see you met Kim.”

“Kim?” Frank frowned. “She said her name was Michelle.”

“Yeah, but Joanne calls her Kim Kardashian.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “On account of the botox and fake boobs.”

“You two are bitches.” Frank scoffed and Fliss shrugged, before he frowned. “Hang on, her boobs are fake?”

“Keep talking, Sailor.” Fliss slid her glasses down and glared at him over the rims and he let out a laugh.

“Baby, I’m joking.” He looked at her and she gave a hum as she pushed them back up her nose as he leaned over the fence a little. “Come ‘ere.”

Fliss stepped towards him and Frank dropped his head to press his lips to hers. “Love you, baby.” He ginned, flashing her his best cheeky grin.

“You can’t get round me that easy.” She shot back and Frank shrugged.

“Who says I’m trying to get round you?”

“I know you, Adler.” She scoffed, stepping back. “Look, I gotta get on so I’ll see you at home. You wanna pick Alex up tonight?”

“Sure, I’ll get him. Is Mary getting the bus home from Summer Camp?”

“Yeah, I told her one of us would pick her up but she insisted.” Fliss shrugged and Frank smiled.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of hours then.”

“Yeah, love you.”

“You too.”

*****

It was gone five before Fliss had finished at the yard. She’d hardly had time to breathe, let alone think about what she’d seen that morning, but that said, it was there, nagging in the back of her brain. She bid Joanne a good night, before she headed down the little path to the house. She was hot, sticky, uncomfortable and ready for a cool shower and a very large glass of white wine. As she walked down the drive, she passed her newly acquired white Hyundai SUV and stopped as she caught her reflection in the tinted rear mirror.

“Oh, Jesus.” She mumbled, moving closer to take a better look. Her skin was the colour of a fucking beet, her hair was all over the place from where she’d removed her cap and tossed it on her desk, her polo shirt was full of all sorts of stains and she was pretty sure she could smell herself and her riding britches were hung a little low on her hips, her soft stomach visible beneath the tight cotton of her top.

And then, from nowhere, came the image of fucking Michelle and her fucking size two figure, with her fucking perfect tits, model smile, stupidly glossy hair, and impeccable eyebrows and straight nose…

Fliss hastily pulled her pony tail out, fluffed out her sweat-damp hair and retied it, before she smoothed down her top as best she could and headed into their yard and through to the utility room, Thor trotting behind her.

“Hey!” Frank greeted her from where he was led on the rug, building some form of tower out of a set of large, brightly coloured blocks as Alex sat next to him, his little hands curling round a few of the bricks. The baby looked round and made an excited noise at the sight of his momma, and shuffled a little onto his knees and hands, crawling towards her.

“Frank, I stink.” She held her hands up in warning and Frank hastily rose, quickly picking Alex up off the floor before he could get much further towards her.

“A little dirt won’t hurt him.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but I look and feel like I’ve been rolling on the muck heap all day so I’m going straight for a shower.”

Frank chuckled as she gave Alex a quick kiss on the head, moving out of his way before he could grab hold of her. “Well, I think you wear the dirty, stable hand look well, Honey.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back down in ten, do you mind starting dinner? I was gonna do a quick chicken salad.”

“Course.” Frank nodded, looking at her for a moment and she simply smiled back.

She could feel Frank’s eyes burning into her back as she headed out of the family room into the hallway, trudging up the stairs. As soon as she was in their bedroom she stripped off her sticky, dirty clothes, tossed them onto the floor and climbed straight into the shower, turning it to an adequate temperature. Tipping her face up into the stream she let the lukewarm water cool her slightly, as she blinked back tears of frustration.

Michelle had at least had the good grace to look a little sheepish when she’d realised exactly who Frank was, but fuck, it had still pissed Fliss off to the point she’d wanted to smash her face straight into the floor. And more to the point, Fliss felt annoyed that it had riled her the way it had. It wasn’t exactly like it was an unusual occurrence, everywhere they went Frank seemed to attract female attention, he was gorgeous, but today had been on her home turf, somewhere she was Queen Bee, and to have someone else buzzing around her hive in such a way made her feel uneasy.

Real uneasy.

With a deep breath she washed her hair, sorted herself out and turned off the shower before she wrapped herself in a towel and headed back into the bedroom. As she was brushing out her hair, her phone went off and she picked it up, snorting at the message from Steve which showed a baby-grow with the words, “party at my crib, 3am, bring a bottle,” on the front. She sent him a quick response, pondering for a moment at just how fast Sian’s latest pregnancy seemed to have gone, she was approaching her sixth month now, and seemed to be glowing just as she had with the twins. Mary had been very happy when they’d announced they were expecting another boy, declaring proudly that made her Bill’s only granddaughter, something which, according to her, made her special.

And of course, none of them had corrected her, because it was the truth.

Tapping her nails lightly against the surface of the vanity unit, Fliss scrolled down to her message conversations and found the one to Bonnie, sending her a quick text to ask if she was free. She set about her quick face care routine, before she braided her damp hair, and then her phone began to ring.

“Hey!” Bonnie greeted her. “I’m driving so thought I’d call you…erm, I’m not doing anything in particular, why?”

“Well, I know Si’s outta town on business so I wondered if you fancied company for a few hours?” Fliss replied, keeping the details as sketchy as she could. “Me and a bottle of white? God knows I could do with one after today.”

“That bad huh?” Bonnie chuckled. “Sure why not. I’m not working tomorrow after all. Did I tell you I had many weeks off?”

“You might have mentioned it.” Fliss replied, laughing a little. “You teachers have an easy ride.”

“Fuck you.” Bonnie shot back and Fliss snorted.

“I’m joking, well I’ve no lessons until later tomorrow so I can have a few.” Fliss scratched at her temple. “What time works for you?”

“Well, I’m just on my way to have dinner at my mom’s so, I can pick you up on the way back?” Bonnie offered. “Be about seven ish?”

“Perfect.” Fliss smiled.

“Awesome. We can get down to some Hen Party planning!” Bonnie’s voice was laced with excitement. “I found this awesome villa in Miami that will accommodate everyone.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” Fliss smiled.

After a little more conversation, Fliss placed her phone back down and dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a khaki green boat necked short-sleeved top and shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops. She took another look in the mirror, scowling once more at her reflection, before she rolled her eyes and headed downstairs.

She walked into the family room and smiled as she saw Mary was sat on a stool at the island whilst Alex was sat in his high chair, munching on a piece of cucumber. Frank was busy tossing things into a salad bowl, and he turned to smile at her as she greeted them all, dropping a kiss to Mary’s head, then Alex’s in turn.

“Feeling better?” Frank asked as she slid her arms round his waist, pressing her face into his t-shirt.

“Yeah, much. God, it was disgustingly hot out there today.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I don’t miss about working on boats, the lack of air conditioning.” Frank chuckled as she stepped back and moved to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

“My face feels burnt, but I don’t know how that’s possible.” She shook her head, thanking Frank as he reached into the cupboard and pulled down a glass for her. “I had a cap and shades on.”

“It doesn’t look too red.” He looked at her and she took a large gulp of wine, giving a satisfied sigh.

“Been waiting for that all afternoon.” She closed her eyes, savouring the taste before she opened them again. “Oh, that reminds me, I’m going over to Bonnie’s later, just for a couple of hours. Hen Do planning, that okay?”

“Course it is.” Frank nodded. “You want me to drop you off?”

“No, she’s at her mum’s so she’s going to come get me. I can Uber back.”

“I’ll pick you up.” Frank looked at her. “We can take the kids and Thor down to the beach for a little flashlight walk on the way back.”

“Flashlight walk?” Mary suddenly spoke, excitement lacing her tone. “The last time we did that it was so cool, we saw all those hermit crabs and the dolphins!”

“Don’t be so nosey.” Frank looked at her and she shrugged.

“You weren’t exactly whispering.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to Fliss who chuckled. “Sure, sounds good. I won’t be long, just a few hours.”

Frank shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, not like Mary needs to be up early and Alex will probably sleep the entire time anyway if he’s in the carrier.”

She gave him a small nod before she set about helping Frank with their dinner. It wasn’t long before it was ready, and they decided to eat outside. Mary chatted away, filling them all in on what she’d done at Summer camp, Frank listening, but all the time keeping one eye on Fliss who seemed to be taking it all in, but wasn’t saying much.

They finished, cleared their dishes away and Mary headed upstairs for a little while, whilst Fliss took Alex for his bath before she brought him back down, ready for bed to give him his bottle which Frank had ready.

She passed him over as Frank made his way to the sofa, dropping down to feed their baby, and Fliss watched for a moment, before her phone beeped.

“Bonnie’s outside.” Fliss stuck it back in her pocket and turned to Frank as he gently shifted Alex so he was a little more comfortable, his small hands curled around the bottle as he drank his milk.

“She not coming in?”

“No point, we’re only going straight back out.”

“Right.” Frank nodded as glanced back down at Alex. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking up at her and Fliss nodded back, a little too quickly, the way she always did when she was trying to hide something and Frank took a deep breath. “Liss…”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “Just a little wiped after today, that’s all.” Frank sighed and Fliss narrowed her eyes as she turned towards the kitchen. “Don’t sigh at me like that.”

“I’m not sighing at you like anything.” He replied as she pulled out a bottle of wine to take with her. “Just wish you’d tell me what the problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem.” Fliss rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to Bonnie’s for a few hours. Is my life that sad that whenever I socialise it always has to be because I have a problem?”

“I didn’t say that.” Frank replied, calmly.

“Good, because that’s not why I’m going.”

Knowing he was beat, and that if he pushed it any further they were going to end up in a full scale argument, Frank nodded. “Okay then. Have fun, call me when you’re done.”

Fliss blinked, almost as if she was waiting for him to push her again, before she simply shrugged and leaned over to gently run her finger down Alex’s chubby cheek. She then turned to Frank gave him a quick kiss.

“Love you.” He pressed his lips to hers a little deeper, before she stepped back and he was pleased to see her smiling.

“Love you too.”

Frank watched her go, taking a deep breath as he glanced back down at his son. A few minutes later, Mary bounded into the room and Frank looked up at her.

“Did you hear back from the vets, you know about Cleo?” She asked.

“Yup.” Frank grinned, “wanna read the email?”

“Dur!” She grinned and Frank pulled his phone out form his pocket, scrolling with one hand to the email that had arrived earlier that afternoon before he handed it to her.

“Dear Mr Adler,” Mary read, “I’m pleased to inform you that Sandybrook Cleopatra has passed her five-stage-vetting, bla bla bla,” she skipped on a few lines, “negative worm count, negative for equine influenza, rhino-erm, what’s that?”

“Pneumonitis” Frank read as she turned the screen to him. “I’ve got no idea, some disease, obviously.”

“And Streptococcus Equi, oh I know that one. That’s strangles.” Mary nodded.

“Whatever you say, Stack.” Frank smiled.

“As such, please see attached the completed and fully executed Export Health Certificate. Upon arrival in the USA, your animal will require a further three days quarantine which you must organise ….bla bla bla!” Mary grinned up at him as she handed him his phone back. “So that’s it?”

“Yup!” Frank nodded, as he glanced down at Alex who was now turning away from his bottle, signalling he was done. ”Everything’s done, Jo’s sorted the stuff with Department of Agriculture at this end, el ponio is being collected by the UK transporter tomorrow morning and will be on a flight later that evening.” He paused to rearrange Alex over his shoulder to burp him. “So, if all goes according to plan, she’ll be arriving here after her quarantine mid-afternoon on Fliss’ birthday.” He nodded, before he mumbled. “Thirteen thousand bucks lighter.”

“Thirteen thousand!” Mary spluttered. “Holy shit!”

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Frank looked at her sternly as Alex gave a loud burp. Frank turned his head to look at him. “Better out than in, Bean.”

“Sorry but, Dad, that’s a lot of money. I thought they did you a deal and knocked half off her price because it was Fliss?”

“They did.” He shrugged as he stood and carried Alex over to his pack and play. “She still cost me three. The rest is the cost of the vetting and the transport. But, Poppa B and Nanny V have said they only want half back and Uncle Steeb is chucking in a couple of hundred towards it, so it’s kind of like a joint present.”

“She’s worth it!” Mary grinned and Frank chuckled, heading to kitchen area.

“The horse or Fliss?”

“Mom, of course.” Mary scoffed, hopping up onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

“She sure is.” Frank agreed as he opened the fridge. “But I’ll be telling her that’s her birthday this year, birthday next year, Christmas and first wedding anniversary present all rolled into one.”

“First anniversary?” Mary looked at him. “You ain’t even married yet!”

“I know but now I don’t have to think about buying her anything for like twelve months.” He shrugged, smirking to himself as he leaned down for a bottle of beer, knowing he was talking utter shit. There was no way that was gonna fly, and he didn’t even want to try for the simple reason he loved buying Fliss stuff that made her smile. Still, it was fun trying to watch Mary decide if he was joking or not.

“What about Mother’s Day?” She asked after a moment.

“She aint my mom,” Frank looked at her, “as the eldest the responsibility for that falls to you.” He twisted the lid off the beer as Mary narrowed her eyes. “You want a beer?” He waved the bottle at Mary.

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide.

“No, just wanted to see how much crap I could tell you that you’d actually believe.” He smirked. Mary blinked, before she let out a low groan, realising she’d been had.

“You’re such an idiot.” She shook her head, and Frank watched, chuckling to himself as she bent down, picked Fred up and stalked to her Den, Thor hot on her tail.

*****

“So, I thought,” Bonnie grinned, turning the laptop to face Fliss as they sat at her kitchen table, “that this one sounds perfect. It sleeps up to twelve, has a pool, hot tub, is a short walk to the beach, not far from down-town and also literally a five minute walk to the hotel we stayed in, where we can get a really good deal on a Day-Spa package. And, we can also get someone in on the Saturday to do a grill and cocktails for us, if that’s what you wanna do.”

Fliss gave a small smile, and Bonnie frowned. “Or, not. Sorry, is it not what you wanted? I thought-“ Fliss sighed, her hand laying on Bonnie’s arm. “No, that…” she took a deep breath and smiled, “it sounds perfect, Bonnie. Honestly it does.”

“So, why are you making me feel like I’ve given you a dog turd on a plate and told you it’s your dinner?”

At that Fliss choked on the mouthful of wine she’d taken and looked at her best friend. “You know, for a teacher, you really have a way with words.”

Bonnie chuckled, as Fliss shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. I’m just feeling a little…actually, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Pissed off, maybe?”

“Why, what’s happened?” Bonnie looked at her.

“Just…oh, you know what, it’s nothing.” Fliss brushed it off, necking the remainder of the wine in her bottle. “Can I get a top up?”

“I’ll get it.” Bonnie nodded and stood up from the table. A moment or two later she returned, and held the bottle up. “You speak, and I’ll pour.”

Fliss blinked, realising she wasn’t going to get away with it, so she sat back and blurted everything out. How she’d felt seeing Frank with the bimbo at the yard, how she was feeling a little insecure over how she looked because she’d once upon a time been that groomed, perfect looking person. And the more she talked, the more tumbled out about how she felt sometimes that Frank was way out of her league before Bonnie shook her head and cut her off.

“Are you listening to yourself?” She scoffed. “Jesus Christ, I haven’t heard anyone talk this much shit since Simon told me he was gonna run a marathon.”

“Hey, you asked what was wrong.” Fliss looked at her, her temper flashing a little. “I’m just telling you!”

“Yeah, and I’m just telling you, you’re a fucking moron.” Bonnie shook her head. “Fliss, you’re beautiful. Honestly, like, if I have kids and end up with your figure after, I’ll be over the moon. But that aside, Frank loves YOU. Not the way you look, or the way your hair is styled, or the way your eyebrows are painted on, he loves you.”

“I know.” Fliss nodded, sniffing a little. “I know he does, and I know he’d never cheat on me, I get that. I just, oh I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel like this. I can’t explain it.”

Bonnie side eyed Fliss as she topped her glass up before she sat down at the table, taking a deep breath. “Do you think this has anything to do with your ex?”

Fliss frowned, shaking her head. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you told me he used to put you down about how you looked, compared you to other women he, well, fucked behind your back.” Bonnie trailed off. “I don’t know, I was just thinking maybe that deep in your mind, you kinda still think you should have a face caked in make-up and boobs pushed up to your chin.”

Fliss gave a snort at Bonnie’s description before she shrugged. “I don’t feel like that, not really. I’ve never bothered about anything like that whilst I’ve been with Frank. But something about her just pissed me off, more so because she was doing it right there in my own back fucking yard.” Fliss took another slug of wine before she bit her lip. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s because she reminds me of that past life.” She tapped her nails against her glass. “But, I was fucking miserable, and now I’m not, so why would I even bother about some bimbo flirting with my man? It’s not like he did anything or was gonna.”

“So, basically, we’ve come to the conclusion that this woman is a tramp and you’re an idiot.” Bonnie nodded and despite herself, Fliss laughed.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Hmm,” Bonnie sipped her wine. “Okay, I’m glad we got that sorted.” She took another sip before she gently reached out and squeezed Fliss hand. “You got nothing to worry about. Frank adores you, to be honest, me and Simon always say it’s kinda gross the way he’s always like looking at you with stupid doe eyes or touching you whenever he can.”

Fliss smiled, a fond look crossing her face as she knew what Bonnie was saying was true. Any chance Frank got he would touch or cuddle her, and it was never in a dominant way like it had been with John, it was because he simply wanted to, it was his love language. “Yeah, he’s touchy.”

Bonnie smiled and sat back as Fliss took a deep breath. “But you should talk to him, tell him how you feel.”

Fliss shrugged. “Maybe, like you said, I’m being an idiot.” She gave her friend another smile before she nodded back towards the laptop. “But, now for the fun stuff. Show me what you got planned for our weekend of debauchery in Miami, Maid Of Honor!”

**** It was a little before ten when Fliss called Frank to say she was ready for pick up if he still wanted to come get her, which was a dumb question, because of course he did. He packed the kids into the car, and drove the fifteen minutes or so to Bonnie’s and Fliss clambered into the passenger seat, her cheeks flushed a little from the wine. After giving him a quick kiss, she turned to smile at Mary who beamed at her, her head torch already in position, Thor’s flashing light up collar sitting pretty around his neck as he perched in the middle seat between her and Alex who was in the baby chair, fast asleep.

They drove down to the Public Access, the same stretch of beach they would be married on in a matter of weeks, and all climbed out, Frank gently settling Alex in the carrier that hung over his chest before he offered Fliss his hand and they headed onto the moonlit sand. They walked in silence for a while, the air finally cooled enough to be enjoyable, Mary running ahead of them, Thor gambolling in and out of the waves, giving a little bark of enjoyment as he chased the surf.

“He’s gonna be soaked when he gets back in the truck.” Frank groaned and Fliss laughed.

“Should have come in mine, he could have sat in the trunk.”

“He can ride home on the flatbed.”

“Don’t you dare.” Fliss nudged Frank with her elbow and he chuckled, his arm sliding round her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“You gonna tell me what’s bothering you now?” Frank asked as they continued to stroll up the beach.

“Nothing.”

“Lissy.” Frank spoke sternly and stopped to face her. She let out a sigh, her hand reaching up to smooth over Alex’s hair as he lay slumped against his dad’s chest.

“I’m being an idiot, I know that. But seeing you before, at the yard I just…”

It was Frank’s turn to sigh as he shook his head. “Honey, I-“

“No, I know what you’re gonna say but, I just, well, she was there looking like a fucking model and then there was me, and I used to be that size, and I used to be that person, that looked half decent, you know? I can’t remember the last time I actually wore any form of make-up bar a bit of tinted moisturiser or mascara, or when I last straightened my hair, let alone painted on my damned eyebrows! And then she’s flirting with you flashing her perfect teeth, and her perfect fake boobs and her line free brow and plump lips, all full of fillers and botox and-“

“You want Botox?” Frank cut her off mid rant and Fliss let out a groan.

“No I don’t want fucking Botox, Frank!”

“Well shut up talking about it then!” He laughed. “Look, I don’t want that fake shit either. Do I look like the type of guy who wants someone who is just one step away from being a Malibu Barbie? Fuck that!”

“You look like the type of guy who should want a Malibu Barbie.” Fliss replied, somewhat sullenly. “You don’t see the looks you get every time we go out.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You know, girls like that are ten a penny down on the boardwalk. But you’re the one I took sailing.” “Thanks a backhanded compliment.” Fliss narrowed her eyes and Frank laughed, cupping her face in his hands.

“Look, Sweetheart, I love you.” He shrugged simply. “Because you’re beautiful, inside and out and because you’re my Lissy.” He pulled her face up to meet his, placing a soft kiss to her lips, his nose sliding against hers.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I wasn’t mad at you, just feeling a little low I suppose.”

“You know I get it too.” Frank smiled, dropping his hands to take hers. “You think I don’t notice the looks you get when we go out?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Frank assured her as he entwined their fingers together. “But I don’t care. Because I know you’re mine, and I’m yours. So please don’t think for a second I’d even think about anyone else that way.”

He dropped a soft, slow, deep kiss to her lips and when she pulled back, she smiled.

“Sorry, I know, I was being an idiot.”

“Yeah.” He nodded in agreement and she chuckled as he returned his arm to round her shoulders and they continued walking, the sound of the waves against the shore a perfect back drop to Mary’s excited shouts and Thor’s little barks.

“When you said you said you wouldn’t think about anyone…” She started and Frank was pleased to note her voice was full of mischief, his playful Lissy was back.

“Well,” he wrinkled his nose, shrugging a little, “maybe if Rihanna came knocking then I’d have to give it some serious consideration.”

“To be fair I’d give it some serious consideration, too.” Fliss mused and Frank arched a brow, teasingly as he looked down at her.

“Yeah?”

“Damned straight. I’d do her, she’s hot.” Fliss shrugged and Frank’s face split into a dirty grin as he stopped them both, using the arm round her shoulder to spin her into him as best he could with their son placed between them.

“Now there’s an image!” His voice was loaded with suggestiveness and Fliss laughed as his lips brushed hers.

“Pervert.” She whispered, her hand once more sweeping over the back of their sleeping baby’s head.

“Only for you.” He smiled, before he looked up, considering something. “And Rihanna.”

**** Chapter 25

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #frank adler fanfiction #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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the-volume-is-astronomical · 3 years

Text

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

Meant To Be Good News

A/N: ... heyyyyy- its been a bit. I got rapped up in exams and i felt like being productive today so u get a chapterrrr and i wrote another one so u have about two chapters guaranteed ill try to be more consistent lol (also long chapter as compensation)

(also let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

First | Previous| Next

words: 2286

summary: Virgil doesn't want to deal with this mess but he was sent to deliver a message so, theres not much he can do

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit, Remile

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, negative self talk, food mention, worried for a characters safety

(let me know if there's any other)

They went up the steps in silence.

As they entered through the door, Roman grabbed the basket that was abandoned during the argument. He left it on a table near the entrance, he headed towards the corner with shelves, grabbed a brown book, nothing interesting in the cover, just a plain brown book and headed towards the window seat to read.

Virgil was struggling to decide if he should try to speak or not, he absolutely despised small talk but if he didn't talk he didn't want it to get awkward. He looked over to Roman because if he did decide to talk to the prince, what in the hell would he even talk about?! Virgil saw the royal glance up from his book to look at the small table near all the shelves that had a single red book, it was simple like the one he was holding, it just had a title, yet it caused more intrigue than the other.

When Virgil took a good look at Roman he looked somehow defeated, like he had lost- no, given up on a 100 year long fight. The monarch glanced once more at the table with the red book, this time however, he caught a glimpse of the stormy knight, “ You should sit down, the trip back alone takes a few hours, it's gonna be some time before you get to go back.” Virgil looked up at the prince who had resumed his reading, “Uh… yeah” he took a seat near the desk Roman kept glancing at.

Virgil decided to take a glance at the book. It seemed to be a fictional adventure book...seems interesting. Roman looked at the table again and spotted the tall knight carefully opening the book. “It’s an adventure book. Just a fairytale.” Roman’s voice seemed to startle Virgil as he immediately slammed the book shut.

“Y-yeah sorry, I didn't mean to open it without permission, that was so rude of me and-” Roman stopped him mid rant “It's alright, you can read it. One of my personal favorite books.” The prince smiled at him to show he didn't mind “I’m not much of a reader. I just uh… got curious, I guess?” Virgil didn't seem sure of his answer. “Well, I can give you a small summary! If you’d like me to, of course.” Roman backtracked pretty quickly, snide comments about how excited he got over meaningless things forcing themselves into his head. But Virgil’s “Sure, Why not?” Made him a little less apprehensive.

“Ok! So, the story is focused on this boy named Aaron. He is a poor farm boy living with his family in a village that was overthrown by the guards, they became corrupted and betrayed the royal family and took control for themselves.” Virgil just nodded along.

”They treated the least wealthy of the kingdom the worst, they didn't have money to bribe them with so to them they were useless, it got to the point where they were becoming the robbers, they would never steal from people with money because they were cruel people. Aaron and his father wanted to make a change but his mother didn't want them to, she wanted to play it safe and just gather enough money to leave for a better place.”

Roman rambling about the story not realizing how little of a summary it actually was since he definitely wasn't being concise, “I agree with the mom. Her plan sounds safe and effective.” Virgil didn't really mind, at least he wasn't going to be bored while he waited, “Maybe so! But where's the fun in that, dear knight?” Roman didn't really get the knights perspective “May not be fun but at least they'll get outta there without a problem” Virgil thought he was in the right and that the main character would make stupid reckless decisions for the drama and suspense.

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

“Aha! They went back to the mom’s plan anyway! There was literally no need to try and do all that heroic shit.” Virgil was now fully invested in the story, he probably wouldn't have been if Roman wasn’t such a good storyteller.

“Well yeah... But it was worth it! If they didn't try they would have never known the outcome of that situation.” Roman was happy the knight seemed invested, he was mostly happy because he finally got to discuss the book with someone, and that someone had very different opinions than himself.

There was a knock on the door.

They both looked at each other, It didn't feel like they had been talking for that long. So, who in the hell was at the door?

Virgil stood up, hand fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. Roman stood as well, they both walked towards the door. Virgil opened the door, only to find Ruth on the other end of the door. “Oh, it's the lady from earlier.” Virgil turned to Roman as he let her in.

“Nurse, how did you get back so quickly?” Roman spoke up. “I wouldn't say it was that quick, it's been a few hours. But we found someone along the way so that did speed up the process.” Ruth talked as she noticed the untouched basket and started nearing it.

Roman and Virgil on the other hand looked at each other with confusion. It didn't feel like they had been talking for more than half an hour. “I'm sorry, I must have been talking your ear off.” The royal felt a need to apologize, “Hey, at least you made the wait entertaining.” the knight did not deem it necessary.

Ruth turned and glared at Roman. “So, you haven't eaten?” Roman glanced at the untouched basket and cursed under his breath, he completely forgot. “ Well…” Ruth was not having it “You brat.” She walked behind him and started pushing him towards the table.

“I had an excuse!” Ruth stopped pushing him “And what is it?” Roman turned to meet her eye and said, “I get nauseous when I eat too early.” Ruth looked unimpressed “I'm fully aware Roman. But it's almost noon.” Roman’s brain scrambled for another excuse “I was reading and I lost track of time.” She was still very much unimpressed. “As long as it wasn't the book you always read, fine by me”

As Roman’s nurse made sure Roman ate she noticed Virgil standing a few feet behind them. “I wasn't able to introduce myself earlier. I am Ruth, the brat’s nurse.” She extended her hand with a smile. Virgil shook her hand while he chuckled, which was interrupted by Roman’s overdramatic offended noises. “Nurse! You’re making him think I'll be a nightmare to care for!”

Ruth turned to him “Was I supposed to lie to him and tell him you’re a delight? My apologies, sire” Roman put a hand on his chest and gasped. “Now I understand why Trent called you a witch!” Ruth laughed, “You’re just basically proving my point.” Roman could only grumble and go back to eating.

Ruth took a look around the tower and spotted the red book on a table. “I see you've decided to become a liar huh?” Roman turned to her “Whatever do you mean?” She walked towards the table and picked up the book “Seems like someone was reading the same book they always read, I don't understand why they read it if they've memorized the whole book!” Roman knew Ruth was only joking but he didn't appreciate being called a liar “I wasn't reading it this time it was just out in the open! You can ask him!”

Roman pointed at Virgil, Ruth just looked at Virgil expecting an answer, “He wasn't reading that book, he was reading the one by the window” it wasn't a lie. “You better not be covering for that devil.” Virgil noticed there wasn't any malice behind her voice, her words portrayed something different. “Are you accusing me of being a liar? I thought that was reserved for the prince.” Ruth started laughing “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Virgil just chuckled.

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

Roman’s nurse sat next to the window, looking out worriedly. Roman knew his nurse fairly well, “Has Remy not gotten back yet?” Ruth sighed and turned “My son and his tardiness again”.

Roman went over to his nurse, giving her a hug “I’m sure he’s just a little late..” Ruth tried to smile at Roman “I know Roman. I'm just a worried old hag.” Roman rolled his eyes and sat by the window

Ruth looked out the window one last time and took a deep breath. “Well I have to get going so we get there some time before sunrise” Roman stood up to say a proper goodbye to his nurse. “See you in a few days…” Roman really didn’t want to let go but he didn't have much of a choice.

Ruth started packing what she had brought in silence, once she neared the door she spoke “Roman, his and her majesty will have to be informed about this incident..” Roman was obviously not content because this would surely somehow be put partially on him. “Yes, I understand.” Ruth smiled sympathetically and turned to the storm eyed knight only a few feet away.

“Virgil, you’ll have to stay with Roman for a while longer. Commander Arlott sure didn't expect the need to find a replacement for Trent and truly not a day after being stationed here.” Virgil just nodded, he understood the circumstances and was glad to be able to witness such a sight. “The Commander insisted it would take quite some time to take someone off their post, he insisted he wasn't worried.” Ruth opened the door ready to leave, while Virgil was just trying for the pressure to not get to him.

Ruth said her final goodbyes and exited the tower.

Virgil then turned to the Royal, who went back to the same spot he had been before Ruth arrived, and just stared out the window as his nurse left.

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

As Roman sat near the big window just looking out he started wondering why Virgil had even come here in the first place. He vaguely remembered Trent mentioning him being a messenger but that could just be some Knightly insult he was unaware of. So… he asked “Virgil, if you don't mind me asking...why exactly did you come here?” Virgil looked alarmed for a second as he had just zoned out for about 20 minutes “Commander Arlott, wanted me to deliver a message to Trent” Roman just responded with a simple “Oh” and resumed his staring out the window.

“So… how did the book end?” Virgil felt a little embarrassed to interrupt the silence to ask but he got extremely invested, to the point that if the Prince refused to share the information he might just read it himself. Roman just laughed, he knew how intriguing the book was “Well… In the middle of the mother’s plan being in motion they actually got word of a rebel group that had been inspired by their attempts to take the crown back.” Virgil sat down right across from the Royal nodding for him to go on.

Roman continued speaking but he kept getting distracted by a tapping sound. At first it was nothing, but then it got so prominent he couldn't ignore it anymore. Mid-rant he stopped himself and started looking around to see where the sound could possibly be coming from.

Virgil was confused as to why the heir had stopped speaking but then he started to hear taps. They didn’t sound like just a regular forest sound and they would surely not hear minuscule noises from such a height.

“Dear knight, are you hearing that?” Virgil nodded and stood up to see what could possibly be causing the ticks, Roman stood right along with him and then suddenly pointed towards the balcony doors. “Virgil, it's coming from the balcony.”

Virgil stopped to listen carefully “Yeah, but what's causing it?” They then saw a little pebble hit the glass doors of the balcony and make the tapping they had been hearing.

Roman went to the balcony with no hesitation and opened the doors.

Virgil started having his thoughts race a mile a minute, what if this was to lure the prince out to assassinate him? If the prince died on his watch he would be hung no doubt.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, he moved forward to follow the prince. He then quickly realized the prince was leaning over the balcony having a casual conversation with his possible murderer.

“Remy, what are you doing here? Ruth is going to kill you if you don't get there by sunrise!” Roman screamed down to the man in a black cape with dark tinted glasses covering his eyes. “Well yeah! But I had to make a stop here! I have something for you!” That made Roman start jumping with anticipation as to what Remy could have brought him from his trip

“What is it Rem? Is it something fancy? Is it food? Is it a book?” Though his eyes couldn't be spotted, not only because of his glasses but due to the height, it was very apparent he rolled his eyes. “No! It's a letter.” That got Roman even more excited. Could it actually be him? Roman haven't received anything but it could actually be! Finally some good news!

“Who’s it from?!” Remy looked down at the letter as if inspecting it “I don't know.” That caused Roman’s excitement to dull immensely. He would have surely marked it. There’s still a chance it could be him, right? Roman’s anticipation quickly turned into more of an anxious feeling.

taglist:

@meowthefluffy

@shade-romeo

@pattonsmile

@sevencreepycatsinacoat

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@innerpostturtle

@queenof-hell

@joyrose-fandomer

@vpow

#prinxiety #remile #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #roman angst #prinxiety fic #platonic remy n roman

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tarteausuga · 3 years

Text

Not Like This

In which you’re caught in a situation where no one can be happy

WC: 3K

CW: Jungwoo x Reader (x Mark vaguely) angst, a lot of angst. Cheating, unhealthy relationship, mild manipulation. Usual disclaimer that the characters are purely works of fiction and are not directly correlated to their namesakes in any way.

Prompt: “We can’t keep this up forever.” Part of the Candy Hearts Collab (click link for other members) hosted by @127-mile

Outwardly, the last word you would use to describe Jungwoo was “exhilarating” but he always had a way of surprising you. He was amazing. Amazing in his ability to show anyone exactly what he wanted. He had you fooled for a long time as well. Soft spoken, unassuming, funny Jungwoo who was polite to everyone he came across, put a smile on everyone's face and was the perfect boyfriend to his girlfriend.

He treated her like a princess. At least from what you could see. Watching them was pure agony and it didn't help that he had the audacity to occasionally take a glance at you with that conniving smirk on his face, all while with his girlfriend. Were you jealous of her? Rarely. Pity is what you felt whenever you passed by her but more than anything, guilt was the heaviest weight of all.

What am I doing here? You questioned yourself whenever you were with him. He was nothing like how he was with his girlfriend or friends. At least not with you. But who could deny late night adventures with him? Who was he to you anyway? A friend? He couldn't be your boyfriend… at least not now. You felt ashamed to know that you were an accomplice to infidelity. They looked so damn perfect. But were they?

[2:34AM] jungwoo: hey, you up? I'm outside your place.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as they adjusted to the light from your phone.

[2:36AM] you: I am now?? It's so late, what are you doing?

[2:37AM] jungwoo: not sure, let's find something together :)

[2:37AM] you: I'm not wearing pants…

[2:38AM] jungwoo: is that an invitation? ;)

[2:38AM] you: shut up, I'm coming down now.

You begrudgingly pull on a pair of track pants and throw on a hat to cover your bed head before leaving to meet up with Jungwoo. If it were anyone else, you would have pretended to not see the text at all. There always seemed to be this inescapable pull towards him whether you liked it or not because those moments where it was just the two of you in the dead of night made you feel like time slowed down. The way he accepted you into his arms and pulled you in to fit perfectly into his ever so perfectly proportioned frame - it felt like home. He kissed you ever so softly but deeply enough to make you believe that those kisses were meant for you and you alone.

But you knew that they weren't.

The tricky thing with Jungwoo is that he made you feel like the most important person to him while also feeling like he didn't want to be seen with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't call you when most of the world was asleep. You wouldn't have to sneak around behind everyone's backs. You wouldn't have to fantasize about the simplest things like holding his hand while he walked you to class.

And yet, it was worth it to you. For some bizarre reason, you were just happy to be with him and didn't care under what circumstances.

"Hey baby," he pulled you in and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Sleepy?" He smiled as he lifted your head up by your chin. The sleep was apparent in your eyes but that softened him even further. The layers of his outer persona melted away and suddenly you were left with Jungwoo in the purest form.

"What are we doing?" You hold back a yawn. He was so warm, so comforting, you just wanted to fade into him.

"I don't know yet but I'm sure we can find someone, right?" He smiled and reached out for you to follow along.

Night and day, that was exactly how Jungwoo behaved. The daytime version was this upbeat guy that made everyone laugh. People gravitated towards him naturally. He was the sun and you were Pluto. At night, the real Jungwoo would come out, the Jungwoo you fell in love with despite your best efforts to distance yourself when you found out he wasn't single. But something about him was irresistible. It could be the way he confided in you. His fears, his dreams, his most obscure thoughts that didn't fit into his days so he expressed them to you in his nights. Maybe that's why he wanted to keep you in the dark but that didn't make things any better.

Even so, with the guilt locked away in the back of your head, you happily spent the dark hours with Jungwoo. It was never anything extravagant. You often bought convenience store food and sat on a random park bench, talking about anything and everything. You took turns sneaking into each other's apartments in efforts to not wake your respective roommates. It was tradition to leave before daybreak so you often woke up by yourself, wondering if the night before was a dream.

There were times when you questioned your own sanity. Did Jungwoo only exist in your dreams? When it came to the Jungwoo you see everyday on campus, he was a different person. The extended periods of not seeing him for weeks at a time convinced you that maybe it wasn't real at all. The quiet glances you exchanged during the day were purely coincidental and your dreams were just dreams.

But when you least expected it and you had begun accepting that Jungwoo was just a dream, he would pull you away at random points during the day to remind you that he was very much real. Is this what love feels like? The rush of pure elation when you're with The One? The cliche feeling of time stopping? Or was this the excitement of getting caught and maybe worse, the everlasting awareness of how wrong this was that you tried to keep tucked away in the darkest parts of your mind.

---

It had been almost a month since Jungwoo last lured you out from the warmth of your bed. A month since you last felt his lips on yours. A month since he made you laugh until your sides ached. Maybe he finally realized this wasn't right for either of us. You conceded. It was time to move on. And though you kept waiting for him to find you in the halls to pull you into an empty office or lecture hall, it didn't happen. Instead, you felt the pull of someone wanting you both day and night.

Mark had been your friend for a while. The two of you were in the same group for orientation week and for some reason, you kept in touch. He often joked that it was because you are both perfectly awkward to the point where you combined to make one functional person. No matter the reason, he was a good friend but you were still surprised when he asked you out. You could say you saw it coming with your best friend constantly saying how Mark could never stop asking about you but it never clicked in your head to be true. Likely too caught up in Jungwoo's world, you never stopped to experience your own.

So you said yes.

Things felt so easy with Mark. It was nice to not have to sneak around to go out with someone you kind of liked. He walked you to class, held your hand and did the simplest things to make your heart flutter. Mark never pulled you away for no reason. He didn't take your breath away but he certainly made you feel safe and warm. You tried your best to forget about Jungwoo and it was starting to work. Eventually, Jungwoo became an afterthought with Mark around but as always, Jungwoo always had a way with you.

Walking to get lunch one day, you felt a sudden pull on your wrist. Turning, you see Jungwoo. Your brain told you to pull away at risk of Mark seeing you but your heart wanted to follow Jungwoo. And follow him, you did, into an empty classroom with the lights off. The moment you entered, Jungwoo closed the door behind you and pulled you into his arms.

"I missed you." His voice nearly broke.

"Where have you been?" You melt into his body.

"Things got a bit complicated…" he looked down, staring at your lips.

"Tell me." You stared back.

Before either of you could say anything more, you kissed each other desperately. A craving you didn't know you had was being fulfilled and it was truly intoxicating. You were addicted to him. As your mind finally caught up to what you were doing, the thought of Mark being hurt by what you were doing flashed into your brain. The guilt got caught in your throat and you pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" He said, offended that you would reject him at all.

"We can't keep this up forever." You say as you gasp for a breath.

"What do you mean?" He tries to pull you back into the kiss.

"This, Jungwoo!" You finally push him off and motion to the

"Can we not do this now? Please." He reached for your hand but you pulled away. As much as you missed him and wanted to dissolve into his arms again, it was too much.

"We do this now or we're done. We're hurting people and it's not okay anymore." You cross your arms.

"What? You really want to be with Mark? Yeah right, like you're not just using him to-" he was cut off by the ringing of your phone. He tries to snatch it away from you but you pull away before answering the call.

"Hey Mark." You try to sound as normal as possible.

"Hey, I thought we were meeting up after class. Are you okay?" He says.

Jungwoo is now glaring at you and the waves of jealousy were more apparent now than ever but you continue your conversation, "Yeah, sorry, I had to talk to my professor about something. I'm heading over to meet you now."

The call ended and you wished that would mark the end of your confrontation with Jungwoo. "Don't go." He sounded like he was begging.

"This isn't going to end well for anyone. We need to just end things before we can't turn back." You sigh as you collect your bag. It took every ounce of your being to not plant a kiss on his cheek to say goodbye like you usually did. This was likely the last time you would have this chance but you pass in favour of just cutting things off completely.

You tried to forget about Jungwoo. You really tried. You wanted to have the same feelings that you had for Jungwoo with Mark but it wasn't sitting right at all.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked from across the table at the cafe you two were studying at.

"Hmm?" You responded.

"You seem really spaced out. Did something happen?" He said with honest concern.

"No… well yeah but… it's complicated." You struggle to explain.

"What's going on?" He held your hand but you instinctively pulled away, leaving him confused and mildly offended.

"You're going to think I'm a terrible person."

"You think peaches are better than watermelon, how much worse can you get?" He smiled and you reciprocated.

Why does he have to be so nice and cute? You cursed at yourself.

"Peaches are a more practical fruit than watermelon." You joke back and the two of you chuckle but it didn't make things any easier to say.

"Whatever it is, I'm your friend. I know I asked you out and I'm not quite sure what we are at this point but I like you no matter how bad you think what you're doing is." He assured you and you once again, curse yourself for what you're about to do.

"Hypothetically…" you say slowly and he listens intently. "Hypothetically, let's say you're seeing someone but they're already someone's boyfriend or girlfriend…"

"Hypothetically that would be messed up." Mark concludes.

"I'm not done." You glare at him and he shrugs. "But hypothetically, let's say the person you're seeing is more real and raw with you than anyone else. And you feel a stronger connection to them than anyone else."

"I think hypothetically," he emphasizes for your sake, "it's still wrong. Everyone would just end up hurt in the end no matter what happens." He sits back in his chair, waiting for your response.

"Yeah, I know. Why do I have to have a conscience?" You bury your head into your crossed arms across your open textbook.

"Is that what's happening?" Mark leaned in.

"Yeah but I broke things off." You say with your head still hidden from the world.

"For me?" Mark smirks but you look up to glare at him.

"Partially for you but mainly because I'm fully aware that it's wrong." You sigh.

"I'll be honest, I like you a lot. But I think with the way you talk about this person, you're still attached to them."

"I'm sorry, Mark." You pout at him.

He holds your hand again, lifting it up to place a kiss on your hand. "I'll be alright. I just hope you will be too.”

---

"I don't get why you broke up with Mark. That guy is like… The ideal boyfriend." Your best friend ranted over the phone.

"We weren't together so we didn't break up." You clarify as you squeeze the bridge of your nose. She had been your best friend for 15 years so, naturally, she had an amazing talent of giving you headaches with little to no effort.

"Are you even aware of how many girls who are absolutely in love with that guy? And you broke up with him?" She practically yells.

"I'm aware and once again, we didn't break up!” You remind her.

"Whatever. You're the one whining about being alone on Valentine's Day."

"No, you're the one who called me to whine about Valentine's Day and you're the one with a boyfriend. What? Jaehyun only got you one dozen roses except for two?" You chuckle.

"We've been together for two years. It makes sense to get two dozen."

"Alright, alright. Go talk to him about it, I'm sure he'll make it up to you in other ways." You say suggestively and you swear you could hear her blush over the phone.

"Shut up! Oh my god. Please call Mark and ask him to hang out. You're too cute to be alone today." She said before you hung up on her.

You tossed your phone onto your bed before doing the same with your body. Maybe I should call Mark… But I'm the one who ended things… I could call him but he's probably with his girlfriend. You groaned in frustration as your best friend's words resonated in your head. She's right though. Mark is the ideal boyfriend but so is Jungwoo… If he were single. Why is this happening to me?

A knock came from the front door of your apartment. Your roommate was out for the night with her boyfriend so you were puzzled about who would be coming to visit.

"Hey." A slightly disheveled Jungwoo greeted you when you opened the door.

You try to harden your expression for him but he's truly your weakness. Especially in this state where he's looking like he hadn't slept in who knows how long. "What are you doing here?" You finally ask when you let him in and he collapses on the sofa.

"I'm here to see you." He says but you roll your eyes.

"Okay but why? Why aren't you spending Valentine's Day with your girlfriend?" You interrogated him.

"Oh. We broke up." He said nonchalantly.

"You what? When?"

"A week ago… I was trying to call or message you but I couldn't get through." He says and you tell him you blocked his phone number. "That's harsh… but what about you? Why aren't you with Mark?" He throws the ball back in your court.

"We stopped seeing each other…" you say quietly and Jungwoo looks at you with wide eyes.

"When?"

"Right after I broke things off with you. Things just didn't feel right." You explained but realized you had done a terrible job at that.

"I see…" The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before you heard him say quietly, “she was cheating on me the whole time.”

Shocked was an understatement for the flood of emotions you were suddenly experiencing. “That doesn’t make what we were doing any less wrong.” You resolved to say.

“I know. I don’t really know why I didn’t just break up with her…”

“So… what? You just used me to make yourself feel better?” You accused him.

“What? No! I care for you more than I have ever cared about anyone else.”

“Then why didn’t you leave her? Why did you choose her?” You stood up, demanding an answer.

“I…” He started but hit a wall in trying to come up with a reasonable answer. This wasn’t how he was planning for this to go. This wasn’t how he played this out in his head. What could he possibly say to make you less upset with him? How could he fix this?

“It’s funny because I thought that we really had something and I was delusional enough to think that we could work…” You started and he stared at you intently. “But I’m still just your second choice.”

“You’re not…” he said, sounding out of breath.

“I am! You wouldn’t be here otherwise. You wouldn’t have started anything with me if I was your first choice. You wouldn’t keep me in the literal dark. You wouldn’t sneak away with me. You wouldn’t keep this a secret.”

“Hold on. I thought you liked that stuff.” He stood up in order to tower over you again.

“It was fun but so was dating someone in public… like normal. Not having to feel like I’m doing something wrong anytime I look at you or think about you.” You said, stepping away when he tried to pull you into his arms.

“You make it sound like I was the one doing something wrong?” He started to sound angry.

“That’s not what I’m saying. We both were. I knew it was wrong too and that guilt was just too much.”

“So… what now?” he asked

“We’re done.”

#jungwoo angst #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo imagines #jungwoo scenario #jungwoo imagine #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct imagine #collab

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the mountain between us | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Sloane McTavish)

Rating: E

Warnings: language, adult content, N*FW, description of a panic attack

Word count: 8.1k

Summary: In which the return to Edenbrook doesn’t go as planned, or: Ethan and Sloane get the hell out of Dodge Boston.

Notes: This story continues off my previous fic, waiting for rain , although this can be read as a stand-alone. It is a sort of AU of chapter 12, in which Danny has a separate funeral of his own (I mean, I get why PB wrote it to save time/redundancies, but I don’t see them somehow managing to secure burial plots right next to each other? Anyway, the wonders of fiction aside…).

------

She makes it to the diagnostic office with two seconds to spare.

The muffled thump of the door meeting the casing is like a gunshot, echoing in the quiet room. She stumbles past the table and over to the couch, trying to get out of direct line of sight. The leather creaks under her weight as she collapses onto the cushion. That constant undercurrent of dread builds into a wave, washing over her. Her hands start to shake and soon, the rest of her body follows suit. The faux-wood grain of the coffee table before her is the only thing in focus; the rest of the world is warped, as if she’s viewing it through binoculars. Her heart feels as if someone has a fist around it and is trying to pull it free through her throat.

“Stop… fucking… crying,” she hisses, wiping furiously at her cheeks. But her lacrimal glands pay no mind to her threats, nor does the rest of her when she begs it to stop panicking.

All this, she bemoans, over plastic wrap -- just a patient’s sandwich that he asked for her help unwrapping. But the moment she touched it and felt it crinkle under her hands, she was back in that tented room, shrouded by the thick plastic draped over the walls, sealed in and suffocated by the opaque sheeting, waiting and waiting and waiting to die.

She doesn’t remember what terrible joke she made about not being a fan of tuna, nor does she remember the trip from the oncology ward to here, several floors down. None of her friends must have seen her, because none of them have followed her in here, at the ready with their hugs and assurances, suffocating in their own loving way.

“You’re the worst… person on earth,” she whispers, clenching her jaw in an effort to stave off another round of tears.

“Sloane?”

She glances up to see Ethan stepping into the room, his mouth crumpled into that familiar frown of worry -- the one he’s worn ever since she returned. He says her name like it’s a question, as if she has the option to shake her head no and become someone else. It’s a tempting idea. Her reply is at the ready, as natural as breathing now. Not that she’s doing a very good job of doing the latter.

“I’m fine.”

“I see that.” Though the words should be harsh, his tone is anything but -- weighed down by all the concern in the world, it seems. His gaze roves over her, observing and diagnosing her like the specimen she is, walking through Edenbrook’s halls once more. “You’re having a panic attack,” he says, more to himself than to her.

“Correction: my second. First was in the supply closet. Decided I wanted a change of scenery.”

Although it’s a struggle to get the words out, her audience doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” he asks.

“Please.” The plea is whispered into her clasped hands. She tightens her grip, trying in vain to stop the tremors working through her.

Ethan crosses the room and takes a seat next to her, giving her the illusion of space by twisting at the waist to look at her. In blocking her view of the hallway, he also blocks them from seeing her. His hand comes to rest on the space between them, a show of support that doesn’t make her feel crowded or trapped. She could kiss him right now, if it weren’t for the whole world-feeling-like-it’s-falling-out-from-underneath-her sensation. Her lungs ache with each choppy, shallow breath she drags in.

“I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

Untangling her laced hands, she reaches down and rests her hand atop his. With a gentle motion, his fingers shift to nestle alongside hers, grounding her with the pleasant warmth of his touch. With her eyes closed, she focuses on the smooth breaths he takes, mimicking them as best she can. Seconds turn to minutes, marked only by his murmured phrases of assurance and his pulse, sure and steady under her palm. Gradually, her breath begins to ebb and flow, rolling in and out of her lungs in languid sweeps.

She opens her eyes. The office fades into focus. The track lighting is still too bright, so she turns to Ethan. The sympathy welling in his eyes almost makes her want to shut hers again. His gaze tracks over her in a fitful dance; he’s mapping out each tear that stains her cheeks and neck.

“I’m okay,” she tries this time.

His eyebrows scrunch down as he studies her.

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not.” Sloane leans forward and rubs at her cheeks. If she puts her hair down, she could maybe make it to the bathroom and wash away the evidence before a staff member notices. “Have you thought any more about Aurora’s proposal?”

“The one you two dropped on me at the private memorial we had on Tuesday morning? No, I can’t say that I have.” Shaking his head, he pinches at the bridge of his nose and sighs. “God, Sloane, I don’t want to talk about the hospital. I don’t give a damn about it right now. I only care about you.”

The cushion creaks as she shifts, uncertain how to drive the conversation away from her. She goes with the best tactic: avoidance.

“Well, thanks, then. But I should go. I’ve wasted enough time as it is. I’ve got to pick up some labs and check up on Mr. Evans and see what Baz wanted from--”

Ethan puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes, once, then again.

“Stop. Stop worrying about everybody else for a second.”

She snorts out a humorless laugh at that. “I’m serious,” he continues, pressing on her shoulder and urging her to look at him. “I know that you practically begged Naveen to let you come back to work, even after I told you no, but I think you need to give yourself more time. I think you pushed yourself too hard.”

“I was stuck here for three days, and then stuck at home for another four. I’m done waiting around. I can only take so much medical leave. And I can’t just… sit at home cowering in fear.”

“So you thought doing it at work would be better?” he asks candidly.

“Fuck you.”

Sloane jumps to her feet and rounds the table, leaving him to throw his pity party for her all by himself -- then freezes. Outside the glass walls, the hallway is teeming with people. Nurses and orderlies and patients mill about, pushing gurneys and cleaning carts and wheelchairs. Several nurses at the station spot her and then, like marionettes on shared strings, turn towards each other at once, their chins tipped low as they converse. She feels like a zoo animal, on display for the hospital to ogle at.

“Go home, Sloane,” comes Ethan’s voice from behind her. His footsteps drag across the rug as he approaches. “For another day or two, at least. Please.”

She turns from the hallway and brings her arms around her chest to hug herself tight.

“I… it’s no walk in the park there, either. Being there alone is frightening enough, but when everybody’s home, they walk on eggshells around me. Even Jackie, who I can always count on to be a certified bitch, has been coddling me. It’s... I hate being home. It’s like they’re too afraid to say something that might -- I don’t know, offend me? -- so they don’t say anything at all. It’s like living with a ghost, except I’m Bruce Willis in this scenario.” She stops short, figuring she’ll have to explain that one, but he holds up his palm to keep the synopsis at bay.

“I understand your reference. You know, I have seen a film or two.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

She tries for the usual smile that wants to form when making fun of his limited pop culture knowledge. Her bravado falls away, though, as he comes to stand close to her. His arms cross over his chest, as if attempting to keep his hands to himself in front of their audience. “You know what it was like for me,” she continues, “being in that room, doing nothing--”

He cuts her off, his blue eyes suddenly ablaze.

“That isn’t what I saw. You stood by Rafael’s side. You helped him when you yourself couldn’t walk without falling over. You lost every semblance of control during the worst moment of your life, and you still were able to relay the changes in your symptoms. You saved Rafael’s life--”

“That was all Tobias and the team’s--”

“You know as well as I do that patient care is more than an antidote in a syringe. You think that if we’d stuck him in a room alone, away from you, or inside one of those glass boxes that he would still be alive? Think again, Rookie.”

The passion and heat in his voice, along with the return of her nickname, sends a tingle up the length of her spine. “I watched you struggle to be by his side. I watched you have all your faculties ripped away. Which is why I’m so worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Ethan--” she starts, but he barrels right over the deflection attempt.

“If you had a patient who was experiencing the same symptoms at work, would you tell them to get over it? Would you tell them to push past their fears and their anxieties, in order to stay on the clock?”

Her lips purse at his point, knowing that he’s right. But she doesn’t want to let him win this one.

“Doctors do a lot of things they tell their patients not to. We’re the biggest hypocrites of them all.”

“No, I think that honor falls on politicians,” he quips.

The little laugh feels foreign in her mouth. She can’t help but notice the way his eyes light up in response to the noise.

“I have an idea.” She raises a brow in interest, spurring him on. “Let me take you somewhere. Anywhere you’d like. We can leave today, spend a long weekend away. We’ll swing by your place, pack you a bag, and go.”

“And you think we can just… leave? Slack off on our duties like that? What about our patients?”

The corner of his mouth hitches up in a smirk.

“You’re talking to the person who does the scheduling. And I happen to know your boss wouldn’t mind. My boss has been not-so-subtly sending me couples vacation rentals after seeing our appearance on national television.”

Taking a deep breath, Sloane considers the offer as he watches her, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. That tingling sensation returns, banking higher and higher within her.

“Okay,” she agrees, hating how her heart beats a little faster at the brilliant smile on his face. “I like the way you think. Let’s go.”

------

Within two hours, they load up Ethan’s car and make their way out of Boston, Jenner wiggling happily in the backseat.

The city center gives way to the urban sprawl. That soon becomes overtaken by suburbia and its penchant for shopping outlets and tract housing. Sloane can’t help the sigh of relief that comes when they reach Medford and the city skyline drops away in the rearview. They leave the coastal lowlands of Massachusetts behind, heading north along the interstate and up into New Hampshire. Though she packed a bag with what little information he gave her, she’s curious still when they stop at a food truck for lunch.

“You realize you could hit the navigation screen on the GPS, right?” Ethan points out. “It’ll tell you exactly where we’re going.”

“That’s cheating. I thought you taught me to be a better doctor than that.”

“No, I taught you how to be a smarter doctor. Besides, you’re the one knowledgeable about technology.” When she doesn’t immediately outright ask, he settles back in his chair and pets Jenner when she approaches for attention. “All right, then. Diagnose it.”

Sloane’s fork pauses on its way to her mouth. She shoots him an incredulous look, but when he simply cocks an eyebrow, she takes the bait.

“We’re headed north. At first, I thought Maine, especially with what you suggested I bring, but we’ve gone too far west now. It wouldn’t make any sense to make a big right turn and head east. And we’re not going as far as Canada, because you didn’t tell me to bring my passport -- which I do have, by the way, though I’ve only gotten to use it one time.”

“I know,” he tells her. “There’s several photos of your semester abroad on your Pictagram page.”

“Those photos are from my senior year of undergrad. That means you scrolled for quite a while, Dr. Ramsey.” It’s impossible to miss the blush burning along his cheeks and up his ears. Sloane tips her head to the side, eyes wide, her words teasing: “Were you that interested in Stockholm?”

“It’s a lovely city.”

That thick, bottom lip of his ticks up in a grin. The little cafe suddenly feels too warm for her, but she resists the urge to tug at her sweater.

“Right. So, not Canada. I have to admit, I’m not well-versed in what New Hampshire or Vermont have to offer, other than maple syrup and hiking. Ooh, and Ben and Jerry’s.” Twirling her straw wrapper around her finger, she looks him over for another minute before giving up with a shrug. “Nope, I’ve got nothin’.”

“Some dedicated physician you are.”

His grin widens as the balled-up wrapper hits his chest.

------

They leave the interstate behind after entering Vermont.

Instead, the state highway takes them through the proper countryside. When the satellite radio fails to connect, Sloane steals the aux cord and plugs in her phone. Ethan’s protests quiet down soon enough when, instead of the pop drivel he expects, Nat King Cole croons out of the speakers.

The Taconic mountains roll along beside them, as if shielding them from the outside world; Sloane appreciates the gesture. Clusters of horses and cattle float along in their fenced-in pastures, the grass rippling under a light wind blowing off the mountains. Towns seem to sneak up on them as the road curves through the valley. Tiny stores and tiny gas stations and tiny churches, Johnson’s Hardware and Morgan’s Jewelry and Lee’s Drugstore line up along the roadside. Hanging signs advertise berry farms and local maple syrup, their arrows pointing up into the hills. Then the highway curves again, and the towns disappear from the rearview.

Sloane watches it all from her reclined position against the center console, her hand in Ethan’s as he drives. Jenner’s wet nose bumps against her cheek when the Boxer mix demands affection. Though they swore off it back in Massachusetts, they talk about work, which leads them to medical articles, which leads them to the inaccuracies in medical dramas. Serenading about her need for a Sunday kind of love, Etta James joins them as they cross into New York.

It doesn’t take too long before the feminine voice of the GPS announces that they’ve arrived. Sloane does a double-take at the welcome sign as they pass it.

“Wait -- isn’t this where that horror movie was set?” she asks.

“The film took place in Maine, actually.”

“How are you suddenly an expert on horror movies from the late nineties? And how did I not know that? Did I finally find your film niche?”

“My friend forced me to attend his Halloween party in high school,” he admits with a sigh.

They pass by the shops and bars and restaurants that line Main Street, all the brick facades and rugged decor blocking the view. Locals and fellow tourists clog the sidewalks, meandering in and out of the storefronts as they enjoy the afternoon sunshine. Eventually, the buildings fall away, and the world is filled with nothing but a cloudless sky and clear water that stretches wide beyond the guardrail. Just over a stretch of land, Lake Placid burns a deep blue in the sunlight.

Sloane keeps her eyes on the sights, but shifts her attention back to the man in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, now I have to know: what was your costume?”

“A doctor,” he says, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

She chuckles at the image of a teenage Ethan in his white coat and his patterned tie, swimming in his tailored shirts and trousers, lecturing his friends on the risks of alcohol poisoning.

“Oh my god, of course you did. Did you at least dump fake blood on yourself or something?”

“No.” His brow crinkles as he glances over at her, confused. “Why would I have done that?”

“To look scary.”

A smirk appears on his face at the idea. “Right. And what did you dress up as when you were sixteen?”

“I’m pretty sure I went as Daphne. My girlfriend Ruby went as Velma.”

“What, you didn’t douse yourself with fake blood?”

“Honestly, we should have. That would’ve looked badass.”

Ethan shakes his head at her, but she can see that smirk of his hasn’t disappeared. Turning off the main drag, he takes them down a one-lane road that winds back into the wilderness. After passing the town lodge, the occasional driveway and accompanying mailbox are the only signs of human life among the towering pines.

The house is tucked back off the road, a pretty little cottage painted robin’s egg blue. Two rocking chairs frame either side of the front door. Once Sloane releases her, Jenner darts out and takes full advantage of the lush front lawn, sniffing along the shrubs and tree line. Leaving Jenner to her exploring, Ethan hauls in their bags with Sloane following behind. The rustic decor leans too far towards kitschy for both of them, but she finds the log bed frame and large, dramatic painting of a howling wolf charming. The real draw, though, is the wide back deck, where the sea of trees parts to offer a stunning view of the lake.

It’s the perfect place, she decides later while sipping from her second glass of scotch, to watch the sunset. From his position, Ethan seems to agree. His arms are wrapped around her waist as they spread out across the porch swing. Bundled up in scarves and blankets to ward off the evening chill, they watch the sky turn from blue to orange to black. The stars, when they fade into view, are thrown into sharp relief against the night. It’s almost dizzying to be able to see so many.

It reminds her of back home, of lying on Ruby’s hood in her grandparents’ driveway under the pretense of looking for falling stars, but actually making out under the cover of darkness.

Curled up atop their feet, Jenner sighs in her sleep; Sloane mimics the noise, stretching out against Ethan. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his lips against her temple.

“Do you remember the Stevensons’ house down in North Quincy?” he asks, continuing before she can respond, because he knows that she doesn’t forget a patient. “This place reminds me of that. But the desire for peace and solitude makes a lot more sense to me, now.”

She shifts in his arms to rest her cheek against his shoulder.

“It reminds me of where I grew up, in this one-horse town in Virginia.” It’s a detour of the conversation he wants to have, but she can’t help but avoid talking about That for just a little while longer. “I mean, really, a real hole-in-the-wall kind of place. My grandparents lived there for sixty years, though, so that was home. When I was nine, my mom dropped me and my brother off at their house and never came back. So, it became our home, too. They took us in and let us have the run of the land -- which was easy to do, since we were surrounded on all sides by mountains. I was happy there -- happier than I’d been with my mom. But I spent a lot of time daydreaming about living in the big city, going to all the college parties that I saw on television, and travelling the world.”

His grip tightens around her. “And then you didn’t,” he murmurs.

“No, I didn’t,” is all she says, knowing he’s replaying her deathbed confession in his head, just as she is. “Though I blame that more on becoming infatuated with this diagnostician who wrote all these amazing books, and who inspired me to go to medical school and one day become one of the country’s greatest doctors.”

“What do you mean?” At her hum of confusion, he clarifies. “You already are, Sloane.”

Tears spring to her eyes at his declaration, but she hides them by burrowing closer into his warmth.

“But yeah, despite growing up in the middle of nowhere, it’s nice to be there again. I mean, you can’t get views like this back in Boston.” She waves a hand towards the thick spread of stars above them.

“Your file didn’t list your grandparents as contacts.”

The invitation to talk about her past lies in the proverbial space between them; she takes it.

“They passed within a few months of each other when I was seventeen. They left what little they had to me and my brother, and I used that to get to college.”

She tells him about the farmhouse and how it would become so big and lonely; and the vintage, rose-patterned sofas that would collect dust; and the little kitchen at the back that would never smell of fresh coffee and banana bread again.

She doesn’t tell him about how it felt like being abandoned all over again.

Time has healed the wound’s edges, but it flares to life on occasion. Over the years, she’s learned to sit with the grief, to take long moments to study it and inspect it and move through it. It’s how she knows, despite the horrific tragedy at Edenbrook, that she’ll be okay. Maybe not right now, or next week, or next month, but someday.

From inside, muffled through the French doors, comes Gladys Knight singing about life’s ups and downs. Sloane closes her eyes, focusing on the song and on the steady brush of Ethan’s thumb as he strokes her arm. Across the dark expanse of the woods, a whippoorwill calls out, its warble echoing off the water.

At some point, she stirs to the sensation of movement, of warm lines of pressure along her back and behind her knees. Ethan is talking to Jenner in that low, gravelly voice of his, as if trying not to wake her. Before she can tease him for it, the blanket of sleep wraps around her once more.

------

After a lengthy argument on staying in bed versus exploring the town, Ethan takes the loss with a surprising amount of grace.

Oh, he grumbles a bit as he tugs on his sweater and makes several comments on how proper vacation etiquette does not include rising before nine a.m. But once she gets him downtown to the farmer’s market and gives him the task of finding the ugliest souvenir for her to give to her roommates, he perks right up.

Under a stretch of white tents, card tables are laden with wares and plants and produce. Buckets of brightly-colored croton and chrysanthemums flare against the white tablecloths. Necklaces, fishing lures, and welded sculptures glint, swing, and jingle, catching the attention of passers-by. Wines and cheeses and honey are bottled and wrapped and canned, their labels touting how local, how fresh, how organic they are. From somewhere along the thoroughfare comes the smell of hot apple cider as it drifts between the stalls.

Sloane is marveling at a collection of wind chimes that she has no use for whatsoever when she feels a hand settle on her lower back.

“I found it.” There’s a strange sense of pride in his voice as he lifts a nondescript, brown paper bag up for emphasis. Jenner knocks her body into his legs, as if reminding him of her role in the game. “Alright, well, technically Jenner did.”

“What is it?”

“As per your request, the most hideous object known to mankind.”

“I don’t think I was that--”

“Fine,” he concedes, “known to this region -- or state, at the very least.”

Out from the Lake Placid News’s crumpled pages comes a tankard of a coffee mug with Don’t confuse your GOOGLE search with my Medical Degree! printed along the side. Then, stamped underneath as if an afterthought: Adirondack Mountains, NY. Sloane stares at it with a sort of horrified amazement.

“It’s…” she trails off, unable to form words.

“I know,” Ethan agrees, turning the mug around to read over it again. Looped around his wrist is another smaller bag.

“What else did you get?”

“That one’s a surprise.”

Jostling the tote bag on her shoulder, she gestures to the cork sticking out. “I bought us some wine to go with dinner. C’mon, show me what you bought.” It may sound like she’s whining, but she’s not.

“Are you unaware of how surprises work?” he questions, raising a brow at her insistence.

“Okay, fine.” She lets the topic slide, grinning and rolling her eyes at his desire for secrecy.

Reaching towards him, he answers in kind by sliding his arm through hers. They spend the rest of the morning strolling through the stalls together. He buys a nice bottle of bourbon for Naveen; she buys a little box of self-care items for Sienna. When Sloane comments to the shop owner on the pretty photo printed around the candle, he mentions that it’s his own photograph of a nearby trail.

“It’s a short hike, no more than three miles roundtrip,” Terry tells them as he wraps up her gift. “You pass Lake Placid Lodge and keep going about four, four ‘n a half miles, and the trail is at the end of the road. You can’t miss it.”

------

Terry was right.

It’s impossible to miss the trail, given that four-hundred feet past their cottage, the road dead ends in a gravel semi-circle. Two boulders and a single post mark the trailhead: Kiver Mountain, 1.4 miles. After dropping off their purchases and changing into more terrain-friendly shoes, they set off on foot from the cottage.

Despite autumn’s grip on the foliage above, the last vestiges of late summer remain on the forest floor. Thick, leafy undergrowth makes the trees appear as if swimming in a downy sea of green. The hike’s elevation gain is slow and steady, which Sloane is grateful for, considering that eighty percent of her exercise comes in the form of running up and down hospital hallways. The other twenty percent is spent with ‘the boys’ in their dungeon gym that hasn’t seen the wet side of a paint roller since the Clinton administration. The views there, however, certainly make up for the lack of decor.

It’s the same view she’s enjoying now, what with Ethan in front of her. There is something to be said about wearing the proper apparel for such an activity, she’s finding.

“Sloane?”

Her gaze shoots up just as Ethan twists to look over his shoulder. “Were you listening?”

“No, sorry, I was--” she fumbles for something to say. The altitude must be getting to her, she reasons, because the next words out of her mouth were about to be ‘staring at your ass.’ “--um, I thought I saw a… snake.”

“They’re usually more afraid of you than you are of them.”

“You’ve never experienced me with a snake before.”

“I’ll make sure to warn them of your presence if I see one, then.”

“All snakes in the surrounding area just gave a collective sigh of relief.”

Her poor attempt at humor earns her an exasperated sigh, though she does catch the chuckle that follows. Ethan keeps talking, but she doesn’t really hear him. Mostly due to the fact that Jenner and he keep going, while her attention is caught by a small, branching path through the trees.

It’s been a long time since she spent a weekend away from the city. When her friends spent fall break camping or borrowing a friend of a friend’s uncle’s boat to cruise around on the lake, she stayed holed up at her desk, studying and outlining. Her first copy of Diagnostic Principles looks like she closed it around a rainbow, what with all of the colorful sticky notes peeking out from the pages. That same copy moved with her through every dorm at Duke, all the way across the Atlantic for her semester at Karolinska, and then at every off-campus apartment at Johns Hopkins.

After she left for college, the closest she came to the wilderness were the views on her Pictagram feed, or the nature documentaries Aurora likes to watch. Here, as Sloane pushes past bristly limbs, the scenery stretches out before her, live and in full-color. Drenched in sunlight, the valley stretches wide to whatever direction she’s facing. A trio of birds swoop down from above her, heading towards the staggering shelves of trees that line the distant hills. At the furthest edge, the blue shadows of the mountains melt into a spatter of gray clouds. It’s all very picturesque, so much so that when she hears a noise on the path behind her, she expects to turn and see a frolicking deer.

“Did you not hear me calling your name? What are you doing?” Ethan demands, his jaw firmly set as he looks her over. Trotting along beside him, Jenner sniffs at the ground, unaware of the impending argument. Sloane hops down from the outcropping she climbed for a better view.

“Sorry, I was--”

“You shouldn’t go off on your own like that.” The heat of frustration burns along his reprimand, surprising her with its intensity for such a small offense. “This isn’t a walk around the block back home. I was-- you can’t disappear on me like that.”

Sloane tries to let his tone roll off, but she also isn’t going to roll over for him. She sucks in a breath and mentally counts to five.

“Wow, okay. You’ve never fought me before about something so absurd. What’s this really about?”

In an instant, the fire is gone from his eyes. Ethan wipes a hand across his face and over his jaw; he gives his head a little shake, as if rousing himself from the spell of anger.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the blue of his eyes burning cool now. “I hoped that if we got away from the hospital that…” his words trail away under the birdsongs echoing around them.

Sloane takes Jenner’s leash and motions for Ethan to keep moving up the trail. She gives him an encouraging look when he glances over, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. The gentle slope becomes steep stone steps that they trudge up, climbing higher and higher, wary of the loose ones that wiggle under their feet.

“I thought that I would get better at this,” he finally says.

“This?” she prods.

“At coming to terms with what happened. And not just with you, although that’s a large part of it, obviously. But when Naveen was sick, when he was damn near death, I could still work. I could still be Doctor Ramsey. But when you…” he swallows and shakes his head again. At his sides, his hands clench into fists. “I was terrified, and I think some parts of me still are. But when I was in that lab with Travis, and I saw him lying on that bed near death, I felt vindicated in some horrible way. I was happy that he was in pain, for what he did to you.”

“Ethan--”

“He refused to give me any information,” he bowls over her attempt at reassurances, his voice strained. “Then he begged me to ease his suffering. It was his dying request and I walked away. As someone whose friends he had killed and injured, I can compartmentalize that. But as a physician, how can I continue treating patients? How can I work with them when I not only failed, but refused to ease another patient’s suffering?”

They reach the top and step out onto the cliff.

Over the edge, purple-tipped shrubs choke the rock shelves that stagger down the cliff until they reach the forest floor below. The valley dips low before them, cradled by a long line of mountains in the distance. They roll along in a lazy sort of wave, deepening to a hazy blue the farther they stretch. True to its name, the water of Lake Placid is calm and still, reflecting the foliage’s vibrant array of colors, fuschias and reds and oranges peppering the mountains that flank the lake. Pale crags of rock decorate some of their peaks, so bleached from the sun that they almost look like snow.

Keeping a firm grip on Jenner’s leash, she breaks the silence they’ve fallen into.

“Unfortunately, you suffer from something incurable.” At his answering noise of interest, she wraps an arm around his waist and hugs him close. “You’re human.”

His hand sweeps across her back, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry.”

She shoves down her need to use humor as an emotional crutch by mentioning this must be a record number of apologies for him. Instead, she lets her head rest on his shoulder.

“What for?”

“For burdening you with my problems, which pale in comparison to what you went through. It’s not fair to--”

“Hey,” she cuts him off, hugging him tighter for a beat. “You can’t work through the trauma if you discount it like that.”

“You sound just like Naveen.”

“Smart minds think alike.”

Her heart squeezes at his familiar, half-formed huff of laughter. They spend a good length of time at the top, enjoying the peaceful view and watching clouds roll in from the west. Eventually, her stomach growls and he teases her about doing strenuous activity on an empty stomach. Jenner leads the way as they start back down the trail.

The two boulders and trailhead sign come into sight just as the rain arrives.

Fat raindrops plod the canopy above, drumming through the leaves and onto them. Ethan lets out an undignified yelp when cold rain lands on him, prompting a full-throated laugh from Sloane. They race down the path, sprinting between the boulders and down the road. Jenner barks with excitement when she tugs free of Sloane’s grip and barrels ahead of them.

They reach the cottage, Jenner at his heels when Ethan rushes inside for towels. He makes it to the hall closet before realizing that Sloane isn’t following. Retracing his steps, he returns to the little porch and finds her standing out on the front path. Her arms are stretched out beside her as the rain soaks her clothes and hair. He sets the towels down on the rocking chair and approaches her, raising his voice to be heard above the downpour.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s silly,” she answers with a shrug. Contentment and grief coat the words; it’s an effort to push them free of her throat. This close, he can see the rivulets of water running along her trembling lips. “But I was waiting for this. It’s been sunny every day since… and all I wanted was for it to rain.”

It’s not difficult to recall her angry words as they drove away from Danny’s funeral.

“It’s not silly.” Reaching for her, he takes her hand and guides her under the porch and out of the storm. “Silly would be how I worry about you constantly now -- that if I leave you alone, or you go off somewhere without me knowing, that it could happen again. I’m terrified, Sloane, of losing you again. Every patient room you step into could lead to another disaster, and it might be another one that I can’t fix.”

He keeps busy while he talks, picking up a towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. With another he dries her hair; his fingers clench and release the wavy strands like he saw her do a lifetime ago in their shared hotel room.

“It’s why I’ve been keeping tabs on you this week,” he says with no small amount of embarrassment. “Why I’ve been following you around the hospital. It’s how I knew to go to the office yesterday. And I know that’s awful and overbearing of me, and I understand on every sensible level that you’re safe. But there’s that one percent of something that keeps me at it.”

Sloane reaches up for the towel in his hands and tugs it away, letting it drop to the ground. He cups the back of her head and settles her against his chest, right against his heart where she belongs.

“I’ve spent enough years being a cynic and a pessimist, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Ethan clears his throat, swallows, and steadies on. “But when I held your hand that night, I didn’t think about what the next hour would bring, because I wasn’t sure if that next hour would include you. And to have to stand there and watch you -- you, who’s always brave in the face of death and danger -- accept your fate in those last hours, that scared me more than anything.”

“I knew it would hurt more if I begged you all to save me.” She feels the shaky rise of his chest, the tension of the muscles as he goes rigid at her words. “But I’m glad I wasn’t alone.” Her cheeks are wet with tears -- whether his or hers, she isn’t sure. “I -- my grandma, we didn’t make it to the hospital in time before she passed, and she died alone, and I know that hurt my grandpa more than anything. So I’m glad you were with me.”

When he speaks, the passion and heartache in his tone unfurls something in her chest.

“I don’t want to waste what time we have left. I’m tired of playing pretend. I’m tired of holding myself back. I don’t know what to do, other than tell you that I care about you, and that I want to be with you. And I know it’ll be messy, and I don’t have all the answers for how we go about it, but I know that I want you so goddamn much, Sloane, that I don’t care anymore.”

Gripping his wet shirt, she pulls him down for a kiss. He answers in kind, his lips dragging against hers; his hands come up to frame her face, to keep her close as he drops another kiss, then two, then three against the corner of her mouth. The roar of the rain turns to a muffled drum as they fumble their way through the door and down the hall.

The bedroom is lit only by the tall windows, reflecting what weak sunlight manages through the cloudy sky. A wall of fog floats between the trees, blocking out the rest of the world. Sloane leans down to the nightstand and flicks on the Tiffany lamp. Honeyed shafts of light fill the space, warming the room with their glow.

Ethan peels their wet clothes away, stripping the both of them bare. His lips cruise every inch of her damp skin; she shivers at the cool, stagnant air of the bedroom, then again at the heat of his mouth as he kisses her shoulder, her breast, her belly. He guides her to the bed and she sinks onto the soft mattress, the sheets smelling of them: his soap and her shampoo, his aftershave and her lotion. It’s a scent she wants to wake up to every morning.

“I never got to take my time with you,” he laments as he lays her down. Goosebumps follow in his wake as he runs the backs of his knuckles down her throat. He cups one breast and then the other, brushing the pad of his thumb over her pebbled nipples. Mesmerizing, he thinks, of the sweet noises she makes and the way her hips shift in time to his touch.

“We’ve got time,” she assures him, her fingers trailing up and down his ribs. She’s unable to hide her grin when he squirms, obviously ticklish around his sixth and seventh rib. Lifting up onto his knees just enough to capture her hands, he presses her to the bed and takes a long moment to admire.

Frizzled from the rain, her strands spread across the pillow and dampen it -- no doubt the one that he’ll end up being forced to sleep on. The light dusting of freckles across her nose and shoulders are more pronounced in the yellow light. There’s the scar along her inner thigh from climbing over chicken wire to feed the hens, the burn mark on her inner arm from fumbling a hot pan of cinnamon rolls. He kisses the sharp cut of her cheekbone and the soft skin of her stomach, reveling in every facet of her. He takes a deep breath, and then another; they feel like his first real ones since approaching the window of that damned room.

Her hands, along with the rest of her, squirm underneath his hold.

“Ethan.”

He doesn’t ask what she’s demanding; he takes one of his hands back and urges her thighs apart, pressing the heel of his palm against her and circling her wet heat. Her response is almost as erotic as the act itself; her knees jerk up, her muscles stuttering as her body rolls into his touch. Her freed hand snakes down her body to circle his wrist, her nail digging into his pulse point as she directs him how she likes. Increasing the pressure, Ethan can feel his cock growing harder as he watches her enjoyment. He’s too enthralled by her; his grip loosens on her other hand. In a flurry of movement, she’s got an arm around his neck and hauls him down to her for a messy kiss. He retaliates by changing gears; he slides two fingers inside her, delighted at the strangled moan that escapes her.

“Is it good?” he asks, unable to stop the smarmy grin on his face.

“Yes,” Sloane breathes out. She rolls her hips down when he curls his fingers and strokes her with all the precision in the world. “Yes, it’s good, it’s--” the words are lost to the crest of another wave as it pounds through her. She squeezes his wrist in a vice-like grip, keeping him where she needs him, and croaks out his name as she comes.

He eases the glide of his fingers, but doesn’t stop until he’s got her climbing again.

“God, you’re still so tight.” He nuzzles the arm she has planted against his shoulder, nipping at the sweat-tinged skin. Her fingers dig into his flesh in time with his thrusts. “So responsive, all for me.”

“Please,” she begs, “please, Ethan, I need--”

In a flash, he slides down her body, scoops up her hips, and drags the flat of his tongue across her. Sloane cries out, arching up into the wet heat of his mouth. His knees ache as he kneels before her and worships, coaxing hymns from her lips until she’s dragged under once more. Ethan eases her down from her high, running his fingers up and over her hip as her equilibrium returns. He rouses from his own arousal-induced haze at the sensation of fingers stroking through his hair.

“Come here.”

He goes, without question, into the circle of her awaiting arms. She meets him with a messy kiss, her tongue tracing the corner of his mouth. His blood pulses hot underneath his skin, knowing she’s tasting herself on his lips. One of her curious hands skims along his stomach and down to wrap around his cock.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” she murmurs, stroking him with a quick, little twist at the base, her thumb swiping across the swollen head. He barely holds it together, clenching his jaw to keep from thrusting into her hand like some horny teenager. “I… ever since that last time, you’re all I think about.”

“It’s the same for me,” he admits, too many emotions bubbling to the surface that he isn’t comfortable with declaring right now. Pressed against the long line of her body, he feels the vibration of her laughter when it comes, ringing through the room.

“Well, yeah, that too. I was mostly talking about when I masturbate, though.”

“Oh.” The word tumbles out before his brain has a chance to catch up and say something suave. It gets another giggle out of her, though -- and he finds that the taste of her laughter is even better than the sound of it. “Christ, Sloane,” he groans when he breaks their kiss, “tell me what you need.”

“You,” she says in a matter-of-fact way, as if he were stupid for expecting another answer.

Ethan slides an arm across her back, cradling her close, needing to feel her against every inch of him. He pushes into her soaked heat, his breath escaping him in a moan when she digs her nails into his shoulders. Giving her a moment to adjust to the stretch, he nips at the soft skin of her breasts, pleased with the rosy marks that bloom from his attention. One of her hands drifts down to his ass and squeezes.

“Move,” she begs.

At her command, he does; he wraps his free hand around her hip and uses the leverage to drag his cock in and out of her with short, heavy strokes. Her legs come up to encircle his waist, her body rocking up to meet his. The new angle is sweeter, deeper than before. Sloane gasps at his next thrust. Words fall free from his lips, nothing more than murmurs of praise. She writhes and keens underneath him; he has enough wherewithal to slide a hand down between them, knowing exactly what she needs. The rhythmic clenching of her sends him overboard with her, the both of them are dragged under the warm sea of pleasure. He pulls out and collapses next to her, nestling close when she slings an arm across him. The room spins around them as they wait for their breathing to turn to normal.

As his heart rate slows, he finally hears it: the rain, beating steadily against the tin roof, a cocoon of white noise that shelters them from the outside. Before he can speak, he hears another familiar sound. Sloane rubs her nose against his shoulder and chuckles.

“What was it that you said about strenuous activity on an empty stomach?”

His laughter echoes through the room. After some poking and prodding, he manages to convince her to get out of bed and meet him in the kitchen. Ethan is reprimanding Jenner for dancing around his feet and gathering ingredients when she wanders in, dressed only in his button-down and a pair of wool socks. He manages to not whack his head against the upper cabinets, but only just barely.

“Hey, you never showed me what you bought.”

He follows her finger to the little brown bag, still sitting on the bar where he dropped it off earlier.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he says.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” she replies in a sing-songy tone.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

He watches her sift through the tissue paper and lift the object out. The snow globe catches in the kitchen’s recessed lights. Inside the glass is an overly-contrasted photo of Lake Placid, looking out towards Whiteface Mountain and the surrounding Adirondacks. “I figured you could add this to your collection.”

Sloane looks up in confusion. “My collection?”

“When I visited your apartment, I noticed the one you had from Stockholm on your shelf. Now, the next time you travel, you’ll know what tacky souvenir to buy yourself.”

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” she teases.

Setting the snow globe down on the table and away from Jenner’s interested nose, she crosses the kitchen and slides her arms around his waist. The kiss she gives him is gentle and sweet, her lips curled into a smile as they press against his; he wishes for a thousand more. “But that’s a good idea. Too bad I didn’t get one in Miami.”

He switches on the gas stove, glancing back at her with an impish grin.

“We could always go back.”

“You know,” she hums, “I like the way you think.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

There’s probably a reference to something recognizable in here, but the only one I can think of is a line from an Alan Jackson song (don’t ask, I’m just having fun).

#open heart #choices #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart fic #Kaila writes things #f: the mountain between us #also if you read this after 9/23 I did some minor editing on the backstory part because I forgot it's canon that MC has a brother

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star-six7 · 3 years

Text

Running Away and Hiding With You

Mikey Way x Gender Neutral!Reader (ending 1 of 4 for Here In This House of Wolves)

Word Count: 1444

A/N: Here’s the Mikey ending! The others will be posted today and tomorrow, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You began to fidget as you listened to the hosts explain the rules for the walkthrough. While you knew that they were likely playing it up for their own enjoyment, seeing as the band were likely the first visitors they had had in a long time, you couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious. They urged everyone not to run, panic, or get separated, as it was apparently very easy to become disoriented. Yikes.

“Hey,” someone whispered from your left. You turned and noticed Mikey had edged his way out of the group to stand next to you. “You look a little green.”

“Oh. Uh. Just not convinced that we’re not about to get murdered. Or kidnapped.” You were slightly embarrassed that you were visibly nervous about a volunteer-run, small town haunted house, especially in front of Mikey. Though it was silly, there was still a part of you that had never gotten over the “impress him” phase of your crush.

Mikey glanced up towards the others and smiled. “Honestly? I’m not crazy about the whole thing either. Let’s go.”

And before you knew what was happening, Mikey took your arm and led you out the door before the others even had a chance to turn around.

After a few minutes of standing by the van, waiting to see if anyone else would follow, you felt the need to break the silence. “I didn’t mean to talk you out of going.” “Not at all. I love Gerard and all, but sometimes his sense of self-preservation…”

“Or lack thereof,” you finished.

“Exactly. You wanna try and find Main Street? I’m pretty sure I saw an ice-cream shop or something back there.”

---

After a few dead ends and wrong turns, you and Mikey ended up being the only two customers in the ice-cream shop. When the bored-looking teenager running the store handed you your cone, you moved over to lean against the window and watched as Mikey agonized over his order. You tried in vain to hide your smile as he finally decided on a quadruple scoop (chocolate, vanilla, mint chip, and cookie dough, to be exact) with sprinkles, and of course, a cherry on top.

“What?” He pretended to be offended as he noticed your barely concealed laughter. “Can’t a man be particular about his ice cream without being mocked for it?” Your snickering turned into full-blown laughter, which only led to Mikey cracking up with you. Moments like these reminded you exactly why you fell for Mikey in the first place. Though he seemed so quiet and reserved to others, he was funny, kind, smart, and an amazing friend when you got to know him. You suspected it was part of the reason he seemed to know everyone, even the most casual acquaintance, so well. He kept his cards close to his chest. Which, unfortunately, made it almost impossible to tell if he returned your feelings.

When you were finished, and Mikey had eaten enough of his ice-cream to the point where it wasn’t about to topple onto the sidewalk, you decided to wander down the street some more, hoping to fill the time before the others were done. Or murdered. A few minutes later, Mikey tugged on your sleeve as you were staring into the storefront of a tiny antique shop.

“Check it out,” he said, pointing to a Halloween store across the street. He looped his arm through yours as you stepped off the curb.

Unsurprisingly, being a member of My Chemical Romance and entering a Halloween store was the equivalent of a kid walking into a Toys ‘R Us with a 200 dollar gift card. You and Mikey practically ran to the center display, an homage to some of the greatest cult-classic horror movies of all time. You quizzed each other on your favorites, seeing who could get the reference first and retelling the best parts. Soon enough, you moved on to the costume section, where it turned into a contest of who could find the creepiest mask or most grotesque makeup kit. Finally, the excitement began to wind down as the two of you got to the decorations.

“Oh, hey. Spiders. We should totally get Frankie a little present,” you said, smirking.

Mikey shook his head. “And wake up to a knife in my pillow? No thanks.”

“Or bats,” you suggested. “They’re pretty cool. Everyone likes bats.”

You dug through the bin until you landed on one at the very bottom. “Look!” You held it up so he could see. It was a plush bat wearing a red scarf and a pair of glasses. “It’s you. I’m totally getting it.”

For reasons unknown to you, he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face as you tugged him over to the register.

Not long after you had left the store, Mikey glanced at his watch. “Oh shit,” he muttered. “It’s been almost two hours. There’s no way they’re not done by now, we gotta get back to the van.”

“Definitely. Death by Brian isn’t exactly how I want to go.”

---

Much to both your and Mikey’s surprise, the van was empty when you got back to the haunted house.

“Damn it, Gerard,” you sighed. “I knew there were murderers in there.”

Mikey snorted. “Gerard wishes.”

“Oh yeah. Him and his melodrama.”

The conversation lapsed back into a comfortable silence as you stared at the doors of the building, wondering when the others would come back.

“Damn,” Mikey exhaled as he turned his collar up against the now-biting fall wind. “Wish I had thought to snag the keys from Brian before we made our great escape.”

You shuffled into his side. “Well, I can take your mind off it, at least.”

“How so?”

“By giving you your gift, of course.” You pulled the bat out of the bag. “Here. So you’ll always remember the one Halloween where you chose to be sensible with me and escape certain doom.”

Mikey smiled as he took the plush. He turned it over in his hands a few times before his expression became more serious. “So, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you why I really asked you to come with me. Aside from escaping homicide, of course.” He swallowed, apparently trying to rid himself of nerves. “I… I really like spending time with you. I mean, I’ll take it any way I can get it. Remember that time I volunteered to walk a mile and a half in the snow with you to get that can of gas?”

You laughed, trying to ignore the way you felt your heartbeat quickening hopefully.

“Well… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really like you in general. All of you, all the time, not just when we’re going on wild adventures or playing shows. And I understand if you want to pretend I didn’t just say all of that, or if you’re worried about the band, but. You deserve to know. Just… don’t leave me hanging, okay?”

“Mikey, I… I really like you too. And whatever happens next, with Warner, or the record, or- or any of it, I want it to be with you. All of you, all the time.” The slightly apprehensive look on Mikey’s face gave way to a smile that could rival your own.

And, of course, the rest of the band chose that exact moment to come crashing through the doors of the building, running like hell.

“Unlock it, unlock it, unlock it!” Gerard yelped, as he pushed past you and MIkey, banging on the door of the van. He looked more pale than you had ever seen him, an impressive fate given his usual stage makeup.

“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but, I told you so,” Brian sighed as he unlocked the doors to the van. Frank, who had been snickering the entire time, ratcheted up his laughter into a full-blown cackle, which of course, caused Ray to shove him, and they both fell into yet another wrestling match on the floor of the van. You and Mikey climbed in over them, your subtly intertwined hands gone unnoticed in the chaos. Up front, Brian was griping about not being able to find the map, and Gerard was staring pensively out the window, likely about to start writing a song about his near-death experience. Apparently, almost being murdered couldn’t put a damper on the strange chaos you now called home.

“Everybody ready?” Brian called, glancing in the rearview.

You looked down at your hand in Mikey’s and smiled. Yeah, you were definitely ready. For this tour and whatever came next.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Stay tuned for the other endings, and as always, requests are open!

#mcr imagine #my chemical romance imagine #mikey way imagine #mikey way x reader #mcr x reader #my chemical romance x reader #mikey way #mcr #my chem #my chemical romance #bandom #bandom imagine #choose your own ending #gerard way #ray toro #frank iero

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kookscrescent · 4 years

Text

Performance Evaluation (m) │ myg

➤ pairing│Yoongi x female reader ➤ summary│After the guy you’d gone out with for a few weeks, suddenly dumps you after you’ve slept with him, you want to know if your bedroom skills are the root of the problem, and there’s only one person you really want to turn to to find out. But unfortunately for you, he’s gay. So he sends you to the next best person. Min Yoongi. ➤ rating│NC-17, mature, 18+ ➤ genre│smut, college au, fuckboy au ➤ warnings│smut, protected sex, oral (male and female receiving), dirty talk, vulgar language, a homosexual Jimin makes an appearance because why not, Yoongi is a bit of an arrogant shit but we still love him, also a little bit of fluff cuz I can’t help myself, aaaand if you squint a little bit of angst ➤ word count│6.7k│semi edited ➤ release date│November 9th 2019 ➤ disclaimer│This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

⇥ Masterlist

You storm through your front door, your blood boiling with rage and sadness. “Am I totally undatable?!”

Jimin eyes you cynically from his spot on the couch, the half-eaten slice of pizza hanging inches from his mouth. “What are you talking about?” He doesn’t spare you another glance, taking a bit of the pizza and returning his attention to the tv in front of him.

You slump down next to him with a huff. “He dumped me. He really fucking dumped me.”

This however makes Jimin sit up straighter, his eyes now focusing solemnly on you. “Why? I thought you said he like you and things were going great.”

“So did I!” You shriek, throwing your hands in the air. “We’d been hanging out a lot, going on countless dates. And you know how I like to hold out on sex?” You pause for Jimin to answer.

“Yeah, you like to get to know the guy first blah blah…”

You glare at him, “Like that’s such a bad thing! But not the point here.”

“Then what is the point?” He grins with his mouth full of pizza.

“The point is, that after six weeks of dating, we finally had sex.”

Jimin’s eyes goes as wide as teacups, his mouth practically falling to the floor. “Six weeks?!! What are you a prude?”

“Jimin!” You kick the side of his leg, a yelp of pain coming from him. “I am not a prude! I lost my virginity when I was 17!”

He snorts, “So? That doesn’t mean you can’t be a prude.”

“Jimin, come on! Stop being an ass.” You whine. “This isn’t funny. Why would he dump me straight after he’s slept with me?”

A knot forms in your chest at the sudden thought of him just wanting you for sex. But why would he do that? All the dates you went on didn’t indicate him being that kind of person.

You catch Jimin looking blankly at the wall behind you, so much that it makes you turn around to see what he is looking at.

“What are you staring at?” You question.

“Maybe you’re bad in bed.”

“I am not bad in bed!” You gasp offended.

“How do you know?”

“I… I… I am not bad in bed, okay!”

“Fine.”

Silence falls over the living room, as Jimin goes back to watching tv like he hasn’t just claimed that you are bad in bed. How would he even know that? You’ve never slept with him! He can’t make such a statement without having anything to base it on!

“How dare you say I’m bad in bed!” You protest loudly.

“I didn’t say you were. I just posed it as a possibility for why he might have dumped you.”

“But what if you’re right huh? You’ve now planted the thought in my mind, how am I supposed to get it out?! It’s going to be etched in there for eternity!”

Casually, he shrugs. “What if you just call him and ask him?”

“No chance in hell!” That would be downright embarrassing. You might as well also show up on his doorstep completely naked while you’re at it.

“Well maybe you cou-“

“You!” You gently grab him by the shirt, his entire body turning to you in shock. “You could help me find out!”

“How?” He hesitates, swatting your hands away.

“Let’s have sex!”

Jimin starts laughing the second the words have left your mouth. “Sorry sweetheart, but I don’t bat for your team.”

“Please!” You beg him. “You’re the cause of this, therefor it’s your responsibility.”

“No.”

“Oh come on, please please pleaseeeee!”

“Noooo ____! I’m not going to sleep with you!” He get up from the couch, strolling to the kitchen and coming back with two beers. He cracks them both open and hands you one. “I haven’t had sex with a woman since the night I lost my virginity in high school. That was conveniently also the same time I found out I was gay.”

With a pout you sip the beer. The bitter yet delicious taste making you sigh in relief. This is really what you need right now. You take another. “You’re supposed to be my best friend Jimin. This is what friends do for each other!”

He sits back down. “That’s funny, because I don’t remember that being a part of any of my other friendships. The answer is still no, ____.”

You can tell by the way his entire face has become stiff and his eyes darkened, that he means it, so you don’t press him further. Guess you just have to find out some other way.

Maybe you could trick one of your other friends into it?

Only seconds later Jimin surprises you by saying, “But I might know someone that is willing to help you find out.”

“What? Who?” Your attention has been grasped. You know that Jimin has a lot of straight and hot male friends, but you’ve never dared to make a move on any of them in fear of being turned down. They are all way out of your league.

“Yoongi.”

You almost spit your beer in his face. “Yoongi? As in Min Yoongi?”

Jimin wordlessly nods.

Not the guy you had in mind…

“The man is a womanizing whore, Jimin!” You retort, not at all happy with his answer. “He’s probably slept his way through the entirety of Seoul already!”

He leans forward, placing his beer on the table before turning to you. Slinging an arm across the back of the couch, he tugs one leg under the other. “I’m not disagreeing with you on that one, but that being said, it also means that he’s more than experienced and might have the answer you are looking for.”

Crossing your arms, you make a face of displeasure. Yoongi? Really? Couldn’t it have been anyone else. The guy is probably a walking STD.

“And besides, it’s not like you are looking to get into a relationship with him. You just want him to tell you if you’re bad in bed or not.” He shrugs twirling the string on his sweatpants.

“I guess…” you hesitate. “but what make you think he’d even say yes?”

“It’s sex.” He deadpans. “In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen or heard of him turning down sex.”

“Well that makes me feel wonderful.”

Aimlessly, you’ve been strolling back and forth in front of your living room window, to the point where wear marks are beginning to appear in the hardwood floor.

Yoongi is going to be here at any minute now, and your nerves are sitting on the outside of your clothes. This is a first for you. It’s not like you’re a virgin – far from it, but you like to get to know the guys you sleep with beforehand. You’ve never had a one-night stand before. Well aside from the time you lost your virginity to some guy named James in high school.

But what went down that night can barely be classified as having sex. More like two inexperienced people, desperately trying feel any kind of pleasure and working out how everything works.

You barely even know Yoongi. You’ve met him a few times through Jimin at parties, but the extent of your conversations have only been a short ‘hey’ or ‘bye’, and then he would always be sauntering off, his eyes on some girl – his first target of the night, and you wouldn’t see him again that night.

Obviously, he’s attractive, you would be lying if you said you didn’t find him extremely attractive, but the thought of you being another notch in his bedpost still doesn’t sit well with you.

Maybe Jimin was right. Maybe you are a prude…

The sound of a car door slamming down on the street, grabs your attention, your head swirling around to catch a glimpse of the back of Yoongi’s dark hair, before he locks his car and walks up the pathway to your apartment building.

A short footsteps later and there’s a knock on your front door.

Before you change your mind, your open it one swift move. On the other side, Yoongi stands with his hands in his pockets, his head tilted to side and a shit eating grin on his face.

“Hey there dud rod.”

The nervousness dissipates in an instant and all you wanna do is slam the door in his face, but you need this.

“Yoongi,” you bite your tongue to hold back on adding a few adjectives, choosing to be the bigger person and be friendly. You are going to be having sex with this man in a few minutes after all. “Come on in.”

Stepping aside, you let him in. He’s already been here a couple of times in the past when you and Jimin have had a party, so he knows his way around, and he acts on it, going straight to the living room and looking around.

Shutting the door, you follow his steps. You decide against sitting down, instead choosing to stand on the other side of the coffee table. “So…” you quietly say in a try to ease some of the tension, but Yoongi cuts straight to the chase.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“What?” you stagger.

“Your bedroom.” He repeats, rolling his eyes and standing.

“Why?”

“Don’t be coy, sweetheart,” he grins, his eyes filled with humor. “I’m here to judge your bedroom performance.”

God! Could he be more of a jerk? You feel humiliated enough as is that Jimin had to ask him to help you out with this.

Why, oh why couldn’t Jimin just have been straight for one night?

“I know why you’re here,” crossing your arms, you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. “I just thought we might talk… a little before we… you know.”

“Have sex. It’s not a dirty word ____.” He teases taking a step closer. “Why talk when we can just get down to business.”

“Uh… You know… T-To set some ground rules?”

Yoongi crosses his arms, giving you a funny look, his nose scrunching in disbelief. “Rules?” With a roll of his eyes, he takes a step forward, automatically making you take one back as well. “If this is what you do every time you’re about to have sex, then I think we found the problem.”

Clenching your hands into fist, you itch to reach out and punch that stupid grin off his face, but you have more class than that, and before you can react in any other way, Yoongi takes it upon himself to find your bedroom. Walking down the small hallway he opens each door till he eventually finds it.

“What am I about to get myself into,” you whisper to yourself, mentally trying to shake off your nerves before following him.

With hesitant steps, you close the door behind you, and you make sure to lock it. Jimin has promised to not come home until later, but just in case he does you make sure to lock the door. You even wiggle the handle to check.

Just to be sure.

Yoongi huffs a dark chuckle from the spot he’s taken on your bed, amused at the obvious state of nervousness you are in.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s just sex. If it wasn’t for Jimin’s detailed description of some of your earlier sexcapades, I would think you were a virgin.” He comments.

Wide eyed, you stare at him, your cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “Why would Jimin tell you about that?!”

“I gotta get something out of this.”

“You’re getting sex!” puffing your cheeks, you let out a harsh breath. “Sex that you for once don’t have to pay for.”

Yoongi pauses briefly, his head tilting in a way you’ve come to find very annoying. You have quickly learned that it’s what he does when he’s about to be an asshole.

“Well, even if you do turn out to be a bad lay, at least you’ll have your humor… oh wait? Shit, you don’t have that either.”

“Look,” you say sharply. “This is embarrassing enough for me as it is, okay. I don’t feel particularly great about having to ask some guy I barely know to have sex with me, to find out if I’m any good. So could you possibly not make me feel worse than I already do?!”

Leaning back on his hands, he stares at you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, his eyes softening the slightest bit. “I’m not trying to embarrass you; I’m just giving it to you straight, like you want me too. No pun intended.” He laughs shortly.

Groaning, you run both hands through your hair frustrated and annoyed, taking deep breaths you hope to cool down.

“I’ve never done this sort of thing before, okay.”

“Never done what before?”

You hesitate for a moment. Suddenly the fact that you’ve never had a one-night stand before, is a little embarrassing to admit out loud to someone who’s main occupation is hopping from bed to bed. “I’ve never had a one-night stand before, okay.”

“What?!” He blurts in surprise, jolting forward. “How can you never have had a one-night stand before!?”

Annoyed you huff at his arrogance. “Well excuse the fact that I usually like to get to know the men I’m going to sleep with, beyond just their name.”

The frustration and humiliation are about to get the better of you. Why are you even doing this is the first place? It’s stupid! So what if you even are bad in bed? That’s not a valid reason to break up with someone… is it?

Is it too late to become a nun?

Turning you back to Yoongi, you step towards to door, you hand on the doorknob ready to let him out. “Look,” you begin but stop as you hear the bed creaking and Yoongi’s footsteps coming towards you. Before you know it, you can feel him behind you, his chest pressed up against your back. He rests his hands on your hips, pressing you back against him further.

“No, you look,” he whispers, his breath hot against the side of your neck.

“Uh… I-“ the words you were about to tell him gets lost, your mind completely blanking for any rational words. The only thing you can focus on right now, is the feeling of Yoongi pressed against your back side, and his soft lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Stop talking. You might not have don’t this before, but I have.” He spins you around so fast you have to grab his shoulders to not fall flat on your ass. “Now, I’m going to do what I normally do, and I suggest you do the same.”

Taking a step closer, he squeezes your hips before once before running his hands up the length of your body, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin on your neck and into your hair. You barely get to register the feeling of his hands before his lips crash onto yours in a heavy kiss.

Instantly you freeze, your lips forgetting how to kiss, but it doesn’t faze Yoongi one bit. He takes the lead, moving his lips against yours as his fingers dig deeper into your hair and tilting your head to the side for a better angle.

It’s only when his tongue swipes your bottom lip, that you kick into action and finally kiss him back, melting into the kiss with a soft sigh. You relax, the anxiety and the nerves slowly dissipating.

Pressing you up against the door, he licks your bottom lip again, seeking entrance which you gladly allow him. Your tongues battling for dominance, but you quickly surrender, instead focusing your energy on savoring the feeling and running your hands through his hair, tugging lightly at the soft strands. It draws a low growl from his throat, a sound so animalistic and a sound that goes straight between your legs. You do it again, wanting to hear it for the second time.

It works. He growls, pressing you harder into the door as both of his hands leave your hair to grasp you under your ass.

“Jump,” he commands against you lips.

You comply without question. Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms encircling his neck, your tongues continuing to explore each other.

He’s already hard, the feeling of his bulge beneath his jeans setting your insides on fire and making you slightly eager to get things moving. You squirm in his hold, your breast squished against his firm chest, and a sweet hum of satisfaction leaves your lips when he rubs against you in just the right place.

Spinning around, Yoongi carries you to the bed, dropping you on to it. First, you are confused. He just threw you onto the bed like you were yesterday’s old shirt, but secondly, you are turned on. No one has ever thrown you on the bed like that before. Each of your past lovers have always handled you like you were a piece of porcelain that could break at any second.

This is a nice change. A change you didn’t know you liked until now.

Before crawling on the bed with you, Yoongi discards his shirt, throwing it on the floor and leaving you to stare at his firm abs.

Your fingers itch to reach out and touch them, just to see if it’s an illusion or if they really are as hard and firm as they look from where you’re lying.

“Stop drooling and take off your shirt.”

Now your fingers itch to punch him in the face. “You’re an asshole.”

But yet you find yourself complying to his command, your shirt landing on the floor next to his. He crawls on the bed making you lay down till he’s full above you, his arms cascading you in. He lowers himself, his arms taking most of his weight and his lips going straight to your neck. His nips at your skin, his teeth lightly grazing over your pulse point, his tongue swiping over the same place to soothe the sting that follows his bite.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you, the feeling of his lips moving on your neck going straight to your core. You reach up, roughly combing your fingers through his hair and bringing his lips back to yours.

“Eager?” He smirks into the kiss.

You’re done wasting time and being timid and nervous. The thought of why you are really doing this is the last thing on your mind.

“Just get on with i-“ Your words gets swallowed by a low moan as he grounds his hips against you.

Yoongi breaks the kiss, working down your body instead. He leaves open mouthed kisses down the base of your throat and between your breasts. With his hand he raises you off the bed slightly, enough for him to reach under you and open your bra.

It lands on the floor in seconds, his mouth not wasting any time in taking one of your nipples between his lips and sucking.

“Oh,” you breathlessly gasp.

He sucks harder, his tongue rapidly flicking over your erect nipple while the firmly grasps your other breast with his hand.

You buck against him, your hips meeting and causing him to groan around your breast. His mouth and hand switch places, his lips lacing around your other nipple, giving it the same attention as the other got.

You are becoming impatient, your mind and body filling with the familiar feelings of ecstasy. You need more. You want more. All you can think about is wanting to see what he’s sporting beneath those tight jeans.

Speaking of jeans, you reach down, hurriedly fumbling with the button, your fingers keeps slipping each time Yoongi flicks his tongue over your nipple, but eventually you get it undone and the zipper follows till you can push his pants down his hips.

With a pop Yoongi’s mouth leaves your breast and he sits back on his haunches before you can do anything further. He smirks, eyeing your naked upper body and the small red patches he has sucked into your skin. A hum slips from his pink lips.

You expect him to make some snark comment, but he doesn’t, instead he quickly rids you of your jeans, leaving you in only your panties.

“Black lace,” he huffs. “How basic are you?”

You roll your eyes, lifting yourself up on your elbows. “If you are so against my black underwear, why don’t you just take them off?”

With no further warning he does just that. Ripping your panties down the middle, the flimsy material hanging off his pointer finger where he twirls it arrogantly, before flinging it over his shoulder. On instinct you close your legs only to have Yoongi pry them back open. A heaty look in his eyes.

“Don’t go shy on me now, babygirl.” He drawls, slipping down between your legs, his mouth inches from where you crave him the most.

Lazily, he runs a finger down your slit, your arousal coating his finger. He brings the glistening digit to his mouth and sucking it clean, his tongue peeking out teasingly – wordlessly speaking of what he can do with it. The vision, igniting something deeper inside you and you have to close your eyes for moment. You could just about cum at the sight if you really concentrated.

But you don’t even get to take a breath before Yoongi drags his tongue up your soaked core, before wrapping his lips around your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as a whimper floats into the air. Blindly, your hands search for something to grab onto, anything they can reach and Yoongi’s hair is the first thing they make contact with. Pulling at his hair, he allows you to control his movements, his tongue slowly circling your clit before he drags it down to your entrance.

Again, with slow and precise movements, he pushes his tongue inside you, the intrusion making you arch into his mouth. No sooner, his tongue leaves you and you are about to protest and beg him to keep going, but your words get caught when he substitutes his tongue for two of his fingers.

A whimpered ‘oh fuck’ rushes over your lips, your eyes opening to look at the scene between your legs. His fingers are buried inside you – knuckles deep, and his tongue is now busy flicking across your sensitive bud at the same fast speed as his fingers inside you.

It doesn’t take very long for you to feel your orgasm building. The combination of his fingers and tongue being almost too much.

He’s had some practice, that’s for sure!

He hums around you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the sound vibrates through you. You choke back a moan. You are dangerously close to cuming.

You push at the top of his head, “Wait, wait, wait! Shit!” You pant trying to gather your thoughts.

He slows down, his fingers still buried inside you, slowly stroking your inner walls. His chin is glistening with your arousal. “Don’t tell me that I’m the first guy about to make you cum?” he teases, lips ghosting over you lower lips.

“Get off your high horse, you jerk.” You roll your eyes. “I-I want to cum with you inside me.”

“And you will,” he promises, his eyes turning dark. “After I make you cum around my fingers.”

Two seconds after he’s spoken, he speeds up his fingers, curling them just the right amount while his lips suck wildly around your clit. You throw your head back on a loud moan, not even caring that your neighbors might hear you.

“Oh fuck, of fuck, oh fuck!” You moan repeatedly, tipping over the edge as your orgasm hits you full force, your body shaking.

When he’s sure that he’s stroked every last bit of your orgasm out of you, he gets off the bed, kicking off his shoes and his jeans falling the rest of the way to the floor. He is about to pull down his boxers, but you stop him.

Both of you surprised by your actions but for different reasons. He thinks you are about to stop him and leave him high and dry, but instead you get up and push him down on the bed.

Enjoying the look of shock on his face, you crawl on top of him before any doubts can set in. Crashing your lips together, you grind down on his clothed cock. You can feel him smirking into the kiss, your sudden dominance clearly turning him on as you feel him harden.

You rock against him, your nails scraping down his chest to the waistband of his boxers. Gently, you run the tip of your fingers under the band, your kiss never breaking. You tease his skin, dipping your finger a little lower only to retract it and do it all over again.

Yoongi groans, his hands taking a hold of your ass, pressing you down on him further. “Dangerous game you’re playing right now.” He warns.

“Maybe I like a little danger.” You whisper hazy, a sudden burst of confidence rolling over you.

Burying your face in his neck, you suck harshly on the skin there, making sure to leave behind a few bruises of your own. This might be a one time thing, but you are intent on making him remember this, making him remember you. You are not going to be another nameless face on his bed post.

Your lips continue downwards, kissing a trail of wet kisses down his chest and over his firm abs till your reach the line of his boxers.

In a teasing manner you bite the waistband, your tongue sneaking out and skimming over the light patch of hair he keeps there. Your palms gliding up the inside of his thighs and settling over his bulge.

“Shit,” He clenches his jaw, feeling the pleasure build, all his blood rushing to his cock at one touch.

All those sounds you were making seconds ago, have worked him into a frenzy. His hunger for something more taking over. He wants to see you lips wrapped around his cock.

You make quick work of taking off his boxers, his cock springing into view. You are surprised to see that he’s bigger than the average guy. Still he isn’t the biggest you’ve ever had.

“Like what you see?” He grins, his arm sneaking behind his neck for a better view.

Instead of answering him, you return his grin, lowering your head and pressing kisses from the tip and all the way down the shaft. You repeat the process until you reach his tip again, your tongue teasing the underside of his crown.

“Fuck me!” his deep grunt only spurs you to do it again.

Grasping him with one hand, you wrap your lips around his cock, taking him as far as you can. The taste of pre cum hitting your tongue and making you sigh around him at the bitter yet sweet taste. Your hand makes up for the portion you can’t reach with your mouth, your fingers tightening around his base as you find the perfect combination. His hips buck against you, his cock sliding further into your mouth and almost making you gag.

“Shit!” he curses, tangling his fingers in your hair.

Oh, how you love the power you have right now. You love that way you have the ability to drive him wild with just the touch of your mouth. The look on his face is almost illegal. The way he throws his head back against the pillows every time you flick your tongue over the tip of his cock, the way he holds his breath as a way to control himself to not blow his load in your mouth too early.

Way too soon for your liking, he stops you. Grasping the side of your face, pulling you off him and before you know it, you’re back to laying on your back with Yoongi sitting between your open legs.

His eyes speaking of sins and lust.

Wide eyed, you stare at him. In your jaw there’s a subtle ache, but the ache between your legs overrule the one in your jaw.

Yoongi grabs you by the back of your thighs, dragging you down the bed until your ass comes in contact with his thighs. You feel his cock against the inside of your thigh, and instinctively you clench around nothing, the ache flaming up.

You are not going to lie, having your legs spread wide like this with Yoongi staring straight at your exposed core, makes your somewhat nervous and excited at the same time.

You are excited to see for yourself if he really is as good as the claims he really is, but you nervous and scared to find out if your skills in the bedroom really are the problem to why you got dumped.

Yoongi sees the change in your eyes, “Last chance to back out.” He warns you, before reaching past you to the nightstand where he grabs the familiar foil packet. He must have put it there when you were still in the living room.

He’s giving you an out? “No,” you shake your head. “I wanna do this.”

“Thank fuck.” He breaths relieved, ripping the packet open with his teeth and seething himself with the latex.

His hand reaches between you. With one hand he spreads your legs even further apart and with the other he guides the head of his cock to your dripping entrance.

A shiver runs down your spine and you allow your eyes to flutter closed when you feel him press inside you. Each inch stretching you out, a burn of pleasure and pain following. He doesn’t stop until he is fully buried inside you, his balls laying against the curve of your ass.

Opening your eyes, you bite back a groan, your hands fisting the sheet beneath you. His thrusts starting out slow and shallow. Immediately you want more. You want him to pick up the pace, you want to feel his hips snapping against yours, but you decide to keep quiet. Instead you clench around him each time he sinks back inside you. Your walls sucking him in and making him suck in a breath.

Yoongi gets the hint, and with a firm hold on your hips, he picks up the speed, pounding into you. The room quickly fills with the sound of your skin slapping together and your cries of pleasure.

“Yoongi!” you shriek. The movement of his hips sending you further up the bed.

A deep groan radiates through his body, “Fuck me, you’re tight.”

You no longer have control of your own body. Your inner walls are having a mind of their own, clenching and unclenching rapidly, desperately trying to keep up with the intense pleasure that is making its way through your body.

Slowing down, he stills almost completely. His cock sliding in and out of your warm heat in slow strokes. You both watch as he sinks back in only to retreat seconds later. He’s dragging out both of your pleasure, wanting it to last as long as possible.

With his cock still buried inside you, he leans over you, his weight being supported by his forearms. Suddenly he’s very close, your eyes locking together, and it feels almost too intimate.

Gently he starts rolling his hips, not going too fast but setting just the right pace. Your hands travel up the side of his ribs, the tips of your fingers ghosting over his skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Stopping at his shoulders, you sneak your arms around his neck, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

He begins alternating between sharp and fast thrusts, and slow and gentle thrusts – the rhythm making your head spin. Gradually, Yoongi seems to get bored of the pace and his hips launch into action once again, snapping wildly against yours, drawing loud cries of pleasure from you.

Tightening your hold around his neck, you bring his lips to yours.

Kissing has always been one of your favorite things to do during sex. It just adds that one extra thing, making the whole process that much sweeter.

Taking your lower lips between his teeth, Yoongi sucks on it. The slight prickle of pain shooting through your body and to the place where you’re connected.

You whimper into the kiss, mumbling, “God, you feel so good.”

Slowing down a tad, he pulls back to look at you. “You like that, huh? You like me cock filling you up?”

You’ve never really been one to enjoy too much dirty talk, but the way Yoongi’s voice rings deeply through your ears, has your toes curling and your want to hear more.

“I love it,” you groan, your lips gracing his and you tease him with the tip of your tongue. Running it along his lower lip before giving it a gentle bite.

He snaps his hips harder, his cock brushing past your favorite set of nerves on each pass. “I can’t wait to feel you cum around my cock,” he hisses. “Can’t wait to feel you desperately milking my cock for my cum.”

His dirty talk is enough to send you straight to edge, dangling dangerously close to falling over. Your body shakes under him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, ready to hold on once you fall head first into your orgasm.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, please don’t stop!” you pant, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Eyes on me, babygirl!” he snarls. “I want you to look into my eyes when I make you scream my name.”

The pounding of his hips intensifies with the look of pure animalistic hunger in his eyes. You feel the tension in your lower abdomen building before it explodes without further warning.

A half broken scream of his name flies past your lips as you cum around him, your eyes never venturing away from his darker ones. Your hips are jerking ferociously, meeting each of his thrusts.

Yoongi takes a hold of your hair at the top of your head, tilting it to make your lips meet. Hungrily, he kisses you, your lips working together as one.

“Fuck! I’m, fuck!” Seconds later you feel his cock pulsate and deep hiss vibrates through your lips as he spills inside the condom.

You help him ride out the last bit of his orgasm, your wall tightening around him, milking him for every last drop he has.

Slowing down, his thrusts turn sloppy, his previous rhythm flying out the window. Eventually, he stops completely, his cock still nestled deep inside you and his head falls to the crook of your neck. Content, you sigh – your fingers slowly running through his hair and massaging his scalp.

It’s so weird to lay with Yoongi like this after you’ve just had sex. He hasn’t even pulled out of you yet, but you really don’t mind it if you’re being honest. During the whole thing, you completely forgot the why’s and the who’s of why this happened in the first place, and you just enjoyed being in the moment.

Yoongi brushes his lips over your collarbone, one, twice, before pulling himself up in a sitting position and then pulling out of you.

You whimper at the loss of contact, already missing the feeling of his cock expanding you so perfectly.

While Yoongi discards the condom, you roll yourself into the duvet. With Yoongi no longer being on top of you, the chilly air in the bedroom makes itself known.

Before laying back down on the bed, Yoongi pulls on his boxers. You both lay staring up at the ceiling, neither of you knowing what to say. You’ve never been in this situation before, so you don’t know the right protocol for a one-night stand. Or whatever you might call what the two of you just did. Are you supposed to make small talk or are you just supposed to ask him straight forward if your bad in bed or not?

You decide to break the tension, “So…”

“So,” Yoongi repeats.

You sit up, twisting your body to face him. “I’m not sure how this works in a normal case of having a one-night stand, but could you please just tell me and get it over with?”

With a sigh he sits up. “Look, I’m not gonna lie to you,” he begins, and you already dread the rest. “You’re not the best I’ve had-“

“Fantastic!” You huff, your voice laced with sarcasm.

“Let me finish before you throw a tantrum.” You glare at him, but he ignores you. “I was going to say, that you’re not the best I’ve had, but you definitely not the worst I‘ve had either.”

“Really?” Not the worst he’s had either. “So I’m not bad in bed?”

“I would come back for seconds.” He reassures you with his famous smirk.

“Really?” You highly doubt that he would come back for seconds with any girl. “You?” You have to laugh. “I didn’t think your man whorering ways allowed you to come back for seconds?”

“If the fit is tight enough.” He drawls wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You smack his arm. “Alright, that’s enough.” You clumsily crawl out of bed, Yoongi laughing when you almost fall over the duvet still wrapped around you. “Isn’t the other person supposed to leave after the act is done?”

Picking up his shirt from the floor, you throw it at him hoping he’ll take the hint. He’s done this enough times to know how it works.

He pulls it on without question, next reaching for his jeans and shoes.

You stand there, still wrapped in your in the duvet, watching him dress. He even looks good putting on his clothes, but you’d never tell him that.

He grabs the rest of his belongings and heads towards the door. You can’t do anything but stand there awkwardly as he leaves the room without looking back.

A feeling of quilt suddenly washes over you and you run after him. You catch him just as his hand touches the doorknob.

“Yoongi wait!”

Looking over his shoulder, he smiles bemused at you. Your hands clutching the duvet to your body and your hair resembling something close to a bird’s nest.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh…” clearing your throat you cast your eyes to the floor all of the sudden feeling shy. “I… Thank you.” You finally manage to say to him.

You truly mean it. You wouldn’t have felt right if he’d left without you telling him how much you appreciate him doing this for you. It’s a weird situation – one you never want to find yourself in again, but still, he might be the only one in the world willing to have done this for you. And you know that if the roles were reversed and you were in his shoes, you would’ve probably felt a little used.

“Thank you?” he gives you a funny look, a lopsided replacing his smirk.

“Yes, Thank you. I-I mean, I know yo-“

One second Yoongi is standing on the other side of the room, and the next he’s standing in front of you, his hands cupping your face and his lips crashing onto yours.

You’re caught off guard for only seconds. You kiss him back, your lips moving together tenderly and slowly. Softly, you sigh against him, letting him move the kiss in any way he wants. You can feel him smiling against your lips at your surrender. Even outside of the bedroom he enjoys the control.

He pecks your lips slowly before breaking apart. He looks into your eyes, his hands still cupping your face. Languidly, he runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. You watch him bright eyed, curious to see what he’s going to do next.

He pecks your lips one last time before releasing you. He leaves you standing confused as he retakes his steps to the door.

He eyes you from head to toe one last time before saying, “If you ever wanna go for seconds, you know how to reach me.”

And with that he leaves. Leaving you standing behind alone in the middle of your hallway wrapped in a duvet, your jaw on the floor.

It has been a looooong time since i last wrote something smutty lol.... remember to like and reblog if you enjoyed reading ❁

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arrow-guy · 4 years

Text

The Lighthouse (8/??)

Summary: The town is sleepy, the people are nice enough, but life gets turned upsidedown when the God of Thunder literally falls out of the sky.

A/N: I know it won’t be enough, but questions will be fully answered soon enough! But until I can get around to that, please have this! A couple of idiots and more Loki

Pairing: ThorxReader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Part 7

“How did you know where he was?”

I shrug and grab the cereal from the cupboard. “I heard a voice that told me to get up and when to stop driving. Everything else was just a gut feeling.”

“Was it Heimdall?” Thor asks.

“No, he said as much last night. But he heard the voice too.”

Thor sets bowls on the table and moves to get spoons. “Did he feel the same pull?”

“I don’t think so.” I grab the milk and take a seat at the table. “He didn’t seem to feel any compulsion.”

“But he was much further away from Loki’s location than you were.” Thor sits and pours himself a bowl of cereal. “It would make sense that you were the one guided to Loki’s location.”

I laugh. “I don’t know if I’d say I was guided. It was more like being dragged along behind a horse. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen until the end. Even then, it wasn’t exactly pretty.”

He hums. “You did scare me half to death.”

I nodded. “I know, and I really am sorry about that.”

“I know you are.” He shoots me a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to apologize anymore, (Y/N). I understand why you kept it from me.”

“I know. I just still feel bad about the whole thing.”

“I know.”

We eat in silence and I nearly doze off at one point, but Thor reaches across the table and takes my hand. I shake my head and squeeze his hand before going back to my cereal. Thor finishes before me and waits till I’m done before taking my bowl and doing the dishes.

“When do you think he’ll wake?” Thor muses.

“I’m not sure. It took him weeks to crash land, and even then he showed up weeks after I found you.” I shrug. “I’m not even sure he showed up in the same fashion as you did.”

“Oh?”

“Heimdall and I were talking about why he bounced around so much while we were looking for him. My guess is that, whatever it was that messed with your memories, might’ve knocked him off course when Heimdall sent him away.”

“What does Heimdall think?”

“Heimdall doesn’t really have much to go off either. Everyone that I’m in contact with is just as informed as I am, which is to say, we know jack shit about the situation right now. But, if this is anything like when I found you, then it might be a few days till he starts to wake up. I had you here two before you woke up, but I don’t know how long you were out in those woods before I found you.”

Thor nods. “Then we can only hope that he’ll wake soon.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you have any plans for the day?”

“Just working. New assignments have come in and we slept through most of the day, so I’m getting a late start.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“It’s no big deal, we both needed the rest.” I get up from the table and move across the room to kiss his cheek. “If you’ve got any ideas for dinner, let me know, okay?”

“Of course.” He smiles and gestures for me to go. “I’ll come get you for a break in a few hours.”

I grin and head for the stairs. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Thor quietly slips into my office and slits on the floor beside me. Daisy trails in shortly after and plops down beside him. She huffs when he doesn’t immediately scratch her ears.

“I take it you checked on Loki, then?” I ask, not looking away from my work.

“Yes.”

“Any updates?”

He shakes his head and rests his forehead on my thigh. He sighs when I comb my fingers through his hair. “Nothing so far.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He hasn’t even moved.” His shoulders slump and he leans a little more heavily against me. “It’s only been two days, but I can’t help being impatient.”

“I know. You’re worried about your brother. It’s only natural.”

“It’s strange, though,” he says. “He and I have always been at odds. We’ve fought countless times, but I’ve watched him die twice. I’ve had to mourn his loss twice. I’m not sure that I can go through that a third time.”

I push away from the desk slightly and take his face in my hands. “I’m sure that everything will be fine. He was out there for a long time, and we don’t know what kind of energy he expended.”

“Right.” He covers one of my hands with his. “I’m sure he just needs to rest.”

“He’s strong, Thor. I’m sure he’ll be up before we know it.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing to thank me for.”

“You sell yourself so short,” he says softly. “I’ll make you recognize how wonderful you are one day.”

“Thor…”

He smiles. “But that won’t be today.” He hauls himself up from the floor. “I’ve distracted you for long enough, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I’ll be done in half an hour. We can talk more then, if you want?”

He stoops down and kisses my forehead. “I’d like that.”

Thor pats his leg to get Daisy’s attention and gestures for her to follow him out of the room. She shoots me a tired look and I laugh as she trots out to the stairs after Thor. I do my best to finish with work, but it takes fifteen minutes longer than I initially expected. When I finally manage to make it downstairs, I collapse on the couch beside Thor.

“I had to talk them out of concussion induced pyrokinesis,” I mutter.

“I have no idea what that means,” Thor says.

I scrub my hands over my face and curl into his side. “Because it’s something that shouldn’t reasonably exist, even in fiction.”

He laughs. “Did you succeed?”

“Eventually. I just have to hope they don’t try to sneak it in somewhere else later on.”

“I’m sure you’ll prevail in the end.”

I shake my head. “I appreciate your optimism.”

He hums and kisses the top of my head. “We should talk.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t want to force anything on you,” he says. “We kissed two nights ago, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“I think it should. After the time we’ve spent together and what we’ve been through, I know that it’s not just some schoolgirl crush. I actually like you. Especially when I get to think for myself about it.” His brow furrows. “Heimdall likes to meddle sometimes. But no one’s had to convince me that I like you.”

He smiles. “It looks like our roles have switched, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does.” I take his hand. “But I meant what I said that night. My feelings for you are real. I’m not going to be shy about it, especially when I’m this comfortable with you.”

He sighs softly. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

I reach up and brush my fingers over his cheek. “You said I was wonderful earlier, but I don’t get how you can’t see how much light you put out into the world.”

“Maybe it’s just reflected back at me,” he offers.

“If that’s the case, then maybe I need to put you in front of a mirror. Reflect some of that energy directly back into you.” I push myself up from the couch and attempt to drag Thor up with me. “Come on. I’m hungry and I think we’ve still got stroganoff leftovers in the fridge.”

He laughs and allows himself to be led into the kitchen. “Do you always think with your stomach?”

“Not always, but you’re certainly one to talk!” Thor tries to look offended, but only succeeds in making himself laugh harder. “Your appetite is astounding.”

“I am a big man, (Y/N),” he says. “And beyond that, I am a god. Sometimes I need to eat more than a human does.”

“I know,” I dig around in the fridge for the leftovers. “I’m just poking a little fun.”

I glance back and find him leaning against the counter, arms folded, small smile playing at his lips. “I know you are.”

I pull the leftovers from the fridge. “You wanna try this the way my grandfather liked to eat it?”

Walking past Loki’s room a couple of days later, I heard a quiet shuffling. Thor hadn’t mentioned any kind of change in his brother when we talked earlier, so I open the door just a crack and peek inside.

Loki is sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. I almost step into the room, but I stop myself short, realizing that he doesn’t know me. I don’t want him to panic and not have any way to calm him down.

Instead, I run out to the back yard to let Thor know that Loki is awake.

“What?” he yells back.

“He’s awake!” I holler. “Come inside, I’m gonna need your help!”

He calls out his confirmation and I head back inside. I grab a glass of water for Loki before I go back upstairs and very, very slowly open the door.

He sits with his head in his hands, and I can’t tell if he’s heard me come in. I gently knock on the door to get his attention and his head jerks up at the sound. I wave and step into the room.

“It’s good to see you awake,” I say. “We were starting to think you’d be out forever.”

“What?”

“We found you almost five days ago.” I cross the room to hand him the glass of water. “You didn’t even move until today, I don’t think.”

“Who is ‘we’?” he asks.

“It’s just Thor and I.”

“Thor?” He perks up slightly.

“Yeah, he should be here soon.”

“Where is he?” He shoots up from the bed and I stumble back when he reaches out for me. “Tell me, woman!”

I drop the water and throw my hands up to shield myself. Loki never makes contact, and it takes a moment for me to realize that there’s a semi-visible barrier between us. I stare at my hands, surprised.

“Where is my Brother!” Loki yells.

He pounds against the shield and I stumble over my own feet and fall to the floor. The shield flickers briefly, but I manage to hold it steady. This only serves to further infuriate him and I cringe each time he slams his fists against the shield.

“Heimdall, what do I do?!”

“Hold the shield and wait for Thor.”

“That’s it?!”

“What is it that you expect me to do, (Y/N)?”

“I don’t know, I’m freaking out, here!” I yell for Thor, and hope that he can hear me. “Stop punching the shield, you’re just gonna wind up hurting yourself!”

“Drop the shield, and I’ll show you just what the meaning of hurt is,” Loki hisses.

“You know what, I don’t really like the sound of that.”

He pushes harder, and I can feel the shield straining under my hold. I can faintly hear Thor’s heavy footsteps in the stairwell, and I push all that I can into maintaining the shield. Just as cracks start to spiderweb across the surface,Thor steps into the room. Loki sees him and stops his assault against my magic, relaxing enough that I can let the shield go. I lie back on the floor, one arm flung over my face, taking deep heaving breaths.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” Thor asks.

I nod and point at Loki. “Put him in a bubble till you could get here.”

“You put him in a bubble?!”

“He moved faster than I expected. It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“He punched the shield and startled me.”

I hear him shift towards his brother. “You tried to attack her?!”

“You say that as if I’m supposed to know who she is or where I am.”

“You shouldn’t have to know someone to know not to attack them.” Thor crouches down beside me and helps me sit up. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine, he doesn’t know where he is.” I feel Loki’s eyes on me and I glance up at him. “What?”

Loki snorts and turns his attention to Thor. “Really, brother? Another human?”

“Excuse me? You’re in my house, in my bed. If it weren’t for this human, you’d probably be choking on sand right about now.”

Loki’s brows pull together and he looks to his brother for confirmation. Thor just nods.

He looks at me with an almost pained expression. “Well then. I apologize.”

“Good.”

He nods and immediately frowns when his hand makes contact with his chest. He pinches the fabric between his fingers and pulls it away from his body.

“What in Odin’s name am I wearing?”

“My clothes,” Thor says.

“Your clothes?”

I lift my hand. “I made them smaller. They’re clean, I promise.”

“You?”

“Yeah, the magic was relatively easy compared to what I was doing to track you down.”

He blinks rapidly, looking genuinely surprised. “And how did you learn this magic?”

“It’s a bit convoluted,” I explain. “Heimdall did what he could to help, but I essentially just had to force the magic to do what I wanted.”

"And you've been privy to this training with Heimdall, have you, brother?"

"As much as I can be," Thor says. "I've only been able to speak with Heimdall once since I arrived, and it's solely because (Y/N) acted as a bridge."

Loki scowls, unsatisfied with the answer. "Explain. Now."

Thor obliges and explains everything. I occasionally interject, filling in anything that Thor misses.

“Why would you spend all that energy on finding me, though?”

“(Y/N) believes that you may hold the key to understanding what happened to us,” Thor says. “Our memories were tampered with, and you’re the only person I can think of who wasn’t accounted for.”

“I see...” Loki stroked his chin. “And you truly remember nothing?”

“Have I any reason to lie to you, brother?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you remember anything?” I ask.

“Everything, actually.”

“I-really?”

“Yes. I believe that I can restore Thor’s memories as well, but it won’t be pleasant.”

“Do it,” Thor says. “I need to know what happened.”

“Hold on a moment,” I say. “How do we know you won’t just make things worse?”

“Why would I do that? He’s dumb enough as is. If anything, this would be an improvement.” I glare at him and he lifts his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to make things worse. Just to share the knowledge.”

“Fine.”

Loki shuffles closer to Thor and places his hands on either side of his face. Only when Thor nods does he close his eyes. The familiar hum of magic fills the room, but it's different from when I cast. The sound is concentrated near Loki's hands, and I can only assume that it's because he's far more skilled than I am that the sound doesn't fill the entire room.

The magic courses through Thor's body and I nearly lurch forward when his spine goes rigid. I stop myself halfway when I realize that whatever Loki's doing to restore his memories will most likely drain him of whatever energy he previously had. I sit back and fold my hands in my lap and force myself to just sit and watch. I have to remind myself to stay put when Thor begins to make small pained noises. He wanted to go through with it, and interrupting the spell could be dangerous.

Loki's eyes snap open with a flash of green light before his hands fall away from Thor's face. Thor's shoulders relax momentarily as he slowly remembers where he is, and he recoils and scrambles away from his brother. My first instinct is to move to help him, but when I reach out to him and he flinches away from my touch, I start to worry.

"He's in shock," Loki says. "Barely anything that he saw was happy. In spite of how optimistic he is most of the time, he’s experienced many hardships, as of late."

"Tell me what happened on that ship." He hesitates and I frown. "How am I supposed to help if I don't know what happened?"

"You truly want to help?"

"Of course I do."

"You know what we are. Do you understand the dangers that follow us?"

"I'm well aware of the trouble you get yourselves into."

"I see." He sighs and shifts uncomfortably on the carpet. "I'll tell you what happened, then."

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

Part 9

Okay, concrete answers next chapter, I promise. But hey! Loki’s back and he’s actually awake this time, so that’s progress!

As always, if you liked this chapter, please let me know! LIke, reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask and tell me all about that shit, because I always wanna know what you guys are thinking!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapter, please let me know!

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#thor odinsonxreader #readerxthor odinson #thor odinson x reader #reader x thor odinson #thorxreader #readerxthor #thor x reader #reader x thor #thor odinson #thor #the golden boi #reader insert marvel fic

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “A Wonderful Christmas Timey-Wimey” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Crowley isn't feeling the holidays this year, which Aziraphale thinks is par for the course, what with him being a demon and all. With only a few days left until Christmas, Crowley runs into a girl who may change that for him.

A girl who mistakes him for The Tenth Doctor. (1945 words)

Notes: Written for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt 'shopping'.

Read on AO3.

“Must you pick out every present for the toy appeal yourself?” Crowley asks, rearranging items on the shelf, replacing a few of the more popular toys with jars of pickled fish, tins of olives, and tubes of fungal foot cream. "This is so dull!"

"It would be less dull if you helped instead of complained."

"Mrr ... ngk ... urgh ..."

"You'd be brightening someone else's day," Aziraphale says to persuade him.

"Not really my department," Crowley replies. "You could always do what other shops do and put a donation bin inside your door.”

“Inside my door?” Aziraphale utters a disgusted noise. “You expect me to invite people into my shop on purpose!?”

“It would be for the good of mankind,” Crowley teases. "Well, child-kind, more accurately."

“I am not going to dignify that heinous suggestion with a remark,” Aziraphale mutters, walking to the opposite side of his trolley to escape his husband’s asinine ideas.

"I still don't see why you need to do this yourself. I don't think braving a crowd of the entitled to buy useless junk for kids is going to earn you brownie points with Heaven."

“Buying presents is fun, Crowley, no matter who they're for! It gets me into the holiday spirit!”

“Not me. I’m not feeling Christmas this year.”

Aziraphale looks up and considers his gloomy husband. He'd thought this mopey affectation was simply per the norm. He didn't realize his husband was honestly feeling blue. “Have you felt the Christmas spirit any other year?”

Crowley shrugs. “Once or twice. It’s become such a vulgar holiday, hasn’t it? The commercialization, the greed, the false charity - such a far cry from the days when generous humans would leave presents anonymously on the steps of their needy neighbors. Nowadays, with social media, everything’s such a show. Look what I gave! Look who I helped! Look how compassionate I am!” Crowley grimaces. “Despicable.”

“I would imagine, as a demon, you would take pride in the change,” Aziraphale says icily.

“’m not that kind of demon, angel.”

“You’ve got a few days yet. Maybe you’ll come across something that will fill you with Christmas joy.”

“Doubt it.” Crowley goes back to the ruination of the shelves, snarling when his husband manages to set things to rights behind his back. He's preparing to remove the word not from the boxes marked batteries not included when he gets the distinct feeling that someone is stalking them. He stands straight and peeks down the aisle, eyes darting left and right behind his glasses so as not to be too obvious. Once he confirms his suspicions, he comes up behind Aziraphale and whispers, “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“All the time,” Aziraphale says nonchalantly. “Because we are. The Almighty sees all, remember?”

Crowley rolls his eyes. What a frickin’ angel thing to say? “We’re not alone.”

“Exactly! Didn’t you hear what I just …?”

Crowley steps in front of his husband, grabs Aziraphale’s head, and tilts it to the side. Aziraphale’s gaze follows. From around the end of the aisle, Aziraphale spots a pair of stunning green eyes, set in a face surrounded by a blonde bob, disappear into the doll aisle.

“What the …? Oh, dear …”

"Wot? Wot's wrong?"

Aziraphale chuckles. "It looks like we have company.”

Crowley turns to see a woman headed their way, spurred on by a girl pushing her in their direction. The woman waves sheepishly. “Hello. I am so sorry to bother you.”

Aziraphale smiles. “It’s quite alright. Is there something we can do for you?”

“Kind of.” The woman glances sternly behind her when the girl gives her a shove. “My name is Sheila. This …” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the child they have yet to see completely “… is my little sister Freya.”

“Hello, Freya.” Aziraphale tries to maneuver around Sheila’s body to get a good look at the girl. He catches a glimpse, but Freya moves too quickly out of view for Aziraphale to get more than that. But from what he can see, she isn’t paying attention to him.

She’s focused on Crowley.

“She’s shy,” Sheila says. “But she asked me to come talk to you because she thinks …” Aziraphale hears the girl whisper, something only her sister can understand, and Sheila sighs. “I’m so very sorry, but she thinks that you …” She gestures to Crowley “… are … The Doctor.”

Crowley’s eyes go wide. “Doctor?” he repeats, confounded since, in all his long years on this planet, to his recollection, no one has ever mistaken him for a doctor. An undertaker, definitely. A forensic investigator, once or twice. A rockstar and, on occasion, an actor. But not a doctor.

With a sudden spark, it hits him.

Not a doctor.

The Doctor.

“Wait - Doctor. You mean like … Doctor Who, The Doctor?”

Freya giggles. Sheila’s cheeks turn pink. “The Tenth Doctor specifically, yeah. Again, I’m really sorry about this, but, uh …” Aziraphale reaches into his pocket and produces a handkerchief when Sheila chokes up “… our mum's just passed, and our dad's underway. He’s not going to be home in time for the holidays." She sniffles. "I'm afraid we've been suffering from a severe lack of cheer lately.”

“So it seems,” Aziraphale says sympathetically.

“And I thought that maybe if you didn’t mind … I mean, I know you don’t know us from Adam, but …”

While Sheila talks to Aziraphale, Crowley gets down on one knee to get a better look at Freya. She’s the most erratically dressed child he’s ever seen. But kids can get away with that, can’t they? She’s wearing oversized trousers, a floor-length coat, a shirt with a rainbow across the front, braces …

Oh, gee, he thinks. She’s dressed like The Thirteenth Doctor.

Freya sneaks a peek, lower lip sucked so far between her teeth, he can see every freckle on her chin.

He smiles and gives her a wink.

“Figured me out, did ya?”

Both Aziraphale and Sheila go silent when they hear Freya gasp.

“It is you!” Freya says, eyes so wide they start to compete with every other feature on her face. “My sis said it probably wasn’t you, but I knew it was! I just knew it!”

“It’s me,” Crowley says, not entirely sure where he goes from here. “But you can’t tell anyone you saw me, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry …” Freya motions zipping her lips together “… I won’t say anything to anyone! I promise!” She leans forward and whispers, “Where’s your TARDIS? I didn’t notice a police box outside.”

“And she looks,” Sheila says. “She really looks. Every time we leave the house.”

“Oh, uh, you know what? I got it fixed,” he says, quickly culling from one of the few pieces of Doctor Who trivia he knows. “The chameleon circuit? It's good as new.”

“It is?” Freya’s eyes light up as if she's hearing the most important news of her young life.

“It looks just like a regular old car now.”

“Really?”

“Yup. A big black car.”

“Wicked!”

Aziraphale doesn’t hear everything Crowley says to Freya, but that doesn’t concern him. Crowley has always been aces at dealing with children. And as Freya’s eyes become wider and her smile spreads, Aziraphale can’t help smiling himself. Crowley is a demon with a vivid imagination, and he’s using it to weave this girl a tale of wondrous, supernatural antics, which includes traveling through time with a man he calls his companion (whom Aziraphale realizes, with a flick of Freya’s eyes upward, is supposed to be him) as they attempt to save Christmas from …

“The Weeping Angels?” Freya looks about her, a mixture of anxiety and excitement turning her cheeks red. “I read that comic! About how you and Thirteen went up against them to save Earth! Are they back?”

“No. Even worse."

Freya's mouth forms a tiny 'o'. "The Master?”

"Yes." Crowley echos her gravitas to make it appear he understands the dangers of being pursued by such a villain. "Hence my disguise, which you saw through brilliantly. Well done!"

“Oh, I could tell it was a disguise from a mile away!” she proclaims with the modesty of a child who has gotten one over on the adults.

“How?”

“The hair! You’re ginger! But, between you and me, I’d tone it down.”

“You would?” Crowley says in a way that makes Aziraphale snicker, falling somewhere between engaging and offended.

“Oh, yes!” she says. “It’s a bit on the bright side. It’s a dead giveaway that it's fake.”

Crowley nods, fighting to keep his cool. It would do him no good to start bickering with a child over whether or not a fictional character should wear their hair his color. “Noted.”

Sheila watches Crowley interact with her sister, sees her smile for the first time in weeks.

Sheds a tear when Freya tells Crowley that he is, without a doubt, her favorite Doctor, and that when she sees him on the telly or reads about him in the comics, it makes her feel less sad and alone.

“Okay, Freya,” Sheila says, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her shirt. “I think it’s time for us to let these gentlemen get back to their business.”

“She means the mission,” Freya corrects for her.

“That’s right,” Crowley says. “But you know what? We’ll bump into each other again. Another time.”

“Yes,” Freya says in awe. “We will. Another time.”

Sheila takes her sister’s hand, but the girl breaks free and throws herself into Crowley’s arms, squeezing him tight. “Thank you, Doctor!”

It takes Crowley a second, but he wraps his arms around Freya’s thin body and squeezes back. “You’re welcome.”

“Come on, Freya,” Sheila says in a wobbly voice. “Let's go home.”

“Goodbye, Doctor! Goodbye, Doctor's Companion!”

"Goodbye, Miss Freya," Aziraphale says, amused to be relegated to the title of Doctor's Companion. His name must not be necessary, he muses, since she never asked it.

Freya takes her sister’s hand and pulls her from the aisle, telling her all the things Crowley had said about his and Aziraphale’s mission to save Christmas.

Crowley watches Freya and Sheila round the corner, the girl pausing a moment to give them one final wave before she skips out of sight.

But Crowley doesn’t look away.

He stares thoughtfully after her, doesn’t snap out of it until Aziraphale puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course,” Crowley says, slowly falling back to Earth.

"Shall we get going, too?"

"No," Crowley says in a distant voice. His eyes travel from the end of the aisle to Aziraphale's hand on his shoulder, down to the trolley half full of toys. With a hiccup, he picks up where they left off before Sheila and Freya stopped by, and Crowley became The Doctor. "No! You're nowhere near done! Wot? Were you only planning on helping five kids? Pfft!" Crowley clears his throat. "Would you mind if I, uh, picked out a few things, too? For the appeal?"

Aziraphale looks at him strangely. "You want to shop for toys?"

"You’ve only chosen the boring ones! The educational slop! No kid is gonna want half this stuff! I think that, maybe, you don’t have the knack.”

Aziraphale crosses his arms over his chest. “I don't have the knack?”

“Yes.”

“For buying toys?”

“Again, yes.”

Aziraphale grins. “Are you asking to help me brighten someone else's day?”

Crowley's cheeks go pale. “No! Maybe. Don’t look at me like that. You’re just buying toys. It’s not astrophysics. Look, turn down the halo, or I’m going home!”

#Ineffable Holiday 2020 #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #crowley

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