#sitting here staring at my final project physically unable to focus
Note
Ohhh 70 (“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”) OR 93 (“You’re more than that.”) for the prompt thing, whichever you prefer! I always adore your writing, thank you so much for sharing it with us ☺️
OR? No, both. And thank you, you're very sweet. On ao3 here.
Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.
And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.
A month after Eddie comes home from the hospital, Buck is having coffee with Carla while Eddie’s at a physical therapy appointment and he offhandedly says—
“Not sure why I never see Ana. You would think Eddie being shot would make her want to be around more, not less—”
“Buck,” Carla interrupts, a strange look passing over her face. “Honey...Eddie broke up with her three weeks ago.”
That stops Buck short, makes him feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs.
“What?” His mouth is dry. He swallows. “He—why?”
Carla picks up her cup and takes a long sip, as if she needs the extra seconds to figure out what to say, and Buck backtracks.
“No, forget it, that’s—it’s not my business,” he says. It’s not. Even if it feels a little like it should be, even if he doesn’t understand why Eddie would tell Carla and not him, even if he’s Eddie’s best friend—
Buck knows that Eddie’s a private person. He knows that sometimes Eddie keeps things close to his chest while he’s thinking them through. Eddie hadn’t said a word about Shannon until she walked into the station and aired their business for all of them to hear. He barely talked about Ana in the first place. He changed his will and sat on that information for a year—
Buck’s not upset it’s just—it feels—
The thing is.
The thing is…He’s not oblivious. He knows how he feels about Eddie. How he’s felt for at least the past two years. Like he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at him without feeling like he’s screaming with it, bleeding love all over, unable to stop it dripping from every pore. Exposed and pathetically obvious, and the whole time Eddie has just—said nothing. Ignored it, Buck assumes, because he can’t not have noticed, can’t not have seen.
And maybe sometimes Buck has wondered if Eddie wasn’t ignoring it. If he felt the same and just couldn’t say it. Because he was grieving and wasn’t ready—
But then he was. He was ready. And he chose Ana Flores.
That was the end of it. That was supposed to be the end of it. Because Buck’s not a masochist, he knows he hangs onto things for too long, but he’s been working on knowing when to let go.
Except—except Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck sat on a hospital bed and stared as Eddie said no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you and you act like you’re expendable…but you’re not and the words felt…heavy. The air, weighted. And Eddie couldn’t look at him and Buck could swear that he was trying to say—
Buck knows he shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of him that’s angry. That wants to pace and run and clasp Eddie’s face between his hands and ask really? Now? Because—because Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck barely survived it, thought if Eddie died, he would have died with him, was more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. But he did survive. And he moved on. He kissed Taylor. He closed the door.
So Eddie’s not allowed to make big declarations that he could have made a year ago and then break up with his girlfriend when Buck is finally trying—
Okay, maybe he’s a little upset.
The rest of him though—most of him, really—knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry. Which is why most of him is just…tired. Tired and terrified and still so in love.
Buck thinks maybe Eddie was right all those months ago. The universe doesn’t scream. It just laughs. At him.
“Buck?” Carla’s gaze is soft. Steady.
Buck clears his throat. Drains the last dregs of his coffee. He tries not to feel like he’s swallowed glass.
“Did I tell you I’m seeing someone?” He asks, forcing a smile. “She’s a reporter. She was—she was at Eddie’s homecoming actually, maybe you met her. It’s still pretty new, but we’ve been friends for a while. Going pretty well so far.”
Something flickers in Carla’s eyes, but she takes a breath and smiles.
“That’s great, Buckaroo,” she replies. “I’m happy for you.”
He’s trying. He’s really trying.
He doesn’t ask Eddie about the breakup.
*
Recovery is slow.
Buck doesn’t really like thinking about it as recovery because Eddie’s the one who got shot. Eddie’s the one who was in a sling and in physical therapy and had to spend months waiting to be well enough to get cleared to go back to work.
Eddie’s the one who got shot. The one whose blood flooded the street. The one who spent days unconscious in the hospital. The one who almost died.
Eddie’s the only one who has anything to recover from.
Dr. Copeland doesn’t agree. Buck mentions that he’s having trouble sleeping, that his chest gets tight if he goes too long without seeing Eddie and Christopher, that he can’t breathe sometimes when he’s on shift and Eddie’s out of sight.
She refers him out to a trauma specialist. He tries to argue that it’s not his trauma, but she just looks at him for a long moment.
“When you say you can’t sleep, is it insomnia? Or do you have nightmares that wake you up?”
Buck bites his lip and looks down at his hands. When he blinks, they’re streaked with red. When he blinks again, they’re clean. He curls his fingers into fists to prevent them from shaking.
“A little of both,” he admits.
“And when it’s nightmares, what are they about?”
“…blood.” Eddie’s blood in the street, on his hands, splashed across his face, on his tongue—
She hums.
“Evan,” she says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. And just because you weren’t shot yourself doesn’t mean you didn’t experience something traumatic. You’re allowed to seek treatment.”
Buck swallows. “I feel like…I should be better by now,” he admits. “Better than this. Shouldn’t it be easier?”
“Recovery is a process,” Dr. Copeland replies. “A journey. And it doesn’t always move in a straight line. There’s no timetable.”
Recovery. He makes a face.
But, he goes to see the specialist. He’s not sure how much it helps.
Blood splashing across his face, water running red, skin scrubbed raw—
Buck sits up gasping, cold sweat beading across his brow. Taylor is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, the distance between them a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. He doesn’t know if he wants to even if he did.
He shivers. Grabs his phone. Quietly descends the steps of the loft to settle on the couch.
“Buck. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gravelly and soft from sleep. Buck winces.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I don’t mind,” Eddie replies. “You know I don’t mind.”
Eddie pauses. “What was it tonight?”
Buck exhales shakily. “Your heart stopped in the truck before we could get to the hospital. I couldn’t get it to start again. I know it didn’t happen that way, but I still—”
“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m okay. That—it wasn’t real.”
“Yeah.” It felt real though. Buck can still feel ribs cracking under phantom compressions, the slick of blood on his hands. He can taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth.
“What do you need?”
Buck stretches out and closes his eyes, the phone pressed hard to his ear.
You. Just you. Always you.
“Can you—” His throat clicks. “Can you just talk? It doesn’t matter about what, I just—”
I need to hear your voice. I need to hear you alive.
“Christopher picked a project for the science fair,” Eddie says. “You have to promise to act surprised when he tells you though. He’s really excited.”
“Oh yeah? I can do that. What is it?”
“Well…”
Buck falls asleep again with Eddie’s voice in his ear and he doesn’t dream again. Taylor wakes him on the couch in the morning, an odd look on her face—he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not her fault. She just can’t help him. Perhaps she never could.
Buck thinks maybe there’s still a part of her that wants him to chase her. But he’s in no condition to chase anyone, even if he wanted to. It takes enough out of him to hold himself together. And to fight against what seems more and more inevitable.
So. Maybe he should stop fighting it.
He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face as he sits up.
“I think we should probably talk,” he says quietly.
Taylor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sinks down onto the couch next to him.
“I think we should.”
It ends as quickly as it began.
*
Christmas takes him by surprise. It’s not that Buck doesn’t notice the fall slipping away—a Halloween shift, a Veteran’s Day that has Eddie a little quieter, a little shakier, than usual, and Thanksgiving lasts practically a whole week with all the leftovers that end up in the station—but somehow it doesn’t fully register until he looks up at the calendar in the middle of December and sees a smiling Christmas tree sticker on a date ten days out. They’re not working, so the only question is where he’s going to end up, if anywhere. Although, he supposes even that’s not really a question.
He knows where he’ll end up.
Five days before Christmas, a last-minute tree has been wrangled into the Diaz house and Buck is fighting with a tangled set of lights while Eddie pulls out wrapping paper and ribbons and retrieves the hidden stash of gifts for Christopher from his closet. Christopher himself is fast asleep in his room, worn out from the day of running around, and without the extra person to focus on Buck takes a moment and lets himself just...watch Eddie. Sitting on the floor in low light with his legs stretched out, surrounded by ornaments and boxes and stray clippings and a small pile of somewhat lumpy, clumsily wrapped gifts, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on trying to figure out the right way to fold the wrapping paper—
There’s a stray piece of tinsel in his hair and a laugh catches in Buck’s throat, even as the rest of him aches with a sudden, fierce urge to brush it away.
He aches. Because this—this is what he wants. Eddie and Christopher and going around town to finish the Christmas shopping, picking out a tree and decorating it as a family, coming home to this day after day after day and knowing it’s where he’s supposed to be—
Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and it was the worst moment of Buck’s life. He thinks sometimes that he would rather have his leg crushed under a thousand ladder trucks than risk going through that again, but—but running away didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Dating Taylor didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Time hasn’t made him feel anything less, if anything it’s just cemented things.
So...so if Eddie is going to have the power to hurt him that badly regardless of whether Buck admits it out loud, if the risk of loss is going to be there anyway...shouldn’t he at least get to have everything? All the good parts?
Don’t they deserve the chance to be happy?
“Buck?” Eddie’s brow is furrowed in concern. “You okay?”
Buck opens his mouth, intending to reassure him, but what comes out is—
“Are you in love with me?” Eddie freezes and Buck resists the urge to panic and take it back.
“Because—” Buck clears his throat. “Because sometimes I think you might be, and—”
“Yes.” It’s quiet, barely a breath, but that single word hangs in the air. Buck’s heart races.
“You could have told me,” he replies. “Why—why didn’t you just—?”
Eddie looks away and Buck catches a familiar look flickering across his face. Doubt, shame, fear—everything that he himself has felt—
Oh.
Blind spots.
He never considered that Eddie might be just as afraid of rejection as he is. He never considered that what’s been so painfully obvious to him, might not have been to Eddie himself.
Buck gets up from the couch, stepping carefully around the mess on the floor until he can kneel down next to Eddie. Eddie, whose jaw is tight, shoulders tense, like he’s waiting for a blow.
“After everything we’ve been through...you still don’t know that I love you?” Buck asks quietly.
Eddie sucks in a startled breath, turning back to look at him, his gaze searching. Buck holds it steadily and waits. It’s not the first time he’s walked out on a limb. But it is the first time he’s had someone else out there with him.
If it cracks this time, they’ll fall together.
“I didn’t think—” Eddie’s eyes close briefly as he clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was enough.”
“You are,” Buck replies. “You’re more than—Eddie—”
“We have a life,” he says when he can get his thoughts in line. “We built a life. Together. Even if we didn’t say that was what we were doing, it’s what we did. So, maybe—maybe we can try being a little more honest about what we want while we’re living it? I don’t—I don’t want to waste anymore time.”
Eddie looks down—then, he reaches out slowly for Buck’s hand, his fingers finding the spaces between Buck’s and slotting in.
Buck squeezes gently. Eddie squeezes back.
“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s try that.”
Buck does pluck the tinsel from Eddie’s hair, but when he tosses it away, his hand comes right back, fingers sliding into the strands to keep Eddie still. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but his lips curve faintly up as Buck leans in.
Kissing him feels like coming home.
393 notes
·
View notes
Text
just like moths
Tommy doesn’t wear his old jacket much anymore. Even though it brought a sense of warmth, of unity, he didn’t wear it much. When they had a formal inauguration of Tubbo, a few days after the bombing, he wore it. The old thing is falling apart at the seams, just barely presentable. And yet the memories it holds are what make it so hard to throw away. Of the times when the sun was golden and there were walls to protect.
(not those walls, half-finished with a threat)
And it was also the fact that he didn’t have another jacket to hold all of his medals.
Ones shaped like the discs he still had; ones with the spread wings of a Phoenix, to represent when L’Manburg had first been bombed and they had risen above it; a flag of L’Manburg; a sword and bow to represent his tenacity; a star, to represent when they had first taken back L’Manburg from Schlatt.
When he had to wear the jacket, he felt like he was holding the hopes of a past him. Of the people he had fought for (who stare at him now, as he walks along with his little posse to face another humiliation) and the ideals he often died for.
When death was cheap, you had to make some meaning out of it.
He tries desperately not to focus on his present reality. That Tubbo was giving into Dream to placate him. So that the walls would go away. So that Dream would go away.
None of this would go away by bowing.
(and hadn’t they said they wouldn’t bow to Tommy?)
(then again, Dream wasn’t the Vice President)
Yet, here they were. Tommy stands at the forefront of their new podium, as Tubbo makes some speech to the stragglers. Dream stands so casually, leaning against a stall. This was his punishment, and Dream’s amusement.
Tommy wanted to slap that mask away and dig his fingers into -
Fundy grins next to him, his pawed hand already taking away the first of his many medals. He takes away his tenacity, then the one representing a renewed L’Manburg - the Phoenix. Quackity takes away his flag.
Then, finally, Tubbo steps forward. Tommy can see the biting bitterness in his eyes (or is he projecting?), the set of his jaw as he leans forward. First, he takes away the discs (that beloved, physical memory of their friendship) and deposits it in his pocket.
Lastly, the star. All of this was meant to strip Tommy of any pride and connection to his country.
In all matters but physical, he had no more connections.
No more honors. No more pride.
And as Tubbo tucks his star away, Tommy feels the light of their friendship dim. Tommy can remember drawing up the designs for all of those medals with Tubbo. Tubbo, who had smiled at him as he gave him back his medals as his president.
It was pretty fitting that his president would take them away, huh?
The end of the whole ceremony was like a balloon deflating. Tubbo left first, always in a hurry. Quackity left second, always something for him to do.
Fundy, however, lingers for a second.
And Tommy knows all the things left unsaid between them. They were both hurt by Wilbur (but the difference is, Tommy wishes still that Wilbur was around so that Tommy could try to fix him and Fundy wishes he was still around so that Wilbur could fix their relationship) and their moments together are always hard.
But Tommy knows, in this moment, that Fundy wants to gloat. He is already by the way he looks at him.
Fundy leaves third, with Tommy’s strength and hope in his pocket.
It’s Tommy who leaves last from L’Manburg, back to his actual home. The night air is heavy, the crickets singing and the moths floating around the lamps he had put up. His head is heavy, too - thoughts like moths that bat against the inside of his skull. Though there’s no formal declaration, Tommy knows.
He isn’t welcome back. Without his medals, which even the most basic citizen has, he has no honor. No face to show.
So he packs a bag, tears threatening to fall.
And yet, he has nowhere to go. His last living brother that isn’t Tubbo is the worst choice. And he doesn’t know if he can trust Philza (how sad that was, he couldn’t even trust his own father). The places he can turn to are slim to none.
He sits on the edge of the path outside of his home, feeling the rough edges of the wood dig into his pants and skin. He sits, and watches the moths dance without a care. Why can’t he be like them? They don’t need a home, nor friends who will eventually turn on him to placate a beast that will never stop being hungry.
Tommy notices the sound of footsteps, heavy from armor, approaching him. He doesn’t care much who it is (more to come and point and laugh at the fallen boy hero?), because he’ll be gone soon.
Yet, surprise is an understatement at who sits next to him - glittering gold armor, green and fluffy fur and a calming aura around him - so Tommy turns to look.
“What’re you doing here?” He asks, unable to keep the sulk from his voice.
Even though Sam has always been kind. Always been somebody Tommy could trust wouldn’t make fun of him, or somebody who would indulge his chaotic behaviors. He was unerring, where Phil was inconsistent. He was level-headed, where Wilbur was so easy to take nosedives. He was willing to listen and change, whereas Techno wanted one thing above all.
Even though all of those were facts, something in Tommy flinches away from the kindly hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, I’m just here as a friend.” Sam says softly, and Tommy can’t help but lean into him. “What happened?”
Tommy feels an anger inside of him boil up and he can’t stop the bitter words.
“Tubbo is listening to Dream! Not me! We fought a war together against him!” Tommy feels the tears finally slipping away. “What the fuck is that about?!”
Sam hums and hugs Tommy closer. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t insert his own opinions and lets Tommy rant. Sometimes, when it’s clear Tommy wants him to say something, he does. It’s almost refreshing to have someone listen to him, when it always feels like he’s walking on eggshells with others.
“And - and, now I have nowhere else to go.” Tommy grips at his packed bag, then at his home.
He’s so fucking hopeless
But Sam somehow sees something in him.
“I have room.” He says it so simply, and Tommy blinks. “We can work on a room for you, and you know how secluded I am.”
Somewhere secluded.
Somebody who holds no scorn for his mere name.
Tommy almost wants to say no. He doesn’t want to leave behind the lamps with their moths, the land he had fought for, the people he still loves - even when they can’t spare him the same luxury. Why did he fight so hard, when punishment for things others did was his fate?
Why not be a little selfish?
“Yeah.” Tommy wipes his face furiously against his arms (scarred with his warring and loving too much) and nods. “Yeah. I’ll come with you.”
Sam smiles and Tommy feels like, just for a second, he can put his worries to the side.
And as they both stand, Tommy realizes something.
The jacket.
“Hey, before we go, can I go and put my jacket away?”
And of course Sam nods. Tommy feels a sense of relief as he walks past the moths that hit the lamps. As he puts the jacket on his old bed, he folds it neatly and stares at it. It had been a piece of who he was. A foolish, but loving, boy - who fought and roared and loved with his very being.
People over places, he had told himself.
Tommy leaves without a second glance, follows Sam like a moth to a lamp.
Perhaps, Tommy thinks, he’s been around too many lamps - that will, eventually, burn his wings away and leave him a husk. But he has faith that does not seem misplaced anymore, with Sam. He will find warmth and sanctuary with him.
Tommy doesn’t need his old jacket anymore to make him feel any kind of warmth of a fire long gone.
#tommyinnit#tubbo#fundy#awesamedude#dream smp#dreamwastaken#writing#my writing#yooo shoutout to @gheysnakelady for sitting w me as i wrote this LMAO#will post this to ao3 later <3
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1
kiss time! yesssss. well, except everything goes downhill from there
anyhow, this week’s scenes - aftermath of an eventful evening...
1.10
Weller ushered his nephew up to his apartment, his physical body now inside the building but his mind still stuck out on the stoop. Images and emotions swirled together, with most of his consciousness locked on the memory of kissing Jane, while the rest of his brain did its best to fend off Sawyer's seemingly endless questions about what he'd seen.
"Why were you kissing her?"
"Isn't kissing kind of gross?"
"Was that your friend from when you and mom were kids?"
"Is she your girlfriend?"
Shit. He had to get that under control before they got back to the apartment and Sawyer outed him to Sarah.
But it was nearly impossible to get his thoughts in any sort of order at the moment, and Weller didn't want to outright lie to his nephew. Yet he also didn't want to face Sarah's scrutiny when he hadn't even had time to process what had just happened.
"Um, yeah, that was uh… Taylor. But she's not my girlfriend. So that was kind of a surprise," Weller finally replied, doing his best to focus his attention on the present.
"Oh. So she wants to be your girlfriend," Sawyer concluded.
His nephew was only nine but he'd pretty much nailed the question in the centre of Kurt's mind.
"Er. I don't know. We're going to have to talk about that," he said.
"You think we could not tell your mom about this until I figure that out?"
Sawyer gave him a blank look and for a moment Weller thought he was going to have to bribe the kid to keep him quiet. But then his nephew nodded sagely, and made a confession of his own.
"A girl in my class kissed me last year. I didn't tell mom either."
"She would have made a big deal about it."
Kurt grinned and ruffled Sawyer's hair. He figured that was a fairly normal thing for a boy that age to keep secret from his mom. And it certainly helped him out in the whole scheme of things.
"Yeah. That's kind of what I was thinking," Weller replied, with a breath of relief.
They entered the apartment and, true to his word, Sawyer ran off back to his favourite game without any mention of what he'd seen. Sarah was in the kitchen prepping things for dinner and barely looked up when they came in so Kurt started putting groceries away, hoping to hide the fact that he was in complete turmoil.
Weller was halfway through unloading the bag when he jolted, realizing suddenly that he'd just let Jane go off without her detail after giving her shit for sneaking out. For a full minute he stood there staring at a can of beans, stuck between running after her futilely and calling her right then, even though she most likely hadn't brought her phone on her illicit mission.
"Kurt?"
Shit. Busted.
He had no idea what Sarah had just asked him so Weller looked up blankly, trying to push the sudden panic out of his throat. His instinct was to sprint out the door and drive all her possible routes home but he had enough sense to resist immediately giving into his anxious impulses. Though mostly because he'd have to explain his behaviour to his sister, which could then easily lead to Sawyer spilling his secret.
"I asked if you wanted white rice or brown rice?"
"Oh. Brown please."
Weller finally put the can of beans down and tried to shake himself out of the moment. He forced back his emotions by repeatedly telling himself that Jane could take care of herself. Anyone that tried to attack her would regret their decision immediately. Also, he was already too late to catch up with her, so it would likely be a wild Jane chase that would require ditching dinner and lying about everything.
It took a lot of effort to turn his attention to cooking, but with Sarah insisting on helping him, Weller did his best to not let his mind drift. Yet still he constantly found himself lost in the memory of Jane's mouth coming up to meet his; how it felt, finally kissing her after desiring it for so long.
A huge part of him wanted to drive over to her safe house after dinner and experience that feeling again. Despite where that was likely to lead, including all the complications it would create. It had felt so right with Jane, more so than it ever had with anyone else. Which really wasn't surprising considering the way they'd fit together perfectly, right from the start.
Dinner was a complete blur but thankfully Sarah was questioning Sawyer about a school presentation due the next day so Kurt got away with fixating on what had happened and what he should do next. Jane had said she'd see him tomorrow and that was definitely the wisest course of action. Yet he absolutely could not stop thinking about her and waiting until the next day to see her again seemed torturous.
"Kurt?"
Dammit. Caught again.
He looked up blankly at Sarah, who was giving him a suspicious look. Sawyer, on the other hand, was grinning at him slyly.
"Sorry, I've been thinking about a case," he said, figuring it wasn't entirely a lie.
His sister was still eyeing him strangely but in the end she just shook her head at his inattention.
"Must be some case," she commented.
He couldn't quite tell if she suspected what was going on in his head but forced himself to swallow his instant defensiveness. He didn't need to give Sarah any more indication of where his mind had been during the meal.
"Yeah, sorry," Kurt repeated. "My head's not here right now. Why don't you guys go work on that project and I'll clean up dinner."
Again, Sarah flashed him a funny look but was, thankfully, more concerned about helping Sawyer practice his presentation than quizzing Kurt on his odd behaviour. He breathed a sigh of relief when they headed off and left him to deal with the dishes.
As soon as he was alone, Weller pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment. He knew he should call first, before making any rash moves. Yet he didn't feel ready to address what had happened between them. Telling her the truth about his feelings seemed risky to the extreme. Even though she'd been the one on his doorstep initiating the kiss, it still didn't seem prudent to tell her that she had completely blown his mind.
He finally dialled her number, his heart pounding in his ears. And when the call went through to her voicemail, Weller felt more deflated than he should have been.
He'd really wanted to talk to her – partly to make sure she'd gotten home okay but mostly just to hear her voice. It was hard not to think that she was avoiding his call and didn't want to talk to him. Which was stupidly crushing despite everything that had happened between them that night.
Weller hung up after leaving a message and stared blankly out the window. Resisting the urge to dial again, he put the phone down and clenched his hands into fists. Going over to her safe house now would certainly get her detail gossiping about his late night visit.
Forcing back both his worry and his desire, Kurt decided the best course of action was to pour himself a drink. Sitting down at the couch, he sipped at his whiskey and tried to drown out all of his impulses.
He shouldn't drive over there, no matter how much he wanted to see her. So Weller forced himself to stay planted on his sofa, trying not to stare at his phone. Instead, he slugged back the rest of his shot and let his mind drift back to where it had been all night. At the memory of Jane's body, tight against his, and the taste of her mouth on his lips.
###
Jane crawled in the window of the safe house and immediately collapsed to the ground, shaking.
It was as if all the physical and mental shock hit her at once, as soon as she made it back inside. Her lungs still burned with the pain of aspirated water and she was unnaturally cold even though she'd run most of the way back and was finally almost dry.
Shivering on the floor, Jane curled up into herself like she had the first night of her new existence. It seemed absurd that she now wanted to return to that state of innocence, without a single memory or revelation about her past. After all that time and so much effort, it had turned out to be better not knowing anything at all.
Who the hell had she been?
What kind of person would voluntarily choose to do this to herself?
While it was still possible that her former self had been forced to make that video and that none of it was true, Jane had an ominous sense that it was. Oscar's tattoo had gone a long way in making her believe his story and the video he'd shown her. They'd been engaged, presumably in love. She remembered feeling regretful when returning the ring, knowing that he would be upset with her decision.
Jane groaned, desperately wanting to believe that it was all a ruse. She'd already had so many doubts about her past, even before that night's mindblowing revelation. Now she hated the mere thought of who she had been. Especially as all the implications kept flooding through her.
She had done this, planned this all. Purposely involved Kurt in it for some reason, probably a nefarious one. Oscar had been short on details, yet had implied that her team was involved in something illegal. But the idea that Weller was anything but an honest FBI agent seemed completely insane.
God. Had it really only been hours since she'd kissed him?
It felt like a lifetime had passed, especially the time spent being waterboarded by Tom Carter. Jane shuddered again just at the memory of it; the terror of being unable to breathe, feeling like she was drowning. She noted again that she felt frozen despite finally being dry. Knowing that she needed to get warm, Jane tried to push her way off the floor. But it was as if all the trauma of being physically tortured then emotionally devastated had finally caught up to her and she was stuck in her position.
Images of the night kept flashing through her mind, like a frantic slideshow whirling out of control. Sitting on his doorstep, nervous but determined. Walking away from his place, lost in the memory of her lips against his. Being grabbed and thrown in a van before she even had a chance to react. Then the bag and the water and the drill. The gunshots. Oscar and the video.
Jane felt herself starting to hyperventilate as the cycle of images wouldn't stop; always culminating with that picture of herself, telling her that this was all her idea. Even the thought of betraying her team and being a mole was devastating. She owed them so much and trusted them completely. Especially Weller.
Weller.
A part of her still wanted to see him, even though the idea of telling him what had happened was unthinkable. Because, more than anything, Jane needed comfort at that moment and he was her only source for it. The thought of his warmth wrapped around her shaking body was almost inviting enough to push away the horror of the other thought, the one that had been plaguing her ever since she'd seen that video.
What if Weller found out that she was a terrible person, who'd plotted her way into his life? He would obviously despise her, even if she really was Taylor.
Jane moaned again, desperately wishing that it had all been a dream. There had certainly been an unreal quality to her night, yet her misery and self-hatred were entirely too real.
She was about to spin back into the same cycle of remorse and despair when a familiar noise finally broke through her consciousness. It was her cell phone, which she'd left at the safe house so her movements wouldn't be traceable.
A part of her registered that it was the middle of the night by now, so any call would likely be important. Yet still it seemed impossible to get up and answer the phone.
Eventually Jane waited long enough and the ringing stopped, but now that question was occupying a piece of her mind as well. Who was calling her so late? A part of her worried that it was Oscar, or someone else involved in the conspiracy she was tied to.
Trying to get her limbs back under control, Jane growled at her own weakness. The events of the evening had finally caught up to her, especially the stress her body had been put under. But she didn't have time to cry about it, or tremor alone on the floor. Especially if her phone was ringing at that hour.
As if in a trance, Jane found herself pushing herself onto her elbows first then onto her knees. After that, she somehow managed to get to her feet and stumbled towards the phone, feeling as if she wasn't inhabiting her own body. Everything seemed so unreal still; her entire world had collapsed to reveal something she'd never expected.
Jane finally got to her cell and saw that she had missed a number of calls from Weller. Just seeing his name on the screen made her heart clench with dismay. She couldn't talk to him; he would immediately know that something was wrong.
As she listened to her voicemails, Jane's roiling mind went into overdrive, trying to come up with a solution. If she didn't answer at all Weller was liable to show up at her door, despite the time - he certainly sounded concerned enough. Which would then lead to all sorts of complications she couldn't face at the moment.
It seemed to take forever before the obvious answer finally made its way through her anxiety. She could send him a text to let him know she was safe and put off talking to him until she'd had more time to recover.
Somehow Jane forced her fingers to operate the phone and managed to cobble together an excuse for not answering for so long. Even though she was still shaking, unable to get warm despite being dry and safe.
Sorry, out thinking, no phone. Home now. Talk to you tomorrow.
Goodnight. See you in the morning, Weller replied immediately.
Jane pictured him at home, up late worrying about her. The image, along with the text would normally have made her feel warm, though a little guilty too. Now, she could only think what he would say if he knew who she really was.
He'd hate me, she thought once more.
As much as I hate myself.
Goodnight, Jane texted back, even though it was clear she wasn't going to be doing any sleeping. She could only hope that Weller would be able to get some rest, after keeping him up so late. As for herself, she had hours left to spend ruminating on what had happened and what she was going to do.
The images still wouldn't stop pouring through her mind, forcing her to relive her terror at being repeatedly drowned, then threatened with a drill, then shown that video. And yet there was that other memory too, that brought on a different sort of panic. Reaching up towards Kurt; seeking comfort in the warm sensation of his lips on her mouth, the feeling of his body right up against hers.
She wanted that, wanted him. But not if it was part of a plot. And definitely not if he was going to get hurt.
Jane realized that tears had started to slip down her cheeks and she didn't have the energy to push them back. Soon they were pouring out and and she didn't bother to try controlling them or even wiping them away. Curling up on the couch, Jane just kept sobbing until her lungs ached and daylight was peering through the blinds.
Opening her eyes and groaning at the light, Jane peeled herself off the sofa and stood in a burning hot shower, trying to wash the dirty feeling from her skin. Yet she didn't feel any more cleansed when she emerged from the water, nor had it lifted any of the heaviness in her soul.
Whatever had happened to her, it was obviously all her own fault. Now all she could do was protect everyone from the fallout of what she'd done. No matter what it took, she wasn't going to let any of them get hurt.
Whoever she'd been before the memory wipe, that wasn't who she was anymore. And this version of her wasn't going to let anyone hurt the people that she loved. Not even herself.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Personal Assistant Pt. 7 (Finale)
Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: here Part 6: here
Crossposted to Ao3: here
Wow, I’m surprised y’all are here. Really, I’m humbled and honored for all the followers and all the support you’ve given me in this whirlwind of a writing marathon. Please enjoy the last course of this smut fest and lemme know how y’all are feelin’ Taglist at the end.
Pairing: Lucifer x Reader
Wordcount: 8,500 ish
Genre: Delicious smut
Tags: Multiple Orgasms, cunnilingus, aphrodisiacs, demon sex
Summary: You get to experience some intimate times with Lucifer as a year with him winds to a close.
Bonus
After your business trip, you were mandated to work from home for at least a week. Lucifer knew the extent of what you went through and bed rest was absolutely necessary to ensure you would be able to come back to work in top form. Even after a weekend of basically being bedridden right after the session, the soreness between your legs persisted as a constant reminder of just how thoroughly you had been used. So, when you received the text from him late Sunday night to work from home, you couldn’t be any more relieved. Your legs had gotten some strength back into them; but you still couldn’t freely move around without experiencing discomfort and limping.
With the holidays looming so closely, Lucifer was rather ashamed that he couldn’t give you proper vacation time off to recover. At the very least, he knew you were safe from prying eyes while you stayed at home and remoted in on your computer. It was strange though, not seeing you sitting at your desk, your back turned to him while you were entering data. He oddly missed turning around and seeing you filing away the monthly reports or retrieving files for a meeting. The office felt empty for the first time in a long time.
Caring for humans was something foreign and unfamiliar to him. But, with you, it felt like the proper thing to do.
He reasoned that he was simply doing his due diligence to visit your abode with physical paperwork that needed to be reviewed. It also seemed to be a natural thing for him to buy you some food; surely you were tired of cooking for yourself and your food supplies were dwindling from being unable to get to the grocery store. It didn’t cross his mind that food delivery was an option until he was mere meters away from your front door, one hand holding a heavy bag full of takeout and a thick pile of reports in his arm. Regardless of his oversight, it was too late to turn back now.
You had expected Lucifer to come over, drop off some papers to go over and leave you to your own devices. You had already shown to him that you could still complete the most of your usual workload in a timely manner, even if you weren't at the office with him. So, when he invited himself into your abode, stepping past you as soon as you opened the door to set down the food and papers he brought, you were taken aback to say the least. After all, Lucifer was a busy man and he had much better things to do than to get comfortable in the recliner that sat in your living room once his shoes and coat were off of him.
“It’s gotten a bit nippy out this week. Are you sure you’re running the heat here? It’s absolutely frigid.” He commented, loosening his tie and settling into the seat he had claimed as his own. You stared dumbly at your boss who had just so casually stepped into your home as if he lived there with you and was meant to unwind right in your living room. It had to be a dream, you had to be hallucinating. Yet, no matter how many times you blinked or rubbed your eyes, Lucifer was right there, in your living room, his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone.
He looked over at your stunned face, smiling a bit. “What? Am I not allowed to make a visit to my assistant who’s been ‘out sick’ all week?” He wasn’t sure what lines he had crossed, but it felt as if his presence made you uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have given you a little more of an advanced notice before coming over. The silence between the two of you grew palpable. When at the office, he was the epitome of control and composed. Humans were easy to predict in a controlled environment where there was a clear hierarchy. In such a casual setting though, he found himself rather out of place and lost. He had only vaguely ever gotten the idea of how to behave; with how you were reacting though, he was unsure how to proceed.
“Did you eat?” He asked, changing the subject and gesturing over to the food he brought on the counter. If he had been too forward with getting comfortable in your space, he could at least assuage the tension by changing the subject and moving the focus over to food and not to him. It would be the perfect time to reassess his plan of action while you were distracted by eating. “You should have something before it gets cold.”
“I was just about to order some delivery.” You admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. Having Lucifer in such an intimate setting was strange. You could tell he didn’t feel quite as at home as he was fronting and wondered just how you could get him out so he could go back to being his usual self without you around him.
“I hope you don’t mind Greek.” Lucifer visibly relaxed, walking over to the bag of food and started to take out the boxes. “A new place just opened up and the marketing head suggested I try it out.” He opened the containers, revealing some of the typical dishes you expected to see, naming each one and describing them. Some dishes you were familiar with; others you had never seen before and with each description he gave, your mouth watered a little more and your stomach grumbled in hunger.
At the loud gurgle your stomach gave once he opened the last box, Lucifer chuckled, pulling a chair out for you at the small table, now crowded with more takeout than two people could ever eat. “Eat. I know you’re hungry.”
You nodded, at least having the decorum to grab some dishes and silverware before digging into the feast in front of you. The explosion of flavors and textures was a welcome change from the pizza and Chinese takeout you had been living off of for the past week. It was hard to keep your manners in mind when the table was so crammed full of boxes and you were forced to eat with the plate in your lap, hunched over the food like the gremlin that you felt like you were.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer pick at his own food, ever composed and nonplussed that he wasn’t actually eating in the most ideal circumstances. The quiet that fell between you this time felt much better, the food serving as the perfect buffer between you and him and you could at least feel a little more yourself with proper sustenance in you.
“The year end reports are starting to roll in.” he said once you had adequate time to try everything. Now, you were just going in for seconds of what you liked best, picking at your favorites until your hunger was properly sated. “And marketing has been sending in the proposals of the ads we’ll be running this season. I’d like to go over those with you once you’re done with dinner.”
With the conversation focused on work, it was much easier to forget how awkward it had all been in the beginning when he walked through your door. You nodded, already grabbing the first folder on the stack to start skimming through reports. Ad proposals were much more fun to go over than pages upon pages of analysis. The sooner you could finish the boring stuff, you could look at the more interesting things.
“My work computer is in the room. I can move it out here once we’re done.” you said, flipping a page and sighing when there were even more numbers you needed to double check.
“No need, we’ll just move there.” He said, not realizing the connotations his words had. “You’re on sick leave and you must rest when you can. We’ll just carry on as you have for the past week.”
You felt your body heat up at his words, trying to see if he had any intentions outside of making sure you were as well rested as possible before you returned to work in a few days. You could never read him, unable to tell what his motives were, and all you could do was follow his instructions. Once all the food had been cleaned up and leftovers were stowed in the fridge, you showed him down the short hallway to your room where you had your home office set up in bed.
As you shuffled to your computer, he could tell there was still a bit of a limp in your gait and there was a mixture of pride and shame. On the one hand, he was glad that your body still remembered the amazing experience you shared with him, Diavolo and Barbatos. On the other, he was ashamed that you were pushed to that limit at all. And then, he remembered the reason he broke you at all in the first place.
So he could put you back together just how he wanted.
He let you climb into bed and settle the lap desk in place before handing you the first of the reports you needed to go over. Lucifer himself took a seat in the chair he had dragged over from your vanity to sit next to your bed and look over the projections for the next few months. Normally, he would have kept strict office hours; but with holidays, even he had to put in a few longer nights to keep up with how hectic things got.
The two of you worked in silence. Even if the location was different, the professional atmosphere was the same as it always had been at the office. The only differences were that you sat in a much more comfortable position and you were much closer to Lucifer than you normal. From where you sat, you got a much closer look at your boss while he worked. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he parsed out the plans for the upcoming month. His mouth was set in a straight, tight line whenever he crossed anything out and wrote corrections in the margins. He was beautifully efficient in his work, blitzing through several files in the time it took you to go through one.
You heard stray cats mewling from the cold outside at some point, breaking your concentration and you looked at the clock on your dresser. It was much later than you thought it would be, and you still had ad proposals to look through. Sighing and setting the reports to the side to look over during the weekend, you picked up the folders filled with ad storyboards. “Are you going home soon?” You asked, looking up at Lucifer who just finished the last of his work.
“Oh, I was waiting for you to finish so we can go over the ad proposals together. I’d like to hear your opinions on them in real time.” He said. Lucifer shifted from his place in the chair next to your bed to sitting beside you on your bed. You blushed, moving aside so he had ample room and got comfortable.
In this new position, you could feel the warmth of his body right next to yours. It was a distraction on its own, right alongside the familiar smell of his cologne. He handed you the first of the proposals, giving you a few minutes to look through it before asking for your thoughts on it.
What focus you had earlier was completely lost from being so close to Lucifer. It felt like an eternity since the last time you were in the office and having him right beside you, talking business had your mind and body in conflicting positions. While you struggled to pay attention to his words and stared at the papers in front of you, Lucifer smirked, knowing just what kind of effect he was having on you.
“So, do you think we should run it?” He asked nonchalantly leaning closer so that he could have a clear view of the storyboard.
You swallowed, trying to ignore how his voice sounded and how you could feel his breath ghosting across your neck. It was time for work, not time for your body to crave his touch, his kisses, his… everything. Stop. You blinked, turning the pages back and forth before voicing your thoughts. “I think the message of this ad is alright, but the target audience is off. If I saw this, I wouldn’t know what it’s trying to sell until it’s too late and I’m bored with it.”
He nodded, agreeing mostly with your opinion and closed the file after writing down your comments. “Alright, what about this one.” He said, pulling up the next one and letting you go through it.
Your eyes scanned the script and you immediately grimaced at how cheesy the writing was. You instinctively wanted to reject it and move onto the next one. However, your morbid sense of curiosity had you reading further and analyzing everything else in the file. In the end, your gut feeling was correct and you wholeheartedly turned it down from being produced. “Unless you want to lose half of your clients, I’d say bin that one.”
He chuckled, not bothering to write any notes on it, knowing that it wouldn’t go any further. “And what about this one?” he asked, putting another file on top of your lap desk.
You flipped through, engrossed in the storytelling and the script, rather shocked at the proposed budget to shoot an ad like this. You nodded, thinking through the allocated funds for the rest of the year and calculated if it would be feasible to go forward with the project. You crunched a few numbers, actually invested in the proposal and didn’t notice just how close Lucifer had gotten until his hand snuck its way under the sheets covering your legs and stopped at your thigh.
“What do you think?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh and your brain ceased to function for a moment. It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time he did anything like this to you. You looked over to him and smiled, trying to go back to the subject at hand, though your brain refused to process what he was asking you.
“It’s nice…” You finally managed to say.
“Is that all?” He asked, moving his hand further up and brushing his fingers against the apex of your thighs. “You seemed to be so interested in it, but it’s just ‘fine’?”
You cleared your throat, hoping it would reset your thoughts; but your brain was stuck in a constant feedback loop that refused to get over what Lucifer was doing to you. “It… it’s got good parts.”
Lucifer smirked, nodding at your answer and continuing his questions as if his hands weren’t teasing you. “Tell me more.” He encouraged, slipping his hand past the waistband of your shorts to rub your labia. “I’m interested in your thoughts.”
“I uh.. W-well.” You stuttered, swallowing hard and looking at him pleadingly. You were still sore but the way he was so soft with his touches did things to your libido and your heart. “Well, it fits the mood for the season…” You started, touching on the most basic things to get your mind in the right state.
“Yes, I did tell you these were proposals for the holiday season. It’s obvious it would fit the mood.” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear and his teeth nipped at your earlobe. “Come on now, your analysis for all the others was so thorough, what happened?” he drawled, smiling wickedly, knowing exactly what was making your brain stutter. His fingers parted your lips in turn making you unconsciously spread your legs for him to get easier access.
You bit your lip, using the pain to ground your focus to the task at hand. “Well, the year has been rather rough financially for a lot of people.” You said through gritted teeth. “Showing how they’re able to… ah--” Whatever you were about to say flew right out of your mind when his finger brushed against your clit. You gasped, your whole nether region was still so sore from the last time, but your body was quickly craving more; and the only way to get that was to work. “We’re able to show people that they can… they can afford to celebrate on a budget… Ah… Lucifer…” you whined, rolling your hips up and gasping at how stiff all your muscles were. The sudden jolt of pain keeping you from reacting the way you wanted to.
He hushed you, kissing your jaw and teased your nether lips further with his fingers, running them up and down your slit which was quickly becoming wet from his ministrations. You whimpered, hating how you were being forced to sit still due to your own body’s limits.
“Yes, I’m listening still.” He replied nonchalantly, trailing his kisses down your neck and nipping the skin there with his teeth. “I’m concerned about the budget they’ve set for this ad… your thoughts on that?”
You gulped, amazed that he was still asking questions about the damn ad as if his fingers weren’t coated with your essence at that very moment. You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but not doing a very good job at it. “We-well… initial calculations say that it’s not something that can be done right no--- ahh…” You gasped in pleasure when you felt firm pressure on your clit, his finger rubbed circles around it and made you see stars. “Right now… b-but if we reallocate funds from the IT department that submitted their final budget for the year and th...they have a surplus, we can manage….”
“Oh? That’s very good news then…” Lucifer smiled, loving the way you struggled to keep yourself composed while he unraveled you bit by bit with his fingers. Tentatively, he probed your entrance, wondering how well you had healed over the week. When you yelped in pain, instinctively closing your legs against that touch, he stopped immediately. “This was my favorite out of all the ones submitted, I’m glad that you approve of it as well.”
Lucifer went back to teasing your folds, making you forget about the pain and put your body back into the relaxed, aroused state it had been in before. Now that he knew your limits, he was free to skirt them right at the edge, teasing you until you squirmed with pleasure. “I’ll let Marketing know the good news over the weekend so they can start the project as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure they’ll be very happy about that.”
“Indeed they will be. Final thing, I just need you to sign off on these reports and I’ll be on my way home.” He said before dropping a sizable stack of papers in front of you. “I need them right away so I can submit them over the weekend and get underwriting to process them first thing next week.” He explained. His touches slowed to a halt and you felt the fog of pleasure lift a little. Now though, you ached for his continued caresses and you whined loudly when he pulled his hand out from under the sheets.
“Do as you’re told and you’ll be rewarded accordingly.” He stated firmly, all the while making the most lewd show of licking his fingers coated in your slick.
Never in your life had you started reading boring documents so quickly. You were skimming words, processing them, but just barely, all to get to what you were promised. Even if your body ached and screamed in protest, what Lucifer had teased you with was too tantalizing to pass up.
He smiled, planting a soft kiss at your temple before leaving your side. You startled, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wondering if he was leaving for the night. “I’ll be right back…” He reassured you with a self satisfied smirk.
You wondered what he meant by those words for a brief moment before his actions did all the explaining as he ducked his head under the sheets and nestled himself between your legs. You swallowed, parting your legs for him after he slid your shorts and panties off. You could feel his warm breath on your inner thighs, traveling higher and higher until the tip of his nose brushed against your pussy and you whined softly at the contact.
There was still an important task to be done and you had to see it through. All the while Lucifer happily lapped at your core. His hands firmly at your thighs to keep your legs parted for him. His tongue traced your slit slowly and you caught your breath with each pass he took. The words on the pages in front of you had no meaning, but you kept reading them anyway.
The lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your folds were muffled under the sheets, yet they were still loud enough to be the only sounds your ears picked up on. Your breathing came out in stuttered breaths as you turned the last page in a report and mindlessly signed your name. Closing the file and moving on to the next one, you felt Lucifer press the flat of his tongue all along your pussy, spreading your labia and just brushing past your abused hole. At that, you moaned loudly, your hips jerking at the contact and sending pain shooting across your sore muscles. However, when you felt the tip of his tongue circle your clit, the pain dissipated and all that was left was a delicious soreness which mingled with the pleasure.
It was so hard to focus on your work, his tongue worked you into a frenzy, leaving you shuddering and moaning his name. You came as soon as you finished signing off on the second report. There were three more to go in the stack and you wondered if you could cum once for every one that was left. It would be perfect motivation to keep working.
No matter how many times your body was being pushed to the point of overstimulation, you could never get used to it. The way every nerve in your body seemed to vibrate with every touch and made you twitch in pleasure always felt new; and you couldn’t get enough of that euphoria. You had never been made to work through that state, but it was a test of your willpower now, going through reports while Lucifer’s tongue worked you into orgasm over and over again.
You felt like it took hours to complete reading everything. However, when you glanced up at the clock, barely an hour had passed and you were a quivering mess in your own bed, your boss between your legs, lazily licking your essence off your thighs as you came one last time, signing the last report off. “I… All the reports are done…”
You hated how cold you felt when he unburrowed himself from under your sheets. You could see your essence glistening on his lips and his chin, his eyes glowing that deep red color that made your heart skip a beat. “Very good job.” He praised, picking everything up and gathering it into his arms. He kissed the top of your head, making you feel dizzy from his praise and the number of times you came from just having his mouth attached to your pussy for an hour. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He said, preparing to leave.
A small part of you was heartbroken he didn’t want to stay. “Yeah… I’ll see you Monday…” You said weakly, smiling wistfully at his retreating form.
~~
A year to a human was no insignificant amount of time. As an immortal, this was the hardest concept for Lucifer to grasp. Yet, after having you around for a year, it felt natural for him to celebrate the time he had spent with you.
You expected work to be piled up when you got back to the office. However, with your absence and also the general hectic nature of the holidays approaching, you were swamped with work. Staying late to catch up and working yourself into an exhausted heap, there were nights where you simply fell asleep on one of the couches in the lounge area so you didn’t have to worry about losing time with your commute.
Even if Lucifer wanted you to slow down, the corporate world and human greed made it impossible. You weren’t the only one who worked to the bone. Even he had to pick up a fair amount of extra work to ensure the year ended smoothly. The last three months that year were a blur, you barely remembered who you talked to or what you did. All that mattered was making sure the company ran as smooth as possible.
So when the worst of it was all over and the department parties began, it felt as if the whole building got to sigh in relief now that the storm had passed. You were invited to a fair number of new year celebrations, both you and Lucifer’s schedules were filled with more parties than meetings. Seeing all the employees under his wing celebrate another successful year with him warmed your heart. It was a rare opportunity to see him interact with others and seeing him in such a joyous setting made your heart swell with pride.
With the last of the company parties out of the way, you were finally able to release the sigh of relief you had been holding for months. As soon as you returned to the office, it was as if a weight had been lifted and you were free to at least pretend the workload would lessen as the year rolled over. You were about to start packing your things up when you noticed a parcel on your desk. Curious, you opened it and it revealed a beautiful sparking black and red gown. You looked back at Lucifer who was leaning against his desk, watching you for your reaction. “You didn’t think I’d plan a celebration for the two of us now, did you?” He sauntered over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We count as our own department, right?”
“Of course… How could I forget.” You laughed, running your hand across the delicate fabric, marveling at how it shifted in the light.
“Go on, get dressed, I’ll get the rest of the preparations ready.”
You couldn’t have run into the bathroom any faster. Your legs quivered a little in excitement and you nearly tripped out of your work clothes before shimmying into the black and red number you had been gifted. You were surprised at how well it fit you. Like a glove, it hugged your every curve in the right way to accentuate it. The fabric shimmered with every movement, making it look like you were walking through smoke. It felt odd to be in such a lavish dress and have nothing else to match it.
You ran your fingers through your hair, rearranging it in a way you thought framed your face a little better to accentuate the dress. You wanted to touch up your makeup, but had neglected to bring any with you in your rush to get changed. You would have to make do with what you had. Turning this way and that, you took one last look in the mirror and accepted the fact that it was as good as it was going to get with what you had.
Stepping back out into the office space, you gasped at how quickly Lucifer had managed to transform it. There was a clear hint of magic in the air, there was no other way to explain the softly glowing orbs that illuminated the room in a warm light. They floated through the air, suspended by nothing and fueled by whatever magic Lucifer had put into them. A table for two had been set up in the time it took you to get dressed and what looked like a delightful meal awaited you. Even Lucifer had changed his usual black and grey work suit to something with a little more red in it to match you.
Once again, he was waiting for you while leaning on his desk. As soon as he saw you, he picked up a pair of champagne flutes which sat next to him on his desk. He walked over and offered you the drink, a soft smile on his face. “Courtesy of Barbatos.” He explained, gesturing at the plates of food on the table. “He felt bad about his first impressions with you and wanted to make up for it. So, lucky me, I get catering from the best chef I know for this party.”
You giggled slightly, taking a sip of the champagne. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you expect me to cook for you in the future as your assistant. I’ll have you know the extent of my cookery knowledge will be phoning Barbatos up and asking him to deliver something for you.” You joked.
Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, leading you over to the table and helping you get seated. “Oh no, I don’t expect that from you at all. But, I’ll take note of that in case I change my mind later.”
Truth be told, though the food presented was some of the best you had ever eaten, being in close company with Lucifer was even better. For once, conversation didn’t revolve around work, instead, he regaled you with tales of where he came from and all the troubles he had to get Diavolo out of. The chatter and the good food filled your heart and your soul; you didn’t think you would ever get to see this side of Lucifer, but you were eternally grateful for the chance to witness it.
“Ah, the last thing. You can’t end a good meal without dessert.” Lucifer got up and reached for a box on his desk. Coming back, he presented you with an array of chocolate coated strawberries. “Please, help yourself.” he encouraged, turning the box to you. “I have a bit of an allergy to them, so they’re all yours.”
You tentatively took one, feeling rather guilty that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to join you; however, with a little bit of coaxing, your worries were laid to rest and you happily bit into the fruit. Lucifer watched your expression of joy as you indulged in one of your favorite treats. The way you made such happy sounds when enjoying something had him entirely amused. All the while, a small, knowing smile played at his lips. “They’re not going anywhere. You can take your time.” He said when he noticed just how quickly you were devouring them.
In an attempt to pace you, he pulled the box away from your grasp, plucking one of the strawberries from it and offered it to you. He looked at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked up as he enticed you to lean in and take a bite.
You blushed, flustered that he would be feeding you dessert in this way. There was a distinct intimacy in how he delicately held the fruit out to you with one hand. His other hand cupped below it to catch anything that might fall. You obeyed after a moment of hesitation, leaning forward and taking it into your mouth. Somehow, just from having Lucifer present you dessert in such a way had dessert tasting so much sweeter to you.
You were halfway through the strawberries when you realized something felt off.The room felt warmer, the floating lights pulsed in a way that cast a halo around Lucifer, somehow making him look angelic to you. You thought it was because you were too tired after a whole week of festivities. It must have been past your normal bedtime and your body wanted to rest. At least, that’s what you thought was the case. But when he spoke again and his voice seemed to penetrate your whole body, sending shivers down your spine and pooling right to your core; you knew it had to be something else.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, getting up after he had finished feeding you what was left of the box of sweets. He held his hand out expectantly; with a little bit of magic, soft music filtered through the room and set the mood. While you struggled to comprehend what was happening to your body, you mindlessly followed his directions. All your nerves tingled, from the tips of your fingers to your scalp, everything seemed to vibrate with a heat and a need that built itself out of seemingly nowhere
The moment he placed his hand in your own and wrapped his arm around your waist, things started to click and your whole body heated up further at the realization. Your eyes blow wide open and your lips parted in a perpetual pant as he nonchalantly lead you in a slow dance, circling the empty area of the office to the beat of the soft music. You followed him in a haze, barely noticing your body move, a practical rag doll in his arms as he spun you around and watched your pupils get ever wider and the flush on your cheeks get ever deeper.
You were so hot and bothered in such a short period of time, it was absolutely overwhelming. Your hands shook in his, your mind barely able to comprehend the music as it was singularly focused on his warmth, his smell, his voice, his everything that was so close to you. You couldn’t look up at him, ashamed that with every dance step you shared, your essence flowing so freely from you was being smeared along your thighs and the back of your legs.
He knew what he had done, you could tell with the way the corner of his lip turned up. He was trying so hard to hide that self-satisfied smirk he always had on whenever you were right where he wanted you. You were so wet and ready for something other than the innocent game he was playing; but you knew better than to rush him. So you held onto your slipping control, pretending everything was alright when your body screamed to be used and not teased. That control disintegrated as you could smell your arousal while you dance; you knew there was no way he missed that smell either.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, his voice full of faux concern after the second time you circled the room. “You seem so out of it.”
“It’s just… It’s hot, Lucifer.” You said, clinging onto his lapels and leaning into him. With his arm no longer around your waist, you couldn’t seem to keep yourself upright. You could hear his heart beating as you pressed your face against his chest, steadying yourself. “It’s… I don’t know what happened, I’m just, so hot…” It was a lie, you knew exactly what happened, what those strawberries were laced with, but you couldn’t say it out loud, not when you were so affected by his sneaky little plan.
“Oh dear… Are you coming down with something?” He asked, gently guiding you to sit down where you stood. “Are you feeling ill? Are you hurt?”
Yes, you were hurt, your whole body ached in need and he was playing around like he didn’t have any idea what he had done to you. You whine, pulling the skirt of your dress up, a wave of cool air offering you a bit of relief on your heated body. “I hurt… right here.” You said, spreading your legs apart and giving him a clear view of the wet mess you had become in such a short time. “It’s hot… and I hurt…”
Your lips and throat felt dry, your whole body flushed and heated to a point where you wanted to tear off the fancy dress and just dunk yourself into a vat of ice water. You needed relief that only he could give you. Lucifer’s face of concern changed drastically the moment you revealed yourself to him and that sadistic smile you knew so well spread across his face.
“Oh now, that is a problem…” He murmured, pressing a finger against your soiled panties and rubbing his finger up and down to mold the fabric to your slit. “But… I would hate for you to leave the party so soon.” He drawled, putting on a dramatic pout. “I was so sure you would enjoy your time, is it not to your liking?” He pulled the skirt back down, earning a desperate whine from you; but you didn’t protest. There was a promise of satisfaction in the lilt of his voice and you were willing to go through the ends of the world at that point to get to it.
You crawled into his lap, rubbing your face against his crotch in a futile attempt to get him to the same playing field as you were. But, he was firm, preventing you from getting what you craved and helped you back up on your quivering feet. The music had stopped and the lights dimmed, giving you a sense of security. You leaned against him, tears starting to form as your desire became the only thing you could think about. You wanted him so badly. “What else do you have in mind for tonight?” You asked, your voice shaking and you looked up at him.
“Just some games....” He replied casually, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Just the brief contact along sent a massive wave of arousal through you and you saw stars for a moment. “Mainly, I want to see how long before the special ingredients in those strawberries really kick in.”
Your eyes went wide. If this wasn’t the brunt of the effects coursing through your body, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. There was no way it could get any more intense than this, yet the way he spoke hinted only at a high that you hadn’t felt before. He chuckled, burrowing his head at the crook of your neck, kissing your sensitive, heated skin and you were helpless to stop him. Your whole body spasmed in need as your nerves were caressed and teased. It lost feeling at the tip of your fingers and your arms fell limp to your sids as you were completely swept away from him.
He didn’t need to do anything more than grab one of your breasts, kneading it experimentally before your tender nipples sent enough pleasure signals through your body to have you cumming. Your knees gave out and you sank to the ground, gasping as you rode out the sudden climax. The edge of your vision blurred and your ears rang as you caught your breath. Looking up, you saw Lucifer with that stupid smirk on his face, his eyes glittering and a noticeable bulge growing in his pants. You reached up to nuzzle it, burrow your head against the thing you crave and took in his musk. “Please… I need you…” You begged. “I need you right now…”
Those were the words he had been waiting to hear from you. Just the sound of your pleas were music to his ears and did more for his libido than you could ever imagine. He brought you back up on your feet, kissing you deeply and swallowing all the delightfully lewd moans that came from your throat. His hand laced into your hair at the back of your head kept you right where he wanted as he took the prize he had waited all day for. “Then you shall have me.” He said, licking his lips menacingly once he broke the kiss.
You were ready to sink to your hands and knees and let him use you as he saw fit. However, he brought you out of the office and into the elevator instead. You blinked in confusion until you saw him wave a black card over the scanner at the elevator, requesting for a floor that you never accessed before. It wasn’t until you stepped out that you realized he had brought you to the top most floor to his own abode.
There was no time to admire the great view that the floor to ceiling windows had of the city. You weren’t in the right mind to notice the collection of fine art or the practical furnishings that decorated his abode. All that mattered was the beeline the two of you made to his bedroom. Even if you wanted to take a second to soak in your surroundings, Lucifer gave you no time to do so, nearly throwing you into the massive bed in the room. You let out a little yelp of surprise when you hit the silky sheets; but that was quickly replaced with your need to feel his hands on your skin.
Now that he had you in his own space, in the privacy of his own home; Lucifer had the freedom to act as he wished. The first order of business was to help you out of that slinky number of yours. It had served its purpose and now he was ready to move onto looking at the most beautiful thing he possessed. He chuckled darkly, sliding the straps of the dress of your shoulders, turning you over just long enough to pull the zipper down to reveal your lacy underthings. As soon as the dress fell to the floor, it took no time at all for him to expose the rest of you by quickly removing your panties and bra.
Even if it took mere seconds to divest you of all your clothes, it felt like an eternity to you. The drag of the fabric across your skin made you shiver. His featherlight touches made you moan and when he finally pulled away to witness your nude form, the way he licked his lips made you shiver in anticipation.
Without clothes, the heat of your body was more bearable; however, it did nothing to quell your pussy’s need to be stuffed full with his cock. Spreading yourself wide once again, you beckoned him to take what you knew he wanted. This time, he was more than happy to oblige to your request. His clothes seemed to evaporate off of him; likely a result of some magic, but you didn’t care to discuss the details on how he removed his clothes. What you cared about the feeling of his weight above your own and the fullness you felt whenever he entered you.
Your hips levitated off the bed as soon as the tip of his cock started to tease at your folds. “Please, don’t play with me like this, Sir.” you cried, clutching onto the sheets below you as he made slow passes up and down your slit. He chuckled darkly, pushing you just a little further before he finally, gratefully put the tip of his cock into you.
Just at that, you could feel your inner walls clenching around him at your entrance, wanting to draw him in further into you. With how busy you had been with work and how much time he had given you to recover since being impaled by Diavolo and himself, it had been an eternity and a half since you last felt him fill your needy hole with his dick. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you hungrily took every inch of him. He was so terrible, taking his time to make the first pass in you; but it was the most fulfilling experience when he was fully seated inside of you. Your body molded itself around him, clinging to him for dear life as you rutted against his hips, begging for stimulation.
He didn’t want to torture you any further, after seeing your sweet face scrunch of up pure pleasure once he fully sank himself into you. Now, what he wanted was for your body to memorize just how good he could make it feel; and that meant fucking you right into his bed. The pace he set was just enough to bring you to the precipice of an orgasm with a few thrusts. “I know you want to cum…” He growled into your ear. “Feel free to do as many times as you want tonight.”
As soon as the permission was given, you spasmed around his cock still thrusting into you. You screamed his name, the sounds of sex and your moans filling the room as he picked up the pace and slammed his hips into you harder as you climaxed. Fucking you while your inner walls fluttered in orgasm never failed to bring him close to the edge and he was losing himself as well to the throes of pleasure.
You counted maybe two or three more orgasms before his own hips stuttered and his pace became erratic, his own release coming soon. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer to you until his own hips stilled and he spilled his seed into you.
The brunt of what was in the strawberries finally hit you and the need that roiled in your blood intensified, making you keen and milk him hungrily. He pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of your hole before taking a finger and slowly working it back into you. The sex was already mindblowing and your body was telling you that it was getting tired of being so overstimulated; but, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more and you pulled him in for a searing hot kiss full of tongue and teeth. “I want all of you. Give me that demon cock of yours. Fill me.” You demanded in between kisses. “Please, I need it…”
You heard him chuckle darkly before he agreed to your request. There was a fluttering sound and you saw black feathers in your peripheral vision as he shifted into his demon form. You smiled lazily, admiring how beautiful he was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You hadn’t seen this side of him since the first time. Even if you knew what to expect the second time around, it was just as awe inspiring as the first. You knew what was to come now and you eagerly awaited his next move.
“Hands and knees.” He growled and you scrambled to follow his orders. Your knees quaked a bit as you got into position. You could feel the bed dip from his weight as he joined you in it, lining the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt. With one smooth motion, he was buried in you right up to the top of his knot. “Yes... “ He hissed, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you up to be flush up against his chest while he set a brutal pace. “Yes..”
You were in heaven, your body feeling nothing but euphoria as it conformed to every ridge and vein of his cock that worked in and out of you. You came only after a few thrusts, but you knew it was far from over. Lucifer’s thick girth and massive length working in and out of your dripping pussy would push you right to the edge of pure bliss and you couldn’t wait to chase that feeling with him.
His free hand snaked around your waist to rub your clit, sending you keening and again into another orgasm. His sharp fangs raked the soft skin of your neck, leaving welts and marks that would last for days. The pain only added to the experience and you rode out yet another high around his cock.
“All of me.” He growled, slowing his thrusts to start pushing his knot into you. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling the familiar stretch at your entrance. It was blindingly blissful, being penetrated so deeply by his cock and then to be stretched to your limits with his knot. There was no other feeling like it and even without the aphrodisiacs coursing through you, you knew it was the best sex you would ever have. You breathed slowly, feeling every inch of his knot enter you, your eyelids fluttering as you could only imagine what it looked like right now as your pussy engulfed him.
He groaned when the tie was complete, your core accepting every last bit of him and now, his true pleasure began. He pushed you back onto the bed, letting you brace yourself on your elbows while his hands went to your waist to keep you steady. He rutted into you, rocking back and forth and groaning every time he felt your walls clench around him. You could tell he was close and with one last possessive growl, he pushed himself as deeply as he could into you, releasing his load. The warmth of his seed filling you doing its job as it brought you to one last climax before you felt your arms give way and you collapsed from exhaustion.
Lucifer gently maneuvered you to lay on your side so he could join you in the bed with his knot still fully embedded in you. He could still feel his balls twitching, releasing his cum in spurts inside of you as he nestled you into the crook of his arms and protectively wrapped his wings around your form.
“Congratulations on making it through a year here.” He praised, stroking your hair and lulling you into sleep.
“Of course, I expect to be with you for many years to come.”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head as you dozed off into slumber. “Stay for the night… It’s too late to get you home by now.”
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You said, clenching yourself around his cock and he chuckled at your response.
“This is very true.” He said, still petting you methodically and watching you fall asleep.
He waited patiently for you to start softly snoring before he allowed himself the privilege of resting as well. His knot was still hard and firmly entrenched in you and it would likely stay that way for a few more hours. He watched your body slowly rise and fall in slumber and listened to you mumble in your sleep while he let himself soak in the soft moment.
“I love you, Lucifer…” You mumbled in your sleep, shifting a little and clinging onto the arm he had thrown across you.
“I know.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, fully satisfied with the result of a long years’ worth of training. “I love you, too.”
Caring for humans was still a foreign concept to Lucifer; but, he could make an exception for you.
Fin
Taglist: @ptv-hades @bluelipsblueveins-blue @utopiamiroh @vanillaicebaby @taehyungtrasholiviahaneul99 @weebartistinc
#Obey me#obey me fanfiction#obey me lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer x oc#obey me smut#wow this took two days to write#almost not sorry#I saw you anon#I just didn't want to spoil what I already had planned a week ago lmfao#enjoy the end of this smut#i hope y'all liked the wild ride#my writing
243 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Science Experiment ffxv fluff cats
Noct tried not to panic as he re-read his text message. He was in a meeting and unable to do much of anything besides fidget uselessly in his seat. This of course attracted the attention of Ignis who simply scowled at him with a disapproving look. Figures Prompto would text him with something urgent when he was busy!
Waiting for the meeting to end was pure torture. Not that he knew what real torture felt like but Noct was sure it had to be close. He wasn’t even out of high school yet and he still had to sit through boring council meetings. Finally, when the meeting adjourned he quickly sent a message back to Prompto right before Ignis’ full focus was directed towards him.
“Highness, might I suggest you not play with your phone during council sessions, it does make you look rather distracted.”
“I wasn’t playing!” Noct spit back under his breath.
“Well, whatever it was you were doing shouldn’t be conducted during the meeting.”
“Yeah, yeah, gotcha, can we go home now?”
Ignis merely sighed and nodded towards the exit. The drive back home was mostly quiet. Ignis probably thought he was stewing over being reprimanded for his phone use, but Noct was really texting Prompto. He still had to figure out what to do. Ignis needed to drop him off and go home so Noct could call Prompto.
Getting Ignis to actually go home, took forever. First, he had to convince his advisor and friend that he should take the night off. Only after he agreed to eat some leftovers with actual nutritional content did Ignis agree to this idea. Noct kept saying he was only tired and didn’t want to be a bore if Ignis stuck around. The lie was weak and Noct assumed Ignis was only agreeing to keep him happy.
Nearly twenty minutes later when Ignis had gone back down to his car and the door was locked and bolted did Noct call Prompto. His friend picked up on the first ring.
“Dude! Where have you been?” Prompto wailed.
“In a meeting, I just got rid of Ignis, what’s going on? Is she alright?”
“I dunno, she’s um acting weird. I’m starting to get worried.”
“Shit, I knew you should have taken her to the vet yesterday, now what do we do? Nothing will be open now except in emergency places. Ignis will definitely know something is up if that shows up on the credit card.”
“Oh, oh, I need to bring her over, I don’t know what else to do,” Prompto replied in a rush. “I have just enough money for a cab, I’ll be there soon.”
“Wait! Prompto!” It was too late the line had disconnected. Noct considered calling back but he knew his friend was coming over no matter what he said. Nervously pacing his living room Noct couldn’t get time to go any faster. It felt like an eternity before someone called from downstairs alerting him to Prompto’s arrival.
Running to the door he waited in the hallway until Prompto’s figure appeared around the corner. He was carrying a large box and practically sprinting down the hall. “I don’t know what to do buddy, she’s not okay.”
Noct ushered Prompto inside and quickly shut the door. “Come on let’s take her into the bathroom and see, the light is better in there and it’s got all the first aid stuff too.”
Nearly two hours later Noct wasn’t sure he could unsee what he’d witnessed. Blinking slowly he took in the scene that had unfolded on his pristine white tiled bathroom floor. “How the hell am I going to explain this to Ignis? He doesn’t like animals.”
“We can clean up the mess for sure, but, um, I don’t know what to do with all the new ones,” Prompto replied gesturing towards the pile of squirming fur near the bathtub.
“How did we not know she was pregnant? Shouldn’t that be like, obvious?”
“I’ve never seen a pregnant cat before how the heck would I have known that?”
Noct hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t bother to comment further. They’d both missed this very important fact regarding their newly rescued furry friend. “We couldn’t have left her right? I mean, we did the right thing yeah?” Noct checked, suddenly worried that they’d somehow ruined this cat’s life by taking her in right before she gave birth. Finding a cute cat behind the arcade had been fun but then it had followed them, and pretty soon Prompto had picked it up and the rest is history.
“Nah, dude, she needed a nice place to rest for something like this,” Prompto defended.
“Okay, but now what? They can’t stay here.”
“What do you mean? They can’t stay here, I can’t keep them,” said Prompto with a serious expression. “I work after school, remember? I won’t be able to watch them properly.”
“What about your parents can’t they help?”
“No! Dad is working out of town this week and mom is allergic. I did well to hide momma cat from her this long.”
“Ignis will skin me alive if he finds out I’m keeping a cat in here. I can’t keep them!”
“Buddy, you have to, we don’t have a choice. Don’t you have that extra room no one uses? Can’t we set them up in there and just keep Ignis out?”
“You make it sound so easy, Ignis will find them.”
“Oh! Tell him you are doing a science project and you need a controlled environment or something and that he needs to not open the door for the next week.”
“Prompto, that is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard of, that will never work,” Noct huffed.
--
“Yeah, so it’s for a science project and like I need a controlled environment otherwise it’ll fail and I’ll have to um, you know, start over,” Noct rambled as Ignis stood in the hallway holding a bundle of folded clothes the next evening.
“Highness you are aware that I use the closet in that room for storing some of your extra clothing, it would have been helpful to have alerted me to this development before you started your experiment.”
“Uh, sorry about not telling you but it’s super important that you just don’t go in there. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
Ignis raised an eyebrow in judgment and watched as Noct withered under the gaze. Unwilling to fight Noct on what he was actually hiding in the room Ignis sighed and shook his head. Without uttering anything else he turned and walked away. The evening was going to be an interesting one.
It became clear that Noct wanted him to leave sooner rather than later, so Ignis decided to play along. Being an integral part of the prince's life meant he would see Noct again, whether he wanted it or not. Seeing Noct struggle to ignore the spare room was comical. Homework was even brought out as what Ignis could only guess was some form of distraction.
Noct only stared at the paper but didn’t write anything. When dinner was served he ate so fast Ignis was sure he’d make himself sick. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Once all the dishes were clean Ignis gathered his things and bid Noct a good night.
No sooner had he shut the door behind him did he hear Noct run away from the door, he was up to something. Debating about calling Gladio to ask if he knew, Ignis decided things might be more adventurous if he let it play out naturally.
Approximately twenty-six hours later when Ignis came over to fix dinner he had his first clue. Noct’s apartment smelled fruity. The prince normally didn’t like fake scents but he’d obviously bought something. Sniffing around Ignis found the source, plugged into the wall just down the hall from the supposed science experiment room. As he was walking over to investigate further Noct came bustling down the hall and blocked the door with his body.
“When did you get here?! I told you already you can’t go in there!”
“I wasn’t going to go in, I was merely trying to figure out why you bought that,” Ignis commented as he pointed to the small device emitting the not-so-great scent. “And I’m here to fix dinner highness like I always am at this time.”
“Ah, oh, um, right, dinner.”
“So the experiment you’re conducting stinks?” Ignis asked hoping to glean more information.
“No, well not exactly, but yeah,” Noct scrambled. “Does it really matter, this is my house. If I want a smelly plug thing for the wall then I should have one right?”
Ignis raised his hands in defeat and turned away. “I’ll go start dinner then since there is nothing to see here.”
The moment he’d made it to the kitchen Ignis was sure he’d heard the door to the spare room open and quickly close. Noct came to join him about five minutes later and couldn’t focus to save his life. The boy was constantly looking towards the spare room and was unable to make conversation that consisted of anything more than three words. Giving up Ignis finished up dinner and excused himself early for the night.
One day down, Ignis wondered how long Noct would make it before he slipped up and revealed the secrets of the spare room.
--
It had been three weeks and Ignis was still playing Noct’s game of ‘stay out of the spare room’. Though, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He’d just not seen physical evidence yet. Ignis had also discovered that Prompto was part of this ruse as well. The two teenagers were constantly hanging out, more than normal, and working to keep the spare room from being noticed. The idea that making distractions around the rest of the apartment would keep their secret safe was funny to Ignis.
Having had ample time to do research on a few things Ignis was sure that life was about to get a lot trickery for Noct and Prompto. By now Gladio had been alerted and told to stay quiet. Ignis was actually having fun and looking forward to the big, or rather small reveal.
Granted he could have intruded and taken a peek in the room already, but Ignis stood by his morals, this was Noct’s home and he’d been asked to stay out of that room. The trust he and Noct shared was not something he was keen to throw away over a cat.
Settling in at the dining table that evening Ignis sat with his back to the hallway, Noct’s new seat of choice was one facing the spare room. It was just the two of them tonight; Prompto had to go home early to see his parents. Halfway through the meal, Ignis heard a faint scratching noise. “Do you hear that?” he asked pausing and tilting his head.
“Hear what? I don’t hear anything!”
“Hmm I’m sure I heard something, does your science experiment have to do with anything that moves?”
“Something moving?! Six no, its not alive. Nothing in that room is alive,” Noct answered as his face turned a rather interesting shade of red.
“I see, well then I must have heard something else.”
Noct didn’t say anything more; instead it seemed his focus had become how loudly he could eat the rest of his dinner. The idea that clinking his fork into the dishware and slamming his water glass down would do anything to mask the sounds coming from down the hall was amusing. Working hard to keep from smiling Ignis finished eating and hurried to clean and put away the dishes.
“Don’t forget we need to review the council meeting minute’s tomorrow evening after dinner.”
“Can’t we just like wait until the meeting and then I’ll take a look, I don’t really need to be that prepared. They never ask me anything anyway.”
“You will not get out of this highness, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Noct groaned in frustration but nodded as Ignis gathered his things and made to leave. Deciding to push a little Ignis paused near the door. “When will your science experiment be over?”
“Not sure, it’s sorta um an organic timed kinda thing. Ya know?”
“No not really, why don’t you explain it to me?”
Noct’s nervous laughter filled the space as he began gesticulating with his hands and trying to say something coherent. “Well, like, um, it’s science and stuff and sometimes I don’t even understand it, but there are instructions and its going well I think.”
“I see,” Ignis hummed. “I’d best be off then, good night Noct.” With nothing more than a smile, Ignis donned his shoes and left.
--
The next evening when Ignis approached Noct’s apartment door he could hear a commotion inside. A faint yelp indicated that Prompto was there as well. Knocking loudly Ignis took his time unlocking the door and letting himself in. He could at least give them a head start.
Once inside Ignis could tell that things had escalated. The living room was a mess and the sound of hushed voices and frantic steps could be heard down the hall. Both young men were in the spare room. The cat must have escaped the room or maybe it was trying to escape. One couldn’t keep a cat caged for too long it’d get curious and want to explore.
Deciding to start dinner Ignis busied himself in the kitchen. Looking around in an upper cabinet for a dish Ignis was startled when a door slammed. Spinning around Ignis was about to check on Noct and Prompto when something caught his eye. There on the floor was a tiny little ball of fluff. It had cute little ears and was wobbling around headed straight for him.
They were hiding a kitten, not a cat! No wonder Noct was being so protective. Slowly walking towards the little kitten, Ignis was surprised when another nearly identical kitten appeared from around the corner. Dear six, there was more than one. The first kitten had nearly made to his feet when Ignis heard footsteps approaching. Without thinking he leaned over and scooped up the little animal and promptly shoved it in the still open cabinet. Swiftly closing the door he stayed facing the wall pretending to prepare things while he waited. The footsteps became very quiet, almost like the owner was trying to hide. Ignis knew they were trying to catch the little escapee. When the door down the hall opened and closed Ignis checked to make sure he was alone before he opened the cabinet door.
A petit mew was the greeting he received from the occupant. Reaching in Ignis gave the little fuzzball a pat. “I believe they are still looking for you little one,” he whispered with a smirk. “Your sibling didn’t make it as far as you.”
Again, the door opened down the hall and Ignis quickly and carefully shut the cabinet to hide its secret. Spinning around Ignis found Noct wandering around the living room, hunched over clearly looking for the missing kitten. “Did you lose something?”
Noct straightened up and shook his head, “Nah I was um just stretching my legs.”
Before Ignis could think of what to say Prompto came running into the room without noticing him. “Did you find it?!”
“Be sure to say hi to Ignis first!” Noct exclaimed.
“Shit! Oh uh I mean hi, how’s it going?” Prompto managed as he turned to face him.
“So you were looking for something?”
“Prompto’s phone, that’s what I was looking for, it’s not here. I think we need to check the other room again.” Noct walked away and dragged a very flustered Prompto with him.
Ignis heard Noct berate Prompto for not knowing he was there. The last bit of conversation he could make out was regarding the blond having not heard the knock on the door. Remembering his own secret Ignis rushed back and opened the cabinet. Another mew sounded and this time the kitten stumbled right out and nearly hit the counter. Thinking fast Ignis caught the little thing and cradled it to his chest. “Little trouble maker you,” he cooed. “Come now, let’s have some fun.”
Dinner was truly entertaining. Ignis managed to hide the little kitten that he‘d already named Darvis in the laundry room. The basket full of clean towels was most intriguing and worked as a wonderful place for a small nap. However, the real show was getting to watch Prompto and Noct attempt to remain sane while they ate. Neither of them would maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds. They’d always break away to scan the floor around the apartment.
When dinner was over Ignis stood and stretched. “I think you two should clean the dishes while I get some paperwork ready for Noct to review.” Both boys were up in a flash and clearing away the dishes. Ignis had never seen them move so fast.
Taking advantage of the distraction Ignis calmly went to retrieve little Darvis. It was far too easy to sneak back into the living room and sit on the sofa with his back to Noct and Prompto. The kitten was enjoying the attention and clambered around on his lap until it found a nice little spot between Ignis’ leg and the sofa cushion. Getting comfortable Ignis began arranging paperwork for Noct to look at. Darvis had his eyes closed and was happily napping again. Soon enough Noct shuffled into view, still looking everywhere but Ignis. Prompto followed him and was also scanning the area.
“Sit down this won’t take long. Feel free to stick around Prompto, we’ll be done soon and then I’ll take my leave for the night.”
“Huh? Oh sure, um what do you need me to review?” Noct replied absentmindedly, his attention clearly on something else.
Ignis smiled and handed over the paperwork, Noct almost dropped the folder because he wasn’t looking. Finally, the prince sat down and made a half-assed attempt at looking through the files. Prompto continued to search the fringes of the room by idly wandering around.
Several minutes passed before Prompto froze and let his mouth fall open. He was looking right at Darvis. Noct was still distracted enough that Ignis was able to put a finger to his lips to silence Prompto. The blond kept moving his mouth akin to a fish out of water but he remained quiet.
“Ignis, um, can I look at these later I’m really not able to focus right now.” Noct lamented as he put the folder down on the coffee table.
“Certainly highness, I’ll be happy to go over it again tomorrow with you.”
“Thanks, sorry, I’m not being very helpful.”
“I understand,” Ignis supplied looking straight at Noct and waiting for him to see what was in plain sight.
Prompto had even begun to stare at his friend in disbelief. Finally, Noct’s eyes grew wide as he noticed the little ball of fluff nestled next to Ignis. “How --how long have you known?” Noct managed in a strangled voice.
“Since the scent plug-in appeared.”
Noct groaned and flopped sideways on the sofa, though he quickly perked back up and pointed an accusing finger at him, “I get to keep one, you clearly already picked one.”
“Yes, Darvis is mine and will be coming to live with me once he’s been properly nursed by his mother.”
“I thought you didn’t like cats!” Prompto exclaimed.
“I don’t, Darvis is the exception,” Ignis answered coolly.
“What about the other two, and the momma?” Prompto asked with worry. “I can’t take any of them, my mom is allergic.”
Ignis wasn’t surprised to hear there were more, but he knew what to do. “I’ll put a notice up in the office; we’ll be able to find suitable homes for all of them in no time.”
“I can’t believe you let me suffer through that terrible science experiment lie for three whole weeks!” Noct lamented.
“How did you even come up with that farce?”
Noct immediately looked at Prompto and threw his hand out, “he suggested it!”
“Next time I might suggest you fess up before making your life harder. I may not like most cats but I wouldn’t have made you put it out on the street. Though,” Ignis paused and stared at Noct intensely, “that doesn’t mean you can bring every pregnant stray you find here. Am I understood?”
“I promise never to do it again, so long as I get to keep one.”
“Can he keep another one for me too?” Prompto tried hopefully.
“Don’t push your luck young man, I think one cat between the two of you will be purrfectly fine.”
“Oh, you did not just do that!” Noct groused. “Prompto we need to get him away from the cats now, he’s only gonna get worse!”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32461276
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Missed Signals Chapter 2
SUMMARY: Reki has a tendency to do things while being unaware. He doesn't notice his leg shaking or how much he fidgets with his headband or even how much he picks at his skin. He only notices when someone tells him to knock it off or when he focuses so intently his brain thinks of nothing else.
WARNINGS: Nothing too grand, descriptions of ADHD symptoms,
NOTES: I am trying to cope with what I am thinking is undiagnosed ADHD by projecting onto my favorite characters. I mean no harm and no offense.
Ao3 // Missed Signals Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Previous Chapter // Next Chapter
Reki wasn't bored per se. He was interested in the material being taught, but he couldn't sit still enough to focus. He seemed to be having this problem a lot more now that he had spoken to Cherry and Joe slightly against he will. He was trying to be still as possible knowing that if he began to shift then the class would be disrupted but he could feel it building under his skin, an itch he needed to scratch. He was glad at the moment Langa reached over, swapping his clicking pen for a soft pencil. He wanted to apologize to the nearby students but was too busy twirling the pencil around his fingers like a drumstick, he was able to tune back into the teacher but unable to write his notes, but the itch was at least soothed under his skin.
He wasn't too worried about his notes anymore though. Langa had asked Cherry for some lessons on Japanese to help better his literacy quicker. He used his skills to take better notes for Reki to copy on the rougher days like today. When it came time for a break, Langa and Reki stayed in the classroom, leaning against the nearby open window.
"How did you know?" Reki asked Langa. "How do you always know when I need to fidget?"
"I don't always. Just like you are starting to pay attention and are learning your cues, so am I. I notice that you tend to freeze and then you gets more and more tense as it gets worse. I know that you as a person, think you are a burden, even though you are not, so you don't like to do things that attract attention, like clicking your pen. So I gave you my pencil." Langa explained. "Also, if I look at the right moment, you look for ways to escape. Your eyes flick from door to door like you are caged in, so you are ready to leave if needed. Not only at school but when we are in busy places too, like you need to always be ready to move at the drop of a hat." Langa said.
"Hm. I didn't know that. Thank you for helping me. I don't know what I would do without you." Reki pulled Langa into a tight hug.
Langa hugged him back, squeezing tightly, knowing that Reki liked firm physical contact. "There is no need to thank me. I am glad to help you as much as I can."
Break ended, an das they returned to their seats, Reki's restlessness seemed to ease. Reki took his notes for his last class with minimal distractions and drawings. They finished their school day, standing by the entrance gate deciding on what to do.
"I want to skate but I know I need to do the homework, we got assignments in most of our classes. Do you think we could go to Joe's?" Langa asked. "The noise sometimes helps you focus."
Yeah. Can we skate for like an hour first? I want to make sure I can focus, we can take the long way there, right?" Reki asked. Langa playfully hesitated and after Reki's third 'please' agreed to the plan.
When they finally get to Joe's restaurant, their normal spots at the bar are open. They duck in and settle next to Cherry while pulling out their books. Everyone seemed to understand by unspoken rule that those seats were for them and rarely were there people in them. In a second there was a pot of tea and a pitcher of water sat in front of them.
"Hello boys. How was school today?" Cherry finally noticed them getting their school books out of their bags.
"Good. Today I was able to take notes for a few of my classes really well. I did have an issue before last break but Langa helped." Reki said while snatching Langa's notebook to copy for the class he didn't take notes in.
"He started getting tense and seemed...flightly. So I took his pen and made him use a pencil. He twirled it around for the whole period, but was able to follow along really well. It seemed to help ease his restlessness." Langa explained. Reki was tuning out their conversation, biting his thumb while looking between the two notebooks and the textbook.
"He did the same motions? Consistently? Interesting." Cherry made a mental note to look into that along with the research he was doing on neurodevelopment disorders. "Why are you guys here? Not that we don't love to see you everyday of the week." Cherry tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum, he knew Reki was sensitive.
"Reki suggested it. Sometimes the constant noise is just right for him to get into the zone. He can focus because it isn't too loud or too quiet I guess. He is trying different environments to see if he can pinpoint what works and what doesn't. After finally talking about it, he seemed to realize that this is a problem that won't go away on its own. Reki is smart, reckless but smart." Langa said. He moved to Cherry's other side as to not talk over Reki for the moment.
"The noise seems counterintuitive. I don't get it." Cherry said. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought.
"I told you before, it is different for everyone. But The noise here or other places like this work for us sometimes, cause it is rhythmic. There is a pattern-people come, people eat, people leave. Our brains like patterns, it is even better when we can think about them in the back of our minds. We are fully invested without taking our focus off the main things. Doesn't always work though." Joe cut into the conversation.
The three skaters looked over at Reki who was diligently copying notes while biting his fingers of his left hand. He was the most focused they had seen him in a while outside of skating. The restaurant was working in his favor. However he was chewing rather violently on his nails, Langa narrowed his eyes at the red and raw tips of his fingers. They looked sore and painful, but Langa couldn't pin down when he saw Reki chewing at his nails. From what Langa could see it was a constant habit.
"He is chewing his fingers too. You can see the redness and bits of blood around his nails." Langa commented to Cherry. They both sat and watched as Reki worked hard.
Reki was unaware of his surroundings, he paid no attention to Cherry and Langa avidly staring at him, he let the background noise of Joe's restaurant wash over him lulling him into a state of focus. He tried not to think to much, just enjoying the environment and the positive results on his mental state. Reki was so focus he didn't realize he was chewing on his fingers at all again. It was a habit his mother crowed about him needing to break but nothing seemed to do the trick. Reki finally pulled away from his fingers and studies when he tasted blood and Langa laced his fingers with his.
"Hey, maybe you should take a break. You've been working for a while and I think we need to talk about your nail biting." Langa said.
"I wouldn't mind a break. I am not really hungry though, I think I will just have some tea for now." Reki answered absentmindedly. He was finishing up the section he had been working on. Cherry and Langa shared a look.
"Reki, when was the last time you ate? You really should have something. It is getting late." Cherry tried to push the red-head. Reki paid him no mind, already swallowed into his studies again. He was adamant he was going to finish his assignments, all of them that he could. Reki pulled off his headband and began scratching lightly at his scalp, running his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly when he was thinking.
"Reki, did you eat lunch today?" Langa asked. Reki blinked and refocused on Langa. Langa could tell that the recent conversation had gone in one ear and out the other. "Reki, look at me. Focus on me for just a moment." Langa waited until he saw Reki's distant gaze blink back into awareness. "Reki, did you eat today at lunch?"
"Did I eat today at lunch?" Reki parroted. Langa nodded. "Yeah, I had chicken curry and a Caprese salad." Reki answered firmly.
"Reki that was your lunch yesterday. I remember because I ate all the mozzarella bites and you yelled at me cause that was your favorite part. What did you eat today? I had to go speak to Hirikawa-Sensei at lunch today. I told you to go to the roof and eat, I would catch up." Langa said. Reki frowned in thought.
"I remember that, then I got distracted by a text Miya sent me and then it reminded me of something I wanted to look at for a gift for him...."Reki trailed off. "I don't think I ate today at all. I missed breakfast cause I over slept." Reki nodded once, pleased to be able to give a truthful answer. When no one responded his shrugged and went back to work.
"Oh, hell no. I know that when you get in the groove, you tend to stay there for too long but Reki you missed three meals today and now all you want is tea?" Cherry was slightly heated.
"Yeah, it makes the most sense. I need the caffeine to help me focus and it is an appetite suppressant and the water will keep me full and the tea will be good on my stomach. If I eat now, then I will be nauseous later. Days like this happen enough that I know what I am doing." Reki said. He only shrugged in answer to Langa and Cherry's incredulous looks. "Please leave it alone, sometimes, I don't like to eat. It can be tiring, a lot leads up to having a meal and sometimes that is too much. I take what I can get when I can get it. Now, let me finish my science homework." Reki waved off their concern just as Joe changed out the tea pots, with a smile.
"You doing okay over here kid? Need anything?" Joe asked but eyed all three of them. they all shook their heads, Reki gleefully fixing a large mug of tea how he liked it and drinking it quickly before making another one and sipping it. He kept the spoon in the mug, sliding it through the tea first up then down then left then right making a small ting each time. The motion and the noise seemed to soothe nerves that Cherry and Langa both missed up to that point. As Reki faded back into his studies, abandoning the tea but not the stirring motion, Cherry and Langa began having a whispered conversation.
"I think we should have a tutoring session, and I think Joe should lead this one. We need to figure out how and what we can do to help Reki. We seem to just stress him out when we get caught up in out neurotypical behaviors. I was thinking Saturday? I can ask Miya to distract him with skating for a while, or maybe help him make a new board? I think Reki has a commission from someone who comes to Dope Sketch." Langa requested. His concern was clearly on his face, eyebrows drawn together and a lip tucked between his teeth.
"I agree. I can order some books and resources online so we can have reputable sources. and Miya would love to help, he has been nagging me about it since the discussion at the skate park." Cherry responded.
Langa waved down Joe frantically, almost hitting Reki in the head. Joe came over, an eyebrow raised in question. "What can I do for you?" He asked a little too loud. Langa quickly hushed him, shooting a fruitive glance at a still studying Reki.
"Will you come and help us research ways to help Reki? I know we talked about it before but now I really want to look into it. This is affecting his everyday life, his is hurting himself unintentionally and even skipping meals. I don't want to push too had but I think we need to look at ways of helping him cope with what is going on." Langa asked.
"Of course. I don't know how much I can help, I have to say that my medication helped a lot and because of that my symptoms aren't as noticeable most of the time even if I miss a dose. I have spent many years forming the habits that help me get through the day, skating and the intensity of the kitchen help with that too. Where do you want to meet at?" Joe asked.
"We can meet at my studio, it is spacious enough and then we can keep our work there. I really think this will be good for him and for us." Cherry said. "I had no idea that some of the quirks you and Reki exhibit were signs of something else. It must be tiring to try to keep up with people who don't understand or even yourselves." Cherry continued.
That moment Reki raised his head, stretching his arms over his head and groaning deeply. Langa looked at the long lines of his torso-staring until a elbow jabbed his ribs. "I think that is all I can do today. I got a lot done though, caught up in a lot of class work. I may be a more permanent resident to this stool Joe. I think it is about time we head out. My mom probably texted me a dozen times wondering where I am. I should let Nanako know where you are too." Reki pulled out his phone to text both their moms, not seeing the looks Joe and Cherry sent Langa's way.
"I forget. I can't help it. And my mom loves Reki, she'll say yes to anything he asks her." Langa tried to explain himself, Joe laughed and Cherry shook his head. Reki finished texting and packed up hi things, a light aura of pride coming from him.
"I did it. I can turn in this week's assignments. I got all my work done. Thank you Langa, Cherry, Joe, for all you help. We need to get going." Reki hopped down from the stool and wobbled slightly. He swallowed once, twice. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, obviously considering something. "Is this hunger? Am I thirsty? Eh, maybe just a good night's rest will do me in." Reki thought aloud. He shrugged his bag on, waiting patiently for Langa to get down, unaware of what he just said. He curled his fingers inward rubbing his nails against each other making a light ticking noise, rocking heel to toe.
Langa looked towards Joe's ceiling, seeming to pray for patience. 'This idiot, my god. He would be dead without someone to take care of him. How has he survived this long?'"I'm coming Reki. We can go home. Am I staying over tonight?" Langa asked.
"If you want yeah. You should call your mom though. She probably would like to hear from her only son." Reki teased as Langa gathered his things.
"Hey, Reki! Here, this is for you. Drink it on your way home, okay?" Joe handed Reki a large to-go cup. "Kaoru likes smoothies at the end of the night sometimes so I made a little extra for you. I know that sometimes food is just too much but you need something in you. Don't worry it tastes fine and only has a little bit of the healthy stuff in it. Promise." Reki took the cup beaming at Joe.
"Thank you. I know that I don't make sense, and some of the things I do make me a burden but I can't help it. So thank you for understanding." Reki bowed and hurried out the door, embarrassed. Langa hurried after him, calling a farewell over his shoulder.
Joe watched them skate away, a small smile on his face. 'He'll be fine. He has a whole family looking out for him.' Joe went back to Kaoru who was impatiently waiting for his nightly glass of wine, no smoothie in sight.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Business Trip - Part 11: Anger
“Sit. The fuck. Down. And don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Seolhyun is hesitant at first, but she slowly moves toward one of the leather chairs, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes as she does so, although you could tell that she did so just to keep up her front. She clearly wasn’t betting on Momo calling her on her bluff.
“Sit and watch how a real girl fucks,” Momo says, every word a dagger, her eyes and glare boring holes into Seolhyun, who suddenly looked a lot less confident than she was when she walked into the room.
“You,” Momo says as she faces you, her eyes burning with intensity, “come here and fuck me.”
“Momo, I want you and Choa to speak to the convention organizers. Tell them we want to reschedule our presentation to Thursday afternoon. That will give us two days to come up with something to present.”
The two women still look shellshocked as you exit the convention auditorium and gather in the main hall, but they nonetheless give small nods of understanding.
“Mina, I want you to look into the legal ramifications of what they’ve done. Look into any possibility for patent infringement or intellectual property theft, and whether they’ve violated some law or regulation.”
The young woman is composed, as always, and gives you an affirmative nod. She clearly had antifreeze running through her veins, being the only one of your team that didn’t look outwardly furious, or shocked, or both.
“Seolhyun, speak to your people back in Seoul. I need to know how the hell they stole your tech from under our noses. Look for any evidence of an external hack or an internal database download or anything of that sort. Figure out how they did this without anyone in your goddamn company realizing it.”
Your last sentence carried a little more edge than you were intending, but you know the fierce look of anger on Seolhyun’s face is directly mostly at Tzuyu and Sana, and not at you.
“Those two will pay for this,” she says, her tone sharp.
“They will. But let’s do this right. I’ll get on the phone with head office back home and figure out what our next moves will be. Let’s all concentrate on getting these things done, then let’s take the rest of the day off to rest, recharge, and burn off our anger. I want everyone with a clear head when we meet tomorrow morning to tackle this.”
Choa, Mina, and Seolhyun all head off to take on the duties assigned to them, each with a mixture of lingering shock, determination, and anger painted on their respective faces. Following the stunt that Tzuyu and Sana had just pulled, you felt you needed to give them something constructive to focus on instead of letting themselves fall victim to anger or despair. Momo remains, and as the others leave, she draws you close into a hug. Your arms wrap around her frame, which suddenly felt very small against you.
“I’m both sad and angry,” she says softly.
“I know,” you say, unable to find more comforting words. You stroke the back of her head gently with your right hand, your left arm squeezing her tightly against you.
“Why would she do that to us?”
“I don’t know, Momo,” you say, speaking truthfully, “I don’t know…”
---
It is almost midnight when you finally return to your hotel room after several hours of phone calls, video calls, and face to face meetings with your team and the conference organizers. The understandably surprised and upset conference organizers eventually came around, however, and you were able to delay JYP Inc.’s presentation to Thursday, buying some time to find something to actually present.
JYP himself was understandably furious at the afternoon’s turn of events, but he was also supportive during your phone call with him, refraining from laying any blame at your team’s feet and instead ensuring that you had the full backing of the company and access to the entirety of its resources.
“Do whatever it takes to make sure they pay for this,” he said, his usually cheery voice possessing an edge that you’d not heard until then, “you have free reign to do as you see fit. I trust you. Make them regret ever thinking they could mess with JYP Inc.”
Confident that you had your boss’s full backing, you decided to call it a night and get as much sleep as possible before tackling the problem head on tomorrow.
You are staring out the window at the blinking, bright lights of Taiwan’s downtown district, seeking the solutions to your problem amidst the tall buildings of glass and steel, in much the same way that you did in Tokyo and Seoul. You’d always found something calming in watching a downtown skyline.
“You always get this look on your face,” Momo says softly as she approaches you at the window, “when you stare outside the window. It’s like you’re meditating with your eyes open.”
“I guess I am, in a way. It’s comforting to know that there are so many other people out there, each fighting their own battle, just like we are,” you reply, accepting the glass of whiskey Momo passes to you. She had raided the hotel room’s mini bar, outrageous markup prices be damned. You both needed a drink after today’s events.
Momo nods as she weighs your words over in her head, taking a sip of the strong whiskey as she does so. She lets out a hard breath, the way people do when the liquor hits the right spot.
“That’s good stuff,” she says, licking her lips and swirling the amber liquid around in her glass, staring intently at it as though the solutions to your company’s dilemna were to be found at the bottom.
You turn your gaze to her, and you are struck by the beauty of her soft features highlighted in the blue and red neon lights outside your window. She had spent some long hours trying to convince the convention organizers to completely revamp their schedule to accommodate your rescheduling request, and you were proud of her for managing to accomplish that difficult task.
You are about to give voice to your thoughts, but you are interrupted by your phone vibrating in your pocket. Given the day’s events you knew you had to check it, in case it was something urgent.
KimSeolhyun says: What are you doing?
You say: Resting in my hotel room. You?
KimSeolhyun says: I’m coming over. Be ready, I’m horny as fuck.
You say: Momo’s here.
KimSeolhyun says: Are you fucking?
You say: No lol.
KimSeolhyun says: Good. Then she can watch or leave, I don’t give a shit. Rough day. Need a fuck. Remember that deal we made. I’m on the way.
“Head office?” Momo asks.
“No,” you say, readying yourself for Momo’s reaction, “it’s Seolhyun.”
Momo rolls her eyes and lets out a snort that could only be understood as disapproval. She had not gotten over her dislike for Seolhyun over what happened in Seoul, and the awkwardness and tension between them was evident every time they were in the same room.
“I’ll turn her away,” you say, raising your phone to type a reply.
“No,” Momo interrupts, “you can have her. I’ll go find Choa and have a drink somewhere.”
“You’re not pissed?”
“I hate her guts, but even I have to admit she’s pretty goddamn hot. I’d fuck her if I had a dick. Or even if I didn’t. Either way, go have your fun.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask with a smile, meaning every word.
“I dunno,” Momo says with a grin, “just make sure you tell me all about it afterward. I wanna know if she fucks as good as she looks.”
The young woman downs the rest of her whiskey in a single gulp.
“...and make sure you save some energy for me later.”
Momo winks before turning and grabbing her hoodie from a nearby chair, and again, you find yourself thankful to whatever gods may be that this woman was in your life.
She is only halfway to the door when there is a knock - Seolhyun certainly didn’t waste any time. Deciding it would be best if you answered it and not Momo, you walk past her and open the door.
Seolhyun is wearing a neutral look on her face, but it deepens into a look of annoyance when she realizes Momo is still there. The young woman walks nonchalantly into the room, taking off her black leather jacket and throwing it onto the leather couch. Momo gives Seolhyun a glare as she passes and moves towards the door.
“Maybe you should stick around,” Seolhyun says, her tone confrontational, “maybe you’ll learn something.”
You’d seen Momo angry before; you’d even seen her infuriated. But that was only in a work environment, often when something went wrong with a project or when the office printer had chosen that particular time to jam. But you had never seen a look of fury on her face the way you did at that moment.
The Japanese girl turns sharply and goes face to face with Seolhyun until their noses are inches apart. Seolhyun apparently wasn’t anticipating Momo to react the way she did, given the look of surprise and hesitation on her face. When Momo speaks, every syllable is laced with venom.
“Sit. The fuck. Down. And don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Seolhyun is hesitant at first, but she slowly moves toward one of the leather chairs, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes as she does so, although you could tell that she did so just to keep up her front. She clearly wasn’t betting on Momo calling her on her bluff.
“Sit and watch how a real girl fucks,” Momo says, every word a dagger, her eyes and glare boring holes into Seolhyun, who suddenly looked a lot less confident than she was when she walked into the room.
“You,” Momo says as she faces you, her eyes burning with intensity, “come here and fuck me.”
You down your whiskey in one gulp, leave the glass on the coffee table, and step towards Momo, but she meets you halfway, and before you know it your bodies are crashing together, arms wrapping around familiar torsos, your mouths meeting and tongues seeking their counterparts in that wonderful moment when lust takes over - but this lust is different; it is fueled not insignificantly by anger, frustration, and the desire to vent it all out through physical, sexual means.
For a moment you forget Seolhyun is there, sitting not even five feet away. But as Momo breaks your kiss to dive into your neck, your eyes open slightly, enough to see the blank expression on the young Korean woman’s face turn into one of intense concentration, her eyes enraptured and surprised by what was about to happen in front of her.
Momo, for her part, seems to have forgotten entirely that there is another woman in the room, moving quickly from your neck to your chest, taking advantage of the fact that you were wearing a button up shirt. Her slim fingers work quickly on its buttons, following the trail of steadily revealed skin with soft kisses down the front of your chest, until finally she is on her knees in front of you.
She works your belt, pants button and zipper quickly, hooking fingers into your boxers as soon as they are visible, dragging your pants and underwear down until they are at your knees. She turns, shoots the shocked Seolhyun a “watch this and learn” look, and dives into your crotch, her small pink tongue immediately finding the base of your quickly hardening cock and licking upward, slowly, until she reaches the tip.
Your shaft hardens quicker than you ever thought was possible. It had been a hard, difficult day, and the thought of fucking Momo in order to vent some of your frustration was more than enough to get you ready, but having Seolhyun there, seeing Momo put her in her place - it all formed a heady mix of intense pleasure.
Before you know it Momo has taken the entirety of your shaft into her mouth, your cock wrapped by her warm, wet cavern and the dextrous muscle of her tongue that is pressing against the underside of your shaft. As she withdraws your shaft, she swirls her tongue around the head; she had had many months to know what you wanted when it came to blowing you, and she knew full well that she was shooting spikes of intense pleasure up your spine with every lick and suck.
In your peripheral vision you catch movement from Seolhyun, and you turn your head to watch her squirming and moving her thighs, trying and failing to keep up the impression that she wasn’t at all intensely aroused by what was going on in front of her. But as Momo’s hand joins her mouth in pleasuring you, pumping up and down on the base of your shaft in tandem with her mouth, you let a soft gasp escape your lips - one that seems to impact Seolhyun as well, a brief look of pleasure washing over her beautiful face, her mouth opening ever so slightly, as though some small measure of the pleasure Momo was imposing on your body had carried over to her.
You involuntarily bring your left hand to Momo’s face, seeking to touch her, seeking any kind of physical contact with the young woman on her knees pleasuring you. You want to do the same with your right hand, want to bring both your hands to her head and rock your hips and fuck her face - but you know Momo wants to show off, wants to ensure Seolhyun sees how good she is. And so you leave your right arm where it is, ensuring the older Korean girl has a perfect view of your hard shaft as it plunges in and out of Momo’s mouth, slathered and glistening with her saliva.
“Fuck that’s good,” you say, the words spilling out of your mouth before you even realize your brain has formed them. Momo responds by letting your hard shaft pop out of her mouth, holding it against her lips, her pink tongue darting out to lick the underside of your head, taking delight in watching the pleasure twist your face as she stimulates what she knows is the most sensitive part of your cock.
The Japanese girl takes advantage of the fact that you are paralyzed by pleasure and stands up, bringing both her hands to your shoulders, pushing you down slightly onto the leather couch. You take a moment to rid yourself of your bothersome pants and boxers, and you do so quickly enough to ensure you don’t miss what you know is going to happen next; for her part, Momo waits patiently while you undress before she follows your lead.
Slowly, knowing two pairs of eyes were glued onto her body, she undoes the buttons of her grey blazer, sliding it down her shoulders until it falls into a pool of cloth at her feet. She is wearing grey shorts beneath it, but those don’t last long either, her fingers equally as adept at undoing her own clothes as they are at undoing yours. She is wearing a simple black bra and a black thong beneath - neither is overly scandalous, the thong even being relatively conservative as far as thongs go - but she is nonetheless ridiculously sexy, every inch and curve of her body radiating lust, and desire, and sex.
In a final gesture of seduction, she reaches behind her head with her right hand and undoes whatever ridiculous contraption is keeping her hair up - she had gotten a new haircut before leaving for Taiwan, and while a part of you missed the medium length brown hair she used to have, there is no denying that the short black hair that tumbles down to her neck only increases the raw lust she projects into the room. It amazed you to see what a simple haircut could do to a woman’s raw sexiness.
As if staring at her toned, perfectly proportioned curves were not enough, she takes it one step further, turning around so her back is facing you, before bending over and removing her thong - the full, round cheeks of her ass and the toned, creamy skin of her thighs on full display in front of you. As the black cotton drops you catch a glimpse of pink flesh between her legs, already glistening, already begging for penetration. She tosses the flimsy piece of underwear in your lap.
But Momo is in control here - she knows she is putting on a show, and she loves it - loves the fact that she has not one, but two people in the room wrapped around her finger, their eyes glued to her near naked body, enraptured by every movement she makes. And so when she reaches behind her and undoes her bra, she tosses it to land on Seolhyun’s lap.
You had forgotten, as was becoming worryingly common, that Seolhyun was even there, but as the bra lands in her lap you watch the final vestiges of resistance flee from her beautiful face. Her features contort in pleasure - not unlike the look she had when you fucked her in Seoul - as though the bra landing on her lap caused a spike of pleasure to shoot up her spine and into her brain. She had broken. She belonged, as you did, to Momo now.
Seolhyun reaches a hand to touch the bra in her lap - before her hand moves lower, to the hem of her short black dress, and underneath it. Her fingers draw the hem of her dress upward, revealing perfect, creamy skin, until her fingers graze the space between her legs. She doesn’t care anymore about maintaining her image, doesn’t care that Momo has established dominance - she needs to touch herself, the brazen display in front of her becoming too much for her to handle without seeking some sort of release for her own. Seolhyun bites her lip as her fingers work between her legs, and a wave of pleasure washes over her face, her eyes closing halfway before she forces them open again, doing her best to ensure she didn’t miss a moment of what was going on in front of her.
There was something perverse about it - something that turned you on to see. Some not insignificant part of you enjoyed seeing the haughty, confident, occasionally arrogant young woman being driven to submission by your girlfriend. And from the look of her face as she turns around to face you again, Momo feels the same way, a self-assured smirk on her lips.
The smirk is there only for a second, and it is replaced with a look of lust as the naked woman climbs into your lap, her mouth seeking and finding yours and engaging in a passionate kiss as her long legs place themselves around your waist. As your tongues duel, you feel her reach between your bodies to guide your shaft to her entrance, and you feel the hot wetness of her pussy against the head of your cock as she rubs it against her open lips, not penetrating - just lubricating your head, teasing herself with it.
Then Hirai Momo pushes her hips down, impaling herself onto your cock.
She starts slowly at first, relishing those first few thrusts into her body, savoring the feel of your hard shaft as it penetrates her body. You do the same, letting your eyes drift closed, allowing yourself to experience her body yet again, knowing you will never tire of it, never grow fatigued of being inside her. You both let a soft gasp escape your lips, Momo’s louder than yours as she gives voice to her lust.
She is grinding her hips now, establishing a steady pace, her body stretched out and lubricated enough to allow full penetration. She grinds in a circular motion, her hips starting further back on the downstroke and then pushing her body forward on the upstroke, so that your shaft is penetrating her in a back and forward motion as well as up and down - this was a woman who knew just how to pleasure you, knew just how to drive you crazy with her body.
Momo throws her head back as your shaft penetrates her deeper, and you tear your eyes open long enough to realize her wonderful breasts are pressed against your face, the warm skin misted with sweat as she exerts herself. You immediately press your mouth against her left breast, your tongue quickly finding her already hardened nipple, swirling it around the hard bud greedily, lustily, without any sort of thought for decorum or patience - there is only lust, only the need to devour her, devour more of this wonderful woman’s body.
There is a sharp gasp in the room, and it takes you a moment to realize it came from Seolhyun, not Momo. With Momo’s breast still in your mouth, you open your eyes just enough to glance over at her, and you realize that she is now fingering herself with abandon, her right hand moving frantically between her legs, her left hand grasping her right breast through her dress.
You smile wickedly, and you turn your head to ensure Seolhyun can watch as you tease Momo’s nipple, your tongue pressing against it and swirling around it in random patterns, and you know Seolhyun is imagining that you are doing the same to her.
All the while, Momo is still throwing herself onto your shaft, over and over, her head thrown back as she lets a long string of moans escape her lips. She is cradling your head in her hands, letting herself go, letting herself fully experience the pleasure radiating from between her legs and from her breast.
“Fuck… fuck… you’re so big, baby,” she moans.
“You’re… so tight, Momo. Fuck… you’re so tight.”
“You like… you like when I ride you like this? You like when I fuck myself on your cock?” Momo asks, and you realize that a part of her still wants to show off, is still aware of the Korean girl squirming in her seat not five feet away.
“Fuck yes.”
“Did you like… fucking my ass last week?”
At the mention of anal sex with Momo, a moan escapes a pair of female lips - Seolhyun’s.
“Yes… fuck… your ass was so tight, baby. Did you like when I cummed in your ass?”
“Yes! I love when you cum in me… no matter what hole… I love feeling your cum inside me,” Momo gasps, happy that you were playing along, the both of you teasing Seolhyun with your words just as much as you were with the erotic display you were putting on for her. Even as you have this conversation, your cock continues to piston in and out of Momo’s tight, slick pussy.
“Fuck… you’re so good, baby. So tight, so hot. Fuck… you’re the best.”
“Am I… the best… fuck… you’ve ever had?”
“Yes!” you answer, perhaps with more enthusiasm than you were anticipating. You had slept with your fair share of beautiful women, and one of the better ones was just a few feet away, fingering herself - but you knew, deep down, that it was true: Hirai Momo was the best of them all.
You watch as Momo turns her head so she is facing Seolhyun. Despite the pleasure washing over her beautiful face, Momo is coherent enough to smirk slightly, biting her lip as she watches Seolhyun finger herself, knowing in that moment that she had won their little battle.
“Good,” Momo says, turning to you again, “then fuck me like you mean it.”
You take that as your signal to finally exert yourself instead of merely being a (eagerly willing) participant in Momo’s little show, and to that end you reach both your hands down to grasp her round ass, grasping a cheek in each palm. When Momo reaches the top of her grind, and the head of your cock is all that remains in her, you slam her back down with your hands while you thrust up with your hips, driving your shaft harder and deeper into her body than she was able to do on her own.
Momo lets a shriek out, louder than any of her moans thus far, and it is followed up with another as you repeat the action with your next thrust. You are both truly fucking each other now, both your bodies working to throw yourselves against each other as hard as you possibly can.
“Fuck! Fuck that’s so good!” Momo exclaims, “You’re so big inside me, baby. You’re stretching me out… so deep!”
You grunt in reply, because that is all you can do, every other ounce of your being focused instead of driving yourself as deeply and as hard as you can inside her body.
Momo, as always, wants more - always wants to take it to the next level. And so it surprises you when she slams herself down on your shaft and then stays there for a moment, capturing your lips and mouth in a torrid kiss before removing herself from your cock. The moment of surprise lasts only a moment before you realize she is turning around so her back is facing you, climbing back onto your lap, spreading her legs until she is crouching above your erect, glistening shaft, her feet on the couch on either side of your thighs. Then, taking another moment to line up your cockhead with her pussy, she impales herself once more, this time in a reverse cowgirl position.
From this point of view Seolhyun has a clear view of your shaft as it plunges into Momo’s tight, drenched pussy, the Japanese girl’s legs spread wide, her entire body on display as you settle into the position and fuck her from behind in your sitting position. Momo braces herself against the back of the couch with her arms, leaning back against your chest - your arms, however, are free, and you reach quickly around her torso to grasp both her breasts, pinching her nipples before reaching your right hand down her tight, firm torso until you reach her clit, your middle finger finding and swirling around her sensitive nub.
Seolhyun lets out a sharp gasp at the display, and you look around Momo’s bouncing body to watch as the older girl spreads her legs, now fully giving into her need for release. She has pushed her white panties to the side, her finger working urgently amidst her wet folds, already one knuckle deep inside herself as she struggles to contain the pleasure she is creating.
Momo’s moans are increasing in volume, turning more into sharp gasps of wordless syllables as the pleasure builds steadily inside her young body. Her new position presses your cock against the sensitive front of her pussy, your hard shaft and the finger rubbing her clit bringing her to the brink.
“I’m… I’m gonna cum, baby! I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum so hard!”
“Fuck,” you hiss, sharply, as much out of need to vent your pleasure as it was a curse, as you wanted to prolong the pleasure, wanted to stay fucking this perfect woman for as long as possible as she continues to impale herself again and again on your cock.
“I’m… I’m cumming!”
Momo lets out what is almost a shout as an orgasm wracks her body, her body quivering and spasming as the pleasure courses throughout her veins, her voice becoming a chorus of moans and gasps of lust, pleasure, and finally, release. Her pussy clamps down hard on your shaft, and it takes a significant amount of effort on your part not to join her in bliss, wanting to prolong the experience as long as possible. The wetness of her juices escapes the tightness of her body, and seeps out freely around your shaft, drenching both of your crotches in slickness.
Momo takes a solid minute to wind down from her orgasm, and her still-trembling body collapses against yours until she is sitting limply in your lap, her back pressed against your chest. She finds the strength to turn her head to meet yours, and you kiss her deeply, pressing your mouths together as deeply as you can, your tongues finding and caressing each other. Your hands roam freely around her torso, squeezing a soft breast and enjoying the feel of her firm, flat stomach beneath your palm.
Momo is the first to break the kiss, and she leans her head back against your shoulder, panting heavily as the exertion finally hits her. Your cock is still impaled to the base inside her body, and you take the moment of inactivity to savor the feel of her warm, wet, still-pulsating pussy wrapped around your shaft. Without speaking a word, you watch as Momo lifts her head slightly to look at Seolhyun, her post-orgasm face flushed, the very picture of lust.
When she is ready, she bends forward and slips off your shaft, eliciting a short groan from you as you leave her tightly clasping body. You watch intently as every inch of your shaft leaves her body, taking pleasure in watching her tight pussy lips grasp your cock as though not wanting to let it go, a thick strand of her slick juices still connecting your bodies until it finally snaps when Momo stands.
On shaky legs, Momo saunters over to where Seolhyun is sitting, the older Korean girl now a mewling, dishevelled mess, a far cry from the haughty, confident woman she was just a few minutes before when she entered the hotel room. Momo is completely naked, her skin flushed, her crotch and thighs wet with juices, both yours and hers - but she exudes supreme confidence as she bends over so her mouth is just inches from Seolhyun’s ear.
“That’s how a real girl fucks. And if you ever talk shit to me again, I swear to god, not only will you never touch my boyfriend again - I’ll slap you all the way back to Seoul.”
Seolhyun has stopped fingering herself, but she lets out a sharp gasp of surprise as Momo reaches down with her own finger, tracing the Korean girl’s pussy with her fingertip.
“Now go use this pussy of yours and finish him off,” Momo says, her words equally aggressive and seductive, “Even a virgin should be able to make him cum.”
Seolhyun wastes no time - she is so needy for pleasure, so lust-drunk on the show you and Momo put on for her, that she immediately leaves her chair and makes her way to you. She takes a moment to bend and remove her drenched cotton panties before grasping the hem of her black dress and pulling it up around her waist. Then she sits in your lap, and a second later, she drives her pussy down onto your shaft.
Seolhyun is tight, wet, and hot. Her body, even still semi-clothed, is almost perfect in every way, and her face, perfectly sculpted and striking a perfect balance of cuteness and beauty and hotness, is contorted in pleasure as she rides you hard and fast. It only takes her half a minute to orgasm, so close is she to the brink - and a few seconds after that, you join her, your shaft pulsating as the pleasure finally overwhelms you and you send hot, warm semen shooting inside the welcoming depths of her wanton, willing body, filling Kim Seolhyun to the brink, until your juices and hers overflow out of her tightly grasping pussy lips to drip down your balls and onto the now-moist leather of the couch.
Any other man would be totally consumed with the moaning, gorgeous Seolhyun, still mid orgasm as she writhes on your lap - but your eyes, and your thoughts, are instead on Hirai Momo, watching as she dresses herself with sweatpants and a hoodie before leaving the hotel room, winking at you and smiling slyly as she closes the door behind her, even as her boyfriend empties thick, hot semen into another woman.
---
An hour has passed since Momo left, and since then you have Seolhyun again, the Korean girl feeling like she had something to prove as she rode you, her confidence having been taken down a peg by Momo. When you finally climax together when you fuck her from behind on the couch, you notice that her gaze was locked on the hotel room door, as though she were hoping Momo would come back in to watch you both.
Now she is sitting in the same seat she was earlier, this time with a glass of whiskey in her hand. She is stark naked, her skin still flushed with the afterglow of sex, and you find her long, toned limbs and creamy skin more than a little distracting as you follow suit and collapse on the couch.
“Goddamn that was good,” Seolhyun says, taking a short sip of her drink.
“I’d say,” you agree.
“As much as it pains me to say it… you’re the fucking luckiest guy on earth to be dating her.”
“I know,” you say without looking at Seolhyun, knowing that she was speaking the truth.
“Anyway… what are we going to do about Thursday?”
“I don’t know,” you answer, bringing a hand to your face to massage your brow, “we’re fucked. We need some way to prove that Sana was behind the theft of your company’s data. If we can prove that, we can claim intellectual data theft, and we’d fuck them over in court. Public opinion would turn pretty hard against them after an accusation like that.”
“I just want to know how she got all the data for our tech,” Seolhyun says, swirling her drink around, “I spoke to the techs back home and they said there wasn’t any evidence of an external hack. They looked through her activity on our local network, and they said it was pretty clean and there was nothing to indicate a large-scale transfer of data.”
You both take a moment in silence, wondering what to do next.
“It’s possible,” Seolhyun continues, her brows furrowed in thought, “that she got someone else to unknowingly download the data for her. Maybe by asking someone in the company to do it under the guise of project-related work.”
“Combing through every staff member’s network activity would take forever,” you say, upset that you were unable to add anything positive to the conversation.
“It’s also possible that she did it with some sort of hardwired device. Network hacking would attract too much attention and have a pretty big risk of being detected, tracked, or traced. It would be as simple as something she connected to someone’s personal device that could then transmit data to an external server.”
Personal… device…
You stand up immediately, your sudden movement shocking Seolhyun.
“What’s up?” she asks, genuinely confused.
“Get everyone together. I know how she stole our tech. And I can prove it.”
#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfiction#kpop smut#pov smut#smut#male reader#twice#twice momo#hirai momo#aoa#aoa seolhyun#seolhyun#momo#kim seolhyun
119 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s a Gift
Summary: Cas and Dean have become very close. Dean develops a crush and is afraid to say anything. He continues to fall harder as the days go on. As the Valentine's Day party approaches, Dean wonders if he'll share the secret he's been harboring.
Ships: Dean/Cas, Crobby
Word Count: 3,552
TW: Mentions of violence and Homophobia, Swearing
Notes: This is a work from an abandoned Valentine's Day group writing project. I decided to post it still because I worked hard on it and I wanted the original intended recipient to get their fic as planned. I want to thank Luc for allowing me to reach out to them and @kermit-drinking-tea-dot-jpg for betaing this fic.
Link to read on AO3
The smell of greasy tater tots and dry nuggets wafted through the cafeteria as I walked in and took my seat at the table. The rest of the team sat down as well.
"Does anyone have a date for Valentine's party tomorrow?" Garth asked.
"I'm sure Sam will be my date," Gabe smirked. The guy was kinda obsessed with my brother.
Garth rolled his eyes and continued to take a bite of his chicken patty. I turned the page of my notebook, trying to decode my notes from last week.
"Shit," I mumbled under my breath.
"What?" Gabe asked with a mouth full of french fries.
"I can't read my notes, and the test is next period," I said in frustration. I had scrawled them down distractedly during the class.
"Would you like to borrow mine?" Cas asked.
Of course, I would like to borrow Cas's notes. He was a great student, always crazy organized.
Cas slid a spiral-bound notebook with perfect notes written in blue gel pen. The lettering looked like a font. I could never be like this. I could never sit still for that long. Oh, to be like Cas; Quarterback, Captain of the Football team, debate mentor, NHS, he really had it all. I was just a linebacker struggling to remember physics. God, Dad, is gonna kill me.
"Thanks, man," There was relief in my voice. Maybe I'd pass. A.P. Physics is not the move when you're a dumbass.
Cas smiled and picked up his book, On the Road. I've never seen him eat during school. He's always reading, helping us with homework, or keeping Gabe and Garth out of trouble.
The bell rang, so I handed Cas his notebook back. He winked, and I felt my heart pound. I'm sure he was just saying ‘you're welcome’.
* * *
Mr. Crowley handed out the test, and I inhaled deeply. I can't do this. I can't do this.
Cas looked toward me and mouthed, "Are you ok?"
I shook my head. The little shit winked again and raised his hand.
"Mr. Crowley, I think Dean is going to be ill," Cas fibbed, "I should take him to the nurse just to be sure."
"We wouldn't want that. Take him to the nurse," Mr. Crowley gave him the ok.
Cas and I walked out of the classroom and into the hallway. Cas gestured to me to follow him. He led me into an empty classroom and shut the door.
He set his notebook and pencil down on a desk and bluntly said, "Sit."
I did as I was told. I watched him write a kinematic equation on a fresh sheet.
"What do you know?" Cas asked.
"Nothing."
"I don't believe that."
"I'm a dumbass," I shrugged.
He tilted his head, and I noticed a change in his eyes.
"You don't believe you deserved to be helped," He stated and quickly changed the subject in an attempt to take what he said back. "Let's start easy."
I leaned my head over to see the problem he wrote. A hair fell on my face, and Cas pushed it away. I jumped. Cas jumped as well, startled by my reaction. His disposition changed.
"I'm sorry, I…" His voice trailed off.
"It's fine, Cas." I made an attempt to reassure him.
We moved along with the problem like it never happened. But it did happen. I would feel the touch on my forehead the rest of the day. The way his hand felt, soft and warm against my rough skin.
We must have done at least 20 problems until I finally felt comfortable doing it independently. The bell rang, and I thanked Cas. He really didn't need to do that. I wasn't shocked that he did though, he always tried to help the guys somehow. The dude's a friggin angel.
* * *
I was distracted all of the football practice. I was preoccupied thinking about Cas.
"Winchester, get your head in the game!" Coach Bobby yelled out.
I had known Bobby my whole life. He'd been more like a dad than my own blood. He was always there when Dad was deployed, on a hunting trip, or just drunk, unable to take care of Sam and me. Dad was never the most stable person.
I nodded to Bobby and tried to focus. I'd been meaning to talk to the school counselor about getting me to see a therapist or something to get diagnosed. Bobby and I suspected I had ADHD but we wouldn't know for sure. Unfortunately, I knew that Dad didn't believe in therapy. And anyway, the doctor can't fix it if I'm distracted by Cas. God, the dude can move. His passes are perfect, he makes almost every goal, and his touchdowns are so impressive. God, I sound like I have a crush.
Practice finished, and we all headed to the locker room. Bobby gave a speech.
"We've got an away game tomorrow, folks. I expect the best behavior from you all, or you will not go to the sports Valentine's Day party. I mean it." Bobby continued, "I know that this year has been hard with the Superbowl being delayed due to extenuating circumstances, but I still need you idjits to be good."
"Yes, coach," We deadpanned in unison like cult members. We started exiting the locker room.
"Dean, I would like you to stay," Coach said sternly.
Oh shit.
Bobby led me to his office and motioned for me to sit in a chair.
"What's up with you, son?" Bobby questioned, "You've got that look, is it a girl? You're not back with Jo, are you? Lisa? Or is it a guy or an enby? You know that I don't care…"
"No, it's no one," I'm such a liar. I've had a crush on Cas since he moved here in fourth grade, and Bobby can see right through my bullshit.
"Bull," Bobby raised his eyebrows.
I shrugged. I couldn't even imagine what dad would say. Actually, I could. It would be to get out of his house and never come back.
"So that's it, you just wanted to be nosey? Besides, it's no one, and dad would never let me." I sighed.
"Don't worry about your old man. I'd take care of it. Mr. King and I always have a place for you and Sam anyway." Bobby was dating Mr. Crowley, no one but Sam and I knew.
I thanked him and left to go pick up Sam from the middle school. Boy, he had grown up so fast. I remembered when he was born. And when mom died.
* * *
I pulled up at the school, music blaring. Sam rushed to my car and opened the door.
"Can you drive me to Jess's house?" Sam asked.
"No, tonight's family dinner night." Dad's A.A. sponsor told him that it was a good idea to start trying to be more of a part of our lives. That started with dinner, I guess.
* * *
Dinner with Dad was painful. Sam and Dad bickered back and forth about every single little thing. Sam wanted to go to college, Dad wanted him to keep up with the family business, then Sam said that hunting and the military don't count as a legacy. I hate it here.
"Sam, give it a rest." I dropped my fork into Cambell's chicken noodle with stars.
"You're not siding with him, are you?" Sam's face was defensive.
"I'm the adult here." Dad slurred.
"A half of one at best," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that, boy?" Dad's face had that look I didn't like.
"Nothing, sir," I was trying not to get killed.
Creak. Dad slid his chair back and walked over to me. As he hovered over my head, my heart dropped to my stomach. He held his hand out and swung.
I could feel the tingling on my face as he said, "Say something else, and it's gonna be somewhere else."
Sam got up from the table and ran to his room. I hated when Sam saw this. I knew it would hurt him more, but I still spoke anyway. It's hard. I knew Dad loved us. He just didn't know how to express it.
I walked away from the table as Dad drank more beer.
"Sam, you know that…" I couldn't think of an excuse, so I said, "Open the door, please."
Sam opened the door. His eyes were red, stress hives had formed on his arm. I wanted to hold him and tell him I would get us out here. I tried to protect him. I wanted him to always be safe. I just wish he knew Dad before Mom died.
"Why?" Sam asked, "Why do you just sit there and take it."
So he won't come after you, I wanted to say. Instead, I just shrugged as he closed the door in frustration.
* * *
I woke up early to go on a run to clear my head. As I ran, I saw a familiar face. It was Cas, walking a fluffy golden retriever. There was a redheaded girl next to him. I didn't know her, but she was pretty. I stopped jogging and stared for a moment.
"Hey!" I waved.
"Oh hey, Dean!" Cas's face brightened. He turned to the girl, "Anna, this is Dean Winchester."
Anna threw up a hand shyly. I smiled in response.
"Catch you later, I guess," I said as I walked away.
It was nice to see Cas, and he looked happy to see me. His sister was nice as well. I thought of the interaction as I strolled to the abandoned house on the end of the street. Sam always asked why I liked that place so much, but I don't know why. I just like creepy things. The house feels almost supernatural.
* * *
"Hey!" Someone hit me in the back. Jo.
"Hay is for horses," Jo grinned. "Got a date for the party?"
I shook my head. I was planning on asking Lisa but Jo was a fun party person. This could pose an issue, but I decided to ignore it.
"Well, you do now, silly goose," Jo said snarkily.
I always took Jo to parties. She was indeed the life of them. We'd go, she'd flirt, I'd scope out the crowd, we'd both be disappointed, then drunkenly make out in the Impala. Maybe grab a milkshake. It was tradition, but I had never taken Lisa before. Jo and I were more like flirty friends; I really had something with Lisa.
"Same as always?" I asked.
"Yup, come get me at five, and I'll bring the refreshments." She was referring to the whiskey she would steal from her mom's bar.
Jo walked away, and I turned to see Lisa standing at her locker. She was grabbing a math textbook and a copy of Gatsby.
"Hey Lis," I started.
"What do you want, Dean," She seemed annoyed.
"Are you ok?"
"I thought you've been ignoring me," Her voice had little emotion.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't realize how distant I was," Now was not the best time. I decided to say nothing about the party.
"Also, I'm not going to the party. My mom is making me watch my sister." Lisa was disappointed.
"Aw man," Score. This would work out.
We departed from the hallway, and I went to class.
* * *
School could not end fast enough. I couldn't wait for the game.
"Winchester, come see me," Mr. Crowley ordered me to his desk.
I hesitantly got up. He seemed pleased. I could not think of what this could possibly be about.
"Dean, your make-up test is perfect," His voice was enthusiastic. "I'm very proud."
Wow. I could not believe this. I thought for sure that I had flunked. As I breezed by, Cas gave me a thumbs up. I would have to thank him later.
* * *
The rest of the day flew by like cake.
The team gathered in the locker room before entering the busses. Coach Bobby gave us one last speech.
"Alright, boys, remember what I said yesterday. Be polite and respectful but kick butt," The team cheered as soon as he said it.
We filled into the bus like sardines. This would be unpleasant on the ride home. I made sure I sat next to Cas to talk about science.
"Hey man, thank you so much," I patted his shoulder.
"Of course," He didn't even look up from his book.
"What's it about" I pointed to On the Road.
"Oh, it's not your kind of book. You wouldn't like it," Cas muttered assertively.
"I'm sure I would"
"When I finish, I'll let you borrow it," Cas clearly was uncomfortable.
"Ok," I decided not to press.
We sat in awkward silence. It was painful. I tried not to stare while he read his book, but he's all I wanted to pay attention to. I noticed the way his eyes glowed, the way his lip curled when he read something funny, the way he brushed his fringe away from his face.
"Dean...Dean...Dean," I finally noticed that Cas was talking to me.
"Huh?" Shit.
"You're staring,"
"You're a pretty picture," I tried to laugh it off, and I guess it worked because he smiled.
He titled his head in surprise at the comment, but he didn't say anything about it, just turned to his book again. I stared more this time, making it very obvious. He looked up again and grinned. This time, I scooted closer. Now, we were only inches apart. Without looking up, he put his head on my shoulder and continued reading. His hair was soft against my cheek. His arm fit perfectly next to mine. I felt so warm and fuzzy. I never had this feeling before.
* * *
"Hut, hut, 67," Bobby was yelling out commands, "Let's go, boys!"
The bright lights lit up the dark field. It was the fourth quarter, and things were looking good. Tried to keep my head in the game as I made a pass to Cas. Cas fumbled the ball, and another player tackled him.
"What are you doing, Novak?" Bobby yelled. Fumbles were out of character for Cas.
I noticed that the opponent was on top of Cas. This was more malicious than just a tackle.
"Hey!" Gabe tried to break them up but got lost in the mix.
Finally, a ref noticed and threw up a flag, "Fifteen-yard penalty!"
Cas stumbled up, his lip was bleeding, and a bruise formed around his eye. We cleared the field to regroup. Cas would most-likely be evaluated, and that player, Azazel, would be suspended. Bobby took Cas to the medical station and, after, walked to the refs and the other coach. You could see them conversing. Bobby's face was solemn.
"So, after talking to the other coach and the refs, we've decided to end this game. The behavior was unacceptable, and we want to prevent any other incidents from happening." Bob said, disappointingly.
"Ugh, I want to kill this kid!" Gabe yelled. His face was red hot.
"Exactly," Cas spoke up from the bench. No one even noticed that he walked over. "This is what we want to prevent."
Gabe crossed his arms. He's quite the drama queen.
Bobby told us to gather our stuff and meet him outside to get on the bus. Most of the team was able to grab their belongings quickly. I was about to leave the locker room when I heard someone grunt. They sounded frustrated.
"Dean! Are you still in here?" Cas called out.
"Um...yeah? Why?"
Cas walked out from behind a row of lockers, shirtless. I tried to contain myself, but the sweat against his skin, the ruffled wet hair, the smile, he looked hot. I must say.
He looked defeated, "I can't find my bag."
I nodded, and Cas continued, "Can you tell Coach Singer that I'll be late? I need to find my bag."
I ran to Bobby, "Cas can't find his bag. I'm gonna stay and help him. I'll call for you to pick me up later."
"Sounds good, kiddo," Bobby gave me two thumbs up.
I ran back to Cas just to find him with his head between his knees on a bench. I didn't know what to do, so I just placed my hand on his back and left it there.
The room smelled of old sweat and mud. The smell was so overwhelming, I don't know how I didn't notice it earlier. There are lots of things I haven't seen, I start to think about what I've actually paid attention to.
"Cas?" I question. "Are you ok?"
He shook his head. He didn't even move from his position, so I got up to look around. The lockers didn't have locks, so I opened all of them. Nothing. I checked under benches, in stalls; I even looked by the toilets.
"Man, I can't find it," I sighed.
Seconds after I said those words, the lights went out, and I heard the twist of a key.
"Damnit!" I'd never heard Cas curse before, "What are we gonna do?"
"Cas, I don't know," I said as I tried to think.
I opened my phone to see that it was dead. I couldn't use the flashlight, and if Cas didn't have his bag, he didn't have his phone with him. Thankfully, I had a charger in my pocket, but it would take at least an hour for my Motorola to charge. Damn, that phone takes forever.
"We're gonna miss the party, and it's all my fault," Cas started sobbing.
"No, don't cry," I don't do well with tears. I sat back down on the bench.
"Dean…" Cas scooted away from me.
"What?" I moved closer so I could hear him through the sobs.
Cas turned and kissed me. His soft lips against mine felt like heaven on a platter. He ran his hands through my hair as he swung his legs over onto my lap. I lay down on my back as he leaned into me. I began kissing back but still letting him lead. This is what I wanted. I've been yearning for this. He moves from my lips to my neck, and I run my hands across his muscles.
"Dean?"
"Cas?"
"God, I love it when you say my name," He says as he undresses me faster.
* * *
After we finish, I check my phone to see if it is charged. The time says 7:15. It's only been an hour since the game ended, so we're not too late.
"So what do we do now?" Cas was lying on the bench, looking at the ceiling.
"Call Bobby to pick us up, I guess?" I ran out of solutions, "I think someone stole it."
"You're probably right, but how do we get out of here?" Cas questioned.
I did not think about that. We were in a locked locker room after school hours with no way of getting out or seeing.
It took me a moment, but I came up with a solution. There's a window high up in the back, so I slid another bench towards it so I could reach it. I flicked the lock on the window, and it budged. It was a small window, but I could climb up and slide my torso through without issue.
"Cas!" I yelled as I slid downwards out of the window, back into the locker room.
"What?"
"I found a solution."
* * *
Bobby arrived quickly to pick up a poor freezing shirtless Cas and me.
"No bag?" Bobby questioned.
We shrugged and told him we couldn't find it. Bobby said that we were never playing this school again. Cas and I were content with that. I looked over to Cas and smiled. He smiled back and giggled. I held out my hand, and he took it. I felt the warm sensation through my body again as he touched me.
"What's up with you guys?" Bobby asked.
"Nothing," I smiled but quickly pulled my hand away from Cas. I wasn't ready to tell Bobby yet.
* * *
We arrived at Valentine's party, and Jo was the first to greet me.
"Did you forget about me?" Jo wrinkled her nose in annoyance.
"Sorry, I was looking for Cas's bag." I'm not lying.
"Well, I found another date." Jo turned to a girl, Lisa.
"Hey Dean," Lisa waved and pointed to a redhead, "Meet Charlie!"
"Hi! I'm Jo's girlfriend!" Charlie stuck out her hand enthusiastically.
I laughed—what a wild night. I strolled over to the drink table and grabbed some punch. Cas found me through the crowd. He was shy now.
"Dean? Are we going to talk about this?" Cas insisted.
"Sure."
"I like you."
"I get that." I wondered what the problem was.
"And?" Cas seemed unsure.
I moved closer to Cas and hugged him.
Cas told me that Gabe had grabbed his bag from the locker room because he knew that Cas was hurt. Gabe was goofy but kind at heart. Cas was thankful that he did, and no one stole it.
That reminded me that I had something to give Cas. I opened my bag and handed Cas a mixtape with some Zeppelin favorites.
"Dean, I can't take this," Cas was in awe.
"It's a gift; you keep those." I smiled and took his hand to dance.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok, here it comes. The one-shot inspired by SCK episode 17 fragman #2.
I don't own any of the characters. They belong to the writers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.
Will Our Love Ever Be Enough
She saw him sitting at his desk, focused on the laptop before him. Serkan Bolat in all his workaholic glory. Only Eda knew him enough now to notice that his focus wasn't really on work. His erratic hand gestures betrayed his inner turmoil. He tried, really hard, to grasp at something familiar, something he had control over. But his body language told her about the weight on his shoulders, his eyes screamed pain. How could she not have noticed it before? So naked and out in the open - his suffering. The kind of suffering that even a control freak like him was not able to tame.
But of course she had been too consumed and blinded by her own pain. Only that initial pain was nothing compared to this. This was so much worse... However, it didn't feel worse.
When Serkan had broken up with her it had been akin to having her heart ripped out. She had physically felt that heartache. But now... Now she felt strangely numb. Maybe it's just like with physical pain when it got too much - the body went into shock, a person stopped feeling anything and eventually passed out. That's what she felt like - passed out. Or maybe that's what death was like?
Those first moments after she had finally discovered the truth, when she had learnt about her and Serkan's shared pain, it almost seemed like they had turned into her parents - two people buried under the weight of that wall. Two people who eventually surrendered to death. What was death anyway? Was it really this nothingness? When there's no more pain, no anger, no regrets, no tears, no words...
Was it the why? Why he had hidden this from her? To spare her this horrific experience of dying while actually being alive? It must have been it. And now she thought that maybe had the situation been reversed she would have wanted to shield him from this too.
But it didn't matter now. Now they were both suffocating under the ruins of that wall and it was time to set at least one of them free.
So Eda got up from her chair and moved to one of the slightly open doors to Serkan's office. She rasped her knuckles on the metal surface before entering. Serkan's head shot up as soon as he heard the knock.
"Eda?"
"Could we talk for a little bit?"
"Hm.. Yes. What is it? What do you want to talk about?"
Before answering him, Eda turned and quietly closed all the doors to the office.
"What are you doing?" Eda could almost hear the panic in his voice.
She turned to face him again and saw that he rose from his desk and stepped away from it.
"Just making sure we have some privacy. It's better if we discuss this behind the closed doors"
"Discuss this? What exactly this is?" he stubbornly insisted on playing dumb.
Eda moved closer to Serkan until she stood right in front of him, with only a step separating them. She saw it now - the thing he was so desperately trying to hide. And he was good at it. At hiding and pretending, at blocking his emotions. Had she still been unaware of the truth she might have actually bought his emotionless charade. But now it was before her, clear as day - the same feeling of death and nothingness she was carrying.
She took his face between her hands and felt him shudder.
"Serkan. There's something" she started softly.
He lifted his eyes to her face and she witnessed how they overflowed with agony.
"There's something you're not telling me"
"There's nothing, Eda. I know you think there's something more but honestly there isn't. I've told you many times. It's just me. It's the way I am. I wish I could..."
"Ok, stop!" she interrupted him with a little bit more force than she initially intended.
She closed her eyes feeling a tiny tug of frustration.
"I know" she said on an exhale and opened her eyes.
She saw panic replace the agony in his.
"Wh-what?"
Since when did Serkan Bolat stutter?
"I know everything. I know who's responsible for what happened to my parents"
"You... You know? How?"
"Does it matter? I know"
Shame and raw suffering distorted his face and he tried to get away from her but Eda didn't allow it, still holding onto his face with one hand and sliding her other hand to rest over his heart. She felt that erratically spasming muscle, ready to burst through his chest right into her palm.
"I also know that it's not your fault" she told him softly and slowly because she wanted him to soak in her every word.
"How can you say that?"
"How can I not say that? That's the only undeniable truth. And I want you to understand it. That's not your fault nor your responsibility"
"My family, my father did this to you, to your family!" he sounded almost hysterical.
"You're not your father"
He wanted to argue, wanted to move away from her again but Eda only held onto him tighter, closing the tiny space between them so that their chests were now pressed together.
"Look at me! And listen to me carefully, Serkan Bolat! You're not your father. You're not responsible for his mistakes. You had nothing to do with my parents death. Do you understand?" she told him with conviction, staring straight into his shattered soul.
"But... but I... I didn't tell you. I hid it from you. I broke your heart"
She nodded sadly.
"You did. But I know why"
"You do?"
It tore at her to see all that agony and panic in his eyes be replaced by a fragile hope.
"I do"
"Do you... hate me?"
She shook her head "no".
"Why?"
She then shared her own hidden truth:
"I could never really hate you. Because I love you"
All breath left him after this and hot tears started raining down his face burning the fingers holding it.
"You're here" she uttered softly, then reached for one of his hands and placed it over her heart.
"How can you love me?" he wondered.
"I just do. There isn't really any why when it comes to love. We don't love people for something but rather despite everything"
She saw his eyes shine with even more hope and she hated what she was about to do.
"But..."
"But?" Serkan's eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"Sometimes love is not enough"
"Wh-what are you saying? What do you mean love is not enough? Why are you saying this?"
He finally managed to break free. He almost jumped away from her and leaned on the back of his chair for support, also effectively putting it between them like some sort of a barrier.
"I am saying it because it's true. And I don't want any more secrets between us. I don't want to leave anything unsaid"
"Ok. So, you love me. But love is not enough. And where does it leave us?"
"I don't know. The only thing I know is that I need time and space to heal"
"So let me heal you"
"It's not your job to heal me. And you need healing too"
"Then we can help each other heal! Isn't it what love is about?"
"No, this is not what it's about. This way we will turn our love into a crutch and I don't want that. I think we both deserve better"
"Don't you think we deserve to be together? To be happy?"
"We do deserve to be happy together. But we won't be until we deal with this. And we cannot deal with this together. Because, despite all of it not being our fault and completely out of our control, we are on opposite sides here"
She saw defeat then morphing into resignation take over him.
"Ok, you're right. We will do what you want. I will do what you want"
"I think it's better if we don't see each other. I will talk to Efe and find a way to finish our current projects without me being here. After that I am going to resign. I will focus on my university studies for now. It will keep me busy and... keep me from you. I will also need this time to think how I am gonna tell everything to my aunt"
Serkan gave her a curt nod.
"I understand. How... how much time? How long will we be like this?"
"I don't know" was her honest response.
He just nodded again.
Suddenly lost for words she took a step back.
"Ok... So... I am glad we talked. I will... I'll go. Talk to Efe"
She hastily turned and moved to the doors when she heard him say:
"I will wait, you know?"
She turned to look at him.
"What?"
"I will wait for you. However long it takes. I am gonna wait"
"You don't have to do this. I cannot ask you to wait when I don't even know how long it will last"
"You're not asking. And I know I don't have to do this. I'm gonna do this for me. And for us. The only way I'm gonna give up on us is if you tell me there's no hope and you don't love me. Since you've already said that you love me it leaves only one question. Is there still hope for us?"
Unable to find her voice she just nodded.
"Great!" he responded with ease.
And just like that he was back to his confident business demeanor. The sudden change almost gave her a whiplash.
"I will see you around then"
She just nodded dumbly again. Then slowly turned to the doors. When she pushed one of them open she heard a quiet "Psst" and turned to see him at his desk. He opened his laptop and said, demonstratively looking at the screen:
"By the way, I love you too, Eda Yıldız"
And just like that she felt the nothingness dissolve and death surrender to life.
#sen çal kapımı fanfiction#sen çal kapımı fic#sck fanfiction#sck fic#edser fanfiction#eda ve serkan#eda x serkan#eda yıldız#eda yildiz#serkan bolat
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bakugou/reader: Icarus, Part 4
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Katsuki won. You lost. It’s that simple- and at the same time, it isn’t.
Or: a borrowed handkerchief and repressed emotions are a recipe for disaster.
(Do you know that painful feeling when you have a *very* specific idea on how a story is supposed to end but you have no idea what happens leading up to that ending. I suffer :,) forgive me if things stop making sense until the finale, my pacing is a mess and I am very Tired lmao
Fun reading tip: in this series, whenever reader does *not* speak in italics, that is a significant piece of dialogue!
Also note for people who care: the readers in my personal writing will always be neutral in regards to gender and appearance unless you request a specific pronoun/physical trait!
-Eve)
_________
It should be over.
In fact, Katsuki decides, vein throbbing in his temple as he tries to concentrate on his sums and very pointedly not look over at you and your window-side seat, it is over. You lost. You were pinned under him for fifteen full seconds. (He counted, and he knows he’s fucking right.)
“Bakugou,” Kirishima says as they walk home together in the afternoon, offering him a bottle of what looks like apple juice. “Lighten up, man! You won fair and square last week, you know. Everyone saw.”
“Who even drinks apple juice anymore? We’re not in fucking preschool,” is Katsuki’s gracious reply as he snatches the bottle. “And of course I won, hair-for-brains. I don’t need to ‘’’lighten up.’’’”
Kirishima shrugs, smiles, and drops the issue. This is one of the reasons why Katsuki tolerates him. Kirishima usually knows when he’s right about things.
(This doesn’t stop idiots like Kaminari from loudly and obnoxiously nudging him the next day at lunch when you pass by their table, “Bakugou, look, you should try and talk-“
You seem to glance towards him for a brief moment, and Katsuki, feeling ready to explode something, turns a silently furious gaze towards Kaminari before pouncing on him. Aizawa-sensei looks pissed about the disruption at mealtime and hauls them both to opposite ends of the cafeteria. Katsuki notices that you’re not watching the commotion, ignoring it in lieu of speaking with Deku at his table.
He seethes. Shitty nerds of a feather flock together, apparently.)
___
And life goes on.
Katsuki has better things to focus on. Like crushing Deku, once and for all, or making sure nobody gets ahead of him in anything else. Cleaning out more dust bunnies from underneath his bed. Picking apart Kaminari and Ashido’s stupid puns. Trying to tutor Kirishima, because Kirishima asked for it- it’s a shitty waste of time but whatever, it’s not his fault if hair-for-brains *wants* to get shouted at for his abysmal grades. Katsuki’s fully willing to oblige. Days turn to weeks, people forget about you and him and your momentary little rivalry (if it could even have been called that).
You’re there, in the background, like you’ve always been. Quiet. Distant. You still get good grades and you still walk home alone. It’s annoying, but Katsuki reminds himself that he won and to start giving a shit now would be losing, plus your grades may be high but they’re not as high as his, so he learns to ignore you. Everything’s fine, actually. Every day, you sit at your desks on opposite sides of the classroom and he sometimes glances at you over his notebook, thinking about how shitty it is of you to wear your uniform in that particular way where it looks just an inch too crumpled around the collar. He wants to reach across the room and straighten it out because goddamn, if it’s not getting on his nerves-
But alright, he reminds himself. He doesn’t give a shit what you choose to do with your life.
Probably the only drawback to this approach is that…you don’t seem to give a shit about the sparring match, either. You just talk a lot with Deku, which is fucking horrible to witness.
Whatever.
___
Later, he contemplates exactly how he ended up in this situation. There are a series of steps to it:
1. He challenges you
2. You walk away
3. You become unable to walk away
4. He wins
5. Everything’s over
6. Until it’s not
Because here he is, walking home on Kirishima’s right. And here you are, walking along on Kirishima’s left. He has no idea how you got here. You’re talking with Kirishima about some shitty new video game, the one that’s had ads for it playing incessantly on the TV since last month. Katsuki grits his teeth.
You’re talking solely to Kirishima, looking only at Kirishima. Blatantly ignoring him.
What the fuck.
He’s about to open his mouth, give you a piece of his mind, because who gave you the goddamn right to lose and then go walking around as if you own the place, he didn’t even know Kirishima was dumb enough to hang out with you, of all people- but then you’re at a crossroads, and you turn, looking apologetic.
“Are you going that way?” Kirishima asks brightly, gesturing to the path branching out to the left. You nod.
See you tomorrow, then, Kirishima- Bakugou.
“Fuck you,” is right on the tip of Katsuki’s tongue, but then he takes another look at you. There’s something weird about your expression- it’d looked pretty damn chipper until a few seconds ago, and it still kind of is, but something’s off, too. He can’t put his finger on what it is, exactly. Maybe it’s just how your smile suddenly seems to have gone a few degrees cooler; then again, since when has your smile ever actually looked like one, and since when has he cared what your smile looks like in the first place?
This pisses him off, actually, but for some inexplicable reason, instead of flipping you off, he just shrugs and glowers and asks “since when do you walk home this way, anyway?”
I’m actually visiting a friend.
You shrug a little and offer him a short nod of farewell, before waving at Kirishima as you turn down the left path and begin walking away.
Katsuki stares for a moment, then whirls around and stalks down the opposite fork in the road, Kirishima hot on his heels. “Hey, Bakugou- wait!”
“Catch up, hair-for-brains!” he hollers back, kicking aside an empty can in his way. Fuck this, honestly. Fuck you for being a confusing little shit.
He cleans out the dust bunnies again as soon as he gets home, attacking them with a fury that makes his father look vaguely disturbed while his mother curses loudly.
______
The nice thing about trying to forget about something is that sometimes, the world just seems rigged against you. Apparently the idea of moving on with your life is just that repulsive.
Or rather, Aizawa-sensei seems to have some sort of fucking problem.
Why the fuck else would he keep making Katsuki spar with you? There’s some bullshit excuse about how your quirks are compatible, sure, something-something-Reflection-repels-explosions-and-prevents-injury, but that’s irrelevant. Initially, Katsuki’s pretty sure he can enjoy crushing you again. That should take care of this lingering uncomfortable feeling.
And he does crush you again. Several times, in fact. He counts the seconds whenever he has you pinned and they’re never below fifteen. He actually lands a proper punch a few times, too, which effectively cancels out the smarting in various parts of his body from where you’ve pushed him back with a few sharp kicks of your own.
You always retaliate with a nod and a bow and a thanks for the sparring session.
He wonders if it would somehow physically hurt you to acknowledge that it’s anything more than that. You probably know. There’s no way you’re that stupid. He knows you know, and you know he knows you know, and he knows-
Goddammit, he didn’t ask for this migraine.
Maybe it’s a testament to how much this is messing with his head that the next time you thank him, he feels compelled to not flip you off. He glares at you instead, wiping a dash of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and answers with a don’t know what the fuck you’re thanking me for, I just beat your ass, didn’t I?
The handkerchief you offer him for his split lip is insulting enough; the smile that accompanies it could be described as almost wry. Amused, or maybe faintly mocking. And honestly, he can’t understand what the hell you find so funny right now, but then his blood pressure stops mid-skyrocket as he realizes: this is the first time your smile has looked anything but docile and smoothly polite.
Is that actually progress- has he actually chipped away at you- or is it just you being an unreadable asshole?
There’s really no way to tell.
Later that afternoon, he slams the front door when he arrives home and stalks straight to his room, where he spends the rest of the day stuck between intervals of furious studying and furious pacing.
(He finds your handkerchief in his pocket later that day, still slightly smeared with dried blood-
Somehow, he doesn’t hurl it straight across the room, and the reality of that is infuriating to think about.)
_______
“Hey man,” Kirishima eyes the white cotton peeking out of the pocket of Katsuki’s baggy uniform pants, his brow furrowed, “isn’t that-?”
“None of your damn business, is what it is,” Katsuki snaps in reply, shoving it all the way back in.
If you’re not looking for the thing, he doesn’t need to give it back. Like hell if he’s going to be seen carrying it around. It’s only in his pocket because he didn’t want a bloody, clearly-not-his handkerchief lying around where his parents could find it.
He meets your gaze across the classroom during break, right before you saunter outside with Deku at your side, chattering excitedly about some shitty nerd thing. You smile at him. He’s sure it doesn’t reach your eyes.
It’s not like you even asked for him to give it back, anyway.
_______
Weeks pass. Months, maybe. He fights you again, and again, and somehow, this becomes routine- part of life at U.A, which is nowhere near what he expected from this goddamn school. He ends up sitting next to you for projects where he’s not assigned with Kirishima. It sucks ass. Your gaze is still glassy and cool and you still like to play the pacifist, and you’re way too good at every assignment which just makes him want to fight you again (and you, of course, will fucking decline because you don’t fight for sport).
(He still hasn’t given your handkerchief back. You still haven’t asked for it- but he’s getting real tired of finding it in his pocket.)
At some point, he starts greeting you back in the mornings when you bow your head in his general direction. It’s an instinctive reaction. He has to catch himself to stop from nodding back.
______
The sports festival comes and goes. You drop out halfway through with an average-but-commendable performance, and Katsuki tells himself that this is did not add to his rage by the time he was facing the icy-hot bastard, that he was not somehow incredibly frustrated by the feeling that you, the wimp who’s never come close to winning a single match against him, should have gotten farther than that. The thought that you could’ve won a medal makes no sense, but it spins around in his head all the same.
He runs into you in the hallway later on, and you nod briefly. You’re holding a bunch of tissues to your bleeding nose. Looks almost comical with your reserved, high-and-mighty air. Katsuki feels too angry at his own win to sneer, but then you just offer him a smile.
Congratulations, Bakugou. You never disappoint.
You walk off with Deku again that day and Katsuki watches. He becomes suddenly aware that there’s still a handkerchief in his pocket. He very firmly feels nothing about the fact that he could offered it to you. You’re a U.A student, you can take a fucking nosebleed, and he doesn’t care.
______
“Bakugou,” Kaminari announces one day while they’re playing video games at his place, along with Kirishima, Ashido, and Sero- “it’s nice to see you’re actually friends now. I thought you were gonna kill each other at one point. Funny how things change, yeah?”
Mina and Sero emphatically agree and Katsuki, cursing vehemently, contemplates smashing the console.
_____
It’s not as if he asked for this to happen. It’s not his fault that fate or destiny or bad luck or whatever bullshit you want to call- whatever it is, it keeps throwing you at him.
Kirishima’s absent on this particular Friday, sick from a cold, and Katsuki’s walking home alone because the other three idiots decided to go to the arcade and he doesn’t have time for that shit. Not that he cares. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and looks ahead, squinting at the figure walking some ways in front of him.
...U.A uniform, crumpled shirt collar. Goddammit.
You’re on the phone, and as he draws nearer, he can hear you humming in agreement with the person on the other end; you laugh a little, suddenly, and that catches him off guard. He didn’t know you were actually capable of laughter. It’s a light, quiet sound, more of a brief puff of air than anything else, and it’s a shitty excuse for a laugh, but whatever. Typical.
In a moment, he’s caught up to you, and you look up mid-laugh and meet his gaze. Your eyes widen just a fraction- the first time you’ve looked like that since the first time he sparred with you. It’s no longer very satisfying, though. Not when you’ve since made up a million different ways to screw with him.
...ah, I’ve just run into a classmate. I’ll call you later, Takeo-kun. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.
(Your tone is oddly sweet.)
There was no need, actually, because Katsuki doesn’t fucking care what you do or who you call and he’s certainly not walking home with you when there’s not even Kirishima here to use as an excuse for...anything. You joined in before to talk to Kirishima, not him, and that’s the way things are supposed to be.
So he has no idea what possesses him to remark, a touch snidely but not as sharply as he wanted it to be, “Who the fuck’s Takeo-kun?”
(He doesn’t care. He shouldn’t be asking. Dammit.)
Oh. You look serene as you slip your phone back into your bag. My boyfriend. He doesn’t go to U.A.
Boyfriend?
Katsuki wonders what kind of bastard would willingly date you- you with your glassy eyes and infuriatingly mild manners and habit of smiling at everything in that overly nice way that looks like a facade. He tries to imagine it. Holding hands with you. Walking with you.
...which he’s already doing. Fuck it. Now he feels sick and the headache’s coming back; he really didn’t have to imagine you in a romantic context. The mental images are banished in an instant but they’re still there in the back of his head and it makes him want to punch something.
But you turn your smile to him.
So, do you have any idea what to do about Present Mic’s homework? I’m assuming you know more about it than I do.
____
He does end up walking home with you, talking about homework, which is fine, impersonal enough that he can still scowl at you, important enough that he can momentarily forget about the mental images from earlier. Good. If he has to walk with you, then this is how it should be.
And the conversation goes unfortunately smoothly. This close, his eyes keep straying to your crumpled shirt collar. Most of the stuff you bring up is relevant to lessons. He talks quickly, furiously, meticulously quoting details so you remember exactly how far ahead of you he is in all of this, so that you acknowledge defeat, something you still haven’t done since that first sparring session.
But you just nod along.
At the crossroads, you turn to the left again, offering a parting nod of the head.
Katsuki can’t help it. “Off on a damn date or something?’
(And it’s not an unreasonable assumption to make. You were calling your boyfriend minutes ago, and this isn’t your usual route home. Maybe you actually meant to meet this Takeo bastard that last time with Kirishima, too.
If the thought makes Katsuki feel sick again, that’s probably just the very idea of you in a romantic context.)
You tilt your head a little. I am, actually. Thanks for keeping me company on the way.
And with a gesture of farewell, you turn down the fork in the road. Walking away.
Katsuki grits his teeth.
“Hey!”
You stop momentarily. He inhales, and the words come tumbling out.
“Don’t just assume that we’re close now because I beat you a few times, asshole- I wouldn’t have ever walked with you if not for hair-for-brains! We’re not fucking friends!”
Silence. He’s breathing a little heavily. You stare back at him, the stillness in your eyes unbroken.
Then you smile faintly.
Something about it is reminiscent of that time after the sparring match- the telltale twitch at the corners of your mouth.
“We don’t have to be, you know.”
____
At home that afternoon, he absentmindedly reaches into his pocket. The handkerchief is still there.
He’s no longer sure how angry that makes him.
#BNHA#Bakugou Katsuki#Bakugou Katsuki x reader#Katsuki x reader#Bakugou x reader#Bakugou x you#Katsuki Bakugou x reader#BNHA reader insert#series#gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader insert#Mod Eve#phew this was long#(er than I intended)
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 - 𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 (𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐢𝐧)
Lee Seokmin has authorized you access to Chapter One of Chapter Unlock, Lee Seokmin.
There was always one thing I always said, no matter what I did or said, I said it. But it was one phrase containing two words. I relied on two words, saying them after every little thing I did. They were my rock, holding me down to the ground, and giving me false belief. I believed that without those two words, my world would crumble. I believed that if I never said those two words, a phrase we all use time and time again, that no one would look at me, talk to me, or even spare me a glance of pity. I always believed that if I never said them, I was the bad guy. I was the one people ignored because of me, and my personality. I forced myself into a headspace I didn't want, believing that I was what everyone hated. And so I thought saying it would fix everything, enabling them to see that I wasn't a bad person. I thought saying "I'm sorry," would help me survive in such a cruel and frightful world.
I remember the times when I was a people-pleaser, although, I can't deny that I still do that. But I was naive and younger, afraid of being abandoned, and afraid of judgement for who I was. Back then, I was easy to manipulate and persuade, making me the target for bullying, and to be used. And what was a bigger struggle was the low dopamine in my brain, making me feel sluggish, constantly pushing myself to receive energy from the people and things around me. And it always frustrated me when I couldn't do that, slowly seeping into a conscious that frightened me.
At first, it started with two phrases that forever remain engrained in my head: You're useless, and you're lazy.
During the days I was lacking in energy, I was stuck sitting there, staring blankly as my mind slowed, but everything revolved around me. It never waited, and never waited for anyone. And when I sat there, shoulders sagging, eyes drooping, and my mind's gears slowed, I would look up to find a person looming over me. They'd look down at me, brows furrowed as they shook their head, and I'd see that familiar look they always gave me. That look that ate me from the inside out, destroying only bits and pieces of me.
It was the look of disappointment, and they were disappointed with me. No one, but me.
They'd tsk, others scoffing, and others rolled their eyes as the words they said became big and bold, hovering about my head: You are lazy.
"But I'm not lazy!"
I would always exclaim, but they'd shake their heads at me, doing the very thing I feared. They'd turn their backs to me, head high, and began to walk away, abandoning me. I would always reach forward, calling and begging for them, trying to push myself to stand and run to them, but never could. "Don't leave me! I'm not lazy! I'm not lazy!" But they'd never look back, not until I was too weak, glued to where I sat, unwillingly, as a heartbreaking cry crawled out of my lungs in desperation. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for being lazy!" And what did they do?
They'd turn to face me with bright, devilish smiles, and say, "That's a good boy. You finally admit it,"
And from it, I'd crumble, falling into despair as I scolded myself. I resented my health, attacking and scolding myself for being "lazy," but I wasn't. I wasn't lazy, not by choice. I wasn't doing it deliberately, but I believed that I was. I believed that I was lazy, and the minute I believed so, walking into the clutches of vulnerability, it worsened.
The next time it happened was during group projects in school, at home, and even when I was around people that I believed were my friends. Perhaps I'm truly not the brightest tool in the shed, but when I was unable to be present with anyone, my mind obscured and struggling, I couldn't do it. I couldn't do the projects, the chores, or even understand how to play certain games with my friends and misinterpreted things they said or have me do. And you want to know what their response was?
"You're useless!" It was large and bold, taking place and hovering above my head, just like the other phrase. Those two phrases already felt so heavy, and I hadn't even made it into High School when it started. And yet, I still replied. I still attempted to defend myself.
"I'm not useless! I'm struggling! It's not easy with ADHD!"
But no, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to convince them as they'd scoff, some laughing in response, or screaming in my face.
"Must be great using the, "I've got ADHD," excuse, right? Very funny, Seok,"
"Really? Then if you got ADHD, how the hell did you do everything else just fine today, but not this simple task I give to you?! You know it's hard for me, don't you?!"
"You seem useless. It's just a simple task to do, and we only have so much time to complete this. Your ADHD won't act up on it. Your probably stressed, or think you can dump all the work on me. Hmph!"
And I didn't want to be viewed like that, useless or lazy, or someone who took advantage of their struggles, neither the person who made others do it all without my help. I didn't want to be the horrible person because of this, and I was so scared. My friends would turn on me, students would turn on me, teachers shaking their heads in disapproval, and even my parents were ashamed of me. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't . . .
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for being useless. I-I'll try harder,"
It kept building, becoming bigger as I got older. And soon, it became a habit of saying sorry whenever someone looked at me weird or with judgement, or if I did something. Anything.
"Why are you so loud?"
"I'm sorry. I'll lower my voice."
"Why are you so hyper?"
"I'm just happy, but I'm sorry if I'm irritating you..."
"Can't you smile more?"
"Of course. I'm sorry if I seem odd."
"Be careful! Why are you so clumsy?"
"I-I'm sorry for being clusmy... I didn't mean to make a mess.
"Why can't you be normal? Why can't you just have been like a normal kid?"
"I'm sorry I'm not the son you wanted..."
"No! I can't believe I lost!"
"I'm sorry for winning the game. I know you'll do better next time."
"Why do you always hurt in silence, Seok?"
"I'm sorry I can't say it out loud..."
"Stop saying sorry all the time! I'm sick of hearing you say that all the time!"
"I'm s-sorry... I didn't mean to upset you... I-I'll just stop..."
"Why can't you focus? Why do you always get distracted?"
"I'm sorry, Miss. I'll focus. I swear..."
Over and over again, I was stuck in this cycle of fear. I didn't want to be rejected. I didn't want to always feel guilty for every single thing I said or did, or be ashamed for who I was. But it was so hard. It was so hard because I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be the outcast, always pushed around, constantly receiving a punch after another. It hurt. Everything and everyone wounded me, stripping all my pride, my joy, my achievements, and leaving behind a weak boy that even I turned away in repulse.
I despised myself because I thought everyone despised me. I thought that I wasn't needed.
But I kept going for no reason. I did as everyone told me to do, thinking that if I did it, they wouldn't leave. Even if they were horrible, just don't leave me alone.
Stop smiling.
Okay.
Do my homework.
Sure.
Stop moving.
Sorry.
Act normal.
I'll try.
But then, something new happened.
"Do what you want, Seok," A boy, not just any boy, said to me one day. It was during Physical Fitness, and I was sitting on the bleachers, knees pulled to my chest.
"What?" I replied.
"What you want. Do it." The boy grinned softly. "Be loud if you want. Be chaotic. Hop around all you want! Be messy if you want to!"
What I want?...
"Be a kid, Seok. Don't do what everyone wants you to do, or expects from you. They don't understand how much you're struggling. And it hurts me seeing you get put down." The boy said.
"I'm okay... Don't worry about it," I lied. But he knew.
"You don't want to sit here on the bleachers, right?"
"No... But the teacher said-"
"The teacher? Ha! You don't want to be on the bleachers, and there's no reason for you to be here all alone," The boy hopped off, then reached forward, taking my hand and pulling me off to stand on the ground.
"B-But I'll get in trouble! You'll get in trouble because of me!" I protested, but he snorted.
"Who cares! You want to have friends and play, right?"
"Of course but-"
"Consider me your friend from now on, and let's play volleyball,"
"You-... You're serious? You'd be my friend? Play with me?... But don't you think I'm obnoxious or weird?..."
The boy tilted his head, then shook his head. "Nope!" He replied, guiding me towards the volleyball net where there were other students playing. "I think you're a good kid. You just haven't met the right people yet," He winked.
And I never understood what he saw in me, and I was skeptical. I did as usual, saying sorry, and doing what others told me to do, trying to be energized. But when he got into my life, entering into my small, depressing world, he changed everything.
I didn't say sorry that often anymore. I didn't feel insecure because he made me feel comfortable and accepted. No matter what I did, he smiled and joked, making me laugh. He saved me from embarrassment, from bullying I received for years, and he became the older brother I could always turn to. But things changed over time, and . . .
Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Stop.
StOp.
STOP.
STOP!
MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!
Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔
A section has been deleted on request of Admin Moon, claiming it is to protect Seokmin, and contains sensitive information of said person.
Instead . . . I'll make everyone else beg and say to me, that they're sorry.
They'll feel what it was like to be in my position, desperate and helpless, feeling as if no one was there for them.
They'll feel MY pain.
Next Chapter: Chapter Two - Intoxicated
🥀// @yourlocal-babybear @aikihades @sophie-svt-13 @waitingwhispers60 @seventeen-chatbot @kpop-shelter @yangomangos @m00n-nim96 @ghoulxbaekhyun @moonlit-jaemin @empress-jiaqi @time-for-confession @xash-axx @fnafnctdream-chatbot @split-jiu @artsydahyun @softdommechungha @princess-yeji [DM for +/-]
#insane!seokmin#the purple rose#seokmin's chapter#chapter unlock#im sorry#the purple rose past#svt imagines#svt au#seventeen dk#seventeen#seventeen scenarios#seventeen mafia au
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader
Chapter 9: The Problem-Solving
read this on ao3
last chapter
words: 2600+
I have a question at the end so let me know what your thoughts are <3
______
As usual when you sleep on a spaceship, you wonder if you have reached your destination when you finally wake up. It’s only then that you realize you’re probably not even flying anywhere until you have come up with a plan on how to take care of the bounty hunter situation you’re in, so chances are, you’re just floating around in space.
You open your eyes, secretly hoping Maul is still sleeping in the sleeping compartment a few feet away from you, which of course is delusional considering you have probably been out for much longer than he’d ever be.
“You’re awake” He states, turning in his chair to look at you when you leave the lift, freshly out of the refresher.
“Guess so.” The hint of a smile plays around your lips. “I’ve been thinking about the bounty hunters.” You lazily lean against the wall that partially separates the cockpit from the passengers seating area..
“If we don’t get rid of the source, we are going to have this problem for a long time.”
“You’re saying we should go back to Kessel?”
You nod, not too happy about it either.
“Kessel is over two days from here.” He says while typing the coordinates into the system.
“All the more time to figure out a more detailed plan.” You note.
“Something else has been on my mind,” you begin. “Are you still… reading my mind? Like, on a regular basis?”
The zabrak flinches.
“Since I have seen your dislike towards it, I have tried… avoiding it. But I can't help feeling your mood through the force.” He turns his full attention to you now. “And when you are upset by something, or excited, your thoughts are loud. It’s hard not to listen.”
You let the information sink in, before you get an idea. “Can you- can you project your thoughts?”
He closes his eyes in focus, when all of a sudden, you hear his voice inside your head:
‘Yes, I can. I assumed you would consider it too… intrusive.’
You widen your eyes in fascination.
‘So we can communicate just like this?’
‘If you want to.’
Images of possibilities to use this ability flash before your inner eye.
“So, if we were in, say, a crowd, would you hear everyone’s thoughts equally?”
“It’s easier to pick out familiar energies.”
He seems slightly amused at your childlike fascination with the force.
“Is there anything else?”
You think for a second. “Just one more thing,” if you’re already bombarding him with questions, you might as well ask all of them, “How long have you been trained to be a Sith… apprentice?” You hope you used the right term.
He looks away from you now, looking into the endless distance in front of him, not answering for a while.
“Our lives have played out very… similar to each other.” He speaks slowly, each word well thought out.
“How so?”
“I was born a nightbrother, born to serve the order of the nightsisters, a group of force users on Dathomir.” You’ve heard of the society on Dathomir before, but never paid much mind to the stories of the witches living there.
“Like you, I was taken in by my master, and made to be… more.” He pauses, still staring into the emptiness of space. “Maybe this similarity is the reason I am so… that my mind is so occupied with you.” He faces you with the kind of raw emotion in his eyes that makes your breath stutter a little. You wonder if he can feel your emotions right now, when you yourself aren’t even sure what they are.
“Jumping to Hyperspace in one minute ”
“You should” he clears his throat, “sit down.”
Panic.
There is no doubt that he can feel it, there is hardly anything else on your mind at this very moment, only panic at the prospect of jumping into hyperspace again, the thought of your body accelerating and you not being in control of it making you lose sense of your surroundings. It wasn’t this bad last time, why now? Your breathing is picking up speed as you look around you to find something to protect yourself from the invisible impending threat, forgetting about the Sith’s presence until he grabs your hand and quickly leads you around the wall, sitting down in the corner with his back against it, gently tugging on your hand to ask you to follow his lead. Not nearly as gracefully and with shaky legs, you slide down on the wall beside him. He covers your hand with his other one and closes his eyes. At first you don’t understand what he is doing, but then you feel a surge of calmness wash over you, drowning the panic in soft waves. Even as you sense the sudden acceleration, you remain relaxed, eyes closed, Maul’s hand clutched tightly in yours. Your breathing slows, and when you feel the ship remaining at one speed, you finally open your eyes again.
“That was… good,” you manage to say. He hasn’t let go of your hand yet, despite not affecting your emotional state anymore - not with the force, that is. Remaining in his cross-legged position on the floor, he looks at you.
“How is your injury?”
For a moment you don’t know what he is talking about, until you remember the cut on your back. “My… Oh, yeah, it’s fine. Healing well.” You shrug. “I’ve had worse.”
Even the tattoos had hurt more when you got them, which was intended, you are sure. There were more modern and less painful ways to get tattooed at the time, but Magnus wanted you to feel every prick of the needle, so he chose the traditional way. It took two days to complete, and you had no appreciation whatsoever for what was probably a stunning piece of art on your body.
The thought of tattoos got you curious again, remembering what you were doing before you were rudely interrupted.
You bring his hand closer to your face to get a better look at the black lines on his skin. “What do your tattoos mean?”
He waits a moment before responding, as you would expect from such a collected, reserved individual as him.
“The meanings vary,” he finally replies, “some of them were given to me on Dathomir, some stem from my master.”
Sliding his loose sleeve up just a little, you examine the pattern. “What about these?”
“Dathomir.”
“And their meaning?”
A brief frown darts over his features, as if the question had brought up unhappy memories.
“I was taken before I was old enough to understand the… cultural significance.”
You move your eyes back to his arm, which seems to ease him slightly.
“However, I have done some reading.” His other hand moves up to point at one of the longer lines that runs up from his wrist to his lower bicep, which you can’t help but notice is immensely muscular.
“Vertical lines stand for agility, speed and strength. Horizontal lines like this one” his hand moves back down to a line branching off right before his wrist, “signify resourcefulness and inner strength.”
You’re in awe of the beauty on his skin, as well as how calm and deep his voice is so close to you.
“There are others I believe hold personal meaning, like family, or the place I was born. But without anyone who knows the culture…” His voice trails off.
You suddenly feel his muscles tense up as if he only now realized how vulnerable he has made himself.
“What’s your plan once we arrive on Kessel?”
You grimace at the change of topic, then sigh. “We need to get to Magnus, he is the only one I know well enough to get close to, and he is also the only one who is not an immediate threat… physically.”
“You know where to find him?”
Nodding, you recall the red brick house that he had claimed as his own, despite the guild voicing numerous concerns about his safety; he refused to live in the quarters provided at their headquarters, similar to you. ‘What’s life without a place to live?’ He asked dramatically, arguing that the quarters of the Concinnity could hardly be considered ‘livable’, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Do we have any leverage against them?”
Now, that is a good question. You have thought about this before, many times since you left, and the only thing you could come up with was information. The location of the headquarters, the members, the suppliers, the clients, the past involvement in political assassinations... There is a reason why they do not allow for members to leave.
“I can threaten to leak information about them. If I document what I know and deposit the data chip somewhere, they’ll have to listen to what I say.”
You know more than you originally thought you did, which you only now realize as you are writing down anything that the Concinnity might not want people to know about them. You don’t necessarily feel guilty about exposing the organization itself, it’s the members that you only reluctantly write down. They had never been your friends, but they were people you’ve known most of your life. It feels wrong to betray them like this, especially when they haven’t wronged you themselves: It’s the organization that you are working to bring down - unless, of course, everything goes according to plan and they call off the bounty hunters. Then, nobody will be harmed.
Maul is looking over your shoulder with curiosity when you get to the past jobs you know of. Senators, ambassadors, business people - some of the assassinations of your guild have been big news across the galaxy.
“This information should be enough to blackmail them, don’t you think?”
You nod with more conviction than you actually feel. What if it’s not? What if they capture you and… You shudder when old memories surface.
“Your fear of them seems out of proportion considering the dangers you face on a regular basis. What is it about them that scares you so much?”
“I…” He is still standing behind you, unable to see your face, which makes talking about the event much easier. “Three years back, one of the women in the guild, Lyanna, tried to leave. We were close in age, so I knew her about as well as anyone could know her.” You gulp. “She had taken a lover, and they ran off together. I remember the leaders being furious, sending a whole group out to find her. They didn’t pick me for the task, so I don’t know where she hid, but they brought her back, and locked her and the boy up.” Your breath hitches as the memory plays out before your eyes. “I heard her screams night after night, until one night, they stopped. The next morning they made the younger ones of us… look.”
You stop yourself there, unwilling to describe what it was you had seen. Instead, Maul hesitantly lifts his hand to lightly touch your temple, looking for himself what it is that has shaken you this badly.
After a second he pulls away his hand as if he had burned it on your skin, which tells you he has seen the image that still haunts you to this day, the almost unrecognizable body of this poor girl.
“This won’t happen to you.” He determines firmly. You bury your face in your hands, discarding the datapad on the table.
“You are not alone. I won’t… I won’t let them do this. It won’t get to this.”
Warmth spreads inside your chest at the unfamiliar feeling of someone looking out for you. Not being alone anymore. You still don’t lift your head, but you know he can feel you relaxing. As if to reassure you of your safety, he gently places a hand on your back, right next to where the Concinnity tattoo is still scarring your skin.
You two remain like this in silence for a few moments, but there are still things left to be taken care of.
*
A weird calamity surrounds you as you wait for the ramp to extend. You should be nervous, shaking in your boots, wanting to turn around and never look back, but instead, you feel safe standing next to Maul.
It’s not long until you reach the city, and you pull your hood even deeper into your already unrecognizable face; you’re wearing mask that only leaves your eyes barely uncovered. As expected, the streets are busy, and there are a worrying amount of bounty hunters roaming through the crowds. Are they all here for you?
You weave through the masses confidently, knowing exactly where you’re going. You haven’t been to Magnus’ house very often, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know where it’s located, especially since you know this city like the back of your hand. As you get closer to the building, you pull on Maul’s sleeve and slip into an alley that should lead around the house so you can scale the building without being seen.
“Do you want to climb through the viewport up there?” Maul points to the closest viewport about fifteen feet in the air.
“Yes, let’s try that.” both of your voices are hushed as you keep on looking around you nervously.
You are about to get out a rope, when Maul shoves you against the wall and immediately turns his back to you, hand at the handle of his lightsaber. You didn’t bring yours - at the moment it is a bigger risk to you than an asset.
“What’s the mat-” You don’t get to finish your hissed question when three figures jump off a nearby building and land right before you. They are not wearing hoods, and you instantly recognize their faces: Brent, Jiinan and Sovi. All of them except for Jiinan have been Concinnity members for longer than you have and all three of them are deadly.
Brent steps forward.
“Traitor!” He sneers. “You are deep in it now. You know what we do with people like you.”
Sovi pipes up. “You remember what happened to Lyanna, don’t you?” She smiles cruelly.
You lose all inhibitions you previously had, now absolutely ready to fight them.
“You don’t need to get caught up in this. What I do is none of your business, and as long as you don’t get in the way, we do not need to fight.” You try to keep a steady voice, your muscles flexing at your sides.
Yes, in a one on one fight, you would be able to win against them, and with Maul by your side, your odds are much better, but still, they are strong and there are dozens of bounty hunters nearby.
“What happened to you, hiding behind some guy? You have become weak, have you not?” Sovi’s scornful tone makes you shoot out from your protected position behind Maul, raising your chin high while unsheathing your sword.
‘They are going to attack any second now.’ You think as clearly as you can, hoping Maul can hear your thoughts.
‘I’ll take the two on the left’ is his response.
Sovi, who has always been the most aggressive one of the three, is the first one to attack. The second she moves toward you, Maul ignites his lightsaber, and attacks the two men.
The female is fast and vicious, but so are you. Groans from your left inform you that Maul is unsurprisingly not struggling with his two opponents, and soon Sovi is pulled away from you with the force. Blood is trickling down her skin from a deep gash on her arm, and the choking sounds coming from her are music to your ears - you never liked her in the first place.
All of a sudden, footsteps from your right make you whip your head around, too late to dodge the net that is shot at you. Electricity courses through your being as the net envelops you, throwing you to the ground. Stars appear in your vision, then everything goes black.
________
next chapter
________
Thank you for reading!
this chapter was kinddd of a pain in the butt and i don't know why. i just don't... love it, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it. I am also currently planning the end of this story, since canon is going to catch up to us soon, my dudes. I could totally see myself doing a second book of this, one that takes place during the Clone wars, but I still need to do some proper research to do that.
In the meantime I'd like to try and write some one shots. I have one commander wolffe oneshot written out, working on one for the mandalorian and i have some other ideas too.
Another question: smut? yes or no? i didnt originally rate this 'mature' so I'd hate to make people uncomfortable. Let me know what you think!
@princessayveke @spaghetti-666
#maul#darth maul#maul x reader#darth maul x reader#star wars x reader#star wars fanfiction#maul imagine
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Normal was never an option
A/N: I just have a lot of feelings about Darkwing and Gizmo. one shot. Slight Drakepad stuff but focus is on the hero ducks.
__________
Once again Gizmo swept in on a Saint Canard problem and once it was wrapped up he flew off into the sky. Everyone in the crowd cheering for him full of excitement and praise. To the dismay of the Darkwing Duck, as he mocked the cheers from the crowd. When looking back he happened to catch sight of Gizmo landing up on a nearby building's roof. Darkwing smiled fiendishly and headed there right away, ready to tell off that bucket head for getting involved in his town. Darkwing wasted no time heading to the same building Gizmo stopped over at ready to climb up the fire escape of it. When he found himself anchored by his partner, Launchpad. Who was holding on to his wrist. Even if he tried to pull away he knew Launchpad’s strength outmatched his own it was better to not physically move out from his hold.
"Launchpad let me go I'm going to give him a talking to so he stays out of my territory"
Launchpad seemed to be holding his words back, as carefully worded his reply. "Can't you let it slide this time? He didn't seem like his usual self."
"What? no, I can not" Darkwing said pulling away from Launchpads hold a bit aggravated with the suggestion. But, then he softened when seeing the look on Launchpad’s face. As he was staring up at the building Gizmo seemed to take a rest on.
Launchpad was too caring he was a very empathetic person and as much as Drake wanted to insist he just couldn't so he sighed a bit and rolled his eyes. "Look for you I'll be a little bit nice," he told Launchpad well holding up his fingers to demonstrate how small that amount would be.
It was enough for Launchpad though as he smiled back at Darkwing. "Aw, thanks DW I knew you cared," he said placing his hands over his heart egging on how touched he was. "No one's as caring as my DW."
"I know what you are doing, and I won’t fall for it. After all, I'm still telling him to leave stay here ill be quick and then we can head back to the hideout." he tossed over his shoulder.
Darkwing scaled up the building from the fire escape as he mentally planned out what to say smiling at the good insults he thought up as well. Launchpad would probably tell him there's room for two heroes and he was just overreacting. But, he worked hard to take care of Saint Carnad and Gizmo already had Duckburge why couldn't he just stays there. Did it annoy him that villains were actually scared to try things around Gizmo? Yes. Was it irritating how loved Gizmo was compared to him? Yes. Did it make him boil knowing anything he did that night would go unnoticed simply because Gizmo happens to show at the last few seconds of the fight and will come out as the hero? Definitely!
Drake jumped up to the roof his blood on fire as he let his frustrations ride out through him. He quickly adjusted his hat and stared down Gizmoduck making his voice project so to get his attention. Those acting classes paying off still.
"Look it here bud, you may be the little darling of Duckburge but." Drake trailed off once actually taking in Gizmos current position.
He was hanging his head in his hands and hunched over staring down over the edge of the building seemed lost to the world. It was almost a surreal scene to Darkwing, for one the armored hero looked like any other person on a rough day. Gizmo lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at Darkwing. And two Darkwing seemed to be able to tell the look that was on his face under his visor.
"Oh hi" Gizmo simply said as he dropped his head back down Barely taking acknowledgment of Darkwing, he wasn’t in the mood for another Darkwing Duck debate.
Darkwing took some enjoyment out of it, but Drake could tell what was really going on. He'd been in the same place mind full of thoughts but nowhere to voice them. He wanted to just walk away leave Gizmo there as he was and he would have if he hadn't heard Gizmo let out a heavy sigh.
"Don't do it don’t do it" he said under his breath to himself only to find himself walking over and stand off to the side of Gizmo."What's wrong." Darkwing asked through bared gritted teeth slightly blaming Launchpad under his breath.
Gizmo looked up at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity about the behavior he knew Drakwing didn't care for him to say nicely at least. So why was he asking, Fenton thought for a moment Darkwing was like him, someone who answered calls of danger. Even Darkwing Duck must have a life outside of the crime-fighting gig. so maybe he would get it? He just couldn't seem to say it looking at him though as he dropped his gaze back down to the city.
"You ever wished you were normal?" Gizmo finally spoke.
Drawing raised an eyebrow and repeated back the word normal internally as he took a moment to reflect on himself. Drake was a theater kid, that used to dress up like Darkwing duck at school. Was the high school's self-proclaimed detective. Who would dedicate most of his adult life to a fan club. Only to one day fight the same man that fan club was for. Then started living in a tower of Audubon Bay bridge. So he could dress up for crime-fighting. Darkwing just shrugged his shoulders after making his mental list. "I don't think that was ever an option for me." He finally replied when coming to the realization. “I’m far to mmm eccentric yeah.”
Gizmo shook his head and gestured to the streets below. "Not like that, I mean like them!" He said a bit frustrated but slowly took it back since it was with himself he felt that way towards. "Living a daily life and not being a clown" he looked at the people walking below imagining the mundane lives they were all living out. Worrying about the next workday, or what they wanted to eat or even debating grocery shopping during the week or braving the weekend to do so "Don't you ever tire of the act? Wish that you could be like them?...or even wish they could see you as not just, well Darkwing Duck in your case I guess"
Gizmo looked up to Darkwing seeing he was thinking. He didn’t know the duck well but he was very expressive for sure. "Don't you have a life outside of this?" Gizmo pressed.
Darkwing awkwardly rubbed at his arm with that "we'll?" Was all he could say in response. Drake himself felt his life never really started until he donned the mask and cape.
Gizmo seeing Darkwing fall silent continued. "Wouldn't it be nice if you didn’t have to be the one to run out into danger and instead run from it. Or just explore a different life where you're not always looking over your shoulder and to pursue a normal job." Gizmo sighed a bit "for the real you to have value and not some shiny suit."
Drake thought about everything Gizmo was saying he's been there before all that doubt that filled your head. Leaving you in a darkness you can’t escape from. As that darkness slowly closed in and you found yourself unable to breathe. Drake knew that all too well but now when he was in that space, there was something to hold onto that made it easy for him to brave that dark pit of his mind. Darkwing silently moved closer to the edge of the building and took a seat next to Gizmo. He was dead silent the whole time, having closed his eyes as he furrowed his brow into a tight knot. Gizmo watched as Darkwing seemed to sit in silence the expression on his face was hard to read this time. Darkwing opened his eyes slowly then simply removed his hat and set it down it seemed less formal to do so. Gizmo felt a tad nervous almost thinking he got Darkwing to be mad with what he was saying. That was when Darkwing did finally speak Gizmo almost missed it.
"Why did you decide to become a hero?" He firmly asked.
Gizmo looked at him wondering what he had gone through his mind. Then almost froze when Darkwing turned to him with a smile full of determination something burning in his eyes that made Fenton almost feel shame for thinking of saying he was thinking of quitting it all.
"There was a reason right?" Darkwing followed up with then looked up to the sky with that unbreaking gaze. "There was something deep inside you that you couldn't fight anymore." Darkwing held his hands up like he could take on the stars in a match. "You live in a world full of people who want to destroy it or take it over. Or commit crimes that they just get away with." His tone softened a bit "the world isn't perfect and somewhere in you feels that can change. And even think that you can be the one to change it" Drake said his own feelings spilling out a bit as he spoke.
"Yeah that's true but there's guys like Scrooge Mc. Duck around for that. I should know he fills my paycheck." Gizmo spat.
"You work for him?!" Darkwing said feeling envious then shook his head and pushed it down. "I mean that's not the same thing." He exclaimed "money bags travel around to expand his wealth and if danger doesn't affect him directly he turns a blind eye " he then turned to face Gizmo letting his expression soften a bit. Something Gizmo thought he would never see.
Drake clenched and unclenched his hands a few times before he went to speak again. It was odd to talk about this to anyone, let alone his rival "Did you ever look up to someone that inspired you when you felt lost?" He asked Drake Mallard speaking as he thought about when he watched Darkwing Duck as a kid. Jim Starling was that for Drake it was why he stood up to a bully as a kid. When his parents forced him to stop wearing the costume saying he was too old to be doing so. He just carried a Darkwing Duck notebook around instead. When they stopped giving him allowance because he spent his money on trash, he kept his Darkwing Duck findings hidden under his bed with the money he earned raking leaves for neighbors. When they told him pursuing an acting career was unrealistic he bought Jim’s book all about being an actor. And would tape old interviews Jim did only to watch over and over again. When he got tired of it all and left home he watched Darkwing Duck episodes every night in his tiny leaky apartment. He went home to a growing collection of merchandise and fanart after working tirelessly for jobs to make it through. Just waiting for the big break he knew would come someday. Though when finally meeting Jim, he did everything he could to well simply put kill Drake.
"Or did you ever meet someone who encouraged you to transform yourself to become the hero they see inside you?" Launchpad came to mind when he handed Drake his hat and said he could be Darkwing for real. Drake’s heart feeling light as he thought of him, he might not have wanted Drake to play Darkwing for the movie but now? He looked at Drake with such admiration that alone was the motivation he needed sometimes. When he saw Drake get dressed each time he always smiled if things were getting well dangerous Launchpad always had his back be it watching it during fights or patching him up or even a prompt prep talk when Drake was feeling low himself.
Gizmo silently sat there listening to Darkwing talk. The first time he heard him sound like that just so full of passion he seemed to be smiling fondly may be thinking of the one who inspired him. Darkwing fraying his hands around as he spoke his thoughts hidden but obviously on what inspired him and set him down this path he was on now. Fenton took a moment to reflect on those questions himself. Who was the one he idolized? That was easy his mom. He remembered watching her come home late from work tried but always had a smile. It was just them and she did everything she could for her son. Waking up to get him ready for school no matter how bad she wished for sleep. Listening to Fenton blab on and on about anything. Never mattered what really she always gave him her attention since she was the only one around. His mother is probably the one who installed a sense of justice in him from his younger days. Watching her suite up before her shifts, a living example of selflessness.
He thought back to when Mark wanted to market Gizmoduck as a personal assistant. Fenton at first agreed because he thought it was the chance he had been waiting for only to later be a tool and not a hero at all. Then there was Huey who insist he could be more. Huey was the first to call him a hero and didn’t need some software to get the job done. Fenton smiled his own determination reigniting as he nodded "well, yes of course."
Darkwing couldn't help but smile back seeing that grin he knew too well. He took up his hat placing it back on his head and rose up to his feet. "We're the ones who go for the small scale saves the ones that don't lead to treasure" Darkwing smiled down at the streets below remember something he was told. "Playing hero is one thing being a hero is a different thing entirely. It's giving up normal to be a clown in costume." He stated but said it with pride.
Gizmo stared at him quietly and almost jumped when feeling Darkwing place a hand on his shoulder. "Normal was never an option for guys like us. You can’t tell me deep down when your face to face with danger it just seems like what you were meant to do" He quickly took his hand away having got caught up in the moment and awkwardly coughed.
"You know you're right." Gizmo got up almost feeling like he could bounce with joy. Darkwing always seemed like a weirdo as the papers called him didn't even have a suite that could do what Gizmo could but right there he saw it. Darkwing had a drive in him that made Gizmo feel a bit envious unknowing that the masked duck himself was like him. Gizmo turned to smile down at Darkwing only to be met with the usual disapproving stare he associated Darkwing with.
"Now stay out of my city you glory-seeking bucket head." Darkwing delivered after holding it back for so long.
"Uh?" Was all Gizmo could say in return but shrugged it off with a smile. He wasn't so bad after all. So Gizmo, just took it in stride activating the small helicopter propeller from his helmet. As he just simply waved to Darkwing, feeling a bit of kinship with him now. Knowing it wasn’t likely returned but he would take more care not to overstep Darkwing in the future.
Darkwing turned around on heels quickly as he happily walked to the fire escape and jumped down smiling to himself only to nearly jump out of his skin when hearing a voice suddenly on his side.
"See you can be nice" Launchpads usual cheery tone met him as he turned around slightly grasping at his chest to check his heartbeat.
"What did you hear?" Drake slightly squeaked out in a panic he didn’t want Launchpad to think he was getting soft.
"Oh, nothing but Gizmo seems to be in high spirits again." Launchpad pointed out as he gestured to the sky where they could see Gizmo flying off.
Darkwing scowled at the sight but then found himself slightly smile when seeing Gizmo move around more lively in the air. His smiled dropped the moment he felt Launchpad’s eyes back on him. "What?" He asked a bit defensively when returning attention to his partner.
"You like him don't you?" Launchpad quizzes with his patented smile.
"What I do not, I can't stand him just needed him to get going was all." He retorted crossing his arms over his chest. Quickly looking away from that grin Launchpad wouldn't drop. "Wasn't even a big deal just a small pep talk to get that gloom out of my sight." Launchpad didn't stop smiling.
so Darkwing dip his hat down a bit so he wouldn't have to look at him, he wasn’t going to confess that he at least felt some liking for GizmoDuck. Not like he was going to suddenly welcome the guy around or be his friend. Darkwing just now saw him as a person too someone who falls into the same troubles he was all too familiar with "Would have kicked him off if you didn't tell me to be nice." Expect Drake had something the metalhead didn’t.
Launchpad leaned down a bit so to be at eye level. Gently he took off Darkwings hat removing the only thing that could shield his face from Launchpad’s view. "Uh-huh sure, you would have.” Launchpad smiled knowing then hummed a bit. “ So by the way, who was the one who were you thinking of when you talked about people that inspired you, anyone, I know?" Launchpad asks his flirting tone being clear.
Drake smiled back “Yeah you teamed up with him to get rid of me” unable to hold back his own flirtatious tone as he snatched his hat back.
Launchpad just shrugged a bit “Well I don’t remember Jim saying you were a hero.”
"Thought you didn't hear anything." Drake counter with as he placed his hat back on well making his way back down the fire escape.
“Well, maybe I eavesdropped a little bit,” Launchpad confessed following closely behind.
Darkwing slightly laughing a bit already knowing that, as he glanced out to the sky once more. Darkwing used to hate being called weird but that is why he was Darkwing now. Gizmo was too and maybe that made him not so bad, he still needed to stay out of his way though. Darkwing Duck was clearly better he even helped him after all. Sharing a trait wasn’t too bad though.
#ducktales2017#Darkwing duck 2018#slight#Drakepad#drake mallard#launchpad mcquack#fenton cabrera#fenton crackshell cabrera#gizmoduck#still trying out this writing thing#my writing#raysketchitrambles
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
957.
5k Survey LIV
2751. What's the most interesting assignment you ever had in school?
>> I’m not sure. I hope people realise that my last moment in any kind of school was in December of 2005 (and my last moment in high school was June of 2004). I can barely be arsed to remember anything from 15 years ago unless it’s trauma-related.
2752. What's the most interesting thing you ever had to do for work?
>> I thought working as a merch seller for local bands was very interesting. I had a lot of fun.
2753. Do you feel:
insignifigant?
unable to evoke change?
like one person can't change the world?
like one life and one person's suffering doesn't mean very much?
If you answered yes to any of those can you describe why in detail?
>> I, personally, feel insignificant fairly often, but that doesn’t extend to thinking that other people are also equally insignificant.
2754. Do you feel like you could contribute as much to society as ____ has?
Albert Einstein:
Abe Lincoln:
Franz Kafka:
Jesus Christ:
>> Just because I already have self-esteem problems doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and consciously make “do you have as much worth as these people” comparisons.
2755. Are you aware that your brain is the same size as Albert Einstein's brain? Do you realize that you have the same number of hours in a day as Abraham Lincoln? Did you know that Franz Kafka wrote all of his amazing litterature during his lunchbreaks at work? Did you know that we are all made of matter and that you are made of the Same Thing that Jesus was made of?
Do you still believe that you couldn't contribute as much to society as they did? If yes than WHY?
>> This is an immensely irritating line of questioning, I hope it’s over now.
2756. Is your mind in the gutter?
>> My mind is not in the gutter.
2757. What do you have to complain about?
>> Whatever I want to complain about.
2758. Do you remember rock n' roll radio?
>> ... Yes? Pretty sure it still exists, regardless.
2759. Is there such a thing as a food that you burn more calories from digesting than you actually absorb from it?
>> I don’t know, try google.
2760. Hey, if you've gotten this far than you and me go way back. We've been hanging out for a while now and I gotta know..do you like me?
>> ---
2761. What are you doing, Dave?
>> ---
2762. As far as love goes do you feel it is better to become complete before looking for someone or find someone who completes you?
>> People are already complete, despite however they may feel about themselves. I don’t understand what it means to look for someone who “completes you”, that sounds immensely absurd to me. So I guess I can’t really answer this question except to say “I don’t think people should be thinking about relationships in these terms...”
2763. What attracts you about the opposite sex (or same sex, or both sexes)?
>> ---
2764. Do you need people or do you not need anyone?
>> Of course I need other people. The fact that I have an attachment disorder is a direct result of my inherent need for other people’s love and support going repeatedly ignored. Even besides that, I need other people to physically survive, because that’s how ecosystems work, and believe it or not, we are still part of nature and beholden to its cycles and systems.
2765. Is selfishness always bad? Is selflessness always good?
>> No.
2766. Do you feel like your life is being controlled by a power structure?
>> Of course certain elements of my life as a social creature are controlled by power structures.
2767. Can you name three things in society that send the message that being completely yourself and that looking inside yourself and contemplating what's within is a good thing?
>> Sigh.
2768. Can you name three things in society that send the message that materialism and the accumulation of stuff is a good thing?
>> The entirety of capitalism.
2769. What is more important, a picture or it's frame? What is more important, spirituality or religion?
>> These questions truly do get more baffling as time goes on.
2770. How many definitions can you come up with for the wword 'fuck'?
>> I don’t have to come up with definitions, google is right there.
2771. Is it less offensive when a black person says Nigger than when a white person says it? Why or why not?
>> The context in which a Black person says it is often a far different context from the one in which a white person says it. So, yes. It usually is less offensive by default, unless the Black person being addressed is uncomfortable with the word even when used in a friendly context.
2772. Do you rationalize often?
>> Rationalise what?
2773. Do you believe that america is an imperialist nation?
>> I mean, yeah.
2774. Would you agree that:
hot topic is the new abercrombie?
pink is the new black:
you are the new you?
>> *stares dully*
2775. Do you have more internet or real life friends?
>> I only have Internet friends.
2776. What IS the feeding of 5000?
>> The what??
2777. What's an easy way to make money?
>> I don’t know.
2778. What's your favorite slang word and what does it mean?
>> I don’t think I have a favourite slang word.
2779. Are you uncomfortable?
>> Slightly, because of noise issues.
2780. Is anything definate besides death and taxes?
>> Taxes aren’t definite for everyone, but death certainly is. I don’t know what else is that predictable.
2781. Would you rather live fast and die young or live slow and die old?
>> Living slow sounds nice to me. However it ends.
2782. Can you name 4 people who have committed crimes against humanity? How do you think they live with themselves?
>> Probably, but I don’t feel like it. I don’t care how they live with themselves.
2783. If you could imagine, pure fantasy, any God you could concieve, how would you want God to be?
>> I can imagine any god I want to imagine. It’s really not that hard, there are already so many to choose from, even if just to use as a template.
2784. do you think the smashing pumpkins have a strong christian theme?
>> I don’t know, I’ve never paid a whole lot of attention to their lyrics. Their songs just sound pretty.
2785. Do you think this survey has a strong christian theme?
>> I didn’t think that. I hope I won’t have cause to think it in the future.
2786. Fill in the blank for yourself" Give me ____ or give me death!
>> ---
2787. Have you ever heard of the USA patriotism act? Apparently they have passed laws making torture legal. Also the FBI can sneak and peek into ANYONE'S home. They don't have to ask or even tell you they were there. This is already the law. So, whaddaya think?
>> I mean, yes, I know that. I live here.
2788. The people in power step all over the average citizen, trying to secure all the power and money for themselves and leave us with no rights and under their control. They have the audacity to do this because they know that we will not lift a finger to stop them. Are they right?
>> I don’t know if they’re right or not. I’m also not sure what the fuck powerful-ass finger you think we common folk all have.
2789. The Free State Project is a plan in which 20,000 or more liberty-oriented people will move to a single state of the U.S. to secure there a free society. They will accomplish this by first reforming state law, opting out of federal mandates, and finally negotiating directly with the federal government for appropriate political autonomy. They want to be a community of freedom-loving individuals and families, and want to create a shining example of liberty for the rest of the nation and the world. What's your opinion? Could this work? Why or why not?
>> Didn’t a bunch of libertarians want to do this at some point? Anyway, I don’t know if this could work or not. I don’t know nearly enough about any of the elements involved to have an informed opinion about the feasibility of this kind of project. It does sound plenty audacious, though (and way too vague).
2790. Have you ever seen the Neverending Story? Remember when Bastian has to prove his worth by looking in that mirror where you see yourself the way you really are with no pretenses, rationalizations or mental lying?
Could you stand yourself if you looked into that mirror?
>> I do remember that, vaguely. I wanted to rewatch this movie but then I didn’t get to it in time and HBO took it down :( Anyway, I don’t know if I could stand myself if I looked into a mirror like that. I can’t conceptualise what that experience would actually be like.
2791. What is soilent green?
>> Oh, you know. (That’s another movie I’d like to rewatch, in fact.)
2792. What are you proud that you have never done?
>> *shrug*
2793. What things are hopeless?
>> *shrug*
2794. What Are People For?
>> Making Soylent Green out of.
2795. What book do you feel could change someone's life?
>> Any book could change someone’s life.
2796. Didja ever want to just walk up to the Bush administration and ask them, 'What the fuck?'
>> No, I wasn’t really paying much attention to the administration during that time because I had a lot of personal issues taking up my immediate focus. But from what little I remember about it, it’d be a valid question to ask.
2797. How do you take your coffeee?
>> Decaffeinated.
2798. Have you ever played:
paintball?
lazer tag?
which is better?
>> I’ve never played these.
2799. In what ways are you lucky?
>> A lot of ways, I guess. A lot of fucked up shit has happened, but a fair amount of strangely fortuitous stuff has happened, too. Guess something has to even the other shit out.
2800. If Jesse Jackson wants reparations to be given to black people because he thinks that black people don't have equal opportunities in this country than why does he drive a Jaguar?
>> “Black people don’t have equal opportunities in this country” is still a fact of life no matter what the fuck kind of car Jesse Jackson drives. Focusing on his personal “success” or whatever like that is just a diversion from the heart of the matter.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Framework (Part Two)
Summary: Request - Bucky x reader songfic where he pushes her away and they break up but he’s miserable without her and it all ends in fluff and apologies
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 2,200
Author’s Note: This was literally the hardest chapter I’ve ever written idk why but I should probably start outlining instead of winging it 25/7 lol anywho sorry this took forever and hopefully p3 will come to my brain faster! / based on Framework by The Story So Far
Taglist: @firefly-in-darkness @emptynote @buckysgoddess
How’d this happen?
Found your way in
So distracting
Splitting me in half again
Can’t ever sever the ties I made
The knots are strong
The framework’s laid
No matter how many things I say
The tangible will always be what I crave
Six agonizing days pass, with Bucky coming to the conclusion that he actually can’t live with his decision. He feels like he’s drowning in regret, his anxiety is off the charts, and, plainly, he’s just fucking miserable.
Despite everything he said to you, to himself, to Sam, it’s become crystal clear that not having you in his life is hurting him way more than confronting his trust issues and fear of impermanence.
He misses you like hell. The scent of your clothes, the way you laugh, the warmth in your eyes and on your fingertips. How perfectly your bodies fit together, the way you gasp and growl his name. How you would hold him to your chest, tracing soothing patterns across his skin when he couldn’t stop shaking from the nightmares and the flashbacks. How funny and beautiful and kind you are. Even things that had irritated him, your reiterated suggestions of different therapies and mindfulness techniques (some that had helped you personally), how you never tried to hide rolling your eyes, you constantly misplacing your keys/phone/wallet and him finding it within seconds -- he missed it all. All of you, the good and bad, had somehow become woven into his being. He could sooner get rid of how he felt about you than get rid of himself.
He told himself he wouldn’t do it, but he’s been repeatedly checking your Instagram page, heart thudding each time as he anticipates seeing the pictures of the two of you together deleted -- or worse, seeing you with another guy’s arm wrapped around you. So far, though, there’s been nothing except a video post of your dog, Balto, howling and grinning at your TV screen when Ghost appears on the latest Game of Thrones. It just makes his heart ache more, that he chose to remove himself from these small, wonderful little moments in your life, and for what?
He keeps staring at your number, his thumb hovering above the screen before he chucks the phone to the side, rubbing his eyes as he once again chickens out of contacting you.
He reaches the breaking point when he starts reading back through old texts from around the time when you two first started dating.
“I know we just said bye five minutes ago but I just wanted to say how happy I am that I met you. And you are definitely cuter than I am. That is all! Night, Buck.” And now the same blushing smile emoji that had him grinning from ear to ear makes his heart twinge.
“What the fuck did you do, Barnes?” he asks himself, letting the phone drop to his forehead with a dull thunk.
He knows he wants—needs—you back, but he doesn’t know where to even begin.
He sighs, grimacing as he rolls himself out of bed and trudges out toward the living room. There’s only one thing to do.
Bucky can already hear Sam’s voice emanating down the hall as he approaches:
“You call THAT avant garde?! That silhouette is as bland as toast. TOAST, Nina!”
Bucky sits himself down in the ottoman in the corner, careful not to walk in front of Sam — he thought he’d never hear the end of it when he accidentally blocked the screen during the last Grey’s Anatomy season finale.
“Project Runway again?” he asks, shaking his head.
“Hey, don’t you be getting all judgey now.” Sam smirks at Bucky, taking in his disheveled state. “You need to be jotting down notes, Kurt Cobain, wearing the same grungey-ass flannel three days in a row.”
Bucky shrugs.
“Not like I have anyone to impress.”
“You had someone to impress, but remember, you broke up with her, you cowardly fucking jackass.”
Bucky clenches his teeth as his scathing tone rattles in his head. He tries his best to ignore it and sound nonchalant as he swallows his pride to do something that normally sets his skin on edge: reach out to another person.
“Anyways, you busy?”
“Nah, I’ve had enough disappointment for today.” Sam grabs the remote, shutting off the screen and shifting to look at Bucky. “What’s up?”
Bucky exhales deeply, and he can practically feel the apprehension settling on his face, his habitual reluctance to open up kicking in.
“Um …”
He bites the corner of his lip, trying to think over his words when his gut just wants him to yell, “I FUCKED UP please tell me how to get Y/N back.”
He’s spared having to, though, as Sam cuts through the silence:
“You want to get back together with Y/N, don’t you?”
Bucky stares at him.
“Is my misery that obvious?”
“Painfully.”
Despite his deadpan tone, the corner of Sam’s mouth twitches, and the two find themselves chuckling together. While he’ll never admit it to him, this is why Bucky views him as his best friend, why he trusts him -- he always knows how to make him laugh when he needs it. He knows Sam has his back.
Bucky shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.
“So, what do I do?”
“Before I can try to answer that, you need to tell me why you broke up with her in the first place.”
Thought I’d burn the seams if they frayed
Thought I’d prove the point that I made
“I thought if I ended things, I’d be able to stop caring and feeling so vulnerable, I guess. That it’d be better for her, because she deserved better anyways, and maybe it’d be better for me … I don’t think I really believed that, deep down, but … I was scared. Scared of getting hurt, not being enough.”
Bucky pauses and sighs, staring at the ground as he wrings his hands, running his flesh thumb back and forth over the smooth metal.
His voice is quiet, apprehensive.
“I was scared of how I felt about her.”
Bucky glances up after a few moments of silence and is met with Sam looking at him more seriously than he can ever remember.
“Do you love her?”
Normally Bucky would flinch at such a direct question, but now, finally facing the consequences of keeping himself so guarded, he hesitates only for a fraction of a second before he nods, and it feels like a weight has left his chest in acknowledging how he feels.
He loves you. And he doesn’t have to run from that.
Sam nods back in response, running his hand along the dark stubble on his face as he begins in earnest.
“Look … you have a lot of regret in your life, right? I know it’s over things you didn’t choose, but now, you can choose. So what’s your choice gonna be? The way I see it, A) You can keep doing what you’re doing and let fear run you into the ground, or, B) you can tell that fear to go to hell, reach out to Y/N, buy her the nicest apology flowers you can, and tell her everything you just told me.”
“And if she tells me to go to hell?”
Sam sighs.
“I mean, she’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you —and rightfully so— but,” he pauses, his tone lightening, “God knows why, she seemed to really be into you. And nobody gets over a breakup that fast unless the relationship was already dead for awhile. You guys looked like you were solid until -”
“I blew everything to pieces, yeah.”
Bucky sits quietly for a few seconds, pausing to sit and feel the knowing. The alignment in both his heart and mind, what he wants moving forward.
“I think choice B is the clear winner, here.”
Sam waves his fist back and forth.
“Ding ding ding!”
Bucky nods.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice earnest as his eyes lock on Sam’s.
Sam’s returning smile is full of encouragement.
“Hey man, I got you. And I know this ain’t easy for you, opening up about stuff. Just know there’s always a seat at the VA group just waiting for your supersoldier ass to sit down, if you ever want to talk more.”
“Nah I’m-” Bucky physically stops himself from finishing his default “nah, I’m good for now, but thanks” response, because if he’s realized anything throughout this entire ordeal, it’s that he is most definitely not “good,” or at least not doing as good as he’d like to be.
“Yeah, ok, I’ll do it.”
“For real?”
Bucky exhales deeply, his sadness hanging on every syllable.
“With all this … I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t have acted the way I did with Y/N if I had started dealing with this sooner, getting more okay with talking and being honest with people,” he muses. “Like you said, if I really do want a normal life, I kinda need to find a better way to handle what’s going on in here,” he taps his temple and then his chest, “than just shutting people out.”
Incredulity is all over Sam’s face, coupled that something Bucky could swear looks like a glimmer of pride.
“Wow, yeah, that’s great, that’s the kind of perspective that’ll help you move forward.” He grins. “You sure you’re feeling ok? This isn’t some fever-induced thing, right?”
Bucky flips him off while Sam chuckles.
“Hilarious.”
“You know I’m playin.’” Sam nods vigorously. “Seriously, it’ll be good for you. Anyways, though, back to choice B.”
Bucky feels the rise and fall of his chest pick up in nervous anticipation, but he slides the phone out from the pocket of his jeans anyways, thumbs tapping away on its surface.
“Hey. Can we meet up?”
Before he can second guess himself, he hits send, promptly hurling the phone onto the opposite corner of the couch where Sam is perched.
“Watch it!”
“You tell me what she says back. I don’t wanna see it first.”
However long you’re gone, I will wait, I will wait.
And then an agonizing, crawling two hours pass, with Bucky finding himself unable to focus on the National Geographic moon landing documentary that would normally absorb him entirely, his eyes constantly straying from the screen to the phone sitting silently in the corner. You never took this long to answer a text when you were dating, so he knows you’re ignoring him.
“Maybe she blocked you and didn’t even see it.”
He’s just about to ask Sam for the phone back to message you on Instagram, past the point of caring how desperate he looks because it’s the truth, when it pings.
Sam snaps out from his half-napping state at the sound, stretching across the couch and grabbing the phone. He pulls a face and Bucky’s heart sinks -- Sam might as well have said “yikes” out loud.
“What’d she say?”
Sam looks at him with the tiniest bit of pity, tossing the phone back.
“Why.”
“Why? That’s it?” Bucky looks down at the screen in disbelief, and there it is, the one-word response.
“Yup.”
Bucky buries his head in the throw pillow closest to him, muffling his yell.
“What do I even say to that?! She’s pissed off, and I don’t wanna do this over text.”
“You don’t have to do it all over text, but you gotta give her something. The last thing you said to her was that you wanted to break up, and now you want to see her. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to assume you want to get back together, but if you do, she wants you to know she’s still upset.” Sam shrugs. “You messed up, now you gotta work for it.”
Bucky takes the pillow off his face, grimacing.
“Goddammit.”
He takes a minute to craft his reply, staring down at the screen.
“Because you were right about everything. I never should have ended us, I’m an idiot and miss you like hell. I just want to talk.” He hits send and turns the phone over, heart thumping inside his chest.
Ten minutes pass before you answer:
“I’ll be home until 7, I have plans after.”
Bucky’s stomach drops as his brain conjures images of you dressed up but not for him, for some other guy, his metal hand clenching involuntarily.
“You don’t know that you don’t know that, c’mon. It’s only been six days.”
He replies immediately:
“Can I come see you at 5?”
“Ok.”
Even with the realization that it’s already 4:10 and he’s gonna have to haul ass to Adams Morgan while still finding the time to get you the nicest flowers he can, Bucky already feels lighter with hope. You agreed to see him. You’re giving him at least a fraction of a chance to put things back together.
He flies up off the couch and takes off down the hall.
“I’m meeting her at her place at 5!”
Sam calls out to his retreating back, and Bucky allows himself a small smile.
“Hey, go get her. But you go shower first!”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes#bucky barnes and sam wilson#james bucky barnes#james barnes x reader#james barnes#bucky fic#bucky imagine#bucky angst#bucky and sam#avengers fic#avengers imagine#the story so far#bucky barnes songfic#Sebastian Stan
55 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I request 5 (fluff) for Jongho? I’m in such a soft mood oML
jongho is baby!!! hopefully this is soft and fluffy enough for you 💕
—fluff; prompt 5; “OH you’re jealous!”
For the past few hours, the muffled static of the cafe had served as a rather soothing background noise. It had, indeed, helped you focus. On an overcast Sunday afternoon, those who had holed themselves up within the establishment were simply seeking a quiet place to work. Somewhere to focus and tackle any last minute projects before the beginning of a new week came at them.
You were almost in the same boat as everyone else in the quiet little cafe. You were there to focus, though you weren’t working on any last minute projects. More like a semester-long school project, and Sundays just happened to be the one time you and your partner were both free to meet up. Today, you’d chosen the cafe, needing a change of pace from the usual places you typically met. You were grateful for the change of pace, as it had renewed you with energy to apply towards the assignment. However, the more the hours began to drag on, the more the lack of busy noise was making you drowsy.
“I need a pick me up,” you declare, breaking the silence that hangs between you and your project partner. You push your textbook and notes away from you as you do so. “Do you want anything?”
Your partner, Yeosang, with a hazy film over his eyes, blinks up from the statistics he’s been working through. For a moment, he purses his lips—almost as if he’s going to turn the offer down—but then he answers with a slow nod. “An iced coffee. Something sweet.”
You nod, picking yourself up from your seat. Something sweet does sound nice. A little extra added sugar to the caffeine, to keep you going for however much longer is needed. As you walk up to the counter, a smile begins to tug at the corners of your mouth, and when stop in front of the counter and lift your gaze to meet the warm and familiar brown eyes of the barista, you can feel the smile overtake your expression.
Immediately, the barista, whose name tag reads Jongho—your boyfriend—leans forward across the counter towards you, glancing sideways toward the table you’ve occupied for most of the afternoon.
“Who is that?” He whispers, an urgent note hanging in his voice; curious, as though he wants every single detail about a secret he doesn’t know.
“That’s Yeosang. My project partner for my biology lecture. I told you I was studying here with him today,” you kindly remind Jongho. Though you’re almost certain the only part of that he remembers is probably you telling him you’d be at his workplace, and that the two of you could walk home together.
Jongho glances at you in surprise, and you can physically see the confusion in his eyes. He really didn’t remember you telling him anything, having conveniently blocked out the part about studying with your partner. Pursing his lips, he puts his professional face back on. “What would you like to order?”
“Can I get two iced caramel macchiatos, one blueberry scone, and a cranberry scone?”
Jongho nods, beginning to type in your order. You watch quietly as he works for a moment, admiring his handsome side profile and the way the dim cafe light falls upon his tan skin, and soft yet strong features. You find your smile softening as you admire, and just as he turns his attention back to you when he finishes, you sheepishly glance down to shuffle through your wallet.
But before you can hand over your card for payment, another hand flashes in front of you. You and Jongho both blink in surprise. When you glance up, Yeosang is standing next to you, arm outstretched over the counter with his own card extended. Feeling your gaze, he glances down at you. His expression is a little more awake, now—staring at data for so many hours must have friend his brain earlier.
“Sorry, I just remembered that you paid for all of lunch last time. That was a lot of food, and the delivery fee… I’ll cover this one, next one too.” He glances back to Jongho, then, giving a small nod to his card.
“Okay… it was really no big deal, though,” you start, but Yeosang immediately interrupts.
“Let’s keep this entire project fair. It’s no big deal to me, either.”
You nod, pulling your hand back and putting your card away. The action causes you to miss the dark flash in Jongho’s eyes, and the way he glances between you and Yeosang with a tightened jaw. When you pick your head up, Jongho is taking Yeosang’s card and going through the payment process, as though nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.
After everything is ordered, the two of you make your way back to your seats and continue your studying. Jongho is the only one working, but he’s always been diligent. Unable to focus still, you find your eyes wandering over to him now and again. From afar, you admire him as he works behind the counter, watching the way his broad shoulders move and the way his shoulder blades shift beneath his shirt and his arms move about.
When your order finally comes, your gaze is back on the textbooks that sit open in front of you, attempting to refocus on the material in front of you, which hasn’t worked.
The tray on which Jongho carries the two snacks and drinks practically slams down onto your table. You haven’t been able to focus at all, this entire time, so you’re surprised at the clattering sound and the force of which it reaches your ears. Glancing up in surprise, Jongho has a smile on his face, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the way that you love so much. His smile, no matter how deep, always manages to melt his brown eyes down into a soft shimmer, which it lacks now.
“Here are your drinks. Can I get you anything else?” You notice that, as Jongho carefully places the two cups and the scones on the table and steps away, he’s not addressing Yeosang. You frown, but shake your head and give a polite, no, thank you. Jongho’s curt nod in response leaves you distracted for the rest of your study period with Yeosang.
The next couple of hours pass by uneventfully. Despite the coffee and food in your system, now, you still find yourself distracted and unable to concentrate. Thankfully, Yeosang doesn’t seem to notice you aren’t really able to concentrate, and you get through sharing your findings and data without much difficulty. You cut the session off with brainstorming ideas on how to organize everything, and Yeosang’s departure leaves you alone in the cafe for a bit.
You return to watching Jongho work as he preps the cafe for the shift that comes in after him. He’s always complained to you about coming in and finding the place a mess, so you aren’t surprised by the amount of effort and arm work he puts in to cleaning every single surface he can think of. It’s cute, you think as you watch him, the way he seemingly forgets to clean something and will backtrack—or will pass by something, and you can almost hear him think in his head, I should clean that too.
When the next shift comes in, you wait patiently as Jongho goes through the necessary process of updating them on his own shift, before clocking out. He comes to join you at the table, haphazardly carrying his belongings in his arms.
“Are you hungry?” He asks, sitting down across from you.
It’s been hours since your coffee and scone, so you nod. “Where do you want to go? Surely you’ve worked up an appetite after all that cleaning you just did.”
“Burgers sound pretty good right now.” You watch as Jongho sorts through the things he’d been carrying, carefully folding his apron and work shirt to put in the backpack he had with him.
Without thinking, you blurt out, “So, why were you so rude to Yeosang earlier? That wasn’t your best customer service face—”
Before you can continue, Jongho pauses in zipping up his backpack and looks up in surprise, blanching. “What?”
The look on his face says everything. Although there’s surprise written all over his face—you take note of the way his jaw tightens a fraction at the mention of your partner, and the dark look that suddenly creeps into his brown eyes. The surprise is at being caught, not at the question.
“Oh,” the word falls from your lips, realization dawning on you. “Ohhh… you’re jealous!”
This time, the surprise that crosses Jongho’s features is that of sincere surprise. “What?!”
You bite back a smile, collecting your things and standing up from the table. “That’s cute.”
“H-hey! I’m not!” Jongho stammers out, scrambling out of his seat and following after you in a hurry as you exit the cafe. Complaints suddenly begin to spew out of him like a dam that’s been broken, and it takes all your self control to keep from laughing at how adorable he is, trying to cover up his emotions.
#kpop-4-ever#atzwriters#jongho scenario#jongho imagine#jongho fic#ateez jongho#jongho#m.writes#me at myself: this was cute!!
85 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
