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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

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The Incident, The Aftermath

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Amputation, an explosion, hints at PTSD (it’s a wee bit sad but I promise it gets happier)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: So I finally got the guts to post something... If you like it, thank Camz :) If you don’t, sorry mi dude, I’m working on it (but constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!).

You’d slipped into the tank top and shorts easily enough, and here you were standing in front of your dresser. One look at the unruly mop atop your head caused you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You carefully ran the brush through your hair, allowing the knots to loosen up one by one.

You’d been leaving your hair down every day since The Incident, but that was two weeks ago. Assuming everything healed properly, Tony and Bruce were going to fit you for a prosthetic in a week, but until then you had to work with what you had… which was one less arm than you were used to having your entire life.

The universe wasn’t being very thoughtful of your adjustment—it was supposed to get up to ninety-five degrees today—so maybe today would be the day to try putting it up. You had seen some people do it on YouTube, and it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, if you had enough dexterity to wield a knife with one hand and still leave your opponent in pieces, you should be able to put up your hair with one hand easy peasy.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to really do with it. You didn’t see a braid working. You could pin some of it to the side so that it wouldn’t fall in your face, but with the heat, you wanted it completely up. A messy bun could work, though; it was simple, got the hair off of your neck, and it was meant to be a bit untidy. Perfect. With the style in mind, you pushed an elastic around your wrist and set off to work.

Twisting your hair was easy enough. Looping it around to actually form a bun was slightly more difficult, but you managed. When it came time to actually loop the elastic around the bun, though, things got more complicated.

You copied the video, pressing your head against the wall to hold your hair in place while you secured the elastic. However, looping the elastic around the bun without significantly shifting your hair was proving to be extremely difficult. Nevertheless, you managed to do it. The mirror then filled with your reflection as you examined your handiwork.

Handiwork was one word for it. Simply put, it looked like a toddler had done your hair. You weren’t sure how exactly you had messed up since you couldn’t really see behind your head, but you could see the result, and it wasn’t pretty. You let out a puff of air, pulling the elastic out and reaching for your brush. One glance at the clock told you you had enough time for two or three more attempts before you had to call it a day.

Five tries later, you were no better off than you were before. Sure, the bun was supposed to be messy, but there was a certain art to a messy bun. This just looked like a giant cat spit a hairball on top of your head. On top of that, you were now running late to meet Wanda for grocery shopping.

“Miss Y/N,” FRIDAY started.

“Tell her I’ll be down in five,” you sighed, your eyes brimming with tears. You supposed one more day of leaving your hair down wouldn’t kill you even if it was going to be hot, but you just wanted to be able to take care of yourself. You hated seeing the looks of sympathy your teammates gave you every time you had to ask for help for the simplest things, whether it be grabbing a plate at the bottom of the stack or setting up equipment for training.

Sure, things were getting a little easier, like dressing yourself without help. You could deal with the phantom pain. It was excruciating, but pain was one part of the job that you were used to. You had also managed to hide your frustration from the team pretty well since The Incident, but you weren’t sure if that made it any better; half of them seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you.

When it came to the nightmares, though, that was much harder to hide, especially considering you shared a bed with one of the lightest sleepers in the world. You hated waking her up every night, your body soaked in sweat and chest heaving as you forced yourself to remember that it was all over, forced your mind to believe that you were safe even when your body didn’t.

Before you could really understand what was happening, your emotions from the last few weeks bubbled over. Anger, frustration, anguish, and countless others flew to the surface, demanding to be released. Your fingers dug into your hair, yanking on the elastic—along with several strands of hair—until they flew out, hitting the floor somewhere you didn’t care to find. The hairbrush was next, being snatched from the top of the dresser and chucked at the door as hard as you could manage.

“What the- Y/N? Are you okay, babe?”

The thwack of the brush hitting the door caused you to flinch even though you were the one who caused it. Not processing your girlfriend’s muffled words at first, your eyes widened as you stepped back, and for a split second you were transported back to The Incident.

---

You grabbed the last civilian who had fallen behind the others, practically tossing them out of the building before it could explode.

“Y/N! Get out of-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, the building burst into flame, and the blast sent you flying in the air.

When you came to, the only thing you could focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from your elbow. You couldn’t make out exactly what had happened to it, but, wow, to say it hurt was an understatement.

It was several minutes later before the ringing cleared from your ears and you finally realized someone was talking to you.

“Y/N! Y/N, love, please, where are you?” The familiar voice drove you to use the little energy you had left, lifting your head off of the pavement to scan your surroundings. The dust and debris from the explosion made it difficult to see, but you could just make out her shape a few feet away from you.

“Turn… around, you doofus… I’m… behind you,” you wheezed out before letting your head hit the ground.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I thought we-” The second the former assassin saw you, her mouth dropped.

“What is it, Natty?” you asked weakly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just give me a second, okay? I’m going to get the rest of the team so we can get you out of here.”

“Liar,” you wheezed, half-teasing, half-panicked, but your girlfriend had already turned around. Squinting your eyes, you could just make out the small movements of her lips that told you she was talking, but the chaos and your pain and exhaustion—and probably blood loss, but you didn’t know that at the time—was making it impossible to hear what she was saying.

“Okay, they’re coming,” she reassured you, kneeling down next to you.

“What happened?” you tried again.

“You’re a hero, babe,” the redhead murmured, smoothing back your hair and brushing dirt from your face.

“Yeah?” Your voice was growing weaker, and you were becoming loopier than someone who had just come out of wisdom teeth surgery. Natasha knew it was only moments until you passed out.

“Yeah, you did it, sweet girl. You saved them all.”

“I did? I seriously hope Helen is a superhero too because someone’s going to need to save my arm. God, it hurts.” Natasha only let out a huff at your poor attempt at a joke, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? Can you do that?” Something wet hit your cheek, making you realize that your girlfriend was crying.

“Of course,” you scoffed. “Don’t…” You left her hanging.

---

After what felt like years, you finally regained your breath and returned to the present. “I’m fine,” you yelled out, your voice wavering. You knew Natasha wouldn’t believe you. Not only was she your girlfriend, but she was literally one of the best spies in the world. Sure enough, she tried to open the door, her efforts in vain since you’d locked it when you were changing.

“Hon, can you please open the door?”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you breathed out, your tone slightly more stable.

“Just let me in,” she pleaded. “Please?” Her soft voice made you sigh in resignation as you wiped your eyes. You tugged your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest on your head at least a little before showing yourself to her.

“Hi,” you practically whispered, not making eye contact with her once you had opened the door.

“Hey,” she responded softly, taking your hand in one of hers and using her other hand to lift up your chin. Rather than saying anything else immediately, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead as her second hand slid down to completely wrap your one hand in both of hers. The two of you stood in the doorway for a while, eyes closed and hand in hand. You weren’t a super soldier, but you were sure you could hear both of your heartbeats, yours slowing down to beat in tandem with hers.

“You okay?” she finally asked. You nodded slightly, your breathing now back to normal and the tears no longer streaming down your face.

Natasha always had a way of calming you down. You didn’t get frustrated or angry often, but when you did… the rest of the Avengers always joked that you were seconds away from becoming the next Hulk.

The former assassin slowly reached up to untangle your locks, noticing how you flinched when she first reached your hairline.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with the faintest hint of uncertainty, “It’s been a while since I did your hair, and I saw this new hairstyle online that I thought would look really good on you…”

“Thank you,” you sighed quietly as you leaned into her touch.

“My pleasure,” your girlfriend smirked, pushing you inside your shared bedroom and closing the door behind her. She guided you to sit on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed behind you. Brush in hand, Nat started sectioning off your hair. A small smile graced her face when you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully enjoy the contact.

Now halfway down your head, she spoke up again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

“Nat…” you warned, although you had nothing to say afterwards, and the redhead took advantage of that.

“I can only imagine how upset you feel about losing your arm-”

“Nat,” you interrupted, your voice slightly harder this time. Natasha sighed as she continued to braid your hair.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m here for you. I was here for you before, and I’m here for you now. The number of limbs that you have doesn’t affect that. It also doesn’t affect your worth. You’re not useless, Y/N. You never were, and you certainly aren’t now.” Despite your best efforts, tears began to trail down your face. Natasha pursed her lips at the sight but continued, knowing that if she stopped now she wouldn’t have another chance to say what she needed to. “You are-” Nat’s fingers froze when you mumbled out something unintelligible, the hand over your mouth preventing you from enunciating. “What was that?” You sighed before speaking again.

“It’s not the arm. It’s not just the arm,” you corrected.

“Then what is it?” She resumed braiding your hair, her voice matching the tenderness in her hands.

“It’s- it’s the- god, this is embarrassing.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, love. I’ll never judge you for anything you’re feeling,” the redhead promised, pausing once again to brush her lips above your brow bone.

“It’s the fear, Nat. I can’t go one second without thinking about the explosion. About… losing it. I’m scared 24/7, Nat, and even if I could forget about it for even a moment, I have a constant reminder.” Natasha didn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes had flickered to the remainder of your arm that hung by your side. “And, god,” you laughed bitterly, “god, does it make me feel weak. What kind of Avenger constantly lives in fear and panic? How am I ever supposed to help anyone like this?”

“Y/N.” She stopped braiding your hair for the third time, pulling on it slightly so that you were forced to meet her eyes above you. “You are the strongest person I know. I know you’re scared, but guess what? You went through something super traumatic. It’s okay to be scared. Honestly, I might be more concerned if you came out of that and you weren’t scared at all. All of us get scared, and that’s perfectly valid because being scared does not make you weak. Being scared means you value your life, and that’s a good thing.” She paused her speech to relax her grip on your hair, but your head remained tilted, captivated by the passion and emotion that filled your girlfriend’s face and voice.

“And the Avenger that lives in fear and panic is the same one that was ready to give up her life to save people. You helped people in the past not because you had two arms or because you weren’t scared of stuff. You helped them for the sole reason that you made a commitment to helping others, to making the world a better place, and that is the sole reason why you will still be able to help others.” Natasha’s whole body was trembling. The hands that held your hair were white at the fingertips as she clenched them.

“I admire you more than anyone else in the world. You’re a hero, Y/N. Not ‘were,’ but ‘are.’ You’re the hero of every single person whose life you saved, and you’re my hero.”

“I didn’t-” Despite your interruption, the spy didn’t stop talking.

“You saved my life, Y/N, the second you walked into it. You give me a reason to live, to wake up every morning. And you’re my hero even more so now than before because you get up every day with a smile on your face, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“Not much of a smile now,” you sniffed. Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up slightly. Nat laughed at the juxtaposition, finishing up the intricate braids woven in your hair before turning you around to face her.

“But look how quickly that changed,” she teased, pecking your lips after she wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

“It was my pleasure. Plus, I was right, this hairstyle does look really good on you.” You bit your lip in embarrassment as you turned your gaze to the floor. “I’ll always do your hair for you, milaya.”

“I was actually thinking of shaving it off,” you smirked. As you examined your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but agree with Natasha. You looked good, missing arm and all. A little teary-eyed and runny-nosed, but amazing nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare,” your girlfriend scoffed. “I know I said I wasn’t leaving, but I might at that,” she winked.

“Hey!” You tackled her to the ground. Reaching for her abdomen, her eyes widened as your grin grew larger.

“Y/N, don’t you dare-” You talked over her, not paying attention to her threat.

“I can still tickle you with one arm.” The spy didn’t get the chance to respond before you pounced, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

“Stop, Y/N, please!” she managed to get out.

“Are you going to leave me then? Huh?”

“No, no! I won’t! I’ll never leave you! Please, just stop!” You let up on the tickling, gently brushing away the hair that was thrown over her face seconds ago. “Great,” Nat groaned, “now I need to redo my hair.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly. Seeing the pout on her face, you bent down and met her lips with yours.

“I meant it, though.”

“That you need to fix your hair?” Natasha laughed at the way your head had adorably cocked to one side.

“No, silly, that you’re my hero. That you’re the strongest, most admirable person I know. That I’ll always be there for you, and that I’ll always do your hair for you, even when you don’t need me to do it for you any longer.”

“I love you.” You kissed her again. “And I will always love you.” Noticing a slight shift in her face, you paused, studying her expression. “Don’t you dare start singing that song.”

“Miss Y/N, Miss Maximoff is wondering if you are alright.”

“Shoot, I need to go grocery shopping with Wanda!” You scrambled to get off of the floor, smoothing out your clothes before looking for your shoes. “Uh, FRIDAY, tell her I’m so sorry and I’m coming down right now.”

“One more for the road?” Nat pouted just before you reached the door.

“Of course. Thank you again, for everything.” Your lips melted together for a second before you pulled away.

---

“Wanda, I’m here, I’m so, so sorry!” You half-ran, half-slid down the hallway to meet your best friend at the door.

“Hey,” Wanda turned to greet you. “What took you-” She paused upon making eye contact with you. “I like your hair,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” you smiled back, “Nat did it for me.”

#I wrote something #oh gOD I actually wrote something #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #alwaysmarveling

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honey-boyyoongi · 3 years

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Pairing ➪ Y/n x Yoongi | Y/n x Jungkook

Word count ➪ 3.1k

Warning ➪ not beta read; angst; I am sorry in advance

Previous Fic Masterlist

Jungkook has been laying on your lap for what seems, hours. You haven’t spoken to him in a year, maybe a little more. A ‘hi’ here and there when Mrs. Jeon invites you, and Yoongi to events. You can never say no to her. Slowly, you start noticing Sooyoung showed up less, and less. Jungkook always gave the excuses, ‘She’s not feeling well’, ‘Sooyoung has a work project she has to get done’, ‘Her friend is having a baby, and she’s the birthing partner’, ‘She’s housesitting for her brother’. They never seemed to stop. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were understanding, but visibly disappointed. As far as everyone knew, everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Your mother told you it was about children. Jungkook wanted children, but Sooyoung was not sure if she ever wanted to be a mother. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting children, and not wanting the commitment of it. But they wanted different things.

What Jungkook never told his parents was how messy it was. The harsh words, the long nights, large amounts of tears shed on both ends, and the feelings of failure. Jungkook wanted to make it work. He wants to believe Sooyoung wanted to make it work. Within the week Sooyoung had moved into her co-worker’s place, at the end of the month the papers were signed, by four months the divorce was final, and Sooyoung had accepted a transfer to a sister location across the country. It was fine for a while, at least Jungkook tried to convince himself it was fine. The days felt long, dreary.

He tried to get back into painting, boxing, and other hobbies he had pre-Sooyoung. He started hanging out with friends more, Namjoon was more than happy to catch up over some beers from his favorite brewery. He even started talking to Yoongi more. They were work partners, regardless of that, their chatter never went past the needed communication to complete the necessary work. Jungkook started slowly, asking Yoongi if he wanted a coffee while he got his own. Inviting him to lunch with Namjoon. Even making jokes here, and there. It’s not what it was before, but they’re getting there.

He moved out of the apartment that him, and Sooyoung shared. It was difficult, but he’ll make this new space home. It’s definitely smaller than his previous apartment. Cozier, he wants to say. Jungkook fills it up with art that had been put in storage, his salvaged knick knacks, pictures with his friends and family. His parents gift him new kitchenware. His older brother helps paint. Namjoon gives him some new plants to care for, and Yoongi comes over to assemble some furniture because ‘you need the help kid’. A few weeks post-divorce, he feels good, normal. He’s out with his mom at the mall when he finally sees her.

He wants to say she’s more beautiful than he remembers, but all he can focus on is the bump she has. His mom catches his line of sight, “Oh, look at my Yn-ie. She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” He nods in response. “She’s eight months now, Mrs. Min says it’s a girl. They’re so excited, Hyeri says Yoonie has been talking non-stop about the baby,” his mother chatters. She talks his ear off about the Min baby. The name, the nursery, heck even the baby shower the moms threw as a surprise. He’s happy for her, for them. He ignores the ache in his chest the rest of the outing.

His mother, bless her heart, goes up to Y/n. Asks how she’s doing, how baby min is doing. “Surprisingly energetic,” she jokes, “Yoongi says she gets it from him, but this is the same man that knocks out if he gets comfortable enough on anything.”

While his mom is chatting Y/n up, he takes her in. She cut her hair to a lob, waves a little more defined. Her smile lines are a little more prevalent. Eyes sparkling, a bit tired looking, the baby must be giving her a hard time if it’s kicking up a storm in there. She rubs her belly in comforting motions, as she talks with his mom. He can’t help admiring her features.

“What do you think, kookie?”

Jungkook stared at his mother, and Y/n, “I’m sorry what?”

His mother sighed, “He’s been like this for a bit, sweetie. Nothing sweetheart.”

They keep chatting about the baby. He tells his mom he has to finish his errands. She waves him away with a ‘be careful’ and ‘love you’. Y/n waves goodbye with a shy look. They walk slowly to the nearest bench, his mother’s hands waving around as she speaks.

He doesn’t know how he gets to Y/n’s house. One drink turned into three then six and a half. All doubles, of course. The bartender could tell he was drowning his sorrows, and promptly cut him off as he was ordering his seventh drink, but instead of a double a triple. His angel of a bartender helped him order an Uber to the nearest place he could remember. Once he arrived at the apartment complex, he made the very unsteady way to Yoongi’s and Y/n’s apartment. He knocked on the door heavily. It felt like a long time until Y/n answered.

She looked so pretty. In her cute little pj’s, belly accentuated by the soft material. Her cheeks a little rosy from the effort of walking at this point in her pregnancy.

Surprise filled her face, “Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

He pouts, swaying a bit as he tries to find his footing, “I.. I miss you. It’s been hard these last few months without you.”

“Are you drunk,” Y/n asks worried.

Jungkook hiccups in response, “In my defense, the nice bartender lady cut me off.” Y/n sighs, she could call Mrs. Jeon to come get Jungkook. But she doesn’t want her to see him this inebriated. The feelings of the divorce probably caught up with him and were too overwhelming. Y/n doesn’t know what to do, but decides to take care of Jungkook like she used to.

Y/n takes his hand, and gently guides him to the large side of the L-shape couch. She avoids putting any of Jungkook’s weight on herself while gently, as gently as she can place a drunk man, sitting him. She coaxes Jungkook to slowly drink a full glass of water to sober up, with little difficulty thank goodness. After a moment or two of adjustment on the couch that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, Y/n settles next to Jungkook. It would be better to be closer to him, as to avoid the unavoidable struggle that movement seems to have these days.

Jungkook must be finding it difficult to sit upright, as he ends up laying down. Feet dangling on the edge, head on the available part of your lap, his face looking away from your belly. He starts to hum quietly, nothing specific really, it’s calming.

“Can you pet my hair, please,” Jungkook mumbles. Y/n nods, “Sure. Your hair has gotten long, I like it. It suits you.”

Jungkook slurs, “Thanks, Sooyoung hated it long. Said it made me look messy.” She hummed in distaste, “She also hated anything that wasn’t to her liking. I’ve missed you too Kook. It’s been weird not having you around.”

He snuggles deeper into her lap finding comfort in her warmth, “I know. You don't know how much I’ve been wanting to call you, and just tell you all the things that happened.”

Y/n nudges Jungkook up, she settles more comfortably into her spot and nudges Jungkook back down. He decides he’s no longer satisfied with looking at the wall in front of him, and with the most grace he can muster he turns to face Y/n’s belly. If he was sober enough he could’ve seen the pink rising in her ears. He grabs her hand and places it back on his head to keep receiving his favorite head scratches. Maybe it’s the whiskey, but he feels like he’s having a staring contest with Y/n’s belly. He’s strangely okay with that, until he feels the (surprisingly) hard kick of baby min on his cheek.

Jungkook lets out a groan, and follows it up with an antagonistic soft poke at the spot the kick came from. “Your kid isn’t even here yet and it’s already bullying me,” he sighs. “You’re supposed to be nice to your elders,” he tells her. Y/n giggles, “She’s a kicker. Sometimes she’ll wake me up in the middle of the night. I don’t know where she got this energy from. My mother in law says her boys weren’t too rowdy, and mom says I wasn't a kicker, but more of a crier. So that’s something to look forward to.”

Jungkook laughs, he wants to say she still is. He looks up at her, “Is it okay if I touch your belly?” Y/n is a little shocked. The few times he’s seen her, he’s never mentioned anything about her pregnancy. She wants to question him, but decides against it. She gives him a soft nod, and guides his hand to her belly. “Be gentle,” Y/n tells him.

Jungkook moves his hand in small, soft circles. Making quiet noises of contentment. A few minutes of silence pass by with no words exchanged. It feels comfortable, even a little nostalgic to how things were pre-marriages. “Kids,” Jungkook says.

“What?” Y/n asks.

“We divorced over kids,” he says more firmly, “Sooyoung wasn’t sure if she wanted kids. You already know I wanted them. We couldn’t come to an agreement of when we would start trying. She wanted to wait because she was up for a promotion at work, and she didn’t want to pass it up by staying home with the kids. I told her I was okay being at home with them, the good thing about my job is that I can work from home, if needed. I could be the stay at home dad, be part time until we were comfortable enough to put them in daycare and go back to full time. She said she’d think about it.”

He sniffles, and buries his face into Y/n’s belly. She starts to caress his hair to comfort him, “It’s okay, take your time.”

Jungkook sniffled a bit more, rubbing little circles on her belly with his thumb, “She said we would talk more about it. A little before you got married we talked about it again, but she kept saying she can’t do her job and be pregnant. I told her she wouldn’t do it herself, I would help her. We were a unit. She refused to talk about it after that. Any time I wanted to have a talk about it, it turned into something bigger and ugly. A few months ago I mentioned that mom had told me you were pregnant.” He paused for a moment, wondering if it was appropriate to go on. Y/n kept playing with his hair, encouraging him to speak when he’s comfortable.

“I made a comment..,” Jungkook mumbles, “I made a comment about how I couldn’t wait for our kids to be running around together. Sooyoung got angry. She said that would never happen. I asked her why, you were still my friend, so is Yoongi. Why wouldn’t I want our kids to be friends too?”

Y/n hummed, not sure how to react to Sooyoung’s statement. “Is that what started the argument?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I got upset, I told her that she can’t keep avoiding my friends, I missed you guys and wanted to be how we were. I wanted you to, at least, be amicable. I didn’t expect her to be best friends with you guys.” Jungkook got quiet once again. He could feel baby Min moving. He wanted to feel what he’s missing these past several months.

“So, clearly she didn’t like us,” Y/n jokes.

Jungkook chuckled dryly, “Clearly. She said how do I expect her to be friends with the person she’ll always be second best to. As well as the people that blamed her for us not being together.”

“I told her Joon and Yoongi don’t blame her for anything,” he said, “She wasn’t second best to anyone, and you’ve been my friend for years. Sooyoung didn’t believe it. I asked her if we all somehow got along, why wouldn’t our kids be friends. She said there wasn’t going to be any kids for yours to be friends with. I asked her what she meant.” Jungkook choked up at the memory, “Sooyoung said after some thinking, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted kids. She doesn’t know if she can commit herself to that role. She says she has her career ahead of her and I can’t make her be a mom.”

Jungkook started to tear up, “I told her I’m not expecting her to be a stay at home mom. I repeated that I would be a stay at home parent… She… She said she’s not sure if she wants to have kids at all. Sooyoung said it’s too much responsibility.”

He started to sob, his body shaking from the increased intensity. “I couldn’t believe it. When we were dating she said she wanted kids. I’m not upset that she doesn’t want any, it’s her choice. I’m upset that she lied to me about it.”

Y/n’s heart aches for her friend, she knows how much Jungkook wanted kids. Namjoon might be the one buying baby shoes because he finds them cute, but Jungkook has always talked about being a dad. Always talked about how he wanted to be the type of parent his were, that encouraged him to thrive in his likes and talents. He was passionate about it.

“We talked all night. We couldn’t come to any type of resolution. So we decided to separate. This was something that was non-negotiable.”

“Is that what led to the divorce,” Y/n asked.

Jungkook nodded, “She stayed at a coworker’s place that she’s friends with. We didn’t talk for a couple weeks. Sooyoung reached out first. She said this is something she won’t change her mind on. She’s sorry for not being truthful about her stance on kids. We decided to divorce. We settled pretty quickly. It’s signed and official as of last month.”

“I’m sorry kook,” Y/n whispered.

You were sorry, he knew you were. He keeps rubbing your belly, feeling baby Min follow around. Wanting to feel the comfort of having you around.

Jungkook ends up falling in and out of sleep. He doesn’t know how long he lays there for.

“No, I’m fine.”

“He’s asleep right now.”

Who were you talking to?

“No, Yoonie, it's fine. He’s sleeping and he didn’t do anything. I think the divorce finally got to him.”

He heard you pause, but didn’t hear anyone else in the apartment. You must be speaking with Yoongi on the phone.

“No, we just talked about it. He was pretty upset, obviously.”

You continued to play with his hair, brushing out the knots with your fingers. He hummed lowly, snuggling closer to your belly. Baby Min must’ve had the same idea because she was still squirming around. Yoongi assured you he would be home soon with Namjoon to get Jungkook home.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Kook,” You answered.

He sits up, eyes puffy, and cheeks stained with tears. “Do you ever think about us?”

“Like? Our friendship? Of course, all the time,” you answer.

He scoots closer facing you, and reaches out to hold your hand. “No, I’m talking about us. What we could’ve been.”

“I did, but not anymore,” you answered honestly, “You chose Sooyoung, kook. I wasn’t going to wait forever. I deserved, and still deserve to be happy. And I am happy. You shouldn’t think about the what if’s.”

Jungkook sniffled. “I do,” he whispered, “All the time. I think about what if, I had worked up the courage to confess to you on one of our last movie nights? Things would’ve been different. We would’ve been happy. We would’ve gotten married, and had the wedding you always talked about.” He paused, he’s trying so hard not to cry about it. “We would’ve had those cats you wanted, and we would’ve finally adopted the dog that hangs around the convenience store. We would’ve had a baby. We would’ve been a family. I should’ve said something, shown you how much I loved you. How much I still love you.”

You pulled your hand away from him, “But you didn’t, you chose Sooyoung kook. I loved you, I still love you, but not how you want me to. Maybe things would’ve been different, but it’s too late.”

Jungkook starts to sob, he knows it’s too late. It felt bittersweet to hear that she still loves him.

Namjoon takes Jungkook home. He feels everything, yet nothing. Maybe he can start fresh with no what if’s to cling on to.

Joon helps him get cleaned up, and lays him down in his cold bed. He lets himself dream of what could’ve been.

“How are my girls doing?” Jungkook asked, while caressing your growing tummy. “SHE,” you pointed, “is giving mommy a hard time. S’been kicking all morning. She’s definitely YOUR daughter.” Jungkook lets out a sympathetic giggle. Your baby has been a pain in your butt, more like your bladder, since she could move. Mrs. Jeon says her youngest was the exact same, and to expect an energetic baby once she’s out. She’ll be all smiles, and sweet giggles, as well as a pain to put to sleep. Maybe she’ll take after her father and sleep like a log your mother in law jokes. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of doctors appointments, birthing classes, nesting, nesting, and more nesting. The nursery has changed colors three times, Jungkook was insistent on doing art on the walls to give it a personal touch. Took a whole weekend, but now your baby girl will be slumbering under the stars.

Both of you have gone through the recommended parenting books, gotten advice from the grandmothers and aunties, Jungkook might’ve panicked a little at the repeated visual of you giving birth. But, it’s all part of the process. He’s been enjoying giving little facts he’s been learning from the shared pregnancy tracker.

“Babe, did you know our baby is the size of a cherry today?”

“Hey, by now they grew all their toes.”

“Did you know our baby can pee? In the womb?”

“Jungkook, what the fuck dude?”

Other than the obvious pregnancy issues, things have been smooth sailing. His favorite thing to do these days has been laying his head on your lap caressing your belly. If it was up to him he’d stay there for hours drawing patterns with his fingers, singing to his baby, feeling her movements.

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy~~~ originally I wasn’t gonna do an epilogue, but I got the idea after talking about a headcanon I had with my sister. Happy (super) late birthday to Jungkookie ❤️ hopefully in my next fic involving you, you get to be happy lol. Feedback is appreciated ❤️

Masterlist

#bts #bts angst #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts non idol au #fic: all i want #yoongi #jungkook #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #reader x bts #bangtan fics #bangtan angst #bangtan #bangtan imagines #bangtan fanfic #bangtan non idol au

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lockefanfic · 3 years

Text

Business Trip: Pt 43 - Crazy

You’d been with your share of women who liked rough sex - Seulgi, Chaeyoung, occasionally Momo and Seolhyun. But those girls had always been interested in kinks that were at least somewhat consistent with their personalities. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Seulgi was into rough, occasionally painful sex; likewise, Chaeyoung’s preference for zip ties and name calling didn’t strike you as being out of character with the type of person she was outside of the bedroom.

Miyawaki Sakura was either lazy and airheaded or intense and intimidating, depending on what she was doing. Before you were made aware of this new facet of Sakura’s personality you’d only seen such duality before in Sana; but Sana’s personality swings didn’t surprise you like Sakura’s did, nor was the difference between her two poles nearly as extreme as that of the Japanese police officer.

Sakura was altogether different from those girls. She was two sides of the same constantly flipping coin, it seemed. At the moment you were finding out that this duality extended to her sexual pursuits, where she flipped between being an overly friendly, sugary sweet girl to a woman with very specific, very unique kinks on a minute-by-minute basis.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” she states, the tone in her voice sounding much more pleasant than earlier in the day, especially as it echoed against the cold shower tiles. “I was in the middle of re-reading the Fate series. Did you know the third movie is coming out this summer? I’m sooo looking forward to it. Are you familiar with the Fate series?”

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“She’s going away for awhile, don’t you worry.”

“She better be,” you answer. “I just hope she leads us to the other three members of Blackpink before they lock her up - or that Canadian officer takes her overseas. Did you have a chat with Officer Miyawaki about this?”

“I’ve told her we want time with Rose before she’s extradited and Officer Miyawaki has promised to raise the issue with her superiors, but she hasn’t quite gotten around to it yet,” Nayeon answers.

You both peer into the interrogation room through the one-way glass. On one side of the table sits Rose, her head in her hands. In her prisoner’s jumpsuit and messy hair, she looked outright miserable - a far cry from the dolled up look she sported at the event two days prior. Gone is the haughty, arrogant air that she wore about her like perfume - now she looked small, afraid, almost as if the cold reality of what was about to happen to her had just recently set in.

She hadn’t said a word since she stepped into the room. The young, nervous looking YG-appointed lawyer seated next to her rebuffed all of the questions directed to her client by telling her that she didn’t have to answer anything, as was her right. Rose’s body language, though, told you all you needed to know about her state of mind.

On the other side of the table are Jihyo and Somi Douma, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer who had arrested Rose at the event. Both of them are placing piece after piece of evidence onto the table in an attempt to get something out of the Blackpink member - to no avail so far, thanks to her lawyer. The looks of frustration on the two young officers has been steadily building, but it is tempered somewhat by the fact that much of the evidence was simply indisputable. Rose’s silence today would do nothing to keep her from spending a lot of time behind bars when the time came.

The other two occupants of the room, sitting in a smaller table by the exit, are Mina and Officer Miyawaki. The former is diligently jotting down notes from the meeting into an iPad, the latter seemingly engaged in something important on her phone - but given her known predisposition for playing video games on the job and the fact that her phone was horizontal, you decided she was likely playing a game.

“Sakura was super intense at the event,” Nayeon says, as if reading your thoughts regarding the young Japanese police officer. “When she showed up with Jihyo and Somi to arrest Rose, she had her game face on. It was almost scary. She wanted to see layouts of the building, possible exits and escape routes, dossiers on who might be there and who they might be with. She looked ready to take down every bad guy in the entire restaurant, all on her own.”

“I saw,” you agree. “She walked in there like she owned the place. Rose’s bodyguard tried to stop her, but whatever she said to him made him look like a whipped dog afterward. She destroyed that guy.”

“And now here she is at a major interrogation involving multiple international parties and she’s on her phone playing Among Us,” Nayeon scoffs. “It’s like she has an on and off switch when it comes to her job. I don’t get it. To be honest, I find it a little odd that the precinct would bury someone with her on-site skills in the record keeping department and not out in the field walking a beat.”

You take a moment to consider Nayeon’s point. She was right; surely the Tokyo PD could make better use of Sakura by constantly keeping her in the field, where she clearly excelled, instead of the records department where she was buried under paperwork she had little interest in. There had to be a reason behind it all, but you currently had more pressing issues on your mind than the Japanese liaison officer’s career prospects.

“We need to make sure she gets us that time with Rose. Preferably without her lawyer present.”

“That would be against the rules,” Nayeon says, hesitantly. She knew what you were implying and while she knew you weren’t going to hurt Rose or do anything stupid, she felt she had to tell you anyway out of obligation.

“There’s nothing illegal about me having a chat with a lovely young Australian woman I met at an event a few nights ago,” you reply with a sly smile.

Nayeon smirks, but understands your implication. “I’ll remind Officer Miyawaki,” she says.

In the room, Sakura lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes back into her head - her spaceman was likely just bitten in half by an impostor. Next to her, Mina frowns and shakes her head, a look of plain disapproval on her face.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll remind her myself.”

---

It didn’t take long to find Sakura later that day. She was absent from her desk, but a nearby colleague told you she was on her lunch hour - even though at that point it was nearly three in the afternoon. While your time with Nayeon and Jihyo had informed you that law enforcement officers saw lunch breaks as a rare luxury, you also knew that Sakura didn’t conform to the usual expectations of this particular line of work. With your limited Japanese and a healthy amount of hand gestures, you were able to ascertain from her colleague that she usually took her lunch breaks on the roof of the building.

The precinct proved to be a little bit of a maze, but you eventually found your way to the roof, which, like many buildings in Asia, was open to access and was often used as a kind of recreational space for the building’s inhabitants. After your time inside the cramped interior of the building you were happy to be outside again, enjoying the fresh air and the sunny, crisp winter afternoon.

Sitting on a bench in one of the corners of the space was Sakura, legs crossed, her nose buried in what looked like a manga. The small pile of convenience store sandwich containers and empty candy wrappers that occupied the rest of the bench confirmed that she was indeed on her lunch break. The volume of the trash, however, implied she’d been there awhile, leading you to wonder just how long her lunch “hours” usually lasted.

“Officer Miyawaki,” you say as you approach her, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if-”

You are stopped mid-sentence by a raised finger. Without taking her attention from the manga, Sakura reaches for a half-full bottle of Pocari Sweat next to her on the bench, which she brings to her mouth to take a sip. Eyes working quickly, she finishes the page she was reading before turning the page and devouring that one as well. With brows furrowed and eyes narrowed with concentration, there is a clear look of complete and utter intensity on her face that you’d seen only once before - when she was confronting Rose’s bodyguard and putting him in his place.

When you’d first been introduced to Miyawaki Sakura you’d wondered just how she had managed to keep her job given her obvious laziness and what seemed to be an utter lack of interest in her duties - or even in maintaining the false appearance of an interest. But her role in the events of two nights prior, and the seriousness with which she carried herself while on-site, answered that question for you. It became clear that her superiors kept her around because when the chips were down and the game was on, she could put on a game face that almost scared you with its intensity. When that happened, she was almost a different person entirely.

The question then became why her superiors had assigned her to the record keeping department. Was it a demotion? Did they think she was too unstable or unreliable for field work? There had to be a reason.

She goes on for three more pages, consuming the art and text within the manga like they were some sort of life-giving energy source that she could not go a moment more without. You are left to stand there, awkwardly, a little taken aback by the speed and ease at which she had silenced you - but unconsciously, a little afraid of what might happen if you’d insisted on interrupting her reading.

Finally, after reaching what seemed to be a chapter’s conclusion or some other boundary within the manga, she retrieves a bookmark from her bench and marks her place before finally acknowledging your presence.

“Yes?” she says, a look of undisguised annoyance on her otherwise soft, adorable features.

“I, well, I was… um, hoping we could have a quick moment of your time, Officer Miyawaki,” you answer, suddenly unsure of your words, your tongue having turned into stone in your mouth. You’d expected a fast and easy chat - you usually had no problems charming your share of pretty young women - but your resolve had faltered unexpectedly under the piercing gaze of the young officer.

“About?” she asks, plainly, even though you knew what you wanted to talk about must have been obvious to her. What else could it have been, if not Rose? Did she just want to hear you ask for something? Did she want to hear you beg and grovel?

“About the girl, uh, the woman that Officer Dou- I mean, you, you placed in your custody a couple of nights ago,” you answer.

“Yes, and, what about her?”

“I was hoping I could have a chat- er, maybe, some time, with her. Alone, before she, they, she’s, well... taken away.”

“And what would you want to speak to her about?”

“Well, you see, um…. we’re kind of after her colleagues - three of them. They’re in this team, er, corporate espionage group - they’re called Blackpink. I, well, me, my team and I, we were hoping she could lead us to the other three.”

Sakura takes a moment to weigh your request, her large, deep eyes boring into yours. You were a little ashamed to admit you were faltering a little bit under the intensity of her gaze. While you were sure her current demeanor was borne from you so rudely interrupting her reading and not from any malicious intent, it did little to keep you from withering under her look.

Eventually Sakura’s eyes leave you, and you find yourself releasing an inward sigh of relief to be free of her gaze.

“I can arrange something,” she says as she opens her manga again. “But it will cost you. Helping you and that foreign officer during that arrest resulted in a lot of extra paperwork for me.”

You are about to say something about her job and the amount of work she actually had to do, especially given the fact that she was in the middle of what seemed to be a three hour lunch break, but an unconscious fear of being put under her gaze once more meant that your response died in your throat.

“What exactly… can I do f-for you, Officer Miyawaki?”

“Sakura is fine,” she says under her breath as she finds her place in her manga. “Meet me in the precinct showers in two hours. Cancel any appointments you may have this afternoon.”

You are left a little stunned by her demand, and what it might have meant. The possibilities run through your mind at a million miles an hour; what did she mean-

“You can leave,” Sakura states, and not wanting to risk her ire by lingering any longer, you quickly turn and leave.

---

Speaking proved exceedingly difficult given the ball gag in your mouth, and so you settled for nodding.

“Ah, that’s good!” Sakura exclaims, “I’m such a big fan. I totally ship Shirou and Saber, although I’m also a fan of Shirou and Sakura - I bet you can guess why! I like both couples, though; it really depends on what mood I’m in! Sometimes I- whoops, is that too tight for you?”

It was. The girl knew how to tie a neat, tight knot (which itself raised several questions) and the thick nylon rope dug painfully into your wrists as she tied them behind your back, but you gave your head a shake nonetheless. The black cloth blindfold she’d tied around your head was similarly a little too tight for comfort and was beginning to give you a headache - not that you were willing, or even able, to tell Sakura as such.

Even if you could speak, you weren’t sure you would stop her from proceeding. You were equal parts terrified and aroused by the sharp, unexpected turn of events this afternoon had taken, but the thought of stopping the young woman hadn’t yet occurred to you.

“Good, I don’t want to hurt you. Anyway, yeah, I’m sorry if I came off rude this afternoon. I just don’t like to be interrupted during my lunch hour. That’s when I get all my reading done! Because the rest of the day I’m so busy with work, you see. Anyway… you’re all set!”

You obviously couldn’t see her through the blindfold, but the loud click-clack of Sakura’s high-heeled shoes against the shower tiles tell you she has stepped in front of you. The next few moments of silence provide no audible clue to tell you what she is doing, but you knew she was likely giving you a good long look from head to toe, as if enjoying the sight of you sitting on a stool, gagged, bound, and blindfolded.

“It’s time to begin, I think. Are you ready?”

Her tone reminded you a little bit of any of a hundred anime voice actors, particularly those that voiced the sugary sweet and cute characters. And Sakura was nothing if not cute, although she also seemed to have a bit of a crazy side to her - a side it seemed you were about to get to know intimately, whether you were ready for it or not.

You nod, because there wasn’t much else you could do.

“Good! Let’s start!” she says, sounding a bit like an announcer for a game that involved Italian plumbers and dragon/turtle hybrids racing go-karts - and not like she was about to engage in a sexual act with very particular, very specific kinks.

So when she straddles you on the stool, her long, thin legs suddenly on either side of your waist and her small frame atop your lap, you were a little unsure about how to react to the juxtaposition between her tone and her actions. With other women you would have enjoyed the weight of her body on top of yours and the promise of impending pleasure. But with Sakura you were a little hesitant - and as much as you hated to admit it, almost a little afraid.

“So as I mentioned earlier, I’d be happy to set up a meeting with you and that Australian chick,” she says, her voice dripping with sugar even as you feel her trace random patterns with her fingertip on your jawline and chin. “But I’ll need to get something out of it.”

You are unable to manage anything more than a muffled groan, and so you settle for nodding your head once more.

“Good.”

Sakura’s hand drifts lower, her fingertip never breaking contact with you as it drifts down your neck and chest, eventually reaching the buckle of the jeans you wore. Her fingers work quickly, and before you know it she has your button undone and the zipper lowered, your quickly hardening shaft aching for its impending release from its cotton prison.

“Oh! You are quite eager for us to begin, I see.”

You nod.

“Well then, let’s see what you’re hiding under here.”

Sakura’s tone continues to be that of a cute, sweet girl. Her actions, as she frees your nearly fully hardened shaft from your boxers, are altogether the opposite.

You feel the breath leave your lungs in a rush as she grasps your cock in her small, dainty little hands for the first time and gives it a few small, exploratory pumps. It would have been utterly arousing at any other time. But now, wrists bound behind you and with your eyes and mouth rendered useless, it almost felt like your sense of touch was heightened - and it felt utterly sublime. It wasn’t long before you the Japanese police officer had brought you to full, aching stiffness.

“I see now why your team is full of those women,” she observes, a slight hint of edge appearing in her tone. “I bet they love taking turns being filled with this.”

“Mmmghmm,” you answer.

“What’s that? You fuck them on a daily basis? I bet you pump their thirsty mouths and wet little pussies just full of your cum on the regular, don’t you? Maybe those tight little asses too?”

“Yughhhm.”

“I bet they love it, too, don’t they? I bet you have them all bent to your will like the obedient, needy little fucktoys that they are. Is that right?”

“Mmmahghg.”

“I knew it. I knew all of those girls were filthy little sluts the second I saw them.”

To hear such filth come out of Sakura’s mouth - out of a girl whom you’d pegged as being adorable and cute if a little airheaded and lazy - was more than a little bewildering. Each of her words dripped with sweet sugar tone even if the actual content of her words was dirty and nasty. Two sides of the same coin. Two faces of the same girl.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to play a game. Do you want to play a game?”

For a second you are frozen as a shiver of fear crawls up your spine - you’d seen enough horror movies to know that nothing good ever followed that question. But you had to admit that it both frightened and aroused you. Part of you wanted to submit to her every whim, and part of you suddenly wanted to run away as quickly as you could.

You nod.

“Good! I’m happy. Let’s lay down the rules. Hmmm… well, there’s actually only two! Are you ready for them? Are you paying attention?”

It was a little difficult to do so, truth be told. She hadn’t stopped pumping your cock, at an almost lazy pace, with her slender, soft hands. She had begun to squeeze on the downstroke and loosen on the upstroke, causing a delicious little jolt of pleasure to shoot right to your brain every few seconds.

You nod.

“Okay! Rule number one - every time you make me cum, I remove one item of your choice: your blindfold, your gag, or the ties at your wrists. How much time I give you with the Australian girl depends on how good you fuck, I guess! I’ll make the judgement at the end. Rule number two - you don’t get to say anything aside from a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Pretty simple, huh? You understand the rules, right?”

Despite laying down the ground rules for what would likely be a filthy sexual act, Sakura sounds a bit like a voice actor reading the script to the tutorial level of a Mario Party game. The prospect of regaining your ability to see, touch and taste her was appealing, and with the ball gag filling your mouth you couldn’t exactly voice any objections to her rules even if you had any.

You nod.

“Good! Then let’s begin!”

Without giving you much time to ready yourself, Sakura presses her body forward on your lap - and almost immediately you feel the wet heat of her pussy pressed against the base of your shaft.

Before she put the blindfold on you, the police officer had been wearing a short blue skirt and black heels along with the blue blouse that formed her uniform. Had she removed her panties somewhere along the way? Was she ever wearing panties at all?

Your brain had little time or bandwidth to answer those questions - not as Miyawaki Sakura began to grind herself against the underside of your cock, her hips swirling up and down, finding and trapping your shaft between the splayed lips of her pussy and moving, slowly at first, up and down its length. She is absolutely dripping. Her flesh is hot and warm against your cock. Were your mouth not gagged, you would have let out a long, wordless moan - but it escapes your throat as a wet, guttural sound instead.

Sakura, her own mouth unbound, lets the first outward sign of her arousal escape her lips in a long, drawn-out gasp. The entire process - binding you, teasing you, explaining her rules to you - must have turned her on immensely. The slick, warm juices that coated your cock in a thick, glistening layer with each grind of her hips were clear indication of how turned on she was. You found yourself impressed that she was able to hide her need for so long behind her sickly sweet tone.

“Mmmm, that feels so good!” she gasps. “Mmm, you’re so big, and you’re not even inside me yet!”

You nod.

And so for a few delicious minutes you are content to let the small Japanese girl grind herself harder and harder against your cock, her slick, hot pussy pressed against the underside of your shaft, sliding up and down, up and down, up and down. The small shower room reverberates with the soft squeaking of your stool on the tiles, and the soft, pleasant moans of pleasure that leave Sakura’s throat.

“Mmm, fuck, I’m gonna cum already, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so quickly, mmmmm, your cock is so hard! Do you like the feel of my pussy? The feel of my clit on your cock? Hmmm? Do you want to be inside me?”

You nod.

You are surprised by how quickly she was coming to her first orgasm, even if the heat emanating from her splayed pussy lips as she grinds them against you, combined with the sheer amount of the juices that were now running down your balls, clearly indicated how needy and wanton she was even before she first touched you.

“D-Do you want me… oh, fuck… do you want me to-to cum all over your hard cock?”

You nod.

Sakura’s response is to orgasm.

You’d been with plenty of women before, witnessed the many forms of the female orgasm and the differences in the bodies of each woman when she finally reaches her peak. Each was unique. But even given that fact, you knew that no other woman on Earth orgasmed like Miyawaki Sakura did.

She felt a little bit like she was being jolted with electricity - every fibre of her being quivered and shook like she had a thousand volts coursing through her veins. It was almost unnerving, in a way, and from the way her small body trembled atop yours you were worried that she had hurt herself somehow.

Even the way she orgasmed was far from the norm. The more you knew about Miyawaki Sakura, the more and more you were frightened of her.

But the same things that frightened you also aroused you.

It seems to last forever, her orgasm. When her body finally winds down, the loud breaths that leave her throat and the fact that she has slumped forward onto your chest imply that she is somewhat drained by the experience.

“That was pretty good!” Sakura exclaims once she has regained her energy, sounding once more like she were some sort of video game announcer. “As per the rules of our game, you get to remove one item. What would you like it to be?”

Your options run though your head, each with their own merits. You would’ve loved to finally lay your hands on the young woman, and the thought of watching her cum obviously appealed to you, but the opportunity to taste her won out.

“Mowwffth,” you manage to mumble.

“Your mouth? You want to get rid of the gag? Are you sure?” Sakura asks, sounding the way a video game does when you decide to overwrite a game save and it wants you to be sure of your decision.

You nod.

“Okay! Away it goes!”

Sakura reaches behind your head and you feel the ball gag loosen before she rips it none-too-gently from your mouth. A drip of saliva spills from your mouth - one that Sakura is quick to lick off your chin with her tongue.

Her tongue, feeling long and particularly flexible, traces a path up your chin until it finds your lips. She crushes your lips with hers in a torrid, passionate kiss that had little affection but plenty of need, her hands quickly reaching behind your blindfolded head and pressing your head against hers as she sticks her tongue as far into your mouth as she could. Your tongue wrestles with hers, but she quickly gains the upper hand, and it is all you can do to sit there and submit to letting the young woman explore your mouth at her whim.

When she finally tears her lips from yours she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Mmmm, that was a good choice. You’re a good kisser! And it will definitely help you when it comes to the next way you’re going to make me cum. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say, finally happy to be able to speak.

“Good. Get ready!”

Sakura climbs off your lap, and you lament the loss of her warm body for a split second - until you hear the snap of her foot meeting the stool you were sitting on, followed by a sharp thud of your butt hitting the floor as she kicks the stool out from under you.

You are about to groan in pain at your hard, unexpected landing, about to protest at the way she was treating you - when you hear Sakura step over your body, her crotch just inches from your face. She must have been lifting her skirt to get it out of the way, because when she presses herself against you, you find yourself face to face with her pussy.

There was no doubt in your mind now. Miyawaki Sakura was crazy.

But you weren’t in a position to complain, not with the girl’s juicy, slick, hot pussy suddenly and fiercely pressed against your face, her splayed lips immediately smearing your nose, lips and chin with her juices. By instinct your tongue darts out, almost like a defensive measure. You begin to lick her slowly, hesitantly, still caught a little wrong footed by her ridiculous aggressiveness - but Sakura was having none of that, and she quickly grasps the back of your scalp with one hand and presses it against her warm, wet folds.

“You can do better than that,” she says, her tone still that of the video game announcer, as though she were encouraging a kart racer who had fallen behind. “Eat my pussy like the hungry little fucktoy you are.”

You follow her orders, as much out of fear of upsetting her as the need to finally have your fill of the needy young woman’s body. You start by giving her long, slow licks from the bottom of her pussy to the top, ensuring to add a little swirl of the tip of your tongue around her engorged clit as you reach it. Sakura moans in pleasure as you drink of her, enjoying the pleasant, sweet bitterness of the girl’s plentiful juices on your tongue.

When you decide that the steadily rising volume of her moans and gasps, enhanced by the echoing off the shower room’s tiled walls, has reached a high point, you quickly switch up your technique, latching your lips as best you could around her clit before swiping at it in broad, strong strokes with your tongue. You begin with strokes that begin and the bottom and end at the top. When she begins to quiver and shake, you begin to trace random patterns around her taut little bud.

“You’re doing so great!” Sakura moans, “I’ve never felt anything like that!”

You are almost annoyed now with her tone of voice - not that you were in a position to complain, not while her wet, slick lips were sweet upon your tongue and lips. You continue to swipe at her clit with your tongue, using the flat of it now to ensure maximum contact with the taut bud. Sakura begins to grind her hips against you, almost crushing her pussy against your face in an effort to draw every ounce of pleasure from your tongue as she could.

What a sight it would have been for anyone walking into the precinct showers at that moment. A man sitting on the floor, blindfolded and with hands bound behind his back, while Miyawaki Sakura stood over him, one hand pulling her skirt up and another gripping the back of his skull, pressing his helpless face against the wet, slick lips of her pussy.

Sakura grinds her face against you. You almost struggle to breathe - every time you come up for air, she presses you against the hot, slick flesh of her pussy with the hand grasping the back of your scalp. It was frightening. It was almost too much to handle. But it was also intensely, perversely arousing.

“Ah, stop, I need you inside me right now,” she snaps - the first time she’d broken her tone and shown the slightest hint of losing her composure. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck yes, Sakura. I want-”

Sakura silences you with a raised finger to your lips, just as she did earlier that afternoon on the rooftop.

“Just a yes or no, remember?”

“Y...yes,” you answer, suitably chastised.

“Good. Now sit there and be a good little cock for me to fuck.”

Sakura drops to her knees, straddling you once more. With your hands still bound behind your back you are unable to lie back fully, and so you settle into a sitting position as she sits on your lap. You would’ve given anything to get your hands on her hips, particularly as she adjusted herself for penetration - but you had to admit, not being able to see her or touch her beyond what she allowed your mouth and hips to do only heightened the intensity of your other senses.

She wastes no time. You felt her slim fingers on your cock for a moment, aligning your tip with her entrance, before she drops her hips and takes you inside her for the first time.

You both sigh out loud - loud, breathy sounds that echo off the tile surrounding you. Sakura gasps as you fill her completely, your crotches finally meeting as she fills herself with your stiff shaft for the first time. For a second you regret your choice to free your mouth and wish you’d freed your arms instead, as it would have allowed you to lie on your back and thus let Sakura penetrate herself more deeply - not that you were actually upset at being finally inside the needy, mewling young police officer.

“Oh my,” Sakura sighs, “you’re so fucking big inside me! Now I see, ohh! I see why those other girls keep you around! But now it’s my turn. My turn to use you as a fucktoy. Do you like being a fucktoy for me? Do you like being nothing more than a toy cock for me to fuck myself with?”

You want to argue with her, put her in her place, spit the same vulgarities and names right back at her. But there is a sharp, edgy undertone to Miyawaki Sakura, a kind of fierceness that made you fear what would happen if you did.

You decide to let her have her way - for now at least.

“Yes.”

“Good! Then get ready!”

Any misgivings you may have had about Sakura, about her double-sided personality, about her lack of professionalism when off-site and intimidating intensity when actually in the field, even about the way she spoke so casually and vulgarly about your relationship with your team - they all flew right out the window as she began to ride you. Every muscle in her small, lean body seemed devoted to driving your stiff shaft in and out of her body, each of her movements propelling her up and down as fast and hard as she was able.

For all her faults and almost frightening instability, Miyawaki Sakura knew how to ride a cock.

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of build up to the way Sakura rode you. It was all you could do to grit your teeth and attempt to stay upright as her tight, lithe body rocked up and down, threatening to tip you over and onto your back, which, given your bound hands, would have been quite uncomfortable. Thankfully Sakura quickly grips onto your shoulders, helping keep you upright as she used them for more leverage, driving you in and out of the hot, wet flesh between her legs again and again.

“Oh, oh fuck, you’re so fucking big!” Sakura moans, seemingly barely able to turn her thoughts into words before she abandons the thought of speaking altogether, relying instead on a wordless string of gasps and sighs to articulate the pleasure coursing through her veins.

You grit your teeth, relishing the feel of her tight heat wrapped around your cock as she continued to ride you with fierce abandon on the shower floor. Eager to do something more than merely hold on, you lean forward, searching for and then finding her upper chest, pressing your lips against the small patch of exposed skin at the top of her blouse.

Sakura catches on to what you were doing, and the next thing you hear is the sound of buttons ripping from fabric as she quite literally tears the blouse open.

Were any other girl to rip open a button up shirt to give you access to her chest, you would have been surprised with her recklessness - but with Sakura it was simply par for the course.

Your hungry lips press themselves against the newly revealed skin of her upper chest, greedly pressing against her pale, vanilla skin, licking and kissing and tasting. Soon you find her neck, latching onto the warmth you find there, sucking hard enough to bruise her and leave marks on her otherwise perfect skin. Sakura hugs you tightly against her body, not lowering her pace at all, still riding you fiercely, her hips not ceasing for a moment in their desire to fill herself over and over again with stiff, hard cock.

The minutes pass as the tiny little police officer fucks herself on your stiff cock, the small shower space filled with your wordless moans and the wet slap of flesh hitting flesh.

The entire experience was torrid, fierce, intense. Sakura was so unpredictable, so unreadable - and that was even not counting the fact that you were blindfolded or had your hands bound. Her personality seemed to flip from moment to moment, and while a part of you missed the stability and predictability of your other partners, you would have been lying if you had said Sakura’s sheer craziness didn’t also turn you on in its own unique, special way.

When Sakura cums, her body turning into the same shaking, quivering mess she was when she came the first time, you are thankful - because you were close behind. Her flesh tightens and pulsates around you even more than you’d thought possible.

“I’m gonna cum, Sakura,” you hiss, forsaking for a moment her rule to limit your speaking to simple yesses or nos, and being thankful she was so far lost in the pleasure overtaking her senses that she was unable to pick up on that particular rule violation.

“Fucking fill my tight little pussy with your hot cum, you little fucktoy!”

Helpless to do much else, you allow yourself to finally fall over the edge, letting a deep, low groan escape your throat as your cock spasms and begins to spurt thick, hot cum inside the still-quivering Japanese girl’s wet, slick pussy. Even as your cock fills her with semen Sakura doesn’t stop, still riding you fiercely, still impaling herself with what was left of her energy, pushing your cum even deeper inside of herself with each thrust of your spasming cock.

It’s almost painful the way she slams her entire weight onto your crotch and the cold, unforgiving floor beneath it. You would’ve given anything to just hold her down by her hips and savor the feeling of your orgasm, the feeling of filling a young woman’s pussy with your cum for the first time. But what you wanted didn’t matter. You were in no position to tell her what you wanted, and she probably wouldn’t have cared even if you were.

When she finally stops it is almost a mercy. You are drained of energy like you’d never been before - utterly physically and mentally spent. Your cock still embedded hilt deep inside her, she reaches up and finally slips the blindfold from your eyes. You spend a few seconds blinking rapidly, your eyes unused to the sudden brightness.

“That was a great job! You have one hour with Rose,” she says, her face bright and cheerful, as though she were congratulating the first place kart racer and wasn’t currently impaled with a recently orgasmed cock, filled to the brim with its fresh, hot semen. She grabs you fiercely by the skull and gives you a final, fierce kiss.

“Will an hour be enough?” she asks when she finally tears her lips from yours. Able to see now, you lock eyes with her, and while her eyes are large and bright, you notice now that they are laced with more than a little crazy, brimming just below the surface.

It occurred to you at that moment just why Miyawaki Sakura had been buried in the records department of her precinct by her superiors.

She was a little crazy.

Too spent to come up with anything resembling a verbal response, you resort to following her rules once more.

You nod.

---

“I’m sure Officers Park and Douma have informed you of the charges that will be brought against you, and that your lawyer has conveyed the gravity of the situation you’re in,” Momo states, matter-of-factly. “The evidence is indisputable. Your future doesn’t look bright, Rose.”

“I’m aware that I’m fucked, yes,” Rose replies, making a dismissive gesture with her hands from the interrogation room’s table, where they are handcuffed to the thick metal bar in the middle of it. She had appeared to become even more of a mess since you saw her last at yesterday’s interrogation, with darker bags under her eyes and frazzled, messy hair. “So if I’m as screwed as you say I am, then why are you still here? Come to gloat, have you?”

“You’re here because we want to offer you something,” Momo answers.

“You? Offer me something? Hah! Unless it’s a ticket that lets me walk out that door a free woman then I’m not interested. What could you possibly have to offer me?”

Momo leans back in her chair. She had predicted that Rose would react the way she did during your preparation for this meeting. It was almost as if she had written a script for it - and it was your turn to speak your lines.

“Revenge,” you state, leaning forward on the table.

“Revenge? The fuck do you mean by that?”

“Let me ask you, Rose: how do you think we knew you’d be at that event a few days ago?”

“I dunno. Fucking cops have probably been tailing me from the second I touched down,” she spits with a dirty look towards the one-way glass, even if you knew there was no one on the other side. Sakura had made sure this conversation was strictly off the record.

“Nope. It’s because we received a tip - from one of your friends in Blackpink.”

Rose is unable to hide her reaction, her eyes going wide with surprise.

“You’re fucking lying. Why the hell would they give me up like that?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” you answer. “Maybe you pissed one of them off. Maybe they decided they didn’t need you anymore, getting caught doing shit overseas while they did the real hard work here in Japan and Korea. I don’t care. But if you help us find them, then maybe we can make sure they’re just as fucked as you are. If you’re especially helpful, maybe we recommend a lighter sentence for you.”

“You want me to rat on them? Give up my team?”

“Yes,” Momo answers. “Remember - it’s because of them that you’re going to be behind bars for a very long time, while they’re out there free as can be, living the life. This is your chance to take them down with you.”

“You must have had a safehouse or a base of operations here in Japan,” you add. “Give us the location of that base and we’ll make sure we take them down, without them being any the wiser that it was you who gave up their location.”

Rose bites her lip, staring intently at her own hands as she weighs her admittedly small range of options.

“If I give them up, you get me a lighter sentence? That’s it?”

“That’s part of it,” you answer, as Momo retrieves mugshots of the two Red Velvet members and from her briefcase and places them on the table. “We’re also tracking two fugitives from Korea that you might have heard of - Kang Seulgi and Kim Yerim. Do you or anyone in Blackpink know anything about them?”

Rose takes a quick glance at both photos, but there is no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“No, I don’t know either of those two. If it’s Koreans you’re looking for you’d best speak to the others. All my work was done overseas, as illustrated by your giant pile of indisputable evidence.”

Momo gathers the mugshots before taking a pad of paper and a pen from her briefcase and places them in front of Rose.

“We need you to write down the location of Blackpink’s safehouse,” she states.

Rose takes a last moment of thought before she reaches for the pen.

“I want your word that I’ll get a lighter sentence for this. And that they’ll never know it was me that gave them up.”

“You have it. We can’t guarantee that the judge will honor our request, but I promise you they’ll be aware of your cooperation,” Momo replies.

Rose scribbles an address down on the pad of paper before sliding it across the table to Momo. Momo takes out her phone and opens her map app to confirm its validity. Satisfied, she gives you a nod.

“You’ve made the right decision,” you tell Rose as you stand up and get ready to leave. Momo packs up her things and follows closely behind.

“Throw those bitches into a hole and let them rot,” Rose hisses as you leave the room.

In the outside hallway, Sakura, wearing a garishly pink hoodie now given that she’d torn the buttons off her uniform blouse earlier that afternoon, raises her head from her phone as she notices you and Momo have left the room. Giving Momo a polite, cheerful smile and shooting you a suggestive wink, she enters the interrogation room, presumably to return Rose to her cell.

Also waiting in the hallway, sitting on a bench, are Nayeon and a third woman, who begins to speak as soon as Sakura has closed the door to the interrogation room.

“Did she believe it? That it was Blackpink that gave her up?”

“Yes, you answer.”

“You got the location of their safehouse?”

“Yes.”

“What about Seulgi and Yeri? Did she know where they are?”

“No. I’m sorry, Irene.”

There is a flash of something resembling sadness and disappointment in Irene’s features. It is short and fleeting, but unmistakable. Soon it is replaced with the look of quiet determination that she had worn since the moment she’d joined you in Japan.

She rises from her seat. The short leggings she was wearing did little to hide the bulky tracking device around her ankle, but at least now her hands were free of the handcuffs she had on the last time you saw her.

“Understood. Let’s go - we have work to do.”

---

Author’s Note: Not my best work, I know, but I just wanted to get across how wild (in a good way) Sakura was during sex and I found it kind of difficult to get across that she was good crazy but not insane lol. Not sure how well I did or how clear everything came across as I’d never written anyone quite like her with those kinks. I always want to try writing new things and improving my writing, though. Let me know what you think. :)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #izone #izone fanfic #izone sakura #miyawaki sakura #izone smut

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

When Fate Intervenes // Luke Patterson

IN WHICH: Fate intervenes with a trio of musicians on the night that was supposed to be legendary. Fate puts the reader with a special ability that may or may not be able to save them. Fate puts a clairvoyant, an accidentally upsized pizza and thirteen year old oddly obsessed with a rock band.

Warnings: Swearing, food poison, death, and fluff

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Time to get rid of some fic ideas from my TOO LONG of a list. It’s Julie fault, she keeps encouraging each fic idea I tell her.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The Orpheum, 1995

The line up comprised of countless girls wearing homemade band shirts for the new band performing. Your little sister, at thirteen years old, had pleaded for weeks if not three months to go watch it. It was odd since she was more in the pop scene than the rock music. Your parents would never let her go to the rock show at night, so it was you or no show. It took a promise of doing your chores for an entire month and her dessert for two months. That was why you stood beside Harper among the fangirls while you clicked through the camera you’d saved up for years.

“I’m so excited.” Harper buzzed dancing on your feet as the time on her watch dwindled down more and more.

Your eyes flitted from the screen to the ball of energy you called your little sister, “I can tell. Which one do you have a crush on?”

“Reggie. He’s the bassist and so fucking-sorry freaking cool.” Harper gushed, “A good portion of the fans are obsessed with the lead singer Luke. Bobby is the rhythm guitarist, and he’s a ladies man, but he’s sweet about it.”

“And you’d know that how?” You questioned letting go of the camera around your neck. Your e/c eyes meeting her matching pair of irises; well yours were a bit more vibrant.

“I just know.” Harper retorted before beaming as she roughly poked the pin she’d made herself, “This represents all of them. Red for Reggie’s plaid shirt he always has, orange for Bobby’s love of oranges, yellow for Luke’s energy and pink for Alex because he loves the colour!”

The pin had their band design with Sunset Curve on it with the words outlined with a sunset made up of red, orange, yellow and pink just as Harper had pointed out. By far, it was her best work, but that was expected from an art student at Los Feliz High School. An art school for artists and performers. You attended for photography and creative writing just as Harper attended for art.

“That might be your best work Harps.” You complimented your little sister who shivered in the cool night breeze. You didn’t even think about tugging off your warm jacket to place on her shoulders.

You’d rather be cold than your little sister no matter how much you fought with each other, the Y/L/N siblings had each other’s backs no matter what.

“Thanks.” Harper murmured, leaning closer, “So do I meet Reggie?”

Your eyes widened slightly at her subtle goading to a part of your life was cinematic. It was a piece of you that very few people knew about, only your parents and Harper. Like most of the women in your paternal lineage, you carried the ability to foresee events in the future. A clairvoyant.

“Harper!” You scolded the young teenager who blatantly was just over-excited to see the band she’d been talking about constantly.

Harper’s cheeks turned a cherry blossom pink under the crappy lighting from the marquee sign. Even in the light, you noticed the changes in her face as she matured into a young woman, her cheeks while still full didn’t have that baby cheek look now. You saw a stubborn zit that you could see under the makeup that didn’t entirely match her skin tone. It caused an ache in your heart to know that soon she’d have the experience of heartbreak.

“Sorry!”

“You told me these guys are my age. Need I remind you that you are thirteen? If anyone older than thirteen makes an advance I’ll put my softball skills to the test.” You sternly informed the shorter girl with the pout that screamed rebellion, “Just be a kid Harps.”

“Like you said Y/N, I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid anymore.” Harper dropped the attitude to adopt a more mature soft tone. You could see the tinge of sadness in her eyes at losing the part of life where it was easy.

“I know. I can wish you’ll stay that annoying little kindergartener that stole my clothing.” You chuckled, “You’ll always be the Stephanie to my DJ.”

The two Y/L/N siblings momentarily glanced around before hugging as quickly as possible, they still had reputations to uphold. Had you been actually paying attention, you and Harper would have noticed the commotion from the people behind you.

As you and Harper had the sweet moment, the very band performing had raced out the alley into the street. What brought you back to the surroundings was the pizza boy delivering the pizza box to you.

“Wait, we ordered a small!” You exclaimed finding the boy holding an extra-large pizza. You only received a shrug in response with the right change given back.

Two things happened with this food mistake, you didn’t have to pay more than what you actually ordered, and you still got the larger pizza. However, the Orpheum didn’t allow outside food, meaning you’d have to force-feed yourself all the pizza or trash more than half.

“We could shar-” Harper was cut off as a blinding white light became your focal point. Harper knew what was happening by the specific groan coming from your lips.

A nauseating scent of cheap meat, gas and chemicals flooded your sense of smell in the dingy alleyway. It was nighttime with a few people in the general vicinity with a dilapidated table and mismatched chairs on the walls’ edge. A poorly made sign with Sam & Ella’s and going by the vendor selling the hot dogs the name fit. Sam & Ella sounded like salmonella.

From a distance, you couldn’t quite hear the conversation between three male teens, but you had a bad feeling. They all migrated to a ratty couch that had been better days, a rat wouldn’t even crawl on it you swore.

The first boy had slicked back hair with rosy cheeks you dubbed innocent and cute that juxtapositioned his rocker attire. He had polished black leather shoes, pleather if his choice of food was an indication, a leather jacket and a red plaid shirt around his waist. His attention focused on the two guys beside him. In the middle, the boy had the blue hood of his sweater pulled over his messy brown hair as if hiding. Nothing stood out about him, and it seemed like that was intentional. On the other side, the last one was the tallest with his blonde hair hidden by the backwards black hat. A distressed dark grey jean jacket open to proudly display his pink hoodie. Each one wearing black pants and adorning rings.

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” The middle boy joyfully spoke head in the clouds instead of the questionable surroundings. He arguably had the loveliest smile you had ever seen, and his friends had nice smiles at that as well.

Yet even if this hadn’t taken place, however, it still felt like you were intruding on something incredibly private, “Why am I being shown this?”

Your question went unsurprisingly unanswered.

“I can’t even count how many bands have played here! And then ended up being huge!” He happily sunk into the back of the couch, thinking of all the bands he had CDs to in his room, “We’re gonna be legends!”

“Oh.” You breathed as you caught a whiff from the boys that quickly gave you the understanding of why you saw this. You could only smell what you had dubbed as death, the scent unchanging from the first time you’d encountered it.

The death stench accompanied a clairvoyant vision if the object of your vision was sick or about to die. The first time you encountered, it was a vision of two cars colliding, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the milder stench. The next morning school was cancelled after a teacher died in a car accident on the way to work.

“Eat up, boys. ’Cause after tonight, everything changes.” The only vocal one continued with his two friends silently listening. The trio toasted their food together.

“No!” You exclaimed as each boy took a bite. You held your breath, hoping that the inevitable in the vision wouldn’t occur.

Unfortunately, it was right away the warning appeared. The blonde one the most affected, “That’s a new flavour.”

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The leather jacket guy proudly spoke, the least one concerned.

Even the guy in the middle was concerned but ultimately continued eating.

“Stop it!” You shouted, but it was no use. As with every vision, you had the potential to stop it from coming true, but while in the vision, you couldn’t interact with the people or surrounding. No matter how much you wanted to slam the food out of their hands.

But one thing sends shivers down your spine. The one in the middle made direct eye contact with you. Something that had never happened before nor to any previous clairvoyants. He kept eye contact as he slowly grew sicker and sicker.

The three boys had no chance as the ambulance rushed to the alleyway to save them. The paramedics weren’t as quick as the vendors who’d already packed and fled to protect their own hides.

You watched as the paramedics did everything in their power to save the young teenagers with everything possible. Just like Luke sang in their last song, the boys felt the darker version of an electric hammer to the heart. The clocks freezing in place as they each took their last breathe in the oddest of deaths. You saw the blonde guy die painfully first before followed by the formerly hooded one, the terrified cries of the last one haunting your phantom ears.

How did three healthy teenagers die on the same night of the exact nature within minutes of each other without one surviving? Maybe it had something to do with the hot dogs chilling in the liquid that was a cesspool of bacteria compounded with tained condiments from battery acid.

You roughly came out of the vision shaking and pale-faced frantically scanning the surroundings. Harper had a grip on the extra large pizza box while the other tightly held yours to ground you in the present.

“Are you okay?” Harper softly questioned with the panic hidden inside her body. Harper knew that this vision had been one of the bad ones. The haunted look in your eyes hinting towards death in the near future.

“We need to go.” You frantically replied, grabbing the pizza that would hopefully have a hand in saving three hopeful teens.

Your gym teacher would be proud of the distance diminished and speed you kept towards the area that would further shatter you. Foreseeing death and sometimes unable to stop it always had a nasty impact on you.

“Where are we going?” Harper yelled, “We’ll miss the doors opening!”

“We’ll miss them if we don’t hurry up!” You shouted back at the disgruntled little sister but at the moment that didn’t matter.

What mattered was three hungry teenagers about to gorge themselves on death dogs if you didn’t make it in time. It appeared for the first time you’d actually manage to stop the deaths, unlike the previous three times.

“-tonight. Everything changes.” The chill-inducing rasp helped navigate you to the disgusting couch. Your cold hand slammed the hotdog from the blonde’s hand, the shocked reaction halting the other two.

“Don’t...eat...it.” You heaved bending over at the waist to catch your breath. Wheezing sounded from your little sister as the running and seeing her favourite band up close settled.

“Excuse me! I paid for that hotdog!”

“You’d be buying yourself death literally. Your dreams of playing the Orpheum would be extinct.” You sighed, chugging the water from the pocket of Harper’s backpack for a few seconds before the owner took it back.

“Okay, look I don’t know how you found us but-”

“You don’t have to believe me ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t have but don’t jeopardize your dreams. Look my little sister wanted to see your show so I brought her and we ordered a pizza. They fucked up the order by giving us an extra-large pizza. We’ll barely eat a quarter of it, and the venue is strict on the rules.” You rambled using tour hands to elaborate the story before Harper roughly elbowed your ribs, “Ow!”

“Oops.” Harper faked a sugar-sweet smile for your benefit as the interaction with the three musicians slowly dove into embarrassment.

“-sorry. You’d be doing us a favour by not wasting our money and food. What do you say?” You hesitantly asked the trio who didn’t speak vocally; their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Reggie sighed as he begrudgingly dropped his hotdog in the bin near the couch, “Pizza outranks street dogs even if the dogs are heaven and to die for.”

“Literally.” You grumbled forcefully pushing the obscenely large pizza box into the middle one’s stomach, “I’m Y/N, this is my little sister Harper.”

“Hi.” Harper shyly waved with cheeks turning a dust pink concealed by the dark of the alleyway. The boys’ lips all quirked at the sudden contrast from the confident sister slamming her elbow in you to the bashful teen.

“I’m Luke. This is Reggie and Alex.” The hooded one, Luke, introduced his bandmates as best he could with his hands occupied by the pizza box.

Without the threat of death by the hot dog, you actually took the time to look at Luke with appraising eyes. His eyes were like oceans of blues, greens and even a brown that both exhilarated you; the desire of studying them not surprising. His smile outshone the sun on the hottest day in August.

“Nice to meet you.” You informed the trio with a beaming smile that matched your starstruck little sister. The interaction gave you the opportunity for immense and untiring future teasing on the teen that daydreamed of the bassist.

You had to admit the trio were incredibly attractive.

“Come back to the dressing room. We can eat there out of the cold.” Alex courteously invited the two formerly strangers. His blues sharing his pure intentions to repay you for saving their lives and offering pizza.

“Of course.” Harper nodded her head with her eyes barely meeting the ones of the boys. The shell was broken when Reggie piped up.

“That’s a really cool pin! Where’d you find it?”

Gated Community, Los Angeles, 2002

An off-tune humming filled the modestly sized home in the suburbs of Los Angeles, California with the sound of water splashing. Doing the dishes was a mindless chore that typically didn’t bother you, but the pain in your lower back protested. You’d have used the dishwasher, but the thing was perpetually breaking down. Didn’t seen essential to replace when washing dishes by hand was just as productive.

Or it was when you didn’t have the extra weight in your midsection, a symbol of your love with your husband. In fact, you would have avoided doing dishes if you hadn’t just used the last clean plate and glass at breakfast plus Luke hadn’t been home in the previous week.

Sunset Curve had gone on a press tour for the upcoming album and tour planned for next year.

“Oof.” You moaned as the little rascal once more hit your bladder, “Are you breaking electric guitars in there?”

“Not a soccer player?”

“With you as their father? Not likely.” You snorted as the sudden appearance of Luke became clear. You hadn’t been expecting him, “I missed you. We missed you.”

As had it since you first told him Luke’s warm hand came to rest on the front of your swollen belly. In a short month, you’d be cradling the newest member of the Patterson family with Luke singing the lullaby he solely made for baby P.

“Still haven’t given in?” The lead guitarist teased you with a beaming smile splitting his face, “Go sit down. I’ll finish the dishes.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice.

“I’m not abusing my clairvoyance to foresee our child’s gender, name and appearance.” You pointed one finger in his direction, “I refused Bobby’s pleading to see which models he would bed. The only time I did something like that was to reassure Alex that he would fall in love with a lovely guy.”

Luke’s heart burst with sheer adoration at how easily you had sunk into the friendship with the band after that one night. A night that had given birth to a friendship that slowly evolved into a romance and marriage. To this day, the group got together as much as possible.

“I love you.” Luke chuckled, “Even-”

“-if I came into your life like a completely crazy person?”

“We’re all a little crazy.”

Your house surely would be when a little tornado with Luke’s energy took over the home you’d made with Luke. The very home you would have more children and grow old together until soon you held your grandkids on your laps.

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#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagines #sunset curve #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #luke jatp #caitsy and ash productions

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years

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Blank Out - Ch. 2 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[ Masterlist ]

SUMMARY ››››› Bucky Barnes has a list of names–amends he needs to make. When he gets to yours, he finds the amends process a bit more…difficult than it should be.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,550-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› I’ve decided that this story calls for alternating perspectives. Also, lemme know what you think about how this explores post-End Game life.

"You know Bucky Barnes?!"

Rocio was upon you before you had even fully entered the dining room. Despite the fact that it was probably cutting off her circulation, the eight year old was still proudly wearing her "Soldier Arm". You were surprised she could even put it on anymore, a thought that brought on the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia. When the two of you had constructed the costume four years ago, you had needed to roll the ends of the glove up and then safety pin it to the top of Rocio's sleeve to keep it from sliding off. Now it didn't even reach her shoulder anymore.

"I never mentioned that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Rocio exclaimed

"Oh," you shrugged, rounding the table and passing by a wiggling Ravi in his booster seat.

Rocio fell into step behind you letting out an indignant and frustrated sound. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

She had an amazing and irritating talent for both shouting and whining at the same time. You breathed out your annoyance through her nose.

"Rocio," you said, flatly. "Do you really think I know Bucky Barnes and kept it a secret from you?"

The little girl pouted for a second as she thought it over before slowly shaking her head. "You're not very good at keeping secrets."

"Hey," you pointed a finger at her. "I never told anyone about your crush on Spider-Man did I?"

"I was six!"

"And yet, old enough to propose," you grinned, remembering finding the letter Rocio had addressed to Spider-Man with haphazardly spaced and sized letters. It had taken a few attempts to decipher some of the spelling, but it had proven excellent material to tease Rocio about for the past two years.

Your niece scowled at you and marched back to the table, dramatically throwing herself back into her chair.

You turned back to the stove and the probably cold eggs, smiling to yourself in victory. It was a brief moment of peace as you dished eggs onto three plates because the moment you popped the first one in the microwave, the interrogation started back up.

"Well, if you don't know him, why was he here?"

"He wanted to talk to me and your mom," you said, watching the eggs spin round and round.

"About what?"

"The weather."

"Y/N!" Rocio hit her hand against the table, causing Ravi to jump in his seat and stare at his sister with wide eyes.

You whirled on your niece. "Rocio Ishani, you know better."

"Sorry," Rocio mumbled, casting her eyes down to the table--one of her tells of genuine embarrassment and regret. The microwave beeped, and you sighed, switching the plate out for another one.

"I don't know what he wants to have a conversation about. He was here for three minutes and you did most of the talking. And even if I did know," you added on, stopping Rocio before words could come out of the little girl's open mouth. "I don't think it's a child friendly conversation. Which means when he comes, you're going to your room."

"He's coming back?"

You nodded. "When your mom comes to pick you up," you said, stopping the eggs with six seconds left on the clock. You took the two plates to the table, setting the hot one down in front of your seat and the warm one in front of Rocio. You raised your eyebrows at your niece, gesturing with your head to the kitchen before turning back to get Ravi's plate. Rocio trailed you in, pulling out the silverware drawer to get forks for the three of you and tearing off three paper towels as napkins. She still hadn't quite grasped that Ravi wouldn't be using a napkin however much he needed one. Instead, she ripped one half sheet into a quarter, as if that would convince him to use it in the same way that the small bright green fork convinced him to be somewhat civilized in his eating instead of using his hands.

It was a few more minutes before you were all at the table, ready to eat.

"Your arm, please," you said, gesturing to Rocio's glove. The little girl put up no fight, shimmying out of it and lightly laying it on the empty chair next to her, signature side up so she could admire it all of breakfast.

While the interrogation seemed to be over, talk of the Avengers was not. Most of the breakfast conversation revolved around ranking the Avengers from most powerful to least powerful, and most helpful to least helpful, and the ever ambiguous "best" to "worst." And then, as it did with young kids, talk bounced from subject to subject--connected only by the vaguest semblance of eight year old logic. It ended with a request to watch Wild Kratts after breakfast.

You did.

You did a lot of other things after breakfast too.

You made and played with play dough and stopped when you noticed Ravi was alternating between building with his and eating it.

You each drew pictures for Lilly with varying degrees of realism, had a fashion show turned impromptu dance party, and played hide and seek during Ravi's nap. (Rocio was such a good hider that you hadn't found her until after Ravi woke up, and you were definitely looking very hard and not reading a book.)

You painted each other's nails, and built an epic race car track for Ravi and made individual pizzas.

You raked leaves outside and picked a few favorites to press in books and even found time to fit in a small hurt self/strong self activity before Lilly arrived.

You were in the middle of deconstructing eating your creations when the front door opened.

"Where is my family?"

You looked up with a smile and gestured towards the door, but Rocio remained put. "We're in here!" she shouted, fingers sticky with peanut butter and fluff.

Lilly sauntered into the room, her emerald green suit still pressed and wrinkleless despite a day on the job. She arched her perfectly threaded eyebrows as she looked at you and daughter and the table all covered in graham cracker crumbs. "Looks like you three had a good day."

"Yep!" Rocio chirped, and Lilly clicked forward and into the corner of the room where Ravi was playing with his two cars on a section of the track.

"How is it my two year old is the least messy of the three of you?" she asked, bending over to press a kiss to Ravi's head. He squirmed away, continuing to move his cars along the track.

You laughed as Rocio licked a finger clean of peanut butter. "Because Ravi takes after you, and Rocio takes after me," you said, grinning at Rocio. Lilly frowned and crossed back over to the girls. "Don't worry though, I think we're all adventured out, so tomorrow we're just going to sit and stare at the walls."

"No!" Rocio shouted, and Lilly hushed her.

You tilted your head as if thinking. "I guess we could wash my car," you said, tapping your chin with a finger. "And the baseboards do need some dusting."

Rocio let out a dramatic groan, and you laughed, picking up a napkin to rub away at the spot of marshmallow fluff on her chin.

"Well, if you're not going to clean my house, you can at least clean your hands."

Rocio gave you a look of exasperation that she should have been much too young to even think about giving. Nevertheless, she slid out of her chair and headed to the sink, Lilly stopping her en route so she could press a kiss to the top of her daughter's head.

"How was work?" you asked as Lilly sunk into Rocio's vacated chair.

"People are idiots," Lilly rolled her eyes, giving a sigh.

"Says the literal genius," you returned, and Lilly snorted, shaking her head.

"It doesn't take a genius to follow simple instructions. I'll lay everything out for them, and even with pictures, they can't complete a single build without running into some potentially catastrophic error."

"That's not what you want to hear from the lead engineer at Stark Energy."

Rocio skipped back to the table, and Lilly scooched out her chair, gesturing for Rocio to come sit on her lap. The little girl veered off early though, instead attempting to climb into your lap. You shook her head, casting a quick glance at your sister who dropped her open arms.

"Your mom's missed you," you said, gesturing with her head across the table.

"I live with her," Rocio whined.

"And?" Lilly asked, moving her chair back up to the table. "I still miss you when I work."

"Really?" Rocio asked, walking over to the chair next to Lilly, and claiming it.

"Really," Lilly assured, placing an arm on the back of Rocio's chair, gently combing through her daughter's hair with her fingers. She looked up at you offering a small, weak smile before looking back down at her daughter. Her brow creased. "What are you sitting on?" she asked, tugging at something underneath Rocio. The little girl joined her mom in looking down, her eyes lighting up as she recognized the object.

"My Soldier Arm! Oh yeah! Guess who we met today!"

"Who?" Lilly asked.

"No, guess!"

You would have to teach your niece about the art of not playing a guessing game after making the answer so obvious. Then again, it still seemed so surreal that Bucky Barnes would turn up at your doorstep, that even with the "Soldier Arm", you doubted that Lilly would guess.

Lilly pursed her lips, putting on a show of thought. "Was it--"

There was a knock at the front door interrupting Lilly's guess. Rocio practically launched herself from the chair, already halfway out of the room by the time she could scream "I'll get it!"

"No!" Ravi shouted. His usual reaction when Rocio was too loud, too energetic, too Rocio.

Lilly exhaled a laugh at her son before turning back to you. "This was too much sugar," she said, circling a finger around Rocio's half-eaten creation. You laughed and Lilly smiled, and it felt nice for things to be normal between you--easy. Even if it was just for a moment.

A moment that was brought to a screeching halt by Rocio dragging Bucky Barnes into the combined kitchen and dining room by the hand.

"We met Bucky Barnes!" she chirped.

Lilly's face went slack, only managing to get out a small "Holy shit." Your eyes didn't linger long on your sister though. Instead your gaze was drawn to Bucky Barnes who looked vaguely amused at Rocio.

"Rocio, release your captive," you prompted, and reluctantly, Rocio released his hand, taking a few steps back towards her mother to give him some space.

"Is this--are you--what is happening here?" Lilly asked, looking between Bucky and you and Rocio, as if one of you had a reasonable explanation for this.You had only ever seen your sister this flustered twice before. Both of the previous occasions had been heartbreaking and traumatic, and you'd never quite gotten to experience how funny flustered Lilly was.

"He wants to talk to you and Y/N about something!" Rocio filled in.

Lilly's head whipped to you. "You know him?" she whispered, as if this was some secret conversation for your ears only.

You shook her head. "No, he just came by this morning and asked to speak with us."

"About what?" Lilly asked, furrowing her eyebrows and looking back to Bucky.

"I don't know."

For all of the differences between Lilly and Rocio--and there were many--their brain processing was eerily similar.

Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. "I um--I don't know if you want--" he gestured to Rocio. "Here for this."

"Rocio, go to your ro--the playroom," you corrected.

"I promise I'll be quiet if you let me--" Rocio started, and Lilly cut her off.

"Rocio, take your brother and go up to the playroom please,"

"But--" Rocio's face melted into the start of a complaint, but there a sharp cut of her mother's eyes stopped her dead. You remembered being on the receiving end of that look quite a few times while she was growing up. If anything it'd grown in power.

Rocio stomped forward, taking Ravi by the hand who whined and complained until she let him pick up a few cars to take with him, and the two exited the room, heavy footsteps echoing up the staircase.

You turned back to Bucky who was staring over Lilly's head, at the wall of family pictures.

The idea had hit you four years ago after Rocio woke up crying from a nightmare. Together, you spent the night going through old photo albums and Facebook albums, searching for the best pictures of the family. You ended the night with about forty pictures that needed to be framed, and the whole project took about a week to finish.

Every time the two of you ate lunch together over the past four years, Rocio would choose a picture, and you would tell her the story behind the picture. Your eyes flitted amongst them now.

There was the first time Lilly held you as a baby which was also the first time you smiled. Lilly's high school graduation--one of the few pictures with both of your parents in it, hovering on either side of Lilly as a six year old you sat on her hip. Lilly and Hector's beautiful wedding day. Lilly and Hector at your high school graduation. Lilly and you at the baby shower for Rocio, and Lilly and Hector at the shower for Ravi. There was one of Rocio's grandparents meeting her for the first time, and a good number of photos documenting your visits out to the family. Before the blip.

During your four years together, you and Rocio had also taken pictures of memories the family couldn't be there for and hung them on the wall; reminders of stories to tell should they ever return.

Rocio and you moving into a new house.

Rocio's first day of Kindergarten, first, and second grade.

The two of you and Rocio's ill-fated hamster, Churro.

Birthday parties and day trips that the rest of the family should have attended.

Bucky stared at the pictures, his frown deepening.

"Would you like to sit?" Lilly invited, allowing her collected professional persona to seep into her voice and straighten her spine.

The super soldier nodded, choosing the chair at the end of the table, closest to the door. He wet his lips, his eyes drawn from the pictures and down to the wooden table. It was strange seeing an Avenger--someone who had fought Thanos--seem so nervous in the company of two ordinary women.

He reminded you of the fourth graders who entered your office.

The fourth graders were always so hesitant to work with you--terrified of opening up and showing even a glimpse of vulnerability. It took three sessions just to get them to admit that they weren't fine and a few more before they lost the skittish look in their eyes. You doubted Bucky would be pried open by bags of chips or any of her fidgets, but figured you could at least try.

"Can I get you something to drink?" you asked, and Bucky shook his head.

"I don't want to take up too much of your time."

You nodded, and Lilly cocked her head. "So what brings an Avenger to my sister's house?"

He wet his lips and then looked up at the pair of you. "You're part of my efforts to make amends." Bucky made an attempt at a smile.

Across the table, Lilly's chest constricted with barely suppressed laughter, and the corners of your lips twitched in and out of a smile. Whoever had advised him to smile, surely hadn't meant for him to smile like that.

"What are you here to make amends for?" Lilly asked, her voice steady and betraying none of her amusement.

"I…" his eyes drifted back to the wall of pictures looming beside the group. "I'm the one responsible for your parents death."

You felt the world stop.

Or maybe it wasn't the world, maybe you stopped. Maybe every single atom within you stilled for a moment. Maybe your brain shut down and heart paused its beating, keeping you from thinking or feeling anything other than the numbness of shock. Because as surprising as it was for Bucky Barnes to show up on your doorstep at ten in the morning, you never expected he was responsible for changing your entire life.

"I know there's nothing, I could ever do to truly make amends--"

"You don't need to make amends."

Everything seemed to restart then. Your heart picked up its beating and brain whirred into action, sifting through memories and thoughts you'd long ago pushed to the back of your mind and locked there to remain untouched even by years of therapy.

Your skin prickled with flashes of images. The dark figure at the top of the staircase, the glint of metal you'd assumed was a gun in his hand, the cold blankness of his stare as his eyes bore into yours. And then the horror and sick relief of finding your parents in the moments after his disappearance.

"They were horrible people, and I'm glad they're dead. Thank you for salvaging my childhood"

"Y/N," Lilly gasped, horrified.

"You hated them too," you argued back. "Don't pretend you're not glad that Rocio and Ravi never have to meet them."

"Our relationship with our parents aside, they were still our parents. The least we can do is not thank the man who murdered them in their sleep."

Bucky for his part looked completely bewildered as his eyes darted between the two arguing sisters.

You shook your head. "You were more of a parent to me than they ever were."

"And it's because of that that I remember you waking up screaming every night for three years. So if you're not going to ask for amends for our parents' murder, at least ask for amends for what you had to go through because of him."

"My nightmares aren't because of him," you dismissed. Lilly would never believe--let alone understand--the reason behind your nightmares.

Seeing the argument was fruitless, Lilly tsked and dismissed you with a flip of her hair, turning instead to address Bucky. "Why?"

"Why…" Bucky stumbled along, confused by the conversational whiplash or the vague question.

"Why did you kill our parents?" Lilly demanded.

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"It matters to me."

You stared at your sister for a solid thirty seconds before, and shutting your eyes and bowing your head in surrender. Lilly didn't understand. If you had it your way, Lilly would never understand. You would never burden your sister like that.

Bucky swallowed hard. "I wasn't told the specifics of every...assignment. All I know is that your parents were working on something HYDRA wanted, and when they were offered a chance to join the cause, they declined. I was tasked with eliyoution and retrieval."

"Retrieval?" Lilly pressed

"Of their research."

Lilly gave him a single nod before looking down at the table in front of her. "I didn't even know they were conducting their own research."

You felt her skin prickle, an icy hot sensation shooting through your veins. Carefully calm, you reached across the table, palms open for your sister's hands. Lilly placed her hands into yours. "They never let us get to know them," you said gently, squeezing Lilly's hands. "That's why I'm angry and you're hurt."

Even as you said this, you could feel Bucky's gaze on you, intently studying your motions and facial expressions.

You looked back at him. "Thank you for coming to tell us. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

He nodded, his brow still slightly creased as he looked at her. And then his gaze flicked to Lilly, and you released a breath.

"I know it doesn't mean much--it doesn't change anything, but I'm not the person who did that anymore. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James "Bucky" Barnes."

Lilly nodded, releasing your hands and looking Bucky square in the face. Her own expression was completely neutral, not a trace of a tear or any of the hurt she'd voiced.

"If you want to make amends, you should come here for Thanksgiving."

Neither you nor Bucky had been expecting that. Your instinctive reaction was to snort out a laugh as if it were a joke, and Bucky looked like the very dictionary definition of confusion: brow knitted together, eyes narrowed, mouth hanging open.

"It would mean the world to my daughter. You can think about it as replacing a memory of my daughter meeting her grandparents. you's right, this will probably be a happier memory anyway."

"You have to come!" Rocio rushed into the room, you and Lilly shouting her name in a mixture of surprise, horror, and reprimand. The eight year old made no excuses or explanations. Instead she stood by Bucky's chair, peering up at him with a bright intensity only a child could muster. "Please."

Bucky looked away from Rocio to Lilly and then you. "Ok."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #tfatws #fatws #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws fic #tfatws fic #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #post-end game #james buchanan barnes #marvel #avengers #marvel fic #avengers fic

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ibijau · 3 years

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Counterfeit AU pt6 / On AO3

Meng Yao makes himself useful after losing his job, and discovers something unexpected

Names are funny things, Meng Yao thinks as he stares at the sheet of paper in his hand.

Funny things indeed.

After everything that went down in the Hanshi, it's Beastie that saves Meng Yao from himself.

Left to his own devices, he would have either wallowed in misery, or waste time proving to himself that everything that happened wasn't his fault, the way he knows he's done in other lives. But when he comes home after having his past lives thrown into his face and losing a job he loves, Beastie’s mother corners him just as he puts his key into his lock. Her daughter is on school holiday, she explains, and was supposed to be looked after by a friend with children of a similar age. But one of the children came down with something contagious, so the whole plan fell through, and the poor woman now desperately needs help finding someone to look after her daughter.

She’s not asking for Meng Yao to play the babysitter, but he knows so many people, he has so many connections, maybe he could pull a favour somewhere, help her out again.

“I can take care of her for a few days,” Meng Yao offers without thinking. “I’m jobless as of today.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! What happened?”

“My employer died,” Meng Yao replies, which is close enough to the truth. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang will continue using his Shanzi alias after this, and they’ll never meet again. He might as well be dead. “I don’t plan on looking for a new job right away, so I can babysit for a while, it’s no big deal.”

She tries to insist that he doesn’t need to be doing that, but quickly agrees after some reassurance that Meng Yao doesn’t mind. She looks so relieved she could cry as she says she’ll drop Beastie in the morning. Meng Yao smiles, certain that his mother would be proud of him for doing what’s right.

Having Beastie around is definitely the best choice he could have made. She’s a good kid, but she’s also high energy and needs to be entertained, which means he doesn’t get to think too much about how much he misses Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen.

They watch movies together, as they’ve always done when he picked her up after school. They go for walks to a nearby park, and once to a museum to look at old armours and swords. He buys Beastie a fake sword, though they agree to keep it at his place, since her mother already despairs that she so strongly favours boy’s toys. In fact, Meng Yao ends up just spoiling that little girl, the way he would have loved someone to do for him when he was her age. He even has Nie Huaisang’s console repaired so she can play on it, instead of selling it as he’d intended.

The video games are a big hit with her. She’s particularly in love with the same game Nie Huaisang spent too many hours on, that weird little terraforming thing which Meng Yao can’t see the appeal of. He liked that it made Nie Huaisang happy. He likes that it also makes Beastie happy, and that she’s very careful not to ruin the work previously put into it, focused instead on maintaining it and planting flowers

“It looks like home,” she explains when Meng Yao asks about that, and lifts the console for him to see.

It doesn’t look like a homely place, he thinks, and more like a military fortress right out of a wuxia drama. But Meng Yao doesn’t get to make that remark, because his phone vibrates, demanding his attention. Beastie, sitting crossed legs on some cushion on the floor, goes back to watering virtual flowers, while Meng Yao checks some news from his bank account. A lump sum has been sent to him, a good deal more than his usual salary, coming from an account registered under a name he doesn’t recognise.

It has been a week since he was fired.

Nie Huaisang kept his promise.

It really is over.

Not that Meng Yao really doubted it. Nie Huaisang has many faults but indecision has never been one, though he’s always been good at pretending otherwise. Once his choice is made he toys with expectations but rarely ever changes his mind.

Rarely, of course, isn’t never. Meng Yao, foolishly, hoped to be one of those few exceptions.

Those new zeroes on his bank account feel like a divorce, and he never even got a honeymoon.

That night, Meng Yao allows himself a few hours to wallow in misery, after Beastie went back to her mother. He is only human, and it does feel good to eat take-away in front of a cheesy romance. The film's hero doesn't get the girl, who was dead all along. Meng Yao cries, even though he's seen that movie before.

By morning, he's in control again, and takes Beastie to the park so she can run around in the sun, and scare pigeons with her sword.

Those holidays are all great fun, until Beastie’s mother reminds them that she has homework to do.

Beastie is a clever kid, there’s no doubt about it, but she doesn’t much like doing her homework, least of all when she feels she could be playing. It takes all of Meng Yao’s negotiation skills to get her to even look at her school books, and he almost resorts to bribery to make her pick up a pencil. But she works hard once she starts, and Meng Yao, wanting to encourage her, sits with her at the kitchen table to update his resume. Beastie will go back to class soon, and inactivity just isn’t in his temper.

When Beastie is done with her work, she gets permission to put on whatever movie she likes while Meng Yao checks what she’s done in case it needs correcting.

But when he picks up the sheet of simple maths she’s expected to give her teacher on monday, all Meng Yao sees is her name.

It’s really funny. He knows her name of course, though he hasn’t heard it in a while. Even her mother took up to calling her Beastie after he nicknamed her that. It just fits her so well, that active little girl who prefers trousers over dresses because they're easier to move in and always wants to play at fighting. She’s a real little monster, and Meng Yao loves her like that. She’s just Beastie.

But according to the homework she’s spent the afternoon on, she’s also Nie Mingjue.

It could just be a coincidence. Names are funny like that, they pop up in unexpected places, they get forgotten and reused. Perhaps in another life, Meng Yao would have just dismissed it as a random incident.

In another life, he wouldn’t have been called Meng Yao.

It’s the first time this happens since that first life they all shared. He’s Meng Yao again, Lan Xichen bears his old name too, and now he’s found a Nie Mingjue, hiding right under his nose. A Nie Mingjue who likes fighting, and claims that her toy sword is actually a sabre, and who always insists a lot on things being fair, even when Meng Yao tries to give her the biggest share of a food she likes.

It can’t be a coincidence.

Meng Yao needs to tell someone.

He needs to tell Nie Huaisang.

He tries, of course, and without surprise his former employer’s number has been terminated. He has the same luck trying to send an email. Nie Huaisang might as well never have existed. Meng Yao feels helpless, torn between tears and laughter. After spending centuries looking for his brother, Nie Huaisang just might have lost his chance due to being so damn dramatic. Serves him right, Meng Yao thinks, still bitter about being discarded so easily, and never getting a chance to see if things might work better in this life.

Bitterness doesn’t last. Meng Yao cares about Nie Huaisang, more than he should if he were a little smarter, and he knows how important finding his brother again would be for him. And if Nie Huaisang can’t be directly contacted, there’s always indirect ways.

It’s not that Meng Yao misses Lan Xichen, he tells himself that night, when Beastie is back with his mother and he starts writing a long text message on his phone. Well, it’s not just that, anyway. He does miss Lan Xichen, sweet and funny and so eager when talking about art. But more importantly, Lan Xichen probably has access to Lan Wangji, who clearly must know how to contact Nie Huaisang.

Texting Lan Xichen is a strategic choice.

The way Meng Yao's heart jumps inside his chest when Lan Xichen immediately replies is… it's strategic too. He's just glad that his plan is working.

How have you been? :)

I could have been worse. I've just realised something and I think it concerns you. I've told you about that kid I babysit, haven't I?

Little Beastie? Is she okay? D:

She's Nie Mingjue.

This time, the answer isn't immediate. Meng Yao stares nervously at his phone, wondering if Lan Xichen thinks he's lying, or planning something. Considering their first life, who could blame him?

But after a few minutes, his phone vibrates again.

Sorry, I dropped my phone and couldn't get it back from under the couch. Are you sure?? (⊙ˍ⊙)

It all fits. You could come meet her if you want. But it's him, I'm sure.

Did you tell Nie Huaisang???

I can't contact him. Are you in touch with Lan Wangji? Maybe he can warn him.

I have his number, I just texted him! I'll keep you updated! It's so wonderful if it's da-ge!! Can I really meet him? ╰(*°▽°*)╯

Her*?

I'll send you my address. If you can come tomorrow, she'll be there.

Are you sure? I don't think da-ge would still want me around. (≧﹏ ≦)

Meng Yao gives that question the consideration it deserves. It's not an unfair worry to have, and he'd be wondering the same if he hadn't known Beastie for so long.

I literally killed him, and he killed me. If she had to hate anyone it'd be me, but we get along great. We're no longer the same people we used to be. It's the same for her.

If you're sure, then I'll come! (❁´w`❁)

Meng Yao is very sure indeed.

So Lan Xichen comes.

It's odd to invite someone to his flat. It's a small place, a bit messy, full of trinkets and DVDs that Meng Yao would never admit to owning, not with the image he wants to create. He's always avoided guests. But having Lan Xichen over is as rewarding as it is terrifying. Lan Xichen brought some charming little cakes, as if he's visiting someone important, and he smiles at the sight of a movie poster on the wall, confessing he watched it so often as a teenager that the tape broke one day.

"It's my favourite too!" Beastie exclaims. "Meng-ge has it, you know! Can we watch it now?"

Normally, Meng Yao would point out that it's a little rude to ask that when they have a guest. But he can see that Lan Xichen is nervous and unsure how to act around Nie Mingjue, and maybe a movie will let them all relax.

In the end, they spend a pleasant afternoon, the three of them. Once Lan Xichen stops worrying that the Nie Mingjue of old will appear and shout at him for getting him killed, he starts chatting with Beastie about her favourite movies, what she's learning in school, what she wants to be when she grows up. She's very happy to answer, and very impressed when he explains he's a teacher, even though she's finding it hard to accept that most of his students are fully adult.

And when Beastie is back with her mother, Lan Xichen lingers for a while, tempted by the offer of Meng Yao's favourite takeaway.

“It’s amazing how much like him she is,” Lan Xichen says as they sit on the sofa to wait for the food to arrive. “It’s the first time he reincarnates, you know. At least, Wangji told me they’d never found any trace of him before.”

Guilt shoots through Meng Yao. It’s his fault if Nie Mingjue’s soul was so fractured it took him this long to be reborn. Or at least, it’s the fault of someone he was, once, which is nearly the same, and yet completely different. Meng Yao has learned from living and dying several times, and he’s lucky enough to live in a kinder world than Jin Guangyao did. It helps.

“She’s also different from him, though,” Lan Xichen continues, moving just a little closer, until they’re almost touching.

“We’ll, for starters she’s a kid,” Meng Yao points out, wondering if he should take the other man’s hand. If this had happened before the Hanshi, he would have, but he’s not sure where they stand now.

“It’s not just that. In that first life, I knew da-ge as a child too and he was…” Lan Xichen sighs and makes a vague hand gesture. “He was a lot. Way too serious sometimes. We all were, I suppose, but him most of all. The Nie tended to grow fast, to compensate for dying young. I’m… I’m glad that he gets to properly be a child this time. That she gets to be a child.”

“The world has changed,” Meng Yao says, finding the courage at last to brush his fingers against Lan Xichen’s. “Things aren’t always easy but they’re… easier, I suppose.”

Lan Xichen’s returns that touch, gentle and careful as always. This, too, is easier now than it was back then. It’s not easy, but there’s less pressure to conform, less demands to be good dutiful sons, and just a little more space to be their own people, to make their own choices.

Maybe in their next life they’ll meet again and it’ll be even easier to be like this. But even now, Meng Yao is ready to take the chances that his past self wouldn’t have dared to dream of. He leans toward Lan Xichen, hoping to kiss him, but a knock on the door interrupts them and he jumps to his feet to go get their food. The delivery man looks at him a little funny, but makes no comment. If Meng Yao is half as red as Lan Xichen, he deserves those odd looks.

Nothing happens again that night. The moment has passed, and after eating, Lan Xichen has to go home because he has engagements the day after that he can’t cancel.

It's not a date that night, no more than any of their previous encounters were.

It's not a date then, but next time, when Lan Xichen invites him to a restaurant, Meng Yao is informed in no unclear terms that this is, in fact, a date. They go see a movie after, and Meng Yao gets to kiss one of the two most handsome men in the world.

Life is good.

Life is really good, and yet Meng Yao wants more.

In spite of their efforts, Lan Xichen and him can't get in touch with Nie Huaisang to inform him that his brother has finally reincarnated. Even Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are getting worried. From what they told Lan Xichen they haven't had any contact with him since the day they picked him up at the Hanshi.

"They say he's done that before," Lan Xichen tells him. "They think he'll return in a decade or two, maybe a little longer. Time is hard for immortals, they lose track easily."

That's all very well for them, but Meng Yao doesn't have a few decades to waste, and neither does Nie Mingjue. They're not immortals. One bad illness, a reckless driver, just tripping in the stairs, and it's all over until they reincarnate again, and Meng Yao is done with missed chances.

If he can't directly get in touch with Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao can make a few discreet calls to former buyers, and advise them to get their purchase asserted again, just in case. He makes sure to only contact people who bought legitimate artworks of course. He wants to make a wave, not get in trouble. If Meng Yao knows Nie Huaisang even half as well as he thinks he does, then even in hiding Nie Huaisang will be checking what’s happening in the world of art collectors, and he’ll hear about some of his buyers suddenly becoming fearful of fakes.

It’s a little mean perhaps, when Nie Huaisang is so proud of his counterfeits, but kindness has never been Meng Yao’s greatest quality.

Besides, it works.

One afternoon, when Meng Yao is alone at home, checking a job offer that he’s probably going to reject because he deserves better, there’s a knock on the door. Meng Yao considers ignoring it, but some of his elderly neighbours have been coming to ask for help with their phones or whatever new fancy blender their kids got them to make life easier. Usually, five minutes of easy work means free homemade food for his next meal, which is always a great deal.

When he opens the door, there’s a very old man waiting in the corridor alright, but free food is probably out of the question.

“Well, I’m here,” Nie Huaisang says. “Whatever is going on, it’d better be important.”

#xisangyao #xiyao #sangyao #xisang #counterfeit au #lan xichen #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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zackcarrionvalentine · 2 years

Text

The Marks on Your Skin [Sara Kondo x Leona Kingscholar]

Summary: Tattoos, piercings, age and sun spots, moles, stretchmarks, scars… There’s so many little changes on your body that say “I have lived through time, tough and enjoyable alike. I am alive and I will continue to prosper.” Don’t ever feel ashamed about them.

Tags: Original Character/Leona Kingscholar, Original Female Character, OC x Canon, OC not mine, Slight mentions of abuse, Suggestive themes

-- --

A nice little piece for an anonymous commissioner~! Story with some slight spice about their OC Sara and Leona. Tender moments and leaps of faith, how will this story end~? ;)

Second OC x Canon story! Thank you for giving me the pleasure to wire about your character!

Onwards to the fic :D

“Shoot, sorry! Should’ve been more careful with the noise as I-“ Sara hurried to cover herself with the discarded shirt of hers. The cloth crooked and messy, but at least it helped hide her front from the eyes suddenly placed on her.

The startled dorm leader turned around on his bed to give her a little privacy after his interruption. “No, no, it’s… okay just- Do whatever you need to do.” Leona sighed and ran a hand through his bedhead. Ears flat as he, in his opinion, disrespected her.

It was not uncommon for Sara to spend time in Leona’s room, finding the place calm and welcoming to study and do assignments as the 3rd year napped. He didn’t mind her company either, seeing as how they would often chat whenever he was awake. What was very uncommon, though, was seeing her show so much skin, certainly something Leona wasn’t prepared to wake up to.

The eldest Kondo sister was stressed after job hunting to better the quality of life her sister, Grim and herself shared in Ramshackle. Since her body wouldn’t stop fidgeting, she decided to make use of the energy by practicing Tai Chi.

The day was hotter than usual in Savanaclaw, leading all residents to have a sweat-drenched shirt after some light exercise. Sara then had to make a tough decision midway through her training: keep the shirt on to be safe even if it’s uncomfortable, or take it off for comfort. She decided to take her top off and exercise on her sports bra, relying that Leona would not wake up for another 20 minutes, as per his usual afternoon nap schedule.

Evidently, things didn’t go as planned.

As the noirette rushed to get dressed again, she caught sight of the lion’s forest green eyes trained on her back through the reflection on the window she was standing in front of.

She hesitated, mind fretting over worried related to the topic she wanted to bring up. Finally, she took a deep breath of courage. “Now or never.”

Once more, Kingscholar was surprised to see her without the shirt on as she sat herself beside him on the way. “Something must be up.” His senses told him.

“Leona?” She quietly asked.

“Hmm?” He answered before a yawn broke through.

“Have you ever thought about… Poofs of life?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, how one can prove they’ve lived and are living.”

Silence carried on before the older boy gave an answer: “Herbivore, I suppose you don’t mean looking at the living person is enough to make the statement?”

Sara snorted lightly at the pinch of irritation on his voice. “No… Not really. At least not in the way I think you’re thinking.”

Leona sighed and crossed his arms. “Good, because that’s not my answer.” He replaced his slouched posture with a proper sitting position, as if to tell her to pay attention to his reasoning. “Take history as an example for it. Stories, retellings of memories shared with others, photographs and works of art, even memorials that bear their name. It applies to both, the living and the death. Their memory carries on through time, leaving on its path legacies of gratitude and happiness, and sometimes of more somber feelings.”

“I see.” She nodded, “That’s an interesting view, Leona.”

A couple seconds of silence until he gently nudged her arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“Oh! Uhm…” It was the brunette’s turn. “Well, I think one can prove they’ve lived and grown by looking at the marks on their body.” She looked at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the wall in front of them. “You start with smooth and clear skin, a blank canvas. Then you experience life and all sort of little marks appear on you.” She seemed peaceful as she spoke. “Sun spots and freckles from spending time outside in the sun, moles and birthmarks, stretchmarks that show how your body has changed, piercings and tattoos because you wanted to express yourself in a different way, and scars…. that came from childhood accidents after having lots of fun, or after a life-saving surgery or… from… less happy times in life.” Her shoulders tensed at the last part, fingers unconsciously tracing some of the scars on her arms.

A quick shake of her head blew the anguish away. “Regardless of how they came to be, all these marks prove that you lived and are living.” Sara fully turned to look at Leona. “Don’t you think?”

He took it as a sign that it was okay to look at her as she was, so he returned her gaze. Leona nodded, “It makes sense.”

Her lips formed a gentle smile, but her brown eyes reflected sadness. “It’s a shame people wish to make fun of and wrongly criticize the marks of others… Often calling them ugly and unsightly, something gained only for attention…” Once more, fingers danced over scarred skin, eyes averted and looking at the floor.

Leona took notice of her fidgeting when mentioning negative things, ears perking up in attention. He was aware Sara had to protect her sister back in their world, but it wasn’t until that moment when a clearer idea formed. “Tough times in their life… Bad enough to leave scars on her skin. And seems like people criticized her for them… or perhaps prodded too far to know the story. She’s uncomfortable remembering the story.”

He jolted from a sudden bout of bravery. His brain screaming at him to speak his mind. The lion’s heartbeat quickened, heat raising to his cheeks.

“Well, I say those people are stupid and insensitive.” He spoke up, breaking the silence between them. Sara looked at him with curiosity, feeling chills wake her skin at his words.

“Just think about it. Scars, moles, or stretchmarks, the bully has them as well. They’re a sign of growing, like you said. So why laugh at someone else’s skin? If they share the same type of mark pointed out, it’s like they’re laughing at their own selves.” Leona continued.

It wasn’t only chills on her skin now, a spark lit up her heart at what he was saying. It amazed her and made her admire him more.

His head tilted to the side as he nodded. “Yes yes, perhaps some of the marks we got have silly backstories, but one shouldn’t feel ashamed of having them… No matter form where they come, tough or happy times.”

She was looking at him with sparkles in her eyes, a big smile on her lips. Slowly, Kingscholar turned his whole body to properly look at her. His ears once more dropped down, the blush on his cheeks returning a few tones darker. “She looks dumb… and cute… Damn it…”

“Do you really think so?” Kondo inquired.

His heart skipped a beat, “Did I think out loud?” But his fear was soothed with her following question.

“Do you really believe scars should be worn with no shame?”

“Of course I do.” Was his immediate response. Clearing his throat, he delivered a calmer, more thought out answer. “Yes, I do. They’re proof you’ve lived and overcame obstacles, that you enjoyed life. Why let a nobody’s words affect your view of them?”

They kept staring at each other, gazes of brown and green locked as a comfortable silence enveloped them.

Leona’s heart kept beating rapidly in his chest, and the flush on Sara’s cheeks told him hers was doing something similar. Without noticing, they started to lean towards the other, bodies pulling them together with a magnetic-like force.

A swipe of green eyes to the girl’s stomach asked a clear question: “May I touch you?” Sara nodded gently. Butterflies fluttered within her once his warm hand landed on her stomach.

Leona delicately explored each of the scars on her skin, tracing a path from the lowest mark, making his way up to her shoulder. Up until all the scars on her stomach were explored, up her arm and to her shoulder, fingertips tickling the bumpy skin. The lion smiled gently at every small giggle that passed the girl’s lips as he caressed her. Hand traveling up until his he cupped her cheek.

Another shared gaze for consent. He brought her face closer, him leaning down further until only a breath of air separated them. Leona tucked a stray strand of her dark wavy hair behind her ear, and finally…

They shared their first kiss together…

and then another…

and another…

and one more~

And before they knew it, tender kisses were bestowed upon scars, enjoying the feeling of leaving temporary marks on the other’s skin in their passion. Hushed “I love you”s shared between sheets as Leona and Sara set their minds free, admitting the flowering feelings of affection that grew inside their hearts.

An afternoon of tender lovemaking that brought forth confessions and comforting.

Because you are worthy of love, regardless of your story and the arks on your skin.

[END ♡]

-- --

Hope you enjoyed!!

Man, Leona is a little bit hard to write for, but I’m honestly proud and satisfied of how I wrote him here :D

Thank you for reading, and again, for letting me write for your character!! And for your patience as you waited for your piece to be done :3

P.S.: Please tell me if you spot any spelling mistakes because I feel some might’ve gone past my spellcheck rounds.

#zack writes #zack's writing commissions #oc x canon #spicy commission #mild spice #twusted #proud lion #others' ocs #sara kondo

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littleoldrachel · 3 years

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"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.

#thunderbirds are go #littleoldrachel writes #virgil tracy #scott tracy #earth and sky

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faithinthefuture28 · 4 years

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Larry songs timeline & what it tells us about the evolution of their relationship

**These are all just my interpretations but the more I listen to the music they wrote, the more it all fits together. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THROUGHOUT THE YEARS THEY’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT WRITING “AUTOBIOGRAPHICALLY” AND “FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCE”

I deffo missed some songs but these stood out to me:

2013

L-Strong: Love isn’t easy (waves trying to break it) but what we have means something and it’s worth fighting for. read: love is only for the brave (Think of how much love that’s been wasted...there’s nothing i’m running from...i don’t care, I’m not scared of love) And we bring out the best in each other so lets not throw this away (i’d do anything to save it...when i’m not with you i’m weaker).

H-Happily: I want to fight for us too bc we’re on fire and our love is powerful af. ik we have to do stunts and stuff (and if (s)he feels my traces in your hair, sorry love but I don’t really care) but what we have is insane and fuck everyone else bc you’re MINE and i’m YOURS at the end of the day (i wanna be the one who holds you when you sleep). Together, we’re magic so just be with me so happily

H-Something Great: ****this song is very straightforward so i won’t explain it much***** (i want you here with me like how i pictured it so i dont have to keep imagining... We’re better off together here tonight). Written as a longing for what could be if they dont have to suppress the relationship. (script was written...want to rip it all to shreds) Louis’ response (you’re all I want so much it’s hurting) basically says “it’s not too much to ask babe, i want it too.” This has the kind of longing that ‘wouldn’t it be nice- beach boys’ which Harry has admitted is kind of a theme song.

L-Through the Dark: I know all this bs we’re going through is taking a toll on you and hurts you and i hate seeing you upset (you tell me that your sad...you tell me that you’re hurt and youre in pain and i can see your head is held in shame...i just wanna see you smile again) but I will do everything physically possible to protect you from any pain bb (i’d never let you fall and break your heart, if u wanna cry or fall apart, i’ll be there to hold ya). We’re going through this together and I will take on any responsibility needed to keep you happy. I’M WILLING TO GO THROUGH HELL TO FIGHT FOR US HARRY LOVE (entire chorus basically).

L-Better than Words: holy fuck our love is amazing can’t even describe it can i just sing to you foreva love u babycakes

L-Why don’t we go there: what if...we just forgot about the world and escaped and enjoyed each others love and rode the high??? Also sex

2014

L-Ready to Run: *******Followup to Why Don’t We Go There*********** But this time let’s escape for real bc (there’s me inside a sinking boat running out of time). Like i’m ready to get out of here and it could just be us living happily ever after (this time i’m ready to run). Honestly nothing else makes sense (without you i’ll never make it out alive...wherever you are is the place i belong). I know what i want out of life and IT’S YOU HARREH (i want to be free and i wanna be yours, i will never look back).

L-Steal My Girl: all u thirsty hoes find someone else bc Harry is MY pretty princess. Srsly ask his family. But you can still admire how he looks in those jeans. We all do. You know the ones

L-No Control: boy u fine, let’s do what lovers do IN THE MORNING. bc we can. also you own me and i am urs

L-Clouds: WE KNEW THIS WAS GONNA BE HARD SO WHY ARE YOU BEING A LITTLE BITCH (you dont like it complicated...but love is never ever simple...you are tired of all the changes, but love is always always changing). We could be great yo, just keep fighting (if we’re never coming back down, we’ll looking down on the clouds...we go and we go and we dont stop)

H-Where do Broken Hearts Go: IM SORRY LOU BABY YOURE EVERYTHING (rest of my crimes dont come close the look on your face when i let you go... the taste of your lips...is at the top of the list of things i want). H&L’s call and response at the end is basically forgiveness and acknowledgment (come on baby come and get me out, come on baby cuz i need you now)

H-Two Ghosts: *****was written around this time according to Harry******. This is fucking hard yo. We’re drained and exhausted and idk how much more we can fight for this... (it’s not you and it’s not me...sounds like something that i used to feel). That infatuation and electricity and hope that fueled our younger selves isn’t really there anymore and i’m just tired man (we’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat, we’re not who we used to be...this was all we used to need). We’re empty vessels going through the motions (same eyes blue, couple more tattoos). AND WE AREN’T FUCKING COMMUNICATING (we dont say what we really mean).

2015

H&L-Perfect: so what if... we get rid of the pressure of forever? What if we just have fun doing the stupid shit we love and makes us feel alive (trouble up in hotel rooms, secret little rendezvous, things you know that we shouldn’t do). Like we won’t be out of each others’ lives, I’m still around and we can find comfort in each other and even mess around here and there (I can be the one you love from time to time). Remember how we used to be young and EXCITED (when i first saw you from across the room, i could tell that you were curious) let’s get that energy back without the responsiblity of an adult relationship. And we can keep making art lmao (if youre looking for someone to write your breakup songs about).

L-Long Way Down *****this song fkn hurts man. It’s overlooked a lot but shows so much insight**** We were...everything. And maybe that’s the problem? We’ve been through so fucking much, more than anyone our age should have to endure. (We've been in fire, Went down in the flames. We sailed the ocean And drowned in the waves. Built a cathedral But we never prayed) We didn’t know what we had. We were damn kids man. We weren’t prepared for all this. We didn’t know how powerful this would be. We didn’t know what it required of us. (We had a mountain But took it for granted. We had it all yeah. Who could’ve planned it). We didn’t know what to do with it, how to deal with it, so here we are. (We had a spaceship But we couldn't land it) We’re each other’s everything, but we can’t keep going on like this babe. (We found an island But we got stranded). I don’t want to leave you but being together is breaking us down. (Point of no return and now It's just too late to turn around) We thought we were untouchable. That love conquers all. Maybe, we were wrong. This is gonna hurt like a bitch (We built it up so high and now I'm fallin', it’s a long way down)

H-Olivia: I LIVE FOR YOU, I LONG FOR YOU, I LOVE YA. And i think i’ll always love ya. And I’m scared...of life without you (i get the feeling you’re walking out, time is irrelevant when i’ve not been seeing you, the consequences are falling now, there’s something i’m having nightmares about...dont let me go). But maybe just maybe thats okay, because you’re AIMH (you live in my imagination...i love you, it’s all i do).

L-Love you Goodbye: I fucking love you and I’ll always fucking love you but i think this is the right thing to do even though it feels so wrong (i know there’s nothing i can do to change it, but is there something that can be negotiated?) We made some goddamn fireworks together though (unforgettable together held the whole world in our hands) and do ya maybe think...we can make them just once more? (if tomorrow you wont be mine, let me give it to you one last time, baby let me love you goodbye...one more taste of your lips just to bring me back to the places we’ve been and the nights we’ve had because if this is it, then at least we could end it riiiiight). ********in the interview with our FAVE Gwen Garcia, she asked if it’s better to say goodbye and end a relationship that’s not feeling right or keep trying even if your heart’s not in it. Harry responds with “I think it’s better to say goodbye...but sometimes if youre trying to protect..” Then Louis cuts him off and says “you’re going deep aren’t you”, brushing the question off as a joke but imho i think there was pain in that answer. Then Harry continues “if you’re not 100% in it, I think it’s better for both parties if you say goodbye”. And Louis adds a “yeah” at the end.********

H-Walking in the Wind: I know this is scary but i think we can do it, (you said to me do you believe i’ll be too far? if youre lost just look for me you’ll find me) I think because youre AIMH and i’m always in yours, it’ll be good for us. And look at us being mature, we’re killing it babe. We can live our separate lives and grow on our own. We dont need to make it messy and hurtful. We’re on the same page. (the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we’ve already won. A necessity for apologies between you and me, baby there is none). At this point, we’re kinda part of each other right? So it’s healthy for us to be apart for a bit. (it’s not the end, i’ll see your face again... i know we’ll be alright...just close your eyes and see i’ll be by your side any time you need me). And you’ve helped me grow into the person I am, and I you, so that’s cool as hell, right? (you will find me in places that we’ve never been). We had a TON of fun (we had some good times didnt we) so i feel okay that we’re doing this (goodbyes are bittersweet) and starting the next adventure in our lives.

H-If I could fly: I. am. yours. Louis. William. Tomlinson. (for your eyes only, i’ll show you my heart). Maybe this growth thing isn’t worth it, let me prove to you how much you mean to me (i think i might give up everything just ask me to). This is gonna be hard as shit because i’m so dependent on you (i’m missing half of me when we’re apart). I’m being honest and I’m being scared and I’m being vulnerable because I can’t lie to you and pretend I’m strong (i let my guard down, right now i’m completely defenseless). But we’re part of each other, right? (i could feel your heart inside of mine). I’ll always be here for you Lou (for when you’re lonely and forget who you are) even if for now we can’t physically be together.

L-Home: I’ve tried, Harry. I’ve tried to play pretend (told myself i kind of like her but there was something missin in her eyes). But i was lost (i was stumblin, lookin in the dark with an empty heart) because none of it was enough, none of it was YOU (it was there i sawr it in your eyes). And then i met you and you felt the same and we’re both lost souls playing pretend who found magic in each other (but you say you feel the same, could we ever be enough?) Is our love enough to overcome everything? Maybe we can be enough. Maybe I can make this enough, let me try to make it enough for you. And if we go our separate ways, know that I’m here for you no matter what. I won’t let you be lost again. (When you’re lost I’ll find a way and I’ll be your light, you will never feel like you’re alone, I’ll make this feel like home). So go. wander. find yourself. Then when you’re ready, come home.

2016-2017

H- Sweet Creature: ***Harry admit that this was the first song he wrote for the album**** We aren’t in the best place rn. We’ve been fighting (had another talk about where it’s going wrong...it’s hard when we argue, we’re both stubborn). But it’s you Louis. It can’t be anyone else. (don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong... wherever I go, you bring me home). That’s not even a question. I’m still trying to figure out who I am, but the one thing I know is that a large part of who I am is you (we started 2 hearts in one home). And aint no way I’m losing that part of myself (when i run out of road, you bring me home). It was always you.

H-MMITH: Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready (just let me know i’ll be at the door, hoping you’ll come around). I know I need to work on myself a little more (i gotta get better, and maybe we’ll work it out) but honestly i’m getting impatient and i want things to go back to how they were and i want to be yours again (once you go without it, nothing else would do). But I can’t communicate this to you clearly so let me just put this in a song and hope you get it (we dont talk about it, it’s something we dont do) ****Harry mentioned in an interview that he expresses himself through songwriting when he can’t say the words directly to a person because it’s easier to just write it in a song than have difficult conversations*****

H-ESNY: ****honestly no idea what this song is about but it’s something to do with them fighting and not communicating and being in a weird place before their relationship is rekindled******* edit: this could be about his stepdad

H-FTDT: I MISS YOU AND I’M TOO FULL OF PRIDE TO TELL YOU DIRECTLY JUST COME BACK INTO LIFE LOU I’M LONELY AND SAD AND EMPTY AND IM NOT FUCKING FINDING MYSELF LIKE YOU SAID I WOULD (woke up alone, played with myself where were you...we havent spoke since you went away, why wont you ever say what you wanna say) So until then I sit and wait for your sorry ass to make the first move (maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too...but you never do). Also like i have to hear from other people how you are?? (i saw your friend that you know from work, he said that you feel just fine) ANd you’re sharing OUR clothes with people?? wtf just swallow your pride and call me

L-Miss You: OKAY BUT I CANT JUST CALL YOU BECAUSE I HAVE PRIDE TOO also my mates are trying to make me get over you (now i’m asking my friends how to say I’m sorry, they say lad give it ttime there’s no need to worry, and we can’t even be on the phone now). So i’m just numbing your absence with partying and drinks but CLEARLY ITS NOT WORKING (should be laughing but there’s something wrong...shit maybe i miss you...when i feel it coming up i just throw it all away, get another few shots cuz it doesn’t matter anyway...such a good time, i’ll believe it this time). This is weird bc like you were my everything but im trying to get used to this and it fucking sux (oh how shit changes, we were in love, now we’re strangers). And tbh, its scary af bc what if this is it (i’m asking myself, is it over?). BUT ALSO LIKE WTF U COULD REACH OUT FIRST YA KNOW (i’ve been checking my phone all evening).

H-Anna: wtf Louis how do you not see how much this is killing me. I miss you so much and seeing you on tv or in pics drives me wild bc you’re not mine. (I don’t want your sympathy but you don’t know what you do to me...everytime I see your face there’s only so much I can take...I guess it would be nice if I can touch your body). And idk if you’re replacing me (don’t know where you’re laying, just know it’s not with me) and we’re in SUCH a weird place rn how do I tell u you’re the loml (don’t know what I’d say if I passed you on the street...don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth) so I refuse to put this song on the album and let you know this and give you satisfaction from knowing how gone I still am for you bc I have 0 idea how you feel (hope you never see this and know that it’s for you)

L-Always You: SO THIS IS ME SWALLOWING MY PRIDE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU SAYING IM SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT... ok but fr i miss u i miss u i miss u i miss u and nothing else compares like i can travel the whole world and all i think about is how much more fun it was with you and the memories we shared and i wish i could just say thx fr th mmrs and move on but actually no thx actually fuck you for making me not able to enjoy my life without you. So like...come home? and wrap your legs around me? also lmao i took El to a gay bar in amsterdam for her bday lmao i miss u come cuddle me and i’ll tell you all about it

L-We Made It: looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come my baby. They saidd I bett they’ll never make it, but just look at us holding onn, we’re still togetherr, still going stronggg. Also to the fans, miss our single bed and the nights we talked about our dreams :-* also Andrew my man luv u

2018-2019

L-KMM: our love was youthful and exhilarating and fucking electric and i think it still can be. dont know what i’d do without you now H

L-DLIBYH: We’re strong babe and we’ve grown and we aren’t gonna let life drag us down. I’m doing better, you’re doing better, this is what we wanted. And now any shit we go through, we’ll go through TOGETHER

L-Too Young: Okay but looking back, that was a lot of shit we went through and we were just babies and i’m sorry for not fighting harder (i cant believe i gave in to the pressure when they said a love like this would never last so i cut you off cuz i didnt know no better) baby i tried, i tried to protect you but like it was just so much and i hate that you got hurt and i wont ever let that happen again. ALso go us for being mature and COMMUNICATING (face to face at the kitchen table, we can finally have a conversation that I wish we could’ve had before). ANd i know you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry so here let ME say i’m sorry that i hurt you darling. Like we were too young to know we had everything BUT now we’re old(er) and can realize that when we’re together, we DO have everything now and omg is this our happily ever after and we can have a daughter and name her Darcy

L-Habit: do i need to spell it out for you iiiiii aaaaaaaaammmmmmm sssssssoooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy. But tbh i let you go because it felt right because mentally you were already out the door and i needed to give you room to grow babe. And i needed the space too (you gave me the time and the space i was out of control and i’m sorry i let you down). but like also i’ve learned i can’t escape you Styles. You’re always in my fucking heart and my fucking mind and in every essence of my being and somehow I knew that 9 years ago and it took me this long to realize how powerful this really is (guess that that i know what i already knew, i was better with you and i miss you now). Ooooh also my favorite line i wrote (took some time cuz i ran out of energy of playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be and honestly i dont have to choose anymore) like who am i kidding, im done pretending i just wanna be yoursss now

L-Defenseless: I can’t help it okay theres something about you that doesn’t let me stay away. I need you and I know that rekindling this relationship isn’t going to be easy even though it feels so so right. It’s going to be hard work (sleeping on our problems but we’ll solved them in our dreams, wake up early morning and it’s still under the sheets) and we need to communicate and solve our problems but here I am, raw and unfiltered and emotionally naked in front of you ready to lay it all on the table (not sure how to say this right, got so much to lose. NEver been so defenseless). So like this branch I’m reach out to you and you be honest with me too babe (you dont have to keep on being strong for me and you. Acting like you feel no pain, you know i know you do...I can’t get inside, when you’re lost in your pride but you don’t have a thing to prove). Be open with me. Lets talk. Let’s solve problems. Lets have an adult relationship. I’m asking for a little vulnerabiltiy babe. It’s just me. Theres nothing to be scared of

L-Walls: And here you have me in my purest form. No lies, no secrets, no insecurities to hide behind. Losing you was fucking painful but i got through it. I’ve been through hell and back and I’ve fought. And without you, I grew into the person I am. And any further growing i’m doing is gonna be with you. bc it was all for you babe. and honestly i can take anything life throws at me now. I’m strong baby. I’m fucking strong and fucking brave and fucking resilient and...fucking yours. ***** wtf is the I just hope i see you one day and you’ll say to me oh oh********

H-Golden: You are the literal sun and I’m not ready. YOU’RE SUCH A GOOD PERSON (you were way too bright for me, i’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky). I’m scared to go through this alone, I need your comfort and your guidance (i can feel you take control of who i am and all i’ve ever known). But you’re scared to go through this with me bc you dont wanna get hurt and i’m too open so where tf does that leave us. ******this could be about coming out especially with the London AND NY secret shows where Harry added the lyric I’m hoping someday you’ll open*******

H-Adore You: You dont have to say you love me, you dont have to say nothing, you dont have to say you’re mine. I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore Lou. Like its the only thing I’ll ever do. read: Louis is a great person to just admire what he’s like. ALso I dont need anything back. I just dont want to hide my love for you anymore. I don’t need answers or promises. Just let me adore you. ********the music video is also basically a Louis appreciation post. He was the boy with the smile that the world took away from him. He found Harry lost and loved him and nurtured him and made him confident and allowed him to be who he wanted to be. But in doing so, Harry became big and unsatisfied and wanted to explore the world and was clearly interested in Hollywood and Rockstardom especially evident in his behavior 2014-2015. And Louis wasn’t about that life and didn’t want to hold him back. So he let him free. But they realized that they don’t work apart. Wherever they’re going, they’re going together, as the boy sails into the unknown following the fish. I see it as Harry’s version of “this one is a thank you for what you did for me” ************* I see it, I appreciate it, and I love you for it

H-Lights Up: ****fight with Louis. (What do you mean I’m sorry by the way) About coming out? About fame? (Step into the light, so bright sometimes) Either way, L is the guy driving the motorcycle in the video who makes H feel comfortable and safe until they get pulled over because SOMEONE wont let them love*******

H-Falling: What if i’m out, what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? Okay maybe I lied I do want you to claim me. Would me coming out of the closet make that hard for you? I CAN’T GO THROUGH AN IDENTITY CRISIS WITHOUT YOU LOU. I picked someone supportive and now I’m spoiled and I dont know how to be with myself. You want back in my life but what if I dont deserve it? (you said you cared and you missed me too...what i’m someone i dont want around). What if you’re better off without me? (i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again). I know youve been through so much shit because of me, things you’ve never even told me about and im afraid...that I wasn’t worth it. Am I being selfish? because either way, i want YOU (what if you’re someone i just want around). Does that make me a bad person?

H-TBSL: ****Probably when they starting talking again but it was v casual and they didn’t really discuss their relationship yet*****. I MISS U BUT I WONT TELL U THAT and its nice to talk to u again i missed your voice but if u call me baby i will kill u bc that word has weight OKAY. Like i know you just call everyone babe and darling and sweetheart but baby is FOR ME and only for me when you wake up with me and cuddle me and if you think you have any right calling me baby without giving the luxury of being in a relationship with you then piss off because that shit hurts dude. (i know that you’re trying to be friends, know that you mean it...it’s hard for me to go home to be so lonely). ALso it’s not my fault i’m like this, you literally captured my heart when i was 16 like wtf do u expect (dont blame me for falling, i was just a little boy)

H-Sunflower Vol. 6: we were babies and i was so enamored by you and you’re so bright and beautiful and i want to watch you all day and make you smile and i want you to touch my hair and call me curly and i hope im not making you uncomfortable with my heart eyes but like how are you so perfect. I hope you think i’m cool, i’m really trying but like you’re SO FUNNY and charming and everyone loves you i hope im not embarassing myself. And now it’s like 8 years later and i think i can have you again and i want you so bad but i dont wanna seem too eager and im trying to have dignity and not text you first but like also i want nothing more than to talk to you. Do you think i’m cool now? did you like my new hairstyle? Do you think i’m funny on tour? I want everything i want to be domestic again and kiss in the kitchen and i want to cook for you and as;ldfa;sdhaf i want to buy you flowers everyday and shower ur cute face with kiss. boopx28

H-Canyon Moon: Hell yea i got ma man back and i have a girlfriend named Jennifer ;) and we are domestic and even though I HATE being away from him for work (so hard to leave it) we have the 2 week rule yall then i can wrap my legs around him and after so so so long I’ll be h.o.m.e. Also did i tell you his eyes are so so blue like sky who i dont know her

H-TPWK: So we’re really doing this. We don’t need to have it all figured out. We can just be us. and happy. and dance. The world loves us babe. (Giving second chances, I don’t need all the answers and if we’re here long enough we’ll see it’s all for us and we’ll belong)

H-Fine Line: You’ve got my devotion but man I can hate you sometimes....We’ll be a fine line. Between what? love and hate? public and private? out and in the closet? each others’ and ourselves? Idk. But i’m going to swallow my pride (my hands at risk I fold) because no matter what, the worst possible outcome is not having you. And I never wanna go through that again. I know we have work to do on our relationship (spreading you open is the only way I know you). And there’s lot of unknown here (there’s things that we’ll never know) but what i do know is that i cant resist you (you sunshine you temptress) and i cant be without you ever again. I think it’ll be hard as hell. But when have we known love as anything but hard? And when have we known our love as anything but worth it? We’ll be a fine line baby. But i know, i knowww with every part of me that we’ll be alright. Because these past 10 years, we’ve been through A LOT. ANd it could have ruined us and made us cynical and cold and closed off. And I think at one point it did. But you know what we did? We fought it. We fought it together. Then we fought it individually. And we became BRAVE. And a brilliant man once said, “love is only for the brave”.

2K notes · View notes

mymedicine · 4 years

Text

Occam’s Razor

5.6k of surfer harry and y/n, mostly fluff, frenemies to lovers type beat

moodboard

warnings - marijuana usage, swearing, very light sexual language, lotsa teasing, harry being really sassy

notes - this started as a little blurb for @majorharry‘s 20k fic celebration and then it spiraled out of control into this very self-indulgent fantasy. I used the prompt “You’re lying. I can tell when you look at me like that.” Cass’s work inspired me to start writing harry fic in the first place, so if you enjoy this, you have her to thank! <3

more notes - fair warning y’all, I’m not a stoner by any means. i’ve been high like twice in my life and i cried both times so please forgive any inaccuracies in the smoking department. that being said, I urge you to click this link to learn about the decriminalization of cannabis in the US and how you can help correct the injustices associated with it. ok, yes I will shut up now please enjoy!

Island life was a dream come true for Y/N.

There was no sound she loved more than the crashing of waves against the shore, no smell more lovely than the salty aroma of beach air, and no sight more beautiful than the bright sunrise from her home two blocks away from the sand. She squinted at the rising sun as she rode the familiar route to the beach, surfboard clutched underneath one arm. With the other, she steered her trusty bicycle—the only form of transformation she needed on the island. All she ever needed to do was go back and forth from home to work at the surf shack on the beach and back again, with an occasional Target run in between when she was low on mangoes for her smoothies.

It was a perfect morning for an easy surf. Not too hot, not too windy. Just pale skies and a gentle summer breeze bringing peaceful energy to the tiny shack on the sand. She approached the back of the shop, clutching her board a little tighter as she rode over the uneven beach terrain. When she reached the wooden structure, she deposited her bike and board out back before waltzing inside through the back door.

“Morning, H!” Y/N yelled into the room, gripping the strap of her backpack over one shoulder.

From the main shopping area of the store, a curly head popped into the back room. “You’re late,” he replied, pushing his sunglasses through his already messy hair and perching them on the crown of his head. He sauntered into the back room, following Y/N over to their shared locker in the corner.

“C’mon Harry,” Y/N shrugged him off, “island time.”

In truth, neither of them really cared about her being a few minutes late to their agreed meeting time. The store didn’t open for hours and even then, the owner wouldn’t mind. It also didn’t hurt that said owner was none other than Harry’s mother.

“'S pretty out today,” Y/N continued, shoving her backpack into the locker they stored their stuff in during the day. “Should be plenty of nice hollows to play around in before—”

“My smoothie better not be melted,” Harry interrupted her just as she was pulling two thermoses out of the bag.

He was smirking, obviously uninterested in what she was saying and instead transfixed with the sweet drinks in her hands. Y/N rolled her eyes at him. Harry may not have been the most gracious company, but he was company at least. Island life was simple, relaxed, and perfect for Y/N, but it’d be lonely if it weren’t for him. He also consistently supplied her with decent weed and excellent board wax, which certainly didn’t hurt his case. In return, she brought him a mango smoothie every day. As underpaid and overworked coworkers, symbiosis and a shared love for the ocean kept their friendship relatively intact.

“Just for that, you’re not getting it until after dawn patrol,” she taunted, rattling the thermos above her head. She enjoyed the way his eyes followed the drink like a cat’s would a piece of yarn.

His tanned chest rose and fell as he inhaled an exasperated breath, jaw tight and eyes glinting with playful contempt. Along with his teasing expression, he wore only orange floral board shorts and the pair of sunglasses pushing back his curls. Y/N couldn’t help but notice his lack of clothing, even after months of working and surfing together nearly every day. Fuck, she thought, he just keeps getting hotter.

She couldn’t decide whether the fact that he was an actual work of art was helping her withstand his presence in her life, or if it was just simply torturing her with something she didn’t think she could have. Either way, his beauty was a constant distraction.

“Fine,” Harry taunted as Y/N put the drinks in the mini fridge beside the locker. “But just for that, I’ll out-surf your ass.”

~~~

Y/N laid with her cheek pressed down on her board, sighing as the hot sun gently warmed her wet skin. Dawn had brought plenty of excitement in the form of large, smooth waves, but by mid-morning the sea had calmed to a pleasant lull. She spread out her arms and let her fingers trail lightly in the water, finding comfort and solace in the coldness of it. Her board bobbed softly with the mellow waves, rocking her body like a mother rocking her baby. She could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for Harry’s sudden loud cursing coming from somewhere behind her.

“Y/N! Wake the fuck up!”

“I’m not asleep, asshole,” she called back, not moving from her peaceful position.

“C’mon, we’re already late. And s’ gonna rain so we have to pull in the racks.”

Y/N remembered the way the rising sun had been beating down on them all morning. She felt like she was being roasted out there in the humid air with her back exposed to the rays, not obstructed by even a single cloud. But the island weather was as volatile as it was beautiful, and the start of tropical storm season was imminent.

Y/N picked her head up and pushed her chest up on the board, observing the large, dark storm clouds in the distant horizon. I’ll be damned, she thought, he’s right. There was no way in hell she’d ever actually say that to him, though. Not with the way he was continuously taunting her from his place on his own board—“Y/N! Waaaakeeeey wakey! We have woooork!”

“Alright, Harry, shut up! I’m coming.”

Despite Harry’s incessant nagging, they both paddled to shore at a pretty lazy pace, trying to savor their last few minutes of peace in the water before having to deal with all the daily nuisances of customer service.

Anne’s shop on the beach was a hit with the locals and tourists alike. For years, she and Harry had been providing beachgoers with sunscreen and board wax and rash guards and even souvenir t-shirts and mugs, that sort of thing. Anne finally hired Y/N when they started selling bikinis two months ago and the business went through the roof. Having more customers was great, but it meant there was more work to be done.

Y/N and Harry approached the store, dragging their boards with their hair still dripping wet and feet caked with sand. There was a boy lingering outside, dressed in a tank top and board shorts that both looked half a size too big on his skinny frame. They both recognized him immediately—he was a regular at the beach but kind of a shubie, which deeply irritated Harry. Y/N wasn’t Tyler’s biggest fan either; it pissed her off a little when he’d show up bright and early before Anne, Harry or herself had even arrived to open up. But she was at least less hung up on it than Harry was.

“I got him,” Y/N told Harry. “Can you start on the racks? Don’t need you chasing away our best customer.”

Little did Y/N know, Harry disliked the guy for more reasons than just the facts that he showed up ridiculously early to the store and that he tried to dress like a surfer and hang with the locals but was too much of a pussy to go near the water.

While Y/N was tending to Tyler, Harry begrudgingly began pulling in the clothing racks stocked with t-shirts that Anne liked to keep outside in front of the shop. During last year’s rainy season, he’d have to pull the damn things inside nearly every other day. He glared through the open front door at Tyler while he interacted with Y/N, making her use the pole to reach one of the tank tops hung high up on the wall. “Interacted” was a soft way to put it, he reckoned. It could not possibly be more obvious that he was flirting with her.

It only annoyed Harry because he knew he was about eight thousand times better than Tyler on literally all levels, yet the boy still got to enjoy Y/N’s attention for as long as he wanted (he was a paying customer, after all). All while she was none the wiser. Harry loathed the way his eyes lingered on her chest, especially since today she hadn’t had time to put her coverup on before having to get the fucking tank top for him.

Y/N’s head snapped away from Tyler and his incessant talking when a loud crashing sound rang out. Harry was already looking at her from the doorway, face twisted with irritation. One of the racks was crashed into the wall beside him, leaving a few fallen shirts scattered on the floor.

“You missed the door, H.” Y/N laughed at him. She was amused by the grumbling noises he was making as he struggled to yank the rack through the door frame.

“You wanna do this yehself then? ‘F you just gonna make fun of me…” He frowned, voice getting fainter as he disappeared outside to grab the last rack.

“Sorry about him,” Y/N turned back to Tyler, who was waiting patiently for her to scan and neatly fold the top he was buying.

The boy flashed her a charming smile. “S’ fine. I’m not here for him.”

Y/N was not an idiot. She noticed his flirting, but didn’t take it remotely seriously. He was far too young for her. He was thinner than she preferred. His hair was too blonde, skin too pale and clean of any ink. And, well, he wasn’t Harry.

She kind of hated that everyone had to be compared to Harry in her mind, but she couldn’t help it. He was a masterpiece. Her gaze followed him as he sauntered back into the store, picking up fallen merchandise here and there before strolling right past her, into the back room.

Y/N sent Tyler a tightlipped smile when she realized she’d been inadvertently ignoring him. She felt his eyes on her as she finished the transaction. He took the bag from her outstretched arm, but his presence lingered even after she’d given him a polite yet dismissive “Have a nice day.”

“I’m Tyler, by the way,” he began, and Y/N internally groaned. He’d introduced himself several times already during the past few weeks. She was nicer about it than Harry, sure, but fuck she did not want to entertain this kid’s advances. “And you’re—“

“Y/N!” Harry’s voice called from behind her, interrupting Tyler rather rudely in the middle of his sentence. Harry appeared at her side as if she’d conjured him up by thinking about him. She be lying if she said she minded the interruption. “Here’s your smoothie from the back,” he said with a charming smile.

Harry produced one of the thermoses and presented it to her as if it were a prize. He knew he was the real winner though—one look at Tyler’s dejected expression confirmed that much.

“Oh! Thank you, Harry,” Y/N chirped, trying desperately to thank Harry with her eyes while still remaining diplomatic. “I was just finishing up with Tyler here.”

The blonde boy looked between Harry and Y/N, lingering for only a few more seconds with his anxious fingers twisted in the plastic bag he was holding. “Right,” he stuttered, “er…you guys have a good one…” And he backed away from the store.

Y/N turned back to Harry as their customer left. She took the thermos from his hand before playfully scolding him. “That was rude, Harry.”

"He was being rude first. He wouldn’t leave.” Harry shrugged, sipping his own smoothie and swooping back into the back room before Y/N could tease him on his poor excuse.

The Tyler ordeal aside, the work day passed as all the others did. Maybe a little less busy than usual due to the impending storm. By early evening, the tourist crowd at the beach had thinned considerably. One or two local surfers lingered in the water as the dark clouds began to roll in and slowly hide the sun. Harry and Y/N watched them absently from their places behind the counter, sitting beside each other on matching stools.

Y/N took in the view. Even painted an ominous shade of dark gray, the horizon brought a serene wave of calm over her. This was where she belonged, and she was sure of it.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Harry asked, noticing the far away look in her eyes.

“The water,” Y/N replied. It was true—she was looking at the water. But she was really looking beyond it, taking in the entire scene. The lull of the crystal blue ocean, the fading sunlight hitting the palm trees, the soft sand being pelted with raindrops, even the display case of I <3 2 SURF mugs that was mildly obstructing her view out the window. She turned to face him and, of course, he fit right in. He was an integral part of her vision, the beautiful fantasy that she was lucky enough to be living in.

He smiled at her. “’S pouring fuckin’ buckets, Y/N. There’s water everywhere.”

She laughed at his joke, happy to slip back into her real-life daydream.

“What should we do, then? No one’s gonna be coming to the beach.”

“I dunno. Play a game?” Last rainy season, Harry had been alone in the shop. Those past lonely days felt like an entirely different lifetime. In this one, Y/N was his present. His here and now.

He stood from the stool and crouched down to survey the shelves underneath the counter. Anne kept random necessities like water bottles and fruit snacks and a flashlight and…yes! A deck of Uno cards.

Y/N sighed dramatically. With Harry, she knew even a simple little game for kids would quickly spiral into momentous occasion.

“Well if I’m gonna have to play this game with you, there’s no way I’m doing it sober.” With that, Y/N didn’t hesitate to hop off her own stool and head to the back room to retrieve her backpack.

Harry raised his eyebrows, amused by the suggestion. Maybe it was irresponsible to get high when the shop was technically still open for another hour, but what the hell. The crowd had already been thinning for hours.

“We’re gonna smoke in my dear mother’s shop?” Harry mused.

“We? Did you want one?” Her voice was teasing, growing clearer as she returned from the back room. She perched herself back in her stool and began to prepare a single joint for herself.

“Love, I literally provide you the weed. Of course I fuckin’ want one.”

“Okay, sassy. You can do it yourself if you’re gonna be a dick about it.”

So, he did. And naturally, the task turned into a heated race between the two. The pelting rain outside was an appropriate soundtrack for a race which Y/N, distracted by the way Harry’s nimble fingers packed the rolling paper and pink tongue slipped out to seal the edge, was destined to pathetically lose.

“Hah,” said Harry once he’d twisted the tip, flourishing the finished joint between them for himself to admire.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she finished her own, “Whatever, Harry. I out surfed you this morning and I’ll out smoke you tonight.”

“Well then I’ll have to beat your ass at Uno.”

“Game on.”

They played six rounds of Uno, taking hits in between turns until they were both high as kites. They lost interest in the middle of round seven when Y/N accidentally knocked the deck off of the counter, scattering the cards all over the floor. Even though they each had an even three wins under their belt, neither wanted to pick up the cards, so they agreed to a truce. The pitter-patter of rain and whooshing sound of high winds continued as Harry was muttering in a low voice—something about him dreading having to clean up all the cards tomorrow—but Y/N wasn’t really listening at all.

The high disintegrated the invisible barrier between them, effectively magnifying their usual playful touches into prolonged caresses. Y/N had one leg draped over Harry’s lap, perfectly placed for his massive hands to clutch her calf and gently massage her skin in tune with his soft ramblings. His touch sent sparks flying deep in her belly. He was everywhere, his presence so commanding she was almost disoriented by euphoria. She only fell back down to earth when she realized the comforting din she’d gotten used to had gone silent.

“Listen, H. It’s stopped raining.”

He silenced his mellow prattling and stood from the stool, making Y/N frown a little at the loss of touch. She watched him as he moved over to the window, resting his palms on the sill and peering through the glass at the beach. “Not for long. Look at the clouds.”

She followed his movements, wandering over to him and then tugging one of his arms off the sill. Craving his touch, she effortlessly wedged herself in between his body and the window—a move that would have made sober Harry a little flustered. But his fuzzy brain allowed him to relax into the feeling of her body against his. He lifted his arm to point at the second cluster of storm clouds approaching the beach from the horizon, in turn pressing his bicep to her shoulder.

“Hm,” Y/N surveyed the incoming clouds. “Maybe I should get home while it’s stopped. No one’s coming to the shop when ’s pouring out.”

“Yeh gonna ride your bike high?” Harry mused. “Don’tcha think that’s kinda unsafe?”

She didn’t think so, really. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want an excuse to hang out with Harry some more, especially now that they were standing way closer than necessary and she could once again feel his bare skin against hers. “I guess…” Y/N trailed off, distracted by the high coursing through her and the feeling of his arms around her. They were strong from years of propelling himself through the sea water, hot and tan from the hours spent in island sun.

“Fancy a dip to sober you up?”

She paused to ponder the offer, putting considerable effort into focusing on thinking rather than feeling his body. The water did look as inviting as ever now that the rain had let up—temporarily, at least.

“Okay.”

The words had barely left her mouth before Harry was moving eagerly away from her. Y/N stumbled out the door behind him, struggling to keep up while he excitedly meandered down the sand on unsteady legs. Halfway there, Y/N gave up on trying to catch up. She shed her board shorts and sandals right there on the sand, leaving her in her bikini top from earlier and matching bottoms. As she waded into the sea, part of her was regretting skipping the rash guard that morning as the salt water stung the reddening skin on her exposed stomach.

Harry was feeling a similar pain on his own bare abdomen, but he paid it no mind as he bounced through the white water. Instead he took in the twinkling sea and the early evening sunset, appreciating the way the pink clouds reflected in the water. It was so pretty, he thought, endorphins flooding his brain. Might be the prettiest fuckin’ sight I’ve ever seen…

Suddenly, Harry’s reverie was rudely interrupted by a cold blast of salt water slapping him on the back.

“What the fuck?!”

He whipped around and there she was, waist-deep with her cheeky smile and challenging eyes giving her away. Of course she was guilty, there was no one else in the goddamn lagoon five minutes before another torrential downpour. He inched toward her, impishly preparing his own counter attack. She was giggling profusely as she, too, moved backward as if she were his prey.

When she’d backed up to where it was too deep for her to stand, she squeaked and lifted her hands up in front of her face to protect herself. The water was up to her cheeks, flushed with heat, with elation, and alighted by the setting sun. Harry splashed her mercilessly, both giggling like children as her attempts to thwart his attack failed. His head was spinning, melodic laughter and splashes resonating between them. She flung her arms blindly in and out of the water as he moved closer and, foolishly, he underestimated the power of blind luck. Harry spluttered and spat as salt water landed directly in his open mouth. He swatted with his hands, whipping his soaking wet hair around before playfully glaring at her. She was squinting and rubbing the salt water out of her eyes, but she still wore that cheeky, challenging grin.

“Right, tha’s it. Yeh in for it now.” he howled at her. He reached out for her waist, intending to pick her up and throw her into the white water to wipe that stupid victorious smile off her face.

It didn’t work, but how could he be upset when he was faced with her pretty head popping up out of the white water, face lit up with pure happiness? When he was laughing along with her, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, all with the stunning background of the most beautiful beach sunset he’d ever seen?

The sun had long set by the time they decided to call it quits. It was getting cold and, as expected, it was starting to drizzle again. They marched up the damp beach together, walking side by side with their shoes in their hands. Neither of them had bothered to bring a towel and the once pleasant island wind was now biting their wet skin. Y/N picked up her pace to warm her muscles and keep up with Harry, whose longer legs were trudging through the sand up toward the shop.

“It’s pretty late…” Harry drawled, craning his neck to observe the bright shining moon that had taken the sun’s place.

Y/N took a few seconds to reply, panting from the exertion. “Yeah.”

“And ’s raining again…”

“Mmhm.” Y/N stole a sideways glance at him. He was smiling, as per usual. And he had that playful glint in his eyes that she adored.

“…Aaaand I live just up there…” He swung his arms like a child as he walked beside her, causing one of his flip flops to repeatedly whack one of her sandals in her grasp.

Endeared, Y/N cracked a smile of her own. “Right…”

“Do you wanna maybe…”

She stopped marching then, as they reached the front of the store. She was hit with the sudden realization that part of her fantasy was becoming real. There was no work to be done at this hour, no Tyler to pull tank tops for, no interruptions. Only Harry, her favorite distraction.

Taken with his own thoughtful musing, Harry walked a few more steps before realizing Y/N had stopped. He turned around to face her, and even in the darkness she could see the flush in his cheeks.

“…spend the night at mine?”

~~~

Harry lived even closer to the beach than Y/N in an even tinier studio. Anne of course had a house a few miles into town that Harry frequented, but he was a grown man. It was more than enough to be working for his mum. As much as he adored her, he did not want to live with her.

His place very much resembled the shack they worked in from the outside. Inside he had four walls, a window, a bed in the middle, an armchair in the corner, and a hammock strung out on the porch. Y/N briefly imagined herself lounging in it, maybe sipping a mango smoothie. It would have been very pleasant if not for the fact that it was just exposed enough to be catching the rain water. A brilliant idea sparked in her brain, one she couldn’t ignore.

“I’m g’na sleep in the hammock,” she declared.

“Uh, fuck no yeh not.” Harry replied immediately, equally as firm.

“Yeah I am. It’ll be nice.”

He huffed, setting his backpack on the nightstand and cursing when it slid off. Y/N failed to fight back laughter as she watched him struggle to fit his bag next to the antiquated lamp on the side table. He swore again, finally deciding to push the lamp to the corner of the table and nearly breaking it in the process.

Having successfully removed his shoes, he sat gingerly on the bed and sighed. “But—but…” He paused, shaking his head and letting out a flustered half-laugh. “It’s wet!”

“So?” Y/N teased with a knowing grin, pleased that he’d taken the bait. All she really wanted to complete her real life daydream was to hear him request for her to sleep beside him.

“Do you know what my mother would do to me if she found out I let you sleep outside in a hammock in the fuckin’ rain?”

Oh she knew. Anne would lose her goddamn mind. As kind and gentle as she was, she demanded respectfulness and courtesy from her Harry. She wouldn’t hesitate to fire her own son for misbehaving, or at least withhold his paycheck for a few weeks.

“Fine,” she gave in with a sigh, leaning her back against the far wall, “you’re right.”

He perked up, turning around sharply to face her. “Sorry, what was tha’?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, already knowing what he was getting at. She ignored him and began undoing the clasps on her own sandals, refusing to repeat herself. Admitting he was right once was far more than enough to feed his already giant ego.

“You said I’m… what? Couldn’t hear you properly…” He had the upper hand now, and he knew it.

“Shut up, asshole.” She tossed her shoe at him, and to her delight, it landed directly on his sunburnt face. Y/N laughed loudly as he swatted the air and proceeded to rub his cheek, grimacing.

“That’s not wha’ you said, you little bitch,” He sent her a pointed smirk but didn’t retaliate, too busy tending to his own wounded skin.

Y/N gasped playfully, “What was that you called me?!” she dropped her jaw, committing to the melodrama of it all, “What would your sweet mother do if she were to find out you called me the b-word?”

With that, the ball was back in her court. Victory just within her grasp.

The light pain in Harry’s cheek had faded, but his pride was still feeling it a little. As his hand moved away from his face, Y/N caught a glimmer of mischief flicking in his eyes. “Don’t bring her into this,” he smiled, “she’s an innocent.”

“No one’s safe.” Y/N fired back immediately, a playful grin pulling at her own cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not safe,” he taunted. He hauled himself off the bed with intent to exact his revenge on her. She had a lot to be guilty of—the shoe incident, the splashing episode she started, the name-calling, the relentless teasing, and mostly the way she was looking at him right then, with fondness and...lust, unmistakable in her eyes, that was making him lose his mind.

He had her cornered against the far wall. Two hands went out to catch her bare waist and release his wrath on her in the form of tickles. Y/N laughed violently, squirming in his arms and yelping, “Stop it, Harry!” Lust clouded his own still foggy brain as he glanced downward, eyes trailing down her bikini-clad chest to her waist where he held her firmly against him.

Y/N caught him, of course. She was staring at him just as intently. As always, she was enchanted by how beautiful he was. His hair was still damp and she was close enough to see bits of sand hiding in the curls. He was grinning wildly, eyes crinkling, cheeks flushed red, teeth adorably poking his pink bottom lip.

Without warning, he ducked his head pressed his lips to hers. Shock melted away as his mouth molded to hers, igniting an inferno in the pit of her stomach. Likewise, flames of passion were roaring within Harry as desperation took over for rational thought. He kissed her with the same eagerness and intensity with which they both would dive into the ocean, head first with no hesitation. His tongue was salty and sweet against hers. He tasted faintly like the sea and weed and mangoes—everything Y/N loved.

Which made it all the more difficult to pull away.

“We should stop,” she sighed but continued to accept the hot pecks he was dotting on her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“Why?” he muttered against her skin, pruned hands squeezing her waist tighter.

“Because, we’re all salty and gross…” she wrapped her arms around his neck, anchoring his supple lips at the nape of her neck and shivering at the feeling he gave her. His lips were hot on her skin, lighting a blissful trail of fire wherever they went.

“I don’t mind.”

The pelting rain outside sounded distant to her, like background noise against the vibrations of Harry’s husky voice.

“Well...I do. Besides, we should talk about…whatever this is…” Y/N trailed off, thoughts evaporating into feelings, words melting into breathy whines.

“Wha’s there to talk about?” He pulled away from her neck but she didn’t let him go far. She held his sunburnt cheeks in her palms and let their noses brush against each other as he declared, “’S very simple. You’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she let out a joyful laugh. She pulled away a millimeter, letting the back of her head graze the wall behind her as she continued to softly, nervously laugh, “You’re crazy, Harry. I’m not in love with you.” The lie tasted salty on her lips, as if the universe did not want to let her forget how delectable his own tasted against hers. She let herself gaze into his eyes, helpless against such a force so far beyond her control.

“You’re lying. I can tell when you look at me like that.”

She was sure he could feel her heart racing in her chest as she let out a breathy sigh, “Like how?”

“Like yeh want me to tell you you’re pretty and then fuck yeh into tha’ bed you fought me over.”

He smirked evilly as he said it, loving the way she shivered in his arms. She whined against his skin, way past pretending his words didn’t affect her. She shut her eyes and pressed another deep, languid kiss to his reddening bottom lip, unable to resist. “And what makes you so sure that’s love, H?” she whispered against his mouth.

“You’re kissin’ me like you’re in love with me, you’re looking at me like you’re in love with me, so, says Occam’s razor, yeh must be in love with me.”

“When did you become a goddamn philosopher?”

“‘M fuckin’ baked, Y/N,” he laughed, his breath tickling her cupid’s bow. “But ‘m also right. Yeh said it yourself.”

“Bullshit, you peaked a while ago.”

“Maybe I’m just fuckin’ smart then, Miss not-so-subtle-at-changing-the-subject.”

“Fine,” she deadpanned. And after a deep inhale: “I love you.”

Her voice was even, but a tsunami of feelings crashed in Y/N’s chest as the words left her lips—relief, joy, adoration, love.

An easy, knowing smile graced Harry’s mouth. “Spectaculah. I love y—“

“No,” she interrupted him with a peck on the lips, “tell me in the morning…when you’re sober. Then…”

She felt the heat rise up her throat and a smile pull at her lips at the vivid images running through her mind. The soft rays of morning sunshine peeking through the window, the sound of waves crashing in the distance, Harry’s naked chest against hers, his mouth muttering sweet, filthy praises across her chest, her tummy, the insides of her thighs…

“Sure thing, my love,” Harry laughed lightly. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on behind her red-rimmed eyelids. His own imagination was conjuring up dirty images of himself buried between her legs, basking in her salty skin and breathy whines. But there were softer thoughts, too. Fantasies involving sweet kisses pressed to her lips and her cheeks and the dulcet melody of her laughter and the feeling of her soft hands on his face. He saw her face while she was riding the biggest wave of the morning—lit up with a huge smile and eyes twinkling with the ocean’s reflection in them. He envisioned her soft lips stained orange with mango juice. He saw her cheeky, joyous grin when he was splashing her against the powdery pink backdrop of the sun setting into the sea. The prettiest fuckin’ sight I’ve ever seen.

Come morning, the first thing she heard was the crashing of the waves and Harry’s raspy voice in her ear.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

thank you for reading <3

please tell me what you think! I’d love to hear from y’all :D

informal taglist, aka a lovely bean who requested to be tagged: @fortrapsandfordaphne

#harry styles writing #majorharry20k #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #surfer!harry

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

Will Never be Boring

Ch 3: A Weekend in Blue

Once they made middle school being a grade above everyone wasn’t s bad. They had a little more control over their classes and the electives were all mixed grades so he still had a chance to be with his friends. Understandably they all tried to match up. He wound up with a lot more creative type classes than he originally planned for. Connor wasn’t particularly creative. He preferred numbers and provable things, but getting to spend a little of his time with Markus everyday more than made up for it. Over the years Markus had added painting to his talents, and Connor was always blown away by the sheer amount of feeling in them. He always seemed delighted when he got to see Connor’s child like messy drawings in turn. Personally, he despised them. Middle school brought more work with it so it became more difficult to hang out as an entire group. They began to section off a little and it left Connor feeling strangely. He had always thought the group of them would stay close. It wasn’t like there was fighting or anything, they were just drifting. His dad said these kinds of things happened sometimes, and that they would come back together eventually.

Markus made a few of his own friends, but in all of that he tried not to leave Connor behind. He knew Markus’s birthday was coming up and Connor was trying to figure out what to do for it. He wasn’t very creative so a homemade card or poem was immediately out of the question. That left using his saved up allowance to buys something, or giving up. He did his best to come away with something that wasn’t overly predictable, and failed horribly. He eventually decided on a book of advanced painting techniques and a new paint set to go with it. Better than the sketchbook he’d originally been debating, but not great. In the end it didn’t really seem to matter much because he wasn’t invited to the birthday party. The only people that got to go were the friends from his various art classes, which Connor found strange. Connor tried to be reasonable about it. He wasn’t very comfortable around Markus’s new friends. Maybe he had been trying to respect that. It didn’t lessen the sting, but this made it easier not to be upset. He was sure Markus had a reason. In the years they had been friends he had never been to Markus’s house. The most of he knew of it was that he lived up on the hill where all of the nice houses were with his brother and his grandpa; though Connor had never met either of them.

It was about a week after the party, and after the gifts had made their home at the top of Connor’s closet, that Markus approached him about it. He looked just as uncomfortable as Connor felt. They hadn’t really talked since Connor’s birthday, and he had been trying his best to make peace with the fact that Markus was drifting away from him. Just like everyone else. “Hey Connor?” He asked once they were settled in their art class, “Can. uh, can we talk please?” He looked down and tapped his fingers against the table to try and get rid of some of his nervous energy, “Are you sure you want to talk to me? Why not talk to your other friends?” Markus was quiet for a long moment and Connor realized that he might have been a little harsh. “Because,” He said eventually, “They aren’t the ones I hurt without meaning to. I’d like a chance to explain myself if you’ll let me.” It was is turn to be quiet this time. In part because their teacher was talking and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself; and because he wasn’t sure he was ready to learn that Markus had outgrown him too. “Okay.” He said quietly, “If you want to.”

“Will you listen, or are you still upset?” He asked and waited for Connor’s tentative nod before he continued, “I know I probably should have said this before the party and I’m sorry for that; but I didn’t invite you because I knew you would be uncomfortable. As much as I wanted you there, I couldn’t invite you knowing you would be miserable if I did.” He explained, “My plan had been to have that party last weekend, and one for just the two of us this weekend. Um, if you, well if you still want to anyway.” Connor could have cried, but he wasn’t about to have a breakdown in class, “Of course I still want to.” Then, after he had collected himself a little more, “I’m sorry for being rude.” “It’s fine. I’m just glad you aren’t upset with me anymore.” He smiled. Just like that, things were back to normal. Markus had his other friends, but he also didn’t seem to have plans to leave Connor behind. The weight of wondering where he had gone wrong that had been threatening to bury him was finally off his shoulders. He could breathe again. When he got home the first thing he did was try to wrap the presents he had bought Markus. Just this once, his homework could wait.

A single interaction with one of Markus’s art friends was all the proof Connor needed. While Echo was very kind, she was also very touchy and Connor was immediately uncomfortable. She stopped when he asked her to, but he still chose to excuse himself from the interaction. He was glad now, that Markus had thought to keep him away from this. As he headed to the library he heard one last thing. “I don’t think your seventh-grader friend likes me much.” Echo told Markus, “Did I do something wrong?” “No.” Markus said kindly, “It just takes him a while to warm up to people.” He supposed that was true enough. He was just wary. Kids his age were loud for whatever reason and it got to be too much a lot of the time. It was just easier to keep his distance and wait for someone to come to him. He still felt a little guilty though, Echo had only been trying to be nice. Maybe on a day when he had more spoons he could try again, and just try and stay out of arm’s reach or something. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings and he wanted to fix it.

Friday he came to school with an extra bag. Inside were the things he needed for the weekend and the presents he had gotten for Markus. He was equal parts excited and nervous. He hadn’t gotten to meet Markus’s family and he was worried they might not like him. The plan was to ride Markus’s bus at the end of the day and then again on Monday morning. Of course, if he got uncomfortable he could always call his dad to come get him, or walk home if it came to that. Perks of living in the same neighborhood he supposed. It wasn’t that he expected things to go wrong, it just eased his anxiety to know that he had a way out if he needed one. Markus seemed to understand which was nice. Since it was their first big weekend like this, Markus had helped him come up with a color system. Blue meant things were fine; yellow meant that he needed a moment to himself to try and get it together; and red meant it was time to go home. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use red, but just like his exit plan, it was a nice thing it have in case he needed it.

The day passed faster than he would have liked and he wasn’t ready for the sheer number of the kids on the bus. His bus was usually pretty crowded, but never like this. It made a little more sense why their neighborhood had three different buses now. “Color?” Markus asked s they settled in one of the seats toward the back. “Blue.” He replied. He hadn’t been expecting this many kids, but he was okay for now, “I’m alright.” Markus took his hand and squeezed it, “You can always listen to your music if you need to, that’s what I do sometimes.” “I might.” He replied, but for now he wanted to try and stick it out for as long as he could. He managed about half of the ride before he had to put on his noise cancelling headphones or risk having a panic attack. It wasn’t that anything in particular had happened, the constant chatter had just grated on his nerves more than he planned. His bus wasn’t exactly quiet, that was categorically impossible for middle schoolers, but he was used to his bus and not this one. Markus only squeezed his hand again and then let him be until it was time to get off. He was thankful to be free of all that noise.

“How do you deal with that every single day?” He asked after he had taken his headphones off. Markus gave a nonchalant shrug, “I’ve lived with Leo my whole life. They aren’t any louder than him on any given day.” “I suppose that helps.” He said distantly, he wasn’t ready to deal with more noise so soon after the bus. “You don’t have to worry about him though.” He replied, “He’s got plans tonight at least. It’s just going to be the two of us and my Grampa tonight, so the house should be pretty quiet today.” That was reassuring at least, “Okay. Is your Grandpa nice?” Markus actually laughed at that as they turned up a long walkway, “Yes, he is. You don’t have to worry about anything Connor, I promise.” “Got it.” He said, but he still took Markus’s hand. They were quiet the rest of the walk to the door. Connor was trying his best to relax. Markus said there was nothing to worry about, and Connor wanted to believe him, but his anxiety wasn’t as easily swayed. “Color?” Markus asked when they got to the door. “Blue.” He replied after a long moment, “I think.”

That seemed to be a good enough answer because Markus turned his key in the lock and pushed the door open. Along side being the biggest house Connor had ever seen, it was also the fanciest. Despite all of that, as he stood in the entry way with Markus’s hand in his, he didn’t feel at all out of place. “Grampa,” Markus called into the house, “We’re home.” “Okay kiddo,” Came the reply from further in the house, “I’m in the gallery.” Connor took off his shoes out of habit before they went any further into the house. Markus didn’t, but waited for him before he lead him up the stairs. They set their stuff up in Markus’s room before they headed for the gallery. The more he saw of the house, the more in awe of it he was. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Markus’s grandpa to be like, but it didn’t include him being covered in tattoos or wheelchair bound. He did his best not to stare, and instead tried to look at the paintings that were scattered around the room. Some were properly placed on the walls, but most were leaned against the walls, furniture and even other paintings. Every single one of them took his breath away. He knew now at least where Markus’s sheer talent came from.

“You must be Connor.” He said with a smile as he wheeled himself closer, “I’ve heard great things about you. I’m Carl.” “It’s nice to meet you sir.” He replied and shook the hand that was being held out to him. Carl laughed, “Sir makes me feel old, just call me Carl, or Grampa if that’s easier on you.” “Okay si - Carl.” His trip up earned him an amused smile, “Did you paint all of these?” “Most of them.” He replied, “Some of them are Markus’s.” “Grampa,” Markus cut in, “He doesn’t know.” “I don’ t know what?” Connor asked as he looked between the two of them. “Grampa is the famous painter Carl Manfred.” He clarified. “Was.” Carl corrected with a sternness to his voice that left Connor a little rattled, “I haven’t done much public work since my accident. I’d like to keep it that way, so this knowledge stays in this room. Okay?” Connor made a zipper motion over his lips and both of them smiled, “Okay.”

They stayed in the gallery for a little while longer and Connor wandered around to get a better look at the paintings. After that the night was pretty normal. They had dinner, worked on homework, and talked about their classes with Carl. It was almost like being at home. This wasn’t nearly as nerve wracking as he thought it was going to be. After they had gone to Markus’s room for the night Connor got the presents out. He didn’t miss the smile that came to Markus’s face. “Before you worry,” He started when he noticed Markus was starting to look uncomfortable, “I bought these before your birthday.” He relaxed noticeably, “Okay, that’s what I was worried about.” “Anyway, happy late birthday Markus.” He picked up the two wrapped presents and held them out to him. Markus took them and Connor watched the joy spread across his face when he opened the reference book and thumbed through it. His smile only grew when he got yo he small paint set. He set the paints on his desk then put the book in a very specific place on his shelf. When he finished he settled beside Connor still beaming. “Can I hug you?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Connor had barely gotten the word out before he found himself caught in an embrace that was tight enough that it bordered on painful. “Thank you so much.” Markus said into his shoulder, “These are the only art related present I’ve gotten that weren’t from Grampa.” “What can I say” He replied as Markus pulled away, “I know you.” “You panicked didn’t you?” He asked. “Maybe.” He agreed. The weekend after that was spent with Connor sitting very still. Despite the fact that he was coerced into modeling for the two of them by Markus, he found himself hoping that Monday never came. Or at the very least, they could have a weekend like this again soon.

#Will Never be Boring #WNbB #Growing Old with You au #GOwY #RK1K #Conkus #dbh Markus #dbh Connor #dbh fic #dbh

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laurenairay · 4 years

Text

Pumpkin Carving - A. Burakovsky

Summary: carving pumpkins with your boyfriend Andre and your nieces gets a little competitive.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: minor injury (nothing serious, but a little blood), super cuteness

A/N: Burky is such an adorable goofball, I love him 💚

“Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?” - prompt is from this list - one of the autumn/fall stories I promised myself I would write. Written after encouragement from @jamiedrysdales - and thank you to @itsbadgerbadgermushroom for hyping me up with this one! 💖

~~~

Any time you could spend with your nieces was a blessing. Now that you’d graduated college and were working full time, the amount you saw them had massively decreased, so the weekends that you were able to, you definitely took advantage of being the best aunt you could be. This weekend was only a few days before Halloween, meaning it was time for your annual pumpkin carving competition – every year your two nieces would each draw a design in marker pen on their pumpkin and you plus another adult would do the actual carving for them (usually their mom). Whoever had the ‘best’ design would ‘win’ (of course they both got a prize) – it was just a silly little bit of fun but you treasured the family tradition.

This year you’d roped your boyfriend Andre into helping.

He’d only met your nieces a few times in the year that you’d been dating, the schedules not really having worked out, but as soon as you’d suggested the pumpkin carving he was all in. He’d arrived at your apartment nearly an hour before your nieces were due to arrive, buzzing with excitement (and maybe a little too much caffeine), to help you set up the carving stations.

Oh yes, you took things that seriously.

Either side of your dining table you set up old newspapers, 2 medium sized pumpkins, 2 thick markers and 2 thin markers, as well as the small pumpkin carving knives that you and Andre would use.

“Will this bowl do?”

You whipped your head around, smiling at the plastic bowl your boyfriend had brought in from the kitchen. That size would be just about right, good job Andre.

“Yes, perfect for the guts,” you nodded.

“Guts?!” Andre yelped.

You couldn’t help but giggle, making him blush deeply.

“The insides of the pumpkins – the stringy, gooey, seedy bits that need to be scooped out before we can draw and carve. I like to separate the seeds out later and roast them for snacks,” you grinned.

“Sounds disgusting. I’m in,” Andre grinned back.

You dug out the kids-size aprons you kept for arts and crafts activities and draped them over the back of the chairs, before putting your hands on your hips. Yes, this would do nicely. You jumped slightly as Andre slid his arms around you from behind, but melted into his embrace as his hands settled on your waist.

“You really put so much thought into this, don’t you?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, but nodded. “Yeah, it’s one of my favourite times of year and the girls love it too. It’s messy, silly and fun – we always have a good time,”

Andre smiled into your neck, pressing a light kiss behind your ear, making the skin tingle slightly. “I’m excited to share it with you,”

You spun around in his arms, smiling up at him as your slid your hands up his chest, his hands moving to rest on your ass.

“I’m excited to share it with you too,” you said softly.

Andre just smiled a little wider, before leaning down to kiss you.

You lost time exchanging slow sweet kisses, tongues light and teasing, never building to anything raunchy but just a gradual swell of intensity that had your body buzzing. You could feel Andre half hard against your stomach, but you knew it wasn’t going anywhere before your nieces arrived – that just wasn’t the vibe at all. Just being close to him, running your fingers through his curls, touching him, tasting him, that was all that you needed right now. Eventually your kisses slow down to a few gentle pecks, until you were breathing heavily. Andre’s lips were lightly swollen and pink, his eyes a little wide, and you knew you looked the same way. Damn he looked good.

“I’m going to, uh, get some drinks ready?” you said, a little breathless.

Andre just nodded, licking his bottom lip. Damn. You quickly turned and walked away, unable to stop the stupid smile on your face. You really did feel so giddy around him sometimes.

It was only a few minutes later when your doorbell rang, so placed the glasses of juice on the table before heading to let your nieces in.

“Aunt Y/N!”

You grinned at their squeals, laughing as they threw their arms around you. “Are you two ready to have fun carving pumpkins with Andre and I?”

“Yes! Is he here already?” your oldest niece asked, clearly excited.

You nodded, smiling down at her. “Yeah he’s here – why don’t you two go wash your hands and put your aprons on,”

They ran past you with happy cheers, making you laugh again as you bid goodbye to their mom. How they had that much energy was beyond you. By the time you reached them at the carving stations, they were both already sat down with their aprons, wiggling in their seats in anticipation. Andre winked at you, making you blush a little.

“Alright, who wants to be paired with Andre?” you asked, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“Me please!” your youngest niece said immediately.

You could see the relief in Andre’s eyes that he hadn’t been a reluctant choice – you’d told him he wouldn’t be, but you were glad that you were able to prove yourself right. He sat down next to her, big smile on his face, and you sat down opposite him next to your oldest niece, who beamed at you.

“So, rules,” you said firmly.

“Rules?” Andre asked, pouting.

Your nieces giggled. “Squishy guts out first. No peaking at the other drawing. And only adults use the knives,” your youngest niece said simply.

You saw Andre make a face again at ‘squishy guts’ and grinned at him. This was going to be fun.

It took a little while for your nieces to scoop out the pumpkin guts and seeds, Andre more than happy to just pass the bowl back and forth, and after they’d washed their hands again, the drawing began. Your oldest niece had decided on having a cat face on hers this year, which looked pretty cute, but you had no idea what Andre and your youngest niece were drawing – all you could see was them whispering to each other every now and again, pointing at their pumpkin.

You didn’t think you could love this man any more than you already did, but seeing him so sweet with your niece just made your heart so happy and full. You honestly didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such a genuinely kind guy. He was so cute with your niece - what more could you ask for?

“I think we’re ready,” Andre announced.

You looked down at your oldest niece who nodded back to you. Ready it was then.

“Be careful with the pumpkin knife, Andre. It’s small but it’s sharp,” your youngest niece said suddenly, frown on her face.

Andre nodded solemnly. “I will do my very best to be careful,”

Well at least he was honest. You grinned at him, picking up your own knife, earning a grin and a wink back, his foot pressing against yours under the table. So sweet. You set to work with your pumpkin, carefully cutting out the pieces of the drawing that needed to go to achieve your niece’s desired design. You could see her smile growing wider as her drawing came to life – that was exactly why you did this every year, encouraging her creativity in such a fun way.

You were nearly finished with your carving with you heard Andre yelp, his knife clattering to the floor. “Blood!” your youngest niece whimpered.

“Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?” you mused, carefully putting down your own knife.

Andre bit his bottom lip, nodding as he clutched his hand to his chest, shielding the injury from your niece. Oh damn. It wasn’t just his pride that was hurt then. You smiled down at your oldest niece to reassure her, before walking round the table to where Andre was.

“Close your eyes,” you told your youngest niece, waiting until she did so to hold out your hand to your boyfriend. He winced but uncurled his fist, a smear of blood masking a small shallow cut to the side of his finger. Okay, not as bad as you thought.

“It won’t need stitches, but it will need cleaning out and a bandaid,” you said softly, letting go of his hand.

“I didn’t think it was bad. It was just…”

“The shock?” you offered.

“Yeah,” he nodded, blushing a little. Bless him.

You beckoned him to stand up, pressing a little kiss to your niece’s head, murmuring that she could open her eyes now. “Stay here girls – I’ll just clean up Andre’s little cut and then we can finish, yeah?”

They both nodded, so you walked out to the bathroom, Andre trailing behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted as soon as the door closed.

What? “What are you sorry for?” you frowned.

“I ruined pumpkin carving by getting hurt,” he mumbled, seeming to shrink in on himself a little.

Oh no. That wouldn’t do.

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly, cupping his face with your hands, making him look at you, “my nieces are having so much fun and that hasn’t changed. We just need to clean you up and wash the knife, that’s all,”

“You’re not mad at me?” he asked quietly.

Your heart broke a little at the sadness on his pretty face, and you shook your head.

“I promise I’m not mad,” you insisted.

He bit his lip, unsure, so you leant up to kiss him, waiting until he’d relaxed enough to kiss you back to tug on that bottom lip with your teeth, making him whimper softly as you broke away.

“I mean it. It’s all going so well, so let’s clean up and get back out there,”

“Okay,” he nodded, a little breathless.

“Unless you’d rather stop the pumpkin carving?” you teased.

Andre shook his head quickly, making you laugh. “No! We have a competition to win!”

That’s the spirit.

#my writing #andre burakovsky #lauren writes autumn #andre is super cute but super clumsy #andre burakovsky x reader #andre burakovsky fic #andre burakovsky imagine #andre burakovsky blurb #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

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