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luvyanfei · 3 years

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how they comfort you when you’re sad

ft. diluc, kaeya, venti, childe, zhongli, albedo, & xiao non-requested piece

diluc ragnvindr.

as stoic as diluc may be, he’s the most emotionally affected by your misery out of the others listed here, but he’s clueless in how to help. he’s not adept in everything despite being known for being a perfectionist and unfortunately, comforting you is one of them. he would reach out a hand to you, and then pull it back to his side before you notice. it annoys him greatly how he can insult the knights without hesitation and combat against his enemies confidently, and yet...

it’s easy to get diluc flustered over the simpler things in life. you’re usually so happy and lively, the light to his dark that he finds it almost eerie to see you looking depressed as you enter the tavern. you don’t even spare him a glance, and slumps down at an empty seat, your head splayed down on the table. out of concern for your wellbeing, the winery owner whips up your favourite drink free of charge and delivers it himself to your spot. instead of leaving you as one would expect, he pulls up a chair and taps the wooden surface of the table with his gloved fingers, stirring you to look up at him. he greets you in a monotone voice unintentionally, and shyly asks if there are any problems going on in your life. he may not look like it, with how distant he is, but diluc would be very pleased to help you.

with hesitation, you take the drink and start taking small sips from the cup. the savory taste melts on your tongue and your lips quiver slightly. before you know it, you’re reduced into a sobbing mess, your tears staining the floor. “what’s wrong?” dismayed, diluc rises up and pats your back, handing you a handkerchief from his jacket pocket for you to wipe your tears away with.

he ushers you into a private room where nobody can see you and rubs your hands together. he doesn’t talk, instead fixating on calming you down. dabbing at your swollen eyes and cheeks gently with a drenched towel, diluc cradles your face and leans in close to you, your foreheads touching. “i’m here, [name],” his voice is soft and delicate, a sharp contrast to his formal and uninterested tone, “i will always be here for you, so you don’t need to worry about suffering alone. we’ll get through this together, alright?”

kaeya alberich.

he’ll take you to the tavern with him for a nice drink. it won’t do you any good to be by yourself and moping, right? as hypocritical as it may seem, kaeya is fully accepting of you coming to him for emotional support despite being rather closed-off when it comes to his personal emotions. if you’re underage, he’ll purchase you a soft drink or juice, and if not, a glass of wine will surely boost your spirits up. his attempt to cheer you up is to temporarily distract you from it. quite clever of him, no? of course, his objective isn’t for you to ignore your problems altogether, but to take your mind off of it until you can think a bit clearly.

kaeya will act like a gentleman the whole time, letting a few teasing remarks slip out every now and then, but his attitude is toned down for the most part. after you consumed a plentiful amount of beverages, he takes a stroll with you in the night, passing by a bard stringing music on their lyre. this gives the cavalry captain an idea and he takes you into a secluded area, fireflies glowing to add a touch of whimsy to the scenario. still gripping your hand, he raises it up to kiss the surface and proposes you to join him in for a dance under the moonlight and stars.

kaeya looks at you with a brimming grin. “are you feeling better now?” you nod, placing a hand on his open palm.

“now that you’re here, yes, i am.” his smile broadens and cups your cheek with his free hand. the tip of his thumb lightly grazes your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. the kiss is passionate and savory, a description that fits your relationship perfectly.

“i’m glad you do,” he pulls back and breathes out a sigh of relief. “it’s the same with me. i admit, i also enjoy your company very much.”

venti.

it’s best to let your emotions run loose. don’t bottle it up, okay? if you need to cry, then cry. sure, venti may act all carefree and exuberant, but even he has his serious sides from time to time. he takes the situation rather calmly, pulling you into a comforting embrace and rubbing your back as you tearfully sob. when he feels that you’re muscles have slowly relaxed and your cries have been reduced to tiny sniffles, he transitions out of the hug and places his hands on your shoulder, all with an angelic smile on his face. see, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?

if you’re up for it, venti will be happy to play you a quiet melody carried in the night breeze. he’ll position your head to lean on his shoulder as both of you sit down on the ground and he clears his throat before he begins singing. the stringing of the lyre, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the background, and the soothing sound of his voice automatically brings a smile to your lips. snuggling closer to him, you drift in a state of contentment and serenity. once the bard catches wind of your heavy breathing, your eyes fluttered closed, he stops his singing and presses a dainty kiss to your forehead.

carefully, so he doesn’t disturb your slumber, venti carries you back to your resident and tucks you into bed. as he’s about to head off, you snag him by the wrist, and tug him back to your side. “please don’t go yet, venti.” he pats the hand imprisoning his wrist and chuckles in amusement.

“don’t worry. i don’t plan on ever doing something like that.” he crawls into bed with you, tangling your legs together and hooking his arms around your waist. the tip of his nose grazes your hair faintly as your back is pressed against his chest. “not now, and not ever.”

childe.

he’s the eleventh harbinger, yes, but beneath his fearsome title and mischievous demeanor, childe is a regular human with an affable heart. it hurts him seeing you look dejected, as if you’re on the brink of suffocating from insufferable pain. it’s like your emotions are a type of infection, contagious to say the least. if you’re happy, then he’s happy. if you’re sad, then you’ll bet he’s also going to drop his jovial gleam. luckily, growing up with siblings gives him an advantage here. he’s used to taking care of others and turning their frowns upside down.

if he finds out someone has been upsetting you, he’ll personally deal with them himself, ordering them to apologize lest they want to face his wrath. if you’re having financial difficulties, he’ll lend you a generous amount of mora so you can clear your debts or help you find a well-paying job. either way, he’ll cradle you in his arms and compliment you for being strong, no matter what life throws at you. life’s hard, but that’s all the more reason why you should keep marching forward - hand in hand with childe.

“shh, [name], it’s okay. don’t cry.” childe kneels before you and wipes away a salty tear. grabbing a teddy bear abandoned on the ground, he shoves it in front of your face. to your sudden bewilderment, he grabs the bear’s arm to pat you on the head and grins. “there, there. mr. teddy is here to make you happy once more.”

you sputter out a giggle despite tears still leaking from your eyes. “childe, i’m not a little kid anymore. cut it out!” he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks when you pout cutely at him.

“fine, fine. i’ll stop, but hey! at least you’re smiling again, right?” you roll your eyes and sniff.

“yeah, i’m feeling a little better. thank you.”

your comment forms a blush to dust his cheeks and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “there’s no need for gratitude. to me, your smile is the one thing i’d hate to lose.”

zhongli.

feeling sad? his arms are already wide open and a box of tissues is conveniently laid on the table. zhongli is the wave that laps up your sorrows and tears, the lulling sound of his voice uttering words of reassurance like a tranquil melody to set your heart at ease. he’s the type who will lend a shoulder for you to cry on. while he brews up a nice cup of tea to soothe your mind, he encourages you gently to tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. he soaks up every syllable that falls from your lips like a sponge and in a pensive state, he gives you advice in turn.

you take his words to heart, since everything he’s said before have always been genuine and your trust in him runs deeper than the bottom of the sea. sure, maybe not everything he says is the answer that will cause your problems disappear, but he does guide you to choose rationally how you want to approach it. as much as zhongli would like to solve everything for you, he’s aware that there are times where only you have the potential to fix the issue.

the golden ginkgo leaves twirl in the autumn breeze, as zhongli clasps his hands with yours. you adjust the scarf around your neck, shivering from the mild chill settling in liyue.

you stare grimly at the seagulls soaring in the cloudy sky, and peers down at your feet planted firmly on the ground. a frown tugs on your lips and you sigh. a warm hand caresses your cheek and you look towards zhongli smiling gently in your direction. wiping away the tears that are beginning to moist your eyes, he encages you in a comforting hug.

“don’t hold it in,” zhongli whispers soothingly in your ear, “you’re allowed to cry if you want. i promise you, there’s no judgement.”

albedo.

it’s like he has a sixth sense. you could have been crying in your sleep last night and the first thing you wake up to is all your favourite meals placed rigorously on a sliver tray and a positive message with cursive, neat handwriting scribbled on a notepad for you to read. albedo is rather considerate, like that. before you started to live together and entered a more domestic relationship, he visited your home and asked if anything was wrong in a neutral tone that belied his concern. you were shocked how he could have possibly known since you were sure you concealed the visible evidences skillfully with makeup, and you looked quite normal for the most part, as if you hadn’t been crying mere seconds before he knocked on your door.

he shrugs indifferently and responds that he just has a feeling something’s bothering you. albedo will take a day off from his confinement in his lab so he can stay with you. he takes you by the hand and gestures for you to sit down on a nearby chair beside him, offering you delectable appetites to eat while you rant to him. once you’re finished spilling out your problems, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you that you did a good job. it isn’t easy to admit you’re not mentally well, in which he praises you for.

hugging your legs to your chest, you quietly ask him if it’s not a bother. firmly, albedo shakes his head and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “no, you’re never a bother.” he scoops up a spoonful of ice cream and feeds you the cool dessert. once you swallow, his lips curve into a little smirk as he wipes away the excess on the side of your mouth with a finger and licks the cream off with his tongue.

“whether you’re happy, sad, or disappointed, my love for you will never change.”

xiao.

he’s not very good at handling these types of situations. xiao can never know what he’s supposed to say or do to make you feel better, so he just stands there awkwardly. please don’t blame him! he’s already terrible at consoling himself that having to cheer someone else up seems more like an impossible challenge than a simple task. however, like albedo, he can also sense if you’re depressed or in need of saving. what do you mortals call it, an instinct?

he asks verr for advice on what to do to help, and she suggests for him to stick by your side and show that he cares deeply about you. it takes xiao a while to come up with a suitable plan. he wanders up to the highest floor of wangshu inn and reminisces over the past. your first meeting with him, the time when you gave him almond tofu, and when you both fought together to protect liyue - he’s memorized it all down to the last detail. suddenly, an idea clicks into place and he teleports immediately to where you are. sitting on a bench alone, while you absentmindedly watch the birds peck at the crumbs scattered on the cement floor, it takes you by surprise when you find xiao hovering above you. he reaches out his hand and composedly asks if you would be willing to accompany him for the night.

when you encounter him at the location where you agreed to meet, you curiously question xiao what he wants to do, but he doesn’t reply. instead, he scoops you up in his arms, a surprised expression on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t end up falling. before you know it, both of you are... soaring in the air? your eyes subconsciously drift to his vision glowing brightly in the murky night. so he’s using his anemo abilities to create wind currents and literally sweep you off your feet.

“do you see this place?” he gestures with his head for you to look at liyue harbor. the city lights glow in the darkness and most people are walking back home, idly chatting with each other and giggling. “it wouldn’t be as peaceful as it is now if it weren’t for you. so if you ever feel sad again, know that it’s you who puts a smile on everyone’s faces - including mine.”

and with that, xiao smiles serenely at you, to which you finally offer a grin of your own.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #albedo #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #venti #venti x reader #childe x reader #childe #diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya

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luveline · 3 years

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a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

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allywritesforfun · 3 years

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hey i really enjoyed your nightly routine post with wilbur? i was wondering if you could do something similar but in the morning instead?

awe my love! I'm glad that you enjoyed the nightly the routine... here is the morning routine!

{Morning Routine} Wilbur Soot x Reader

summary: you and wilbur made a nightly routine video that blew up more than you have thought, so now its time to do a morning routine!

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 2280

trigger warnings: swearing, mention of a knife for going chop chop, this was too cute for even me to handle and it came from my hands

a/n: my god is this long! I really got carried away. I could've made this into two parts but whatevs

a/n pt 2: takes place after the “Nightly Routines” but not directly connected

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

You deeply groaned as you fluttered your eyes open. This was not a great time to wake up. You really wanted another hour of sleep, but you knew you had work to get done today.

You looked behind you. You smiled at the sight of Wilbur in his sweet slumber, his arm lazily draped over your waist. Wilbur very much loved to be in bed with you. If he could, he would spend all day there, just you in his arms and some soft lofi in the background.

That was something very rare to get. Being a streamer and musician, Wilbur was busy almost all the time and rarely took a day off. Mornings and nights were dedicated to you. However, there were times that you would stream with him, or stop by the office to give him food, but nothing was compared to waking up with him.

“Oh shit,” You whispered, “We’re supposed to do morning vlog today.”

You looked around for Wilbur’s camera, which was no where to be found. You settled on stretching over to nightstand and unplugging your phone. You looked back at Wilbur to make sure he was still sleeping. You could tell he was by the gentle raise and fall of his chest and subtle “Ah-woo”. You just knew that was the perfect way to start the vlog. You recored him for about ten seconds of him doing his ‘not really a snore but definitely something’ and giggled almost the whole way through.

You would think that after living with him for two months and the multiple sleepovers that you’ve had with him, that you would be used to it by now. But even today you still giggled just like you did when you first woke up with him.

You snuck yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. Once arrived you did the intro, “Good morning chat! It is currently about 6:30 in the morning, and as you realize, I am the only one awake. As you saw, Wilbur is still sound asleep and that how it is every morning. So we’re going to vlog our morning routine today, which I promise is way more interesting than the nightly routine vlog. So, Wilbur is literally the best person ever and deserves the world. And his world, besides me of course, is his morning coffee. So I’m going to use our Keurig to get his coffee started.”

You stopped the recording and decided to get some of your creativity out. You weren’t musical like Wilbur and can't draw for shit, so videography was your way of being creative. You set your phone the in the corner and opened up the blind to let a little bit of light through. It still looked basic so you moved your plant to the background, which added the perfect look. You started brewing and hit record.

While that was going, you measured out the creamer and syrup and grabbed your sippy cup for your chocolate milk. No judgement here. We all know chocolate milk tastes better in sippy cups.

The brew came to a slow stop and you grabbed the camera, “Wasn't that a satisfactory angle chat? Now, I am more of an iced coffee person, so in the morning I have water or chocolate milk, and today is definitely a chocolate milk day.” You raised your cup to the camera and fake ‘clinked’ it, cutting the recording when it was closest to the camera. You finished up making Wilbur’s coffee and set it on the living room table.

You looked at the time, 6:50 am, now was a good time to get Wilbur up. You always let his coffee sit out for a little bit, that way he could drink it the second that he woke up. You threw some napkins under your drinks and moved another plant over there. You wanted your place to look aesthetically pleasing, even if it was a little bit staged. You did a transition with your cup, this time now on the table.

“Okay chat, we all now mr. simpbur is a snuggler so we don't have breakfast in the kitchen, instead we share on the couch, that way we can get all of our snuggles in before he has to leave for the office. I have everything set up, normally I would prepare breakfast too, but I feel like cooking with Wilbur this morning. We’ll do this about once a week for some bonding time, so let's go get him up,” You decided to keep recording, just in case Wilbur woke up from your loss of presence.

You creaked the door open, Wilbur was still asleep. He adjusted his body for that he was hugging a pillow, who you assumed was your replacement. You laid down next to him and just took a moment to admire him. It was moments like this that you forgot that you were internet personalities. This was you. This was Wilbur. Both of you living your life without needing to exaggerate yourself. This was Wilbur at his purest form. He was all relaxed, not even aware that he was being recorded.

You scooted closer to him and intertwined your legs with him. You brushed his bangs with the back of your hands and gently placed your lips on your forehead. He stirred a little bit, but not enough to wake him up. You took the pillow from him and wrapped your body around his, “Wilbur, my love, it's about seven, you need to get up.”

You could tell he woke up by him pulling you closer and burying his head only you neck. You gently massaged his head and twirled his curls between your fingers, “Come on Will, I got your coffee made already. We need to start breakfast.”

He shook his head and kissed your shoulder, “Mine.”

You laughed, “Yes Will, and ‘yours’ is hungry, let’s get up and eat.”

He slowly nodded and pulled you closer, “Mmmm... I love you.”

“I love you too, simpbur.”

He snapped his head up at the nickname and saw the camera, “Fuck-that’s today?”

You giggled and detached yourself from, “Say good morning to chat.”

He shook his head and buried it in his pillow out of embarrassment. You stop recording and put your phone on the stand. Just seeing Wilbur all flustered was enough to make you go back to bed. You laid back down with him and pulled him on top of you.

“We’re gonna have to re-record that part,” Wilbur mentioned.

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, which he happily leaned into, “No bubs, we gotta keep it in. It was a very cute moment.”

He shook his head aggressively, “No! That was embarrassing!”

“Too bad, it’s on my phone so I get to chose what goes in.”

He huffed and grabbed your hand, accepting defeat, “You said you made my coffee?”

You two got up and sat down on the couch. Wilbur took you into his arms the second he took his first sip, his personal way of saying ‘thank you, you’re the best person to ever exist’.

“What are you feeling for breakfast?” You asked.

“You,” Wilbur joked, kissing your temple.

You gently pushed him, “No actually, I really want yogurt, so pick something that goes well with that.”

“Can we just make a fruit plate?”

You excitedly nodded, if it wasn't for Wilbur, you would not be eating healthy. He really made sure that you were going to live as long as he did. Neither of you could live without the other. If something crazy didn't happen to you, you were going to die from a broken heart.

Wilbur grabbed your phone and started recording, “So um, good morning chat, I’ve had some coffee and more awake now. What you just saw- no you fucking didn't. We’re on the sofa right now and we decided on a fruit plate with yogurt this morning, trying to be a little healthier considering we had ice cream at one am last night. So we’re gonna make that off camera, because if you guys get us to six million subs, we’ll do a cooking stream!”

“Oh we are now?” You questioned. “I was never told about this.”

Wilbur laughed and kissed your temple, “Well you know now, that's good enough innit?”

You shook your head and placed your hand over the camera, Wilbur stopped the recording. You go the fruit out while Wilbur prepared the sink for rinsing and knives for chopping.

You made the plate look all nice and took it back to the couch. Wilbur placed his arm back over you and grabbed the remote with is free hand while you centered your phone.

“Okay chat, we’re gonna eat and watch tv for a bit, then you're gonna get ready with us. Wilbur has a test shoot at the office today, so we gotta make him look all pretty and obviously personal hygiene is a must... so yeah, brb.”

You two set up another game show to watch, it sorta became your go to show. Especially because there was no storyline and you could talk when you wanted. This was a pretty chill morning, you two enjoyed each other's presence.

When you finished up, Wilbur took the dishes and you went to the bathroom and cleaned up a little bit. You heard Wilbur go into his closet, so you started recording, “Okay chat, last thing we do before he leaves is actually get ready. Wilbur is getting changed right now so I’m gonna brush my hair out. I can get a little aggressive with the snarls and Wilbur always thinks I'm ripping my hair out so I always do it when he's not around to make sure he doesn't get worried.”

You set the phone in the corner and set it up to record a time lapse. You heard off in distance some light pop type of music, so you knew that Wilbur got his speaker out.

“Are you playing copyrighted music?” You called.

“It’s released Lovejoy!”

You smiled, you always got giddy seeing how happy Wilbur was able to make himself with his own music. You set your brush down and started to wet your toothbrush, Wilbur slid into frame, already jamming out to his own music.

You covered your mouth with your hand stifled your laughter. Wilbur laughed with you and tugged on your waist, trying to get you to dance with him. You aggressively shook your head no, you hated dancing. You would think by now that you would be used to Wilbur and his random dance breaks, but you never came around.

You looked down in shame as Wilbur attempted to get you to spin around. Once you made it clear that you were not in the mood to dance, Wilbur turned down the music and waddle over to the counter.

You grabbed the camera, “If someone wants a very tall British man, you can come get him. Warning: not fun dance outbreaks.”

“Oh come on now, y/n!” Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on yours, “Stop pretending like you don't like to dance.” “You know I hate dancing,” You reminded him.

“Well chat, apparently I’m not allowed to have any fun in the morning? But anyway, that was a joke, but- we do really have to get ready. Should we do this Disney Channel style?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, I think I just want to make sure you don't miss your meeting.”

“That’s at nine! We have time! Please let me have fun with you! It’s going to be such a stressful day!” He pouted with the cutest puppy dogs eyes.

There was no way that you could say no to him, “Alright, what fun we having?”

Wilbur said nothing and prepared his toothbrush like yours, “Last one to finish brushing their teeth has to do the dishes tonight.”

You hated dishes. You were winning this one. You didn't even wait for a countdown. You instantly grabbed your toothbrush and turned on the water with lightening speed.

“What?!” Wilbur yelled. “That’s not fair!”

You did your best to bump him away, but it literally did nothing. Both of you were laughing very hard but Wilbur quickly caught up. You both fought with your hands, trying to cup a decent amount water. You both managed to get the water into your mouth and you turned to face Wilbur, it came down to who could rinse the fastest. You two just stared at each other, wishing the water around. You were dead serious. You were not doing the dishes tonight. Wilbur kept flaunting his hands around trying get himself to go faster, which ended up in him completely breaking out in laughter and spitting all over your face. It took you by surprise and all that you could you do was laugh to yourself, you eventually spit the water out in the sink, raising your hands in victory.

“I am so sorry, love!” Wilbur took your hand and guided you into his arms, gently running his hand up and down your back, “I didn't think that would be that hilarious.” “It’s okay,” You laughed and looked back in the mirror. You were completely drenched shoulder up, “It was fun. Better to happen to me than you, you look really nice today for the shoot.” “Thank you,” Wilbur blushed and turned you around, “I think that is enough recording for today. All that we have left to do is leave so... thank you for watching! Subscribe now and remember, cooking stream at six mil! Bye guys!”

#wilbur #Wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #Wilbur soot x reader #mcyt #YouTube #vlog #mcyt x reader #my god is this fucking cute #fluff #cute #dsmp #dsmp x reader

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solemnly-mischievous · 3 years

Note

HOLY SHIT RIVALRY WAS SOOOO F@&KIMG GOOD OH MY 😮‍💨😮‍💨 I was wondering you would be open to doing a jealous draco smut with breeding kink? Maybe you’re wearing a short sundress that’s riding up and getting looks from the guys and he pulls you aside 🥵

very glad to hear you enjoyed rivalry! read this request and wrote it in like two hours. here you go, anon, hope you like it too ;)

Contains: Breeding kink, jealousy, possessiveness (like... kind of a lot of that), large amounts of dirty talk, themes of exhibitionism (only mentioned)

Word count: 1.6K

-----

Of course you didn't purposely choose the smallest sundress you owned to wear that day. It was the only sundress you packed to bring to Malfoy Manor for the summer. You'd never intentionally wound up Draco—you aren't a brat or anything... on most days.

But maybe. Just maybe. You enjoyed seeing how his eyes had widened when you'd revealed your outfit. Maybe you liked how his eyes were constantly on you, your exposed skin, the deeper-than-necessary neckline. Your thighs.

And, alright, maybe this sundress was less a dress than a gratuitously long shirt.

But still. You never meant to get him so bothered.

You're also decidedly not complaining.

The day is truly hot and bright in the "backyard" of Malfoy Manor, the sun heating up your skin so much you're coated in a light sheen of sweat, despite your lack of clothing. You, Draco, and a couple other friends are about a three-minute walk away from the Manor, lounging by the beach.

You weren't even aware the Malfoy Manor was near a beach, but the more you know.

The other boys have unbuttoned their shirts in the heat, currently in various stages of modest undress—Blaise Zabini has his shirt fully off, while Theo Nott's is unbuttoned but stayed, reluctantly, on his body. It's soaked, though—you don't count on it staying on for much longer.

Draco, on the other hand, has his shirt fully buttoned, and his black outfit cuts a stark, imposing figure in the bright day. His gaze lingers on you as you stretch in the sun, the sundress riding up with your movements until they barely reach mid-thigh.

He hasn't said much since you emerged from your room in that dress, but he looks as though he's about to say something now.

"Hey!" Theo calls your name and you turn, the Slytherin boy tossing you a chilled glass bottle filled with lemonade. "I brought some along. You look parched."

"I am," you say gratefully, taking the lemonade and uncorking it. It's delightfully cold, and the lemonade tastes heavenly, sweet and sour perfectly balanced. "Bloody hell, Theo, what'd you put in these?"

"It's so bloody good, isn't it," Blaise says, chugging his own bottle before giving a satisfied sigh. "I'm telling you: Drugs."

"A dash of magic," Theo replies to you, grinning. You laugh. Beside you, Draco tenses.

"C'mon, Draco, try some," you urge him, holding the glass bottle out. "It's so good."

"I'm good, thanks," Draco declines, and you shrug.

"More for me, then." You tip the lemonade back, exposing your neck and collarbones as you lift your head, and you finish the whole small bottle in a few large gulps. Your throat bobs as you swallow, and you feel Draco's unrelenting stare on you.

Lowering the empty bottle, you feel a rush of euphoria as the sugar hits your system. Combined with the relief from the pressing heat, you can't help but let out a groan of pleasure.

Draco stiffens next to you, but you only turn to offer Theo a large pleading smile. "Tell me you brought more."

Theo looks like he's been caught in headlights, and takes a moment to unfreeze before he can register the sentence. His gaze trails down your body playfully, lingering at your neckline, how you're breathing harder than usual from drinking. "I might've. What's in it for me, doll?"

"Huh?" You blink in confusion.

"I could be persuaded to give you more," Theo says suggestively, winking, and then Draco is grabbing your arm and Apparating away from the beachside.

"Going to grab sunscreen!" is the only explanation he yells at his friends before the two of you vanish.

The two of you appear in Draco's room, you stumbling with the force of the arrival.

"Draco, what—"

"Don't," he warns, and kisses you without warning. The force of it takes you by surprise, and you fall backwards onto his bed, bringing him with you.

Draco nips at your bottom lip and trails down your neck, biting into the delicate skin there. You yelp, then moan, and your fingers clutch desperately at his shirt.

"Gonna hex him," Draco mutters, before sucking another hickey into the skin around your collarbone. You whimper from the feeling.

"What—what do you mean—Theo?"

"No, bloody Hagrid," he drawls, and pushes you into his mattress. He pins you down, and there's a light in his eyes that's almost—possessive. "Yes, Theo."

"Why?" And then you realize. "Oh—no, Draco, he was just joking."

"I don't bloody care." The blond tugs at your sundress, almost too harshly. "He wanted you. I could tell. Blaise did too. I can't blame them, with you looking like this. Bet they wanted to rip this dress off your pretty body and fuck you in the sand."

"I—"

"I'm still wondering what to do with it," Draco continues, cutting you off. "Should I let you keep it on while I fuck you? So we can get it all dirtied and wrinkled, for when we return to the beach?"

Your face flushes at the idea of Theo and Blaise seeing you in freshly-fucked apparel, dress all uneven and stained with sweat and Merlin knows what else. They'd know—oh, they'd know, alright.

"Or," Draco muses, his voice darkening, "should I tear it off of you? You could wear one of my shirts back. Just the shirt, though."

"Draco," you whine, clamping your thighs together to get some friction. He's talking too much, not touching you enough, and you grind upwards into his leg to try and get his attention.

"Slow down now, or I'll tear this dress off you and not let you dress properly before I Apparate us back," Draco warns, and you still your motions. "There we go. Good girl."

He seems to be impatient as well, though, as he shrugs off his shirt hurriedly and kicks off his trousers. "I think I'll fuck you with the dress on. Let it be a reminder, hm?"

"Yes, please, just—" And then he's pushing your sundress up roughly, exposing much of your abdomen and a sliver of your bra, and tugging your panties to the side roughly. He doesn't even have the patience to take them off.

"Gonna show them you're mine," Draco growls, sinking two fingers in at once deep into your cunt, and you let out a loud, surprised moan. "Good thing no one's home, love. I'm going to make you scream."

He thrusts in and out, fucking you roughly with his fingers, until he's deemed you loose enough to curl his fingers in. They brush against the spot that makes you see stars and you moan his name loudly, the end of the moan tapering off into a desperate whine.

"Draco, fuck, fuck me," you babble, and he seems to agree, kicking his boxers off and giving his cock a few rough tugs with his free hand before drawing out his fingers.

You don't even have time to process the loss before Draco's pressing in, your cunt tight and wet around him. He groans out a stifled curse, bottoming out and bumping against your cervix, and you whimper from the stretch.

"After I'm done with you, love, no one will touch you," he murmurs, and then he starts to move. He fucks into you slowly at first, keeping a steady rhythm, and then he's pounding into you with a vengeance, hitting your sweet spot with every few thrusts. "They'll know you're mine. Mine to love and fuck and keep."

"Yours," you repeat, although he could've said anything in that moment and you would've agreed wholeheartedly.

"I'm gonna fill you up, love," Draco pants, his rhythm unrelenting. He has a hand on your bared abdomen, and he grips you so tight you think you might bruise. "Gonna fill you up with my cum 'till you're dripping, gonna fucking breed you so you'll always be mine—"

You clench involuntarily around him at his words, a fresh wave of arousal making you drip around his cock. "Oh, bloody hell—Draco!"

"Yeah? You like the sound of that?" You can hear the smirk in his voice as he fucks you fast and rough. "Good."

"Please," you whisper, "please, fuck, come in me, fill me up, make me yours—"

"Mine," Draco echoes, and one of his hands reaches to your clit, circling it playfully, flicking it occasionally so you lurch and clench around him in pleasure. "I'll fuck you over and over until we get there, love, don't think I won't—gonna make you carry my heirs, then you'll wholly be mine."

"Fuck, Draco!" you moan as you come, and Draco groans lowly when you clench and tighten around him in your orgasm. "Oh, fuck, yes, please, make me all yours, pump me full and claim me—"

With a strangled moan, Draco comes inside of you, and you feel him filling you up as he'd promised—painting your insides with his release and pulling out after he's emptied himself. He admires his work: You, well-fucked and blissed out, the sundress rumpled and soaked in sweat.

"Good girl," he praises, Summoning a washcloth from his bathroom and pressing the cold, soothing fabric to your face. "You did so good."

"'m yours," you murmur, smiling delightedly at him. "Aren't I?"

"Yes, love." Draco's eyes gleam with a sudden idea, and instead of leaning over to clean your oversensitive, dripping cunt, he tugs your panties back into place. Your brows furrow in confusion.

"So we can make sure you're truly filled up, hm?" He tilts his head, as if to ask if it's alright with you, and you nod, heat pooling in your abdomen at the idea of walking around all day with Draco's release still inside of you, dripping into your panties, maybe even soaking through them.

A thought occurs to you. "But—they might see!"

Draco smirks at you lazily, raising an eyebrow.

"So?"

-----

Requests & asks are open! Here is the guide on requests, if you’d like to check that out first. Hope you enjoyed!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco smut #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #harry potter #hp #golden era #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy imagine #theo nott #blaise zabini

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Note

What do you think first kiss with skz be like?

aAWH SOME FLUFF T-T OK BUT KEEP IN MIND- fluff is not my strongest pursuit hence why im not a fluff writer hahsah but HEY ITS CUTE!! and anon,,, im so sorry this took such time IM SO SO SORRY AAAAAAAAH-

also this makes me wanna know my anons first kiss story, AAAH SPILL THEM

warnings; none?? fluff,,, wow,, rare to say that LMAO- also gn!reader and also suggestiveee??

Bangchan

~gentleman~

will only kiss you if you are REALLY ready for it and if the two of you are dating

doesnt want to rush you into things (even if its just a kiss) because he doesnt know how comfortable you are and such

basically a sweetheart

i imagine its like a cute little date

night where you guys are stargazing, lying on a blanket on a grassy hill with his arm as a pillow for your head

“chan, look! its a shooting star! make a wish” you giggle to which he smiles, looking at your pretty features that are lit up by the moonlight

“hmm,,, dear star, i wish that y/n would kiss me” he says, laughing directly after but soon being interupted as you attach your plushy lips against his

its probably the most romantic event in your life

him smiling into the kiss as your tongues danced around softly

when you pulled away you laughed, saying; “wishes do really come true, huh?”

poor baby is blushing, his ears red but thankfully for him its too dark for you to see

Minho

the “evil roommate that secretly has feelings for you”

“lee minho i swear im gonna rip your hair off if you touch my plants again”

minho got out of his room, looking at you standing in the living room and rearranging the plants on the windowsill

“they are all scattered, it’s ugly” he says rudely

“dont call my children ugly” you spit back at him

there was always a weird tension between you and minho. you were glad to have found a roommate that made a good friend eventhough he was a pain in the ass sometimes

minho liked you,,, and therefore he did everything the opposite of what he felt. if he wanted to compliment you on your outfit he would instead say that you looked “overdressed” or “too much” but you always rolled your eyes towards his snarky comments

you pecked your plants, giving them the love they needed and minho just stood frozen in the doorway, without thinking he spoke

“how come you never do that to me?”

silence

you sneered, placing down the plant you held and streched out your arms

“c’mere if you dare” you said jokingly, not expecting the boy you always thought was so devilish to run into your arms, lips touching and your eyes widening at the unexpected action

the two of you held each other, breathing shaky as wet tongues collided, the sun beaming upon your figures

“m-minho,,, it was a joke!” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully as you pulled away

“but to me it wasn’t” he remarked cockily, licking the inside of his cheek

Changbin

very much giving me like “we dont like each other but we have to work with each other”

like you two are co-workers, working in a boring office and you were assigned to put together this one report and,,, lets say Changbin wasnt your favorite in the office

there was nothing wrong with him,,, its just his vibe that was off putting but sigh,,, work is work

you started compiling information, sitting in a seperate room and drawing graphs on the whiteboard, projecting some other type of research onto the board

“do you think we will need to stay late?” he asks, ruffling his hair in frustration

you sigh and nod, this wasnt going to get done anytime soon.

dawn set on horizon and the others workers packed up their belonging one by one and left until there was only you and changbin left in the now quiet office

you sat next to him, yawning as you typed something as you felt him looking at you

you looked back with a questionable expression, confused when he uttered his words

“do you hate me, y/n?”

“i mean,,, you are a dick sometimes but i dont hate you, at least you do your work”

he shrugged his shoulders, loosening his necktie as he leaned back into the office chair

“a dick, huh? maybe i try to push you away so you wont catch the same feelings i have for you”

you snapped your head towards him. you couldnt lie, he was attractive and at this point you were desperate

“kiss me then” you said simply causing the boy to immediately cup your cheeks, latching onto your lips as if he’d waited for this moment for forever

more tongue, wants you to feel him ;))

lets just say,,, he made it up to you

Hyunjin

i get this like,,, youthful vibe,,, like the two of you were childhood friends

and,,, eventually you catch feelings for him which you hate because,,, you dont want to ruin this friendship

every time somebody mistook you for a couple the both of you would make retching noises, mocking each other

“you think my standards are that low?” hyunjin says pointing at you to which you raise your fist

“hwang hyunjin, you’re dead meat”

but,,, he was only in denial, it was his childhood friend afterall

probably happened at one of those night where your mom was working late and you invited hyunjin to keep you company, him bringing kkami as well.

“dont fucking burn the pizza, hyunjin” you say, petting kkami until the little rascal ran away from your lap

“if you helped it wouldnt be burned” he replies as he comes out with two plates with the pizza burned on the edges

“but if they taste bad you can always taste my lips” he jokes and you look at him with a disgusted facial expression before laughing

“i bet they taste even worse then your mess of a pizza, i would like to see you try to even get me to peck you” you scoff and hyunjin rolls his eyes, sitting next to you on the sofa

“try it then” he taunts but is taken aback when you actually kiss him, your nose accidentally brushing against his as you purse your lips, hyunjin timidly using his tongue to test the waters

he wanted it so bad and he finally got it >:(( he could swear that he heard fireworks going off in his brain

a moment of silence appeared until hyunjin cockily uttered:

“so,,, did they taste better?”

Jisung

the “i met you at a party and made out with you drunk”

he stared at you the entire night, catching glances while you looked away and the music blared in the nightclub that was packed with people.

you ordered a drink at the bar, tapping your fingers on the oak surface where you rested your arms, suddenly somebody bumped into you

turning around you saw jisung and you sighed, thinking his behaviour was starting to get annoying

“oh its you again” you said loud for him to hear as he sat down next to you, having a annoying smirk plastered on his lips

“looks like you are having fun, let me guess,,, you’re trying to get over your ex” jisung says, leaning his elbow against the bar and you glared at him because it was true

you scoffed, avoiding his question and instead sipping on the sour drink you had in your hands, trying to forget everything

he was attractive which only pissed you off even more, as if you hadnt had enough pretentious assholes in your life

the glass slammed against the table as you put it down harshly, gazing into the boys dark brown eyes

“alright, deal. make me forget then since you think you know everything about me” you stated to which jisung raised his eyebrow

the palm of his hand was firmly placed on the bar as he leaned in to kiss you, feeling the bitter liquour hitting his tastebuds as your tongues crashed against each other

it felt,,, freeing. you swung your arms around his neck, wanting him closer to your body

by the way he was kissing you, you could tell that he was there for the same reason as you. a sloppy and heated kiss to fill your thoughts with something other than your ex

safe to say that the kiss progressed ;))))

Felix

aaah cutie boyfriend that is just too shy to even give you a kiss like 3 months into the relationship (OK DONT ATTACK ME NOW, TAKE YOUR TIME, NO RUSH YOU GUYS)

he is shy with pretty much everything, it was only recently he could hold your hand without his heart jumping out of his chest.

it was a simple date night! takeout and games at his place

you layed your head in his lap as you watched him finish up the game that you had given up on a long time ago

he shifted awkwardly in his seat, not used to being so close to such a pretty person before

“ah- fuck! i lost again,,,” he says in defeat, his head rolling backwards before a frustrated sigh escaped his lips

“you did well felix! look how far you got!” you say, pointing towards the score on the screen but not getting his attention.

you sat up, looking at him for a moment as his eyelashes lightly draped over his closed eyes, cheeks speckled with freckles

you couldnt help yourself, he looked so angelic despite being defeated and so you leaned in, lacing your fingers with his and softly placing your lips against his

he opened his eyes in panic before being swallowed by the fluffy feeling of having your lips to himself, he giggled before stroking your cheek as he tilted his head, almost setting a rhythm to the sweet kiss

felix started laughing shyly, cheeks tinged with red as he hid his face with a pillow

“but you won my kiss!” you said through a smile causing felix to blush even more

Seungmin

its like,,, maybe,,, your third or fourth date??

this one is more chill than the previous ones that were at like some fancy restaurang because hello dandy puppy boy wants class

but this one was like a stroll down the night streets and eating ice cream in the middle of the summer

both of you were casually dressed, holding hands as butterflies bubbled in your stomach from the contact

his hand is all warm and it engulfs yours >:(

you look at all the pretty sights of the night, eventually climbing up to some like high point and looking down at all the lights that blinked

after a good 1 1/2 hours of walking your legs were starting to ache and so you both sat down on the swings of a desolate playground, swinging gently with your legs dangling

“i dont understand how you’re able to,,, even be friends with me,,, or whatever we are,,”

seungmin hummed, looking up into the night sky

“i promise y/n, i will be your,,, friend but,,,”

you looked at him as he said “but”, imagining the worst

“i dont wanna be friends, i wanna be more than a friend to you”

his eyes twinkled as he stood up and stood infront of you, grabbing your hand

you slowly looked up at him, his figure standing in the way of the moon as the two of you shared a long gaze, his eyes as sweet as honey, dripping with pure adoration

you pulled him closer by the hand and slowly he inched to your lips, the distance between you minimizing as his face tilted to the right, a delicate and sugary kiss landing on your tastebuds from the ice cream from earlier.

your heart skipped a beat, the slightest sound of lips smacking

“i think i love you y/n” he whispered close to your lips after pulling away.

Jeongin

like,,, uni buddies!

both being med students meant late study night, usually in school

there’s papers and diagrams laid out all over the tables and floors along with a bunch of energy drink cans, some scribbles on the whiteboard

the two of you were friends and met in uni and everyone had always nagged at you for not going after him since he was everything someone ever wanted

you always said that you were friends and that you couldnt imagine being in a relationship with jeongin

but studying with him alone into the deep night felt different, many times you couldnt concentrate when he looked so cute sitting right beside you

being close friends, there was nothing weird about hugging or leaning against each other and so you leaned against his shoulder and yawned as the cozy boy was rewriting some notes.

“one hour left y/n and then- then we can go hoooome!”

you giggled as you looked at him and he diverted his attention from his papers to you, his lips only mere inches from yours

you didnt know what the fuck you were doing and neither did jeongin, it was late and the both of you were tired from studying for finals

and so your lips drew closer until they clashed, feeling a tension that you’ve never felt with him before

he’s definitely a shy,,, kisser?? not too much tongue since he doesnt know how LMAO so its like soft >:((

didnt know what to do when he pulled away, looking around the room or covering his blushing face with his hands but when you hug him he hugs you back

maybe even coming to terms that he does have feeling for you,,, and so do you~

#stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons

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modernpaw · 3 years

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It's a Beautiful Day for a Wedding (Part 3)

Charlie Barber x Female Reader

Summary: When your ex-husband shows up at your cousin’s wedding, old wounds can’t help but resurface. Lucky for you, a certain theater director is also in attendance.

Notes: I had to write this whole thing twice because right after finishing it the first time, I accidentally pressed something and deleted much of the text, with no way to undo it. My last draft had been hours ago and so much had already changed in the scenes. You guys have no idea how much I wanted to cry, so I'm just glad someone's reading this. SNIFF. Lesson learned.

CW: N S F W, SMUT, swearing, unwanted advances, PIV sex, divorce, painful breakup, implied past infidelity, unprotected sex, AFAB reader

Words: 4.3k

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

The sound of knocking brings you back to your senses, and you push Charlie away in alarm. A look of hurt crosses his face, but it only lasts for a second. Before you can even open your mouth to apologize, however, the knocking starts again, and your attention returns to the door.

"Hellooooo," the person on the other side calls out. "Anyone there?"

"Sorry, occupied!" you shout, voice hoarse.

Aren't there other bathrooms in the house?

"Oh, honey! Are you okay?" You now recognize the speaker as one of the bridesmaids. "We haven't seen you since the reception began!"

"Y-Yes!" you answer, looking around for an alternative way out. Your eyes land on the frosted glass window on one side of the wall, which you know for a fact faces the back of the house.

You look back at Charlie. You may need him to climb out that way, but you're not sure how you can ask him to do so without offending him more than you probably already have.

"Are you sure? You sound like you're coming down with something!" the bridesmaid replies. "Let me in! Maybe I can help!"

The doorknob jiggles.

Panic surges in you, and you feel like throwing up. You're going to have to choose between making Charlie leave, knowing full well that you're the one who pulled him in here in the first place, or getting caught in a compromising situation. Either way, you're going to have to deal with the fallout.

Fortunately, Charlie seems to have come to the same conclusion. He taps you on the shoulder and points wordlessly to the window.

You nod at him before opening the faucet, hoping that the running water will help mask the sound of his escape. As he slides the glass up, you flush the toilet and slam the seat down, trying to make as much noise as possible.

For good measure, you shout back at the bridesmaid. "Uhm, on second thought, you might be right. I think I might have caught a bug or something."

"Oh dear!" she cries out. "You know, there's a stomach bug going around! Half my family is coming down with it!"

You say something in reply, rambling on and on about how sick you feel, while leaning your forehead against the door. Much of what you're saying probably doesn't make sense, but it only helps sell the idea that you're not feeling quite like yourself.

"Do you think you're well enough to come out? Perhaps you need to drink some water," she says helpfully.

You look behind you to check if it's safe to open the door. Charlie is nowhere to be seen, the open window the only indicator that he was ever there in the bathroom with you.

Aside from the taste of his lips on yours, of course.

You let out a sigh as you look at yourself in the mirror, recomposing yourself as best as you can. You fix the smudge of your makeup and rearrange your dress, all the while thinking about how his absence doesn't make you feel relieved, only hollow.

From experience, you know that you need to talk to Charlie right away. So many things have been left unsaid, and the longer you leave things unresolved, the harder it will be to sort out later.

You open the door abruptly, surprising the bridesmaid waiting on the other side. She takes one look at you and shakes her head. "Honey, you look so pale. I think you need to lie down."

You admit that you feel faint, but you also know that you need to go back to the reception to find Charlie. "I'll be fine," you say with a placating smile. "I just need to get something to eat."

She doesn't look like she believes you, but escorts you back to the garden anyway. You station yourself right by the dessert table, so you can nibble on a slice of cake while you scan the crowd for any sign of Charlie.

The party is still in full swing. From your vantage point, you can see your cousin and her husband engaged in an animated conversation with another couple. Everyone else is either talking, laughing, or eating, all having a good time.

There's no sign of the theater director anywhere though, and you blink your tears back, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you.

It's very likely that he's already left the party.

He probably doesn't want to see you again.

You really fucked this up.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice your ex-husband approaching you until he's right by your side.

"Look, I'm not really in the mood for you, Steve," you say when he calls your name. You keep your face turned away, eyes still searching the crowd for Charlie. Maybe if you don't look at him, he'll go away.

"I just want us to talk, sweetheart," he says, using his pet name for you.

The urge to vomit returns in full force. "D-Don't call me that," you say, putting your plate down when you feel a cold chill seep through your bones. Your hands turn cold and clammy, and it feels like you've actually caught a bug.

"You used to love it when I called you that," he continues, moving closer to you, lips brushing against your ear. "Remember the first time I called you sweetheart?"

You know where this story is going, but you don't want to hear it. "You lost the right to call me that a long time ago," you say as firmly as you can, finally looking him in the eye, and pushing him back. "Please just leave me alone."

Steve doesn't seem to know how to take no for an answer. "That wasn't the case a few months ago," he presses. "Weren't you my sweetheart when we spent that whole weekend in bed?"

You feel a dizzy spell coming on, and you sway a little where you stand. You steady yourself, trying to block Steve out as he recounts the details of your time together. Does he really think that reminding you of that weekend would make you want to jump back in his arms? If anything, it only reinforces your decision.

You've just about had enough, but when you try to walk away, he takes your hand and pulls you back. "Let me go, Steve," you hiss quietly, not wanting to call any attention by struggling harder, not that you have the energy to.

At this point, a stiff breeze would blow you over.

Before he can answer, you feel a strong arm curl around your waist, freeing you from Steve's grasp.

"Baby, here you are," Charlie says, putting himself in between you and your ex-husband. "I couldn't find any meds for your nausea, but maybe this watermelon drink will help."

On instinct, your body curls around Charlie's, one hand resting on his back, the other on his chest. He holds the glass before you and gently lets you sip from it, much to Steve's bewilderment.

Improvisation isn't necessarily your strongest suit, but it's not difficult to play along when your partner is Charlie.

"Better?" he asks.

You nod. "Can we go?" you ask in a small voice.

Charlie deposits the glass on the table. "Of course, babe," he says, before giving Steve a smile. "If you'll excuse us," he says before gently walking you back to the house.

You don't spare your ex-husband a second glance, choosing instead to focus on Charlie's arms around your waist and the feel of his body so close to yours. His presence is warm and comforting, and you feel the symptoms of what might have been a panic attack recede.

As you lean closer to Charlie, you think you feel his arm tighten around you, but you're not certain. It might have just been your imagination. You keep your hands on him anyway until you're safely inside the house, only letting go when he breaks away from you.

"There's a guest bedroom upstairs where I'm staying," you say as soon as you're out of anyone else's earshot. You don't want to risk getting interrupted or Charlie leaving before you get a chance to explain. "Do you think we can talk there?"

Charlie considers you for a second. "That depends. Am I going to have to climb out of a window again? Because I don't know if I can manage it quite as easily as from the second floor."

Guilt floods you and you look down on the floor. "No, it's my room. No one will—" You cut yourself mid-sentence, realizing that you couldn't, shouldn't, impose this conversation on him if he doesn't want it. "But if you don't want—"

Charlie sighs and gently cups your face. "I'm sorry. I meant it as a joke, but I think it came out the wrong way."

You blink up at him in surprise. "So you're not... you know...angry?" you ask.

He bops his forehead gently to yours. "No, c'mon. Let's talk."

+++

Upstairs, in your room, you sit on the side of bed, while Charlie, after unbuttoning his coat with one hand, takes the desk chair right beside it.

You take a deep breath, not really sure what to say first.

Do you say that you're not normally that promiscuous? That that thing in the bathroom was your first time acting on your desires so indiscriminately? Do you apologize for pushing him away earlier? For making him leave through the window as if you're embarrassed to be caught in the bathroom with him?

Once again, however, Charlie beats you to it. "I'm sorry if I overstepped," he says.

"No!" you say, quick to contradict him.

You don't want him to think that you didn't want any of it or that he was alone in his actions. You're just as responsible for what transpired. "I wanted it," you say. "And I'm sorry for pushing you away. I was just surprised."

He studies your face for a moment, wanting to make sure he doesn't miss any important non-verbal cues from what you're saying, that it's not just wishful thinking on his part. "I understand," he finally says.

And he does. While he did feel hurt earlier, it was more of a reflex than a conscious emotion, and it wasn't something he would allow to take root without talking to you first. After escaping through the window, he went in search of another bathroom where he could compose himself and make himself more presentable before rejoining the reception.

That was when he saw you standing by the dessert table with whom he assumed was your ex-husband. As a director, Charlie is very used to reading body language, and he could tell within a second of watching you that you were very uncomfortable in the other man's presence.

He had already been on his way over, but when Steve pulled your hand, Charlie had to stop himself from making a scene. He grabbed a drink on the way, so he wouldn't accidentally break your ex-husband's nose for putting his hands on you, knowing that that last thing you wanted was to call any attention to yourself.

Now that he has you all to himself, all sorts of thoughts are running through his head, such as the fact that he probably should have asked you to dinner first, and he says so as much.

"But I can't say that I regret what I did either, unless, of course, you do," he says, watching your face carefully.

You stare back at Charlie in awe. "I-I don't regret it either," you say. "I like you Charlie."

Charlie smiles as he holds his hand out to you. "Well, just in case it's not obvious, so do I."

You reach out to place your hand in his, returning his smile. "It's been quite a day, hasn't it?"

He squeezes your hand. "I think we deserve a break."

The break is apparently a nap, which, according to Charlie, you desperately need. You don't have the energy to argue, especially not when you know he's right. Your emotions have been running on high since earlier this morning when you heard that your ex-husband was attending the wedding.

Charlie admits that he may have exacerbated the situation.

"Exacerbated," you yawn, "is one way of putting it."

Now, lying on your side, you feel your eyelids start to get heavy. The bed is so soft, and Charlie is so warm. He's taken his coat off and is positioned right behind you, one arm slung over your body, pulling you close to his chest.

You put a hand over his and hum in contentment. Charlie smiles when he hears it, likening it to a cat's purr.

He drapes one leg over yours. "Sleep now," he commands, and you find yourself obeying without question. His weight is a welcome anchor for your frazzled emotions, and soon, you find yourself dreaming.

You're on a boat, bobbing up and down, in the middle of the ocean. There's nothing but water for as far as your eye can see, no other person around you, not even land on the horizon, but you don't feel scared or alone. You just feel at peace.

When a large wave rocks the boat gently, you rush over to the side of the craft, only to realize that the wave is actually a blue whale. Its sheer size should have been overwhelming, but its presence only calms you.

Then the dream changes, and you feel lips pressing against the back of your neck and hear sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

You're gorgeous.

Stay here.

I'll be right back.

You try to shift closer to the warmth behind you, and that's when you wake up.

Blinking your eyes open, you register the fact that you're alone in bed, alone in the room, in fact. You push yourself up on your forearms. Charlie's side of the bed is still warm, so he probably hasn't been gone for long.

Before you can even speculate about his whereabouts, however, the door opens to reveal the man himself with a plate of food in one hand and two bottles of water in the other. "Hey," he says, placing them all on the desk. "Thought I left you sleeping."

You crawl over to the edge of the bed before standing on your knees before him. While you appreciate him taking the time to bring you food from the reception, it's not exactly what you're hungry for. You reach for his belt, pulling him towards you, before laying gentle kisses on his stomach.

Charlie swallows. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, cradling your face.

You look up at him and nod. "Very sure."

Charlie leans down to kiss you softly on the lips before joining you on the bed. You move back to make room for him, until your head hits the pillow and the entire length of his body covers yours.

"You look so beautiful," he says, before gently parting your legs. He nudges your left leg to the side, and slides his hands up the smooth expanse of your skin, bringing your dress up as he does.

Your breath hitches in anticipation when he raises it to your waist, revealing your seamless underwear. A new wet patch is already forming on the crotch.

Charlie gives you a heated gaze before devoting his attention back to your core, his undivided attention making you feel even more aroused.

"Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted earlier?" he asks softly. Before you can even comprehend his question properly, however, he leans down to sweep his tongue across your slit through the jersey fabric.

"Oh f-fuck," you whimper as soon as you feel him on you, the panties barely a barrier from the warm, wet, and firm assault of his tongue. The soft, sensual motions of his mouth make you hotter and wetter, and one of your hands lands on his head, while the other clutches wildly at the sheets.

As he proceeds to lick long stripes up and down your core and lap at your clit through your panties, your desperate pants and gasps redirect blood flow to his cock, filling it up even more. He groans against you as he palms himself through his trousers. He can't wait to be inside you, to plunge himself in so deep, he'll never find his way out again.

Charlie moans against your pussy and wonders if you know just how much more depraved his thoughts about you can get. He's never felt this way before, has never wanted to give in to his desires as much as he does with you.

Leaving one last kiss on your pussy, he pulls away to make quick work of his pants and his shirt.

Despite feeling lightheaded, you sit up to follow his lead, pushing the straps of your gown down until the entire dress slides off your body. Without breaking eye contact, you stand back on your knees, and reach behind you to unclasp your strapless bra. Before you completely release the band, however, you hesitate for a moment, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It's ridiculous, you know, but even though he's already had his lips on your most intimate places, this is the first time you're going to be baring yourself to him.

Will he like what he sees?

Before you can back out, you remove your bra and lower yourself to sit on the backs of your legs, hands on your lap, inadvertently squeezing your tits together.

Charlie is silent for a moment, staring at you unabashedly, and you wonder if you're not what he expected.

Finally, he kneels down on the bed before you. "How are you even real?" he whispers, reaching out to touch your chest. Your hands fall to your sides, as he caresses your tits up and down, over and under, tracing their natural shape, letting them bob against his palms. At his ministrations, your breasts start to swell. They become heavier and seemingly fuller in response to the largeness and roughness of his hands. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him, as your pussy quivers and flutters in anticipation.

He has yet to touch your nipples, but he doesn't have to, they're already hard and swollen, waiting for him to lavish his attention on them. Charlie licks his lips. You can tell—or maybe you hope—that he wants to lick them, suck them, but that can wait another time. There's something else that needs attention.

You reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down. Charlie helps you pull them off, and you barely contain your excitement when the head of his cock slips out and the rest of his length is finally unsheathed.

It's big, bigger than what you're used to, and it looks—fuck—it looks so hard and heavy, the head barely managing to lift itself. The tip is shiny with pre-cum, the balls drawn tight and large. Your mouth waters at the sight. You've always had a bit of an oral fixation if you're being honest, and you can't wait to have his cock between your lips.

Charlie groans as he watches you watch him with undisguised desire. He gives himself a few strokes, but you stop him before he could get anywhere, pulling him down to the bed. He soon finds your positions reversed, him with his back against the headboard, you right between his legs, kneeling down on all fours.

Seeing your ass up in the air and hearing your delicate moans as your nipples rub against the sheets—it's all nearly too much for Charlie, and more pre-cum gathers at his tip. He stops breathing altogether when you hover your mouth over his cock and raise your head to look up at him. He feels like he knows what you're about to do, and he's not disappointed when you hold his gaze as you give his head several experimental licks.

"Ungggggh!" he moans, his hands digging into his thighs at the sensation. He doesn't want to rush you, not yet, but god does he want to thrust up into your mouth.

"That's it—fuck—take it," he groans when his cock finally slips between your lips. Holding the base of his erection with one hand, he pulls your head down with the other, gently feeding you his length one inch at a time.

"C'mon, baby girl," he groans encouragingly as you take in more of him. "You can do it."

You close your eyes in pleasure, and you take him in further, sucking softly as you do. You're not a world champion at deep-throating, but you do enjoy giving head. In fact, you enjoy it so much, your pussy's already salivating.

"You feel—fuck—you feel so fucking good," Charlie says. You moan in reply, and he involuntarily tightens his fist in your hair when it sends vibrations through his cock. You hardly feel it, however, focused as you are on the singular task of taking in as much as you can of his length and the sheer pleasure you get out of servicing his cock.

Charlie nearly loses it when he looks down to see your eyes half-lidded and strands of saliva around your mouth. You look so thoroughly debauched, so fucking dirty and unrestrained in your pleasure, that he can't help himself. He begins to face-fuck you, hand urging your head to keep up with his thrusts.

You gag slightly, eyes tearing up immediately when Charlie's dick hits the back of your throat, but you try to relax your muscles, taking what you're given. You love how he sounds above you, his groans raw and broken, his growls bordering on animalistic.

Just as you think he's about to come, however, he pulls his dick out and pulls you onto his lap. You place your hands on his shoulders, moaning when you feel the full extent of his hardness against your core. You feel your cunt throb, swelling up at the prospect of having his cock inside.

"Y-You want my cock?" Charlie asks with a hiccup, still breathless after nearly coming in your mouth.

"Mmmhmmm," you answer, as you lean back, hands on either side of his hips, indulgently rubbing yourself against him. Charlie allows it for several seconds, knows how much you deserve it, before lifting you back up on your knees. You're still wearing your panties, but he doesn't care. He simply pulls the crotch of the fabric, wet as it is, to the side. As he positions his cock right under your pussy, he inhales sharply at the sight if your glistening folds. Slick. Sopping. Dripping. He can't wait to get inside you, can't wait to feel your wet pussy ride his dick.

Slowly, you sink yourself on him, and although he's larger than what you're used to, your cunt instinctively makes room for his cock. Not enough that he can just slide all the way in, but just so that you're taking more of him with every move. It's a tight fit, but it's comfortably snug, and you can't stop yourself from moaning at how good it feels.

"Mmmm... yeah," you cry out. "F-Feels so good."

Charlie groans as he watches your pussy swallow him down. "Fuckkkkkk," he swears. One of his hands hovers just over your shoulder, resisting the urge to push you down. "So damn greedy for this cock."

He's not wrong. You gasp when you finally seat yourself fully on his lap. You've never felt this full or this close to bursting before.

While he waits for you to get used to his size, Charlie distracts himself by running his hands all over your body and leaving feather-light kisses everywhere—on your shoulders, your neck, your ears, your breasts.

"Oh, Ch-Charlie!" you cry out when he catches one nipple in his mouth, the suction of his wet warmth making the already sensitive bud ache. The delicious throbbing causes your walls to contract, which then squeezes his dick in a solid grip.

Charlie lets your nipple go with a raspy plea. "Baby, need you to move now," he says urgently.

You lift yourself back up and try to find a rhythm, but when Charlie sees how much of your slick is covering his dick, he decides that you can go a bit faster. Grabbing you by your waist with both hands, he takes over the pace and starts bouncing you on his dick, the constant fwap-fwap-fwap sound of your fucking filling the air.

"L-Look at how well you're taking me, baby girl," he groans, watching as his cock disappears in and out of your pussy.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh!" you moan as his thrusts repeatedly hit your g-spot and your clit rubs against his pelvic bone. "Ch-Charlie, Charlie, Charlie!" you chant his name as if it's the only name you've ever known.

"Th-That's right—fuck!" Charlie exclaims, thrusting upward frantically now. He wants to leave his mark in you, wants to ruin you for any other man, wants you to know only his touch.

He's so, so close, he can taste it. "So fucking good!" he groans.

You're not that far off yourself, but then Charlie lets out a deep, rumbling growl and bites down on your shoulder.

Oh fuck.

You let out a high-pitched whine as pleasure sweeps through every cell in your body. You feel yourself literally crying out in ecstasy. Without a doubt, this is the best orgasm you've had in a long time.

Charlie grits his teeth when he sees the tears in your eyes and feels the exact moment you reach your peak. His balls draw themselves up, and his cock prepares to ejaculate. He wants to come in you, but you haven't had the chance to discuss anything, so he lifts you up and pulls out at the very last minute.

"F-Fucking—"

As soon as his hand touches his dick, it spurts out gobs of semen, painting your pussy, your stomach, and even his chest and your breasts white. Some even land on your face.

Charlie groans when he sees you slip your tongue out to lick the spot near your lips where a bit of come landed. He doesn't have it in him to get hard again, but his dick still twitches at the sight.

"Come here," he says, pulling your head close, so he can kiss you. Chest still heaving, you part your lips for him, letting his tongue in. Charlie kisses you tenderly and lovingly, and then pulls you closer so he's cradling your body on his lap sideways. You two remain like that for some time, kissing away the aftermath of your orgasm, oblivious to the rest of the world.

When you two eventually break apart, it's not because you two get tired of kissing, but because your tummy finally makes its hunger known.

"Looks like someone's finally ready to eat," he says, chuckling.

You smile back at him. "Well, I'd say we deserve it."

END

Tagging: @cornmousequeen, @fizzywoohoo, @paper-n-ashes, @morby, @shygirl268

Tagging (for this story): @clydesfavoritegirl, @alpha-lobito, @gurl-ly, @boltonbritreads

If you would like to be tagged in future adcu stories or only those for specific adcu characters (which I cannot promise will actually happen), let me know! :) Otherwise, thank you for reading!

Likewise, if you want to be untagged, feel free to let me know! No need to explain and I won't be offended! :)

#charlie barber x you #charlie barber x female reader #cw: N S F W #cw: sex #cw: swearing #cw: PIV sex #cw: AFAB reader #cw: unwanted advances #cw: unprotected sex #cw: smut #cw: implied past cheating #cw: divorce #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu

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tonystarkissist · 3 years

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“Didn’t know where else to go”/ Revenge - Villainous July

Part 11 of “Oh Sweet Child, The Things I’d Do for You...”

Summary: Tony's out of his element. He’s ignorant to many things in relation to offering someone else comfort, but closure and vengeance is one thing he’s damn good at.

Rating: Teen (For language and Thematic Material)

Warning: Self-loathing and lack of care for life, mentions of abuse, and slightly graphic dialogue towards the end (maybe too graphic, but I got caught up in the moment; sue me).

Word Count: 4.5k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Read on Ao3 ~ Next Chapter

Peter’s there for days, maybe weeks, he couldn’t keep track at this point. He’s glad he had the foresight to warn Ned of his absence. His friend would definitely be the leading cause behind filing a missing persons report, because he knows Beck wouldn’t do it, content to mooch off of CPS as long as possible. And Peter really didn’t need anyone out looking for him. He didn’t even want to think about the turmoil and stress that would ensue. He didn’t want to deal with it. Ever.

He just wanted to lie here on this couch forever, stare at the fire crackling in the fireplace and watch the orange light bleed through the darkness of Mr. Stark’s home. It reminded him of that night he’d followed Mr. Stark here… he missed him. Still.

He wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore at all; not even ashamed. He missed him. And he felt so incredibly guilty for turning the man’s world entirely upside down. If Peter hadn’t acted so carelessly none of this would be happening. Tony wouldn’t be on the run, Beck wouldn’t have found out about Spider-Man, and Peter wouldn’t be slowly starving to death, lying here on Stark’s couch, the licks of flames dancing up from the fire cradling him in a hypnotic trance.

There was food in the kitchen, he knew there was, but just the thought of food made him sick, and he knew if he did try to stand he wouldn’t have a chance at making it that far before passing out.

He’d long since accepted the fact that he’d die at a young age due to his vigilante hobby, but he must admit he never expected it to happen this young, especially not since Mr. Stark started showing up every moment he needed him. He hadn’t failed him once… until now. Now that Peter needs him… he’s not here. He stares down at the shattered face of the watch he’s been clutching in his hand since he arrived. Mr. Stark wasn’t coming back, and that was something Peter would have to accept. How could he come back, with all these people looking for him? It’d be impossible and probably the stupidest decision the man could make. But of course Peter’s still clinging to that childish hope that he’d see him again. Preferably before he wastes away here on this very couch.

Though at this rate, it didn’t seem like that was likely to happen. He didn’t even feel the pangs of hunger anymore, and he could feel his body slowly shutting down. It felt almost like a relief to be ridded of that constant ache in his stomach.

He’s been living off of that one school lunch meal for a week, and Peter could feel the definition of his bones when he ran a shaky hand over his ribs, or along his shoulder and arms. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but what did he care? There would be no “long run” to worry about, just the next couple of days before he peacefully slipped off to sleep into a gentle void of nothingness. And if this is what those last couple of days felt like… then he had nothing left to worry about.

He drifted off, muscles and body aching from lying in the same position he had been for days. He had nice dreams, most consisting of finally being with Aunt May again, and his parents. They were waiting for him when he arrived and he was so, so happy to see them, it brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of doing this before. No one but Ned would’ve missed him… and Ned would get over it-- will get over it.

Something draws him out of his dream just before he falls too far, and at first he thought it was the usual convulsing of his stomach urging him to vomit up some bile, or perhaps the heat of a fever and a throbbing headache, but it was none of those.

Instead, it was a soft, light pressure against the side of his face. A small, calloused pad of warmth slowly stroking along his cheek, beneath his eye. It made his nose tickle, and his nostrils flared in response to the touch. His ears slowly cue in, and he’s hit with a sudden cacophony of noise. From the light sound of traffic several blocks down, and the small crackling of the dimming fire in the fireplace, all the way to the soft words belonging to a voice all too familiar, yet entirely unidentifiable.

“Pete?” The voice cracks with anxious distress. “C’mon Pete, wake up.”

Then there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, and all feelings along his skin and limbs begin to return. He’s being shaken back and forth, head lolling from side to side, but his groggy mind confuses it with… he didn’t know what it was. He just knows that everything feels numb and sensitive all at the same time.

The warm embrace against the side of his face disappears, and something scratchy and pokey is pressed gently against his lips, urging them to part. “C’mon Pete,” the voice begs again.

His tongue felt heavy and thick, weighed down by congealed saliva, but the pressure broke past the barrier of his lips despite it. He still couldn’t force himself to open his eyes.

The potent taste of salt hits his tongue and it sends a sudden shock through his whole system, like it finally realized it was in the waking world. The groggy convulsion alerts the voice of his slight awareness and now his body is manhandled into a sitting position. Even though his eyes are beginning to peek open he has no strength left in his limbs to try and fight the external force. He’s leant up against a warm cushion-y surface, a heavy weight settling over his shoulders as the culprit for the salt is pushed past his lips once more.

He bites down slowly, crumbs falling off at the corners of his mouth and the voice from earlier is quick to praise him.

“Good job, kiddo. C’mon, just a little more.” The taste sits heavy in his mouth and it slowly grows soggy atop his tongue, which urges him to swallow it. And, it seemed that the moment it slid down his throat, his body remembered all that it was missing and he was hit with a sharp pang in his abdomen, and he’s quick to take another bite.

His head lolls to the side, the cracker pushed back against his mouth, and his forehead pressed against something warm, engulfing him with a strong whiff of aftershave and alcohol. And slowly he’s able to piece together the warm shape he’s pressed against: an arm around his shoulders, a solid body sitting beside him, and the sharp outline of a jaw propped atop his head. Meaning the warmth bringing life back to his frozen nose and face must be the neck and shoulder.

His mind can only conjure one person to picture with him in this scenario. However unrealistic it was.

“ ‘ny?” Most of it’s a groan, but it must’ve been articulate enough for the voice to understand, and he’s instantly blanketed in more warmth and praise, pulled even closer to the warm body.

“Yes! It’s me. It’s Tony, kid.” The jaw resting on his head moves slightly in a way he couldn’t fully discern, and it’s followed by a soft but strong protrusion pressing against the top of his head, warm air passing over his scalp in short spurts before the jaw returns to its place.

It makes Peter smile. He’s not entirely sure why yet, but the warmth that blooms across his chest enlivens him in a way he never thought he’d experience ever again.

He eats more crackers, and he sips water through a straw regularly pressed to his lips as well. He doesn’t know how many he eats or how much he drinks, but soon enough the feelings begin to slowly bleed back, urging life back into his limbs and his brain. His stomach wasn’t very happy, but that didn’t come as a surprise to him

“You feeling better kiddo? That’s almost the whole pack.” A heavy hand is pressed to his face, then migrates up to pet his hair. “I don’t know what’s good to feed ya when you’re like this. You gotta help me out here.”

“Mm,” Peter groans. He knows it's unhelpful, but his belly felt stuffed and now all he could think about was how cold he was. The penthouse was warm and cozy, but it seemed ever since he arrived, Peter still couldn’t shake that chill that had settled in his bones. The thought alone made him shiver.

“Are you still thirsty?” The voice sounded nervous. “Yeah, you’re probably still thirsty. Lemme go get some more water.” The body begins to move away, which meant so was the warmth.

A strong tremble travels along Peter’s body with nervous anticipation, the muscles in his fingers spasming to grip at the person desperately before they could leave him alone.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” A strong hand grabs his fingers, gripping them gently between their larger ones. “You with me? You okay?”

“Mm,” Peter replies unhelpfully once more. He may not be able to reason or ruminate just yet, but he does know that he’s cold. He grabs the fingers around his and holds on tight, searching out warmth once more by diving his head back towards the warm cushion-y barrier from before and rooting himself there.

“Okay, okay.” The arm around his shoulders moves to rub warmth into his other arm, encircling him completely in the embrace. “Why’d you do this to yourself, Pete?” The voice whispers, a palpable despair in their tone. “You scared me.”

“Mm,” Peter hummed, eyelids pulsing open and closed with a firm determination to remain awake. His vision was blurred with soft orange light and the hard blackness of shadows. A sight he’s come to find as quite familiar and ironically comforting.

He feels better this time when he is pulled to sleep. Not so much on the brink of death anymore, but he feels he’s still teetering precariously close to that cliff. Though despite the nonsense the thought made, he knew the voice and the warmth would hold on tightly, and they wouldn’t let him fall.

***

He wakes up, warm and comfy in a nice big bed. He rolls onto his side with a groan, stomach screaming with hunger, and he lifts a hand to rub his fingers over his burning eyes. His entire body felt like it’d been wrung through a trash compactor. And he didn’t know how he ended up in a bed… He opened his eyes and looked around the room, then cursed under his breath. He was in Tony’s bed. In all the time he’s stayed hidden away in this penthouse, he’d stayed on that damned couch. He didn’t know what had occured last night to result in him crawling his way into this room.

His muscles felt weak and very unsteady, but he forced himself out of bed anyway. He needed to get out of that room, he needed to get back to the couch. He struggled opening the door, and he clutched at the wall as he stumbled and tripped his way back towards the main room. It didn’t even occur to him to question the light bleeding down the hall via the opened curtains scattering around the place. This morning wasn’t making any sense anyway, it didn’t matter.

He was a little more than halfway there when he collapsed, his left leg giving out first, tripping up his balance and toppling him to the wooden floor. He lands with a heavy bang, and he winces at the dull throb that resulted in his side.

“Peter?!” Loud footsteps follow the exclamation, and Peter’s entire body seizes with shock.

Was that??

It was.

Tony appears from around the corner seconds later, crouching in front of him with bulging plastic bags draped from his arms, hands reaching out towards him to help him off the ground.

“What in the world are you doing out of bed, kid? I told you to stay put.” And before Peter could even put up a protest, he was being lifted into the air and led back down the hall the way he came, back into Tony’s room.

It was like he’d just returned from the dentist, cotton stuffed in his mouth, tongue paralyzed, and brain conjuring weird loop-de-loops because he was still high on the pain meds. Because Mr. Stark was here. Carrying him.

If he wasn’t so startled and shocked by the man’s sudden appearance, he’d surely be mortified, but all he could do was stare dubiously at the side of his face as they walked. Then he was being lowered gently back into the bed, and as soon as Tony released him he dropped the bags from his arms and they hit the floor with muted thumps. Giving the man the freeness to meticulously tuck the sheets and cover back over Peter’s frailing body.

Any semblance of flesh had withered off his bones, thanks to his recent lack of appetite.

There was a harsh line molded between Tony’s brows as he messed anxiously with the sheets, and then turned his fixations towards the bags he’d just dropped. Peter didn’t speak a word during the entire ordeal, still unsure if this was just some weird dream or not.

“I picked up some stuff from the convenient store down the block. This’ll do much better than those Saltines from last night.” He lifts up the bottle of red gatorade to show, cracks open the lid, then plops a little bendy straw into the opening. “I would’ve gotten the ones with the sippy cup caps, y’know,” he rambled, sitting down on the mattress beside him and holding the straw up to his lips with shaky fingers, “but this was all they had. I’m assuming your favorite color is red, but I got all the other colors too.” Just as Peter takes a tentative sip, Tony pulls it back looking as if he was in the midst of a panic. “Damn, I should’ve asked you what flavor you wanted. Do you want blue instead? I can get the blue one,” Tony bends down so quickly it almost gives Peter whiplash, hand and head disappearing beside the bed, the rustling of plastic bags sounding during the frantic search. Then Tony sits up to brandish the blue gatorade,offering it towards him instead. “Or I've got green… and the white one.”

They stare at each other for several moments, and Peter’s not entirely sure what Tony expects him to say, so he settles with something simple.

“I-I like red.”

The straw is back at his lips and Tony’s nodding a little too feverishly. “Yeah, yeah, see I knew that.”

Peter sips on the drink, Tony watches him, and that little worried crease between his eyebrows doesn’t go away.

When he’s finished, he pulls away from the straw and leans back against the pillow, finally feeling a bit refreshed. Just as Tony begins to insist he drink more, Peter asks his question. “What are you doin’ here?”

Tony scoffs at him, an offended frown coming over his face. “This is my house. I should be the one asking you that question.”

And really, that was a good point. Peter didn’t know why he was here either. He drops his gaze to stare at his lap. He didn’t mean to worry the man, or get in his way… he just wanted someplace warm to stay.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled softly, a heaviness overcoming his eyes with the pressure building behind them.

“Shit, kid, I didn’t mean-- I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony’s hot palm presses against the side of his neck, thumb dipping under his chin to force his gaze back up. “I’m just worried ‘bout you. I came home and found you on my couch, passed out and-and small as a twig, pale, and I didn’t know what to do.”

Peter leans into the touch without thought, absorbing the tender affection like he was starved for it.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Peter whispers, tears finally beginning to fall from his eyes. The thumb tucked beneath his chin quickly moves to soothe over his cheeks, brushing the fallen tears away. It forces a smile from Peter, a bittersweet, desperate smile, formed with quivering lips.

Tony rips his hand away, suddenly and violently, like he’d only just realized what he was doing, stumbling away from the edge of the bed. He shook out the hand that’d been against Peter’s cheek like it had been infected with an abhorrent substance, and the man turned his back to Peter, other hand lifting to run through his hair while he cursed under his breath.

He avoids Peter’s eyes when he does turn back around. He points towards the gatorade sitting on the bedside table and clears his throat before delivering his instructions. “Drink all of that. I’ll be back soon.”

He shuffles from the room, grabbing one of the plastic bags on his way, and Peter can hear his distant mutterings under his breath as he leaves the room. It left an odd sense of emptiness in him, and he turned to look at the small bottle of red gatorade.

He didn’t reach for it, opting to watch the door. Awaiting Tony’s return.

Tony reappeared after several minutes, looking much less perturbed than when he had left. He came bearing soup and he set it down beside the empty bottle. He kept his distance this time though. The worried line between his brows were gone, taking upon an unperturbed expresion… simply gesturing with his head towards the steaming bowl.

He pulls up a chair, and when Peter still hadn’t made a move for the soup and Tony remained under his unyielding stare. After several more moments, and Peter had yet to move, Tony reached over to place the bowl gently in his lap. It wasn’t full by any means, so Peter didn’t worry about it spilling.

“Peter, you have to eat,” he nods down towards the bowl again. “And while you eat, I want you to tell me everything that happened while I was gone. Everything that got you to this point.” He waves his finger in a circular motion in gesture to his body, fixing Peter with a stern look, and Peter drops his head shyly.

“Can-can I eat first?”

“Sure.”

Peter eats as slow as possible under Tony’s watchful eye. Sadly, however, there was only a finite amount of soup and when Peter was finished, Tony was ready to talk, taking the bowl from his hands and putting it to the side.

“Alright, kid, spill.” Tony had his serious frown on; the same one Peter remembered he wore during the couple lectures he gave in the past. “No skimping on details.”

Peter turns his gaze away from him, skin prickling with anxiety. “My foster dad found out I was Spider-Man… an-and he thought I was working for you. I just… it made him really angry and I just wanted to get away! So, I came to look for you, but you weren’t here and I thought you were never coming back…”

He’s bowing his head to hide his tears, meaning he didn’t realize Tony had gotten out of his chair until he was settling beside him on the bed, and Peter’s head snapped up to look at him when he felt the matress dip. The man sat right beside him, shoulder pressing up against his, and the worry line making a reappearance.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“I-I’m not your responsibility,” Peter argues, “you shouldn’t feel sorry. I’m the one that screwed everything up and ruined your life.” He felt the trembling in his lips begin once more and he turns his head to hide it. “Everything that’s happened… to you… to me. It’s all my fault.”

Strong fingers grab his chin and force his gaze back, and Tony’s glaring down at him. “No, none of this is your fault.”

“Are you stupid?!” Peter bites, cheeks heating up with both frustration and embarrassment. He shakes off Tony’s grip on his chin. “You told me to stay away from those weapons, but I didn’t listen! And then I end up getting into trouble, and you felt the need to come rescue me!” He grips his hair, pulling at the curls in frustration and turning back to his lap as he continues to ramble. “And-and it’s my fault that I left my suit on my floor before bed. So it’s my fault when Beck found them,” he turns his gaze back up to Tony, tears now flowing freely from his eyes, “and it’s my fault that I didn’t fight back. I’m Spider-Man… it’s-it’s, he should have no power over me and-and he only has it because I’m scared.”

Tony’s grip is softer this time when he grabs his chin.

“Hey,” he soothes, lifting his other hand to wipe away the tears, “don’t you ever blame yourself for this. You’re a kid, I’m an adult, and it’s my job to keep you safe.” His gaze turns steely, and Peter feels his grip tighten slightly on his chin. “I just need to know one thing Peter… did he hurt you?”

The silence and the immediate influx of tears was apparently enough confirmation for the man, and he instantly releases Peter, a tight growl rumbling through his chest as he pushes himself off the bed. Peter sees the orange flareup appearing above the man’s collar, climbing up the veins of his neck. He knew well enough to know Tony’s intentions.

“No,” he chokes, diving after the man. He grabs a strong fistful of his shirt before he could get too far, and Tony turns to look down at him, his blue eyes vivid as ever. “Please don’t…”

“Peter,” Tony growls, a tight rumbling passing through him. “He’s not getting away with this. He’s not getting away with laying his hands on you.”

“Please…” Peter begged desperately. “Please don’t kill him… Please.” He’s crying in earnest now, and Tony takes pity.

He grabs Peter’s hand, gently prying it from his clothes to hold firmly in his palm. “Pete.”

“Please don’t leave,” Peter tries.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for Beck’s death, because then the world’s point would be proven. Spider-Man was just as bad as Iron Man. Any notion of ‘hero’ was dead.

He knows Tony will kill him. He can see it in his eyes. The rage.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Peter…” Peter’s tempted to label the sound that emits from the man as a soft whine as Tony slowly sits himself back on the mattress, never releasing his hold of Peter’s hand.

“Stay.” He tugs Tony closer. If he was close enough to hold onto, Peter could keep him from leaving.

“Okay, okay,” Tony relents, scooting back up beside him. Peter doesn’t risk doing anything more than pressing his shoulder against him. The touch was enough to draw him comfort for the moment. Just enough to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.

***

Beck’s seething, fisting the red cloth in his hand. Peter was gone… and he was in deep shit. There was no way CPS wouldn’t investigate him after this. He stares at the undecorated Christmas Tree standing lifelessly in the corner as he downs another swig from his bottle. He grimaces. He didn’t usually go immediately for the hard liquor, but the week had been particularly difficult for him. After his Boss found out about Tony Stark being alive… it had been chaotic. And it never failed to construct a headache waiting just for him at the end of the day.

There were two sharp knocks at the door, and he flinched in surprise, eyes darting to the clock hung on the wall. 10:48. Who the hell was at his door so late at night?

Before he even had a chance to stand from his easy chair, his door blew in.

He leaped from the chair, dropping everything in his hands during his frantic stumble. The bottle shattered on the floor, and the suit soaked up the spilt liquid. He shouted in surprise and stared at the man standing in his doorway.

“S-Stark?”

The man in question steps past the threshold, onto the fallen door. His eyes glowed, his entire body illuminated like he was under the light of a strong fire. He doesn’t say anything, but Beck thinks he knows why he was here.

Beck slowly moves himself away from the room, backpedaling as quickly as possible, tripping over his own drunken steps. Stark moves closer.

“Hey, Stark. What are- what are you doin’ here?”

“I think you know.” His voice was gravelly and strained, and Beck shuddered.

“I-I really don’t,” he lies. He crashes into the decorative table set up at the beginning of the hall. A potted plant and several books crashing to the floor.

Stark steps closer, chin dipping to his chest which only highlights his sharp, shining glare, his head tilting only slightly to the side.

“I reeally think you do.”

Beck falls to the ground.

And as Tony begins to gain on him, he starts his rambling. “Whatever that kid told you was a total lie, I swear. He makes up all kinds of stories! I’ve been nothing but hospitable--” Tony grabs him by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground with nothing more than his human arm. Then he squeezes, bringing their faces close as Beck chokes desperately around his hand.

“It’s too late,” he whispers into his face, voice calm and soothing, “I remember you… how much trouble you were back in the day.” A dangerous grin flitted over Stark’s face. “Nothing you say will get you out of this. I’m going to make you feel every bit of pain my kid suffered at your hands. In fact, if it wasn’t for that kid, I’d slit you open and splash around like a child playing in a puddle, and string your guts around that tree like decorative garlands. You best be glad I’m a man of my word...”

***

When Peter blinks awake, his head is lying on the pillow, blankets pulled up around his shoulders and Tony sat beside him. Head thrown back against the headboard, mouth open, snoring, and a discarded tablet hanging loosely in his grip atop his lap.

Peter smiles, snuggling further into the pillow and pulling the blankets tight around him.

He didn’t think to pay any mind to the small splatter of red on the cuffs of his shirt.

Next Chapter

@multiverse-irondad-july

#Villainous July 2021 #VillainousJuly2021 #villain tony stark #extremis tony stark #dark tony stark #protective tony stark #insecure tony stark #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #sad peter parker #irondad #protective dad mode #villain appreciation

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dreaminghour · 3 years

Text

Star Wars WLW Week Day 2

Fancy Dress Event! Leia and Amilyn sneak off from a New Republic gala to find a dark corner...

“Are you saying my dress is in bad taste?” Amilyn asked.

“You’re never in bad taste.” Leia laughed.

“Even when I wear our new enemy's colors from head to toe?”

“Toe?” Leia asked, and slipped out of Amilyn’s grasp to peer down at the shoe she peeked out of her gown. “Ah.” Leia leaned into Amilyn a little. “Well, the color looks very nice on you. You look like pale-pink flowers wrapped in red roses or… something.”

“Leia! That was almost romantic!” Amilyn gave her a little squeeze, and even in the dim blue light of the stars, she seemed to blush a little.

“What can I say.” Leia’s voice was like a whisper against her collarbone. “You inspire me.”

1774 words below the cut~

“Oh, thank goodness.”

Vice Admiral Holdo turned at the sound of a familiar voice. The sight of Leia wrapped in white silks was like something from an old family holo — if either of them had any of those left now.

“I knew as soon as I saw the hair match the drapery that it was you, Amilyn.”

“I think it’s ‘hair matches the drapes,’ General,” Amilyn said with a wink.

Leia pretended to swat at her.

“And Han?” Amilyn asked. She knew that Han did not like attending these swanning galas, self-congratulatory he called them, though he used cruder language. Amilyn saw them for what they were, shows of unity, appeals to the elite, fundraising.

These events were not his thing, they both knew that.

“It’s unlikely he’ll ever come to anything like this again,” Leia said, and there was something resigned there.

Amilyn thought she’d heard it before, the other times that Han had left for a while. This sounded different. She suspected she knew, having heard about the last few months with Luke and Ben… she could have asked, Leia would have told her, but this was supposedly a celebratory event and Amilyn had been drinking.

“More for us,” Amilyn said, passing a flute of sparkling wine to Leia.

Their toast was wordless, just the chime of glass against glass, and they both raised their glasses as they turned their back to the bar and surveyed the crowd milling around them.

Amilyn had always had a knack for patterns and seeing something more in the clouds and even the stars. She was a master navigator, but she was also an expert at seeing something beyond the facts. It wasn’t always worth mentioning, but it was usually interesting. And now, it wouldn’t take her expertise to see the way the crowd flowed in eddies which always dipped close to Leia, hopeful that she would pull them into her orbit, before gently moving on like leaves in a stream. Amilyn couldn’t sense the Force, or so she thought, but maybe all beings moved within its currents, regardless of whether they knew it was there.

Leia put her hand in Amilyn’s elbow.

“I hate these things. I’m glad the New Republic is feeling secure but…” Leia hesitated.

“Walk with me?” Amilyn asked, scoping out the nearest exit, curtained in dark blue velvet, hiding a cool, empty corridor beyond.

“Lead the way, dear,” Leia said.

Amilyn ducked her head slightly as she led Leia slowly across the floor, repeating some bit of news about the fleet which they’d already discussed, no serious security matter, but containing the right words so that people who were important, or wanted to feel important, knew they should leave the two women be.

“Bold move,” Leia said, as they passed from glittering ballroom into the fresh air of the arcade which surrounded their host’s mansion.

“What, stealing the belle of the ball?” Amilyn smiled, feeling the twinkle of wine, feeling the warmth of the woman beside her.

“No, the dress.” Leia placed her nearly full glass on one of the little candle-lit tables.

“What, is there something wrong?” Amilyn looked down at herself, spreading her arms, only seeing the narrow tuck of red fabric around her gangly legs, the way the cloth bunched on her hips and hung loose from her chest. She’d figured out as a young woman, over twenty years ago, that close-fitting but flexible was best for her. It was flattering enough, comfortable always, and allowed ease of movement — even at fancy dress events. She liked them better than Leia, but she tolerated them far better as well.

“No, your dress is lovely, you look lovely.” Leia reached up a hand to brush something off Amilyn’s shoulder, and then rested her hand there. “The color just reminded me…”

Amilyn knew immediately what she was talking about. “The upstarts on the edge of the galaxy?”

Leia pursed her lips.

“They’ve become emboldened recently,” Leia said. “I wish I knew why. Found another Force user, I suppose, corrupted him to dark ways…”

Amilyn cupped Leia’s cheek, tilting her face to look Amilyn in the eye. There was pain there, and Amilyn didn’t want someone so sweet to hurt anymore. She wanted her to smile.

“Are you saying my dress is in bad taste?” Amilyn asked.

“You’re never in bad taste.” Leia laughed.

“Even when I wear our new enemy's colors from head to toe?”

“Leia! That was almost romantic!” Amilyn gave her a little squeeze, and even in the dim blue light of the stars, she seemed to blush a little.

“What can I say.” Leia’s voice was like a whisper against her collarbone. “You inspire me.”

“Leia…” Amilyn felt a chill steal across her bare shoulders, where Leia had been about to lay her head, or just lean against her, she pulled slightly away.

“Will you kiss me, Amilyn?”

She hesitated, only because the bubbliness that had accompanied her tipsiness had suddenly been snatched away, and she wasn’t entirely certain she had heard correctly. Leia’s hand on her waist tightened somewhat, pulling them closer again.

“I know I don’t have much of a right to ask, but I’d really like to have something nice for even a moment, if you could—”

With a feather touch, Amilyn tipped Leia’s chin up, brushing her thumb just under Leia’s bottom lip.

“Anything you ask that I can give you, my princess,” she said. It was painful, to be sure, to reference something old and broken, but it was honest. Alderaan might have been long gone, but it was theirs, and Leia would always be hers, even as she was Leia’s. She lowered her head slowly, feeling the pull of fabric as Leia tugged on her dress, pushing herself up and closer. She inhaled the smell of spices, cinnamon and nutmeg, an afterthought of vanilla, and tasted something bright as Leia opened her mouth under her lips.

Leia clung to her, because of the two of them, Leia was definitely the stronger. Leia was soft in her arms, and Amilyn couldn’t help but cradle her close, wishing she could pick her up and—

Leia broke off their kiss, her hands on Amilyn’s waist, pushing her a bit. “Why don’t you… sit.”

She led Amilyn to a little bench, shadowed from the party and the starlight, where the scent of the garden and the stream could wash over them, and for a heart-tripping moment, Amilyn thought Leia was going to climb into her lap. But instead Leia sat beside her, and threaded her fingers into the loose curls at the nape of her neck, and pulled her down for another kiss.

Amilyn laughed, gently nipping at Leia’s bottom lip before pulling back slightly, and Leia chased after the taste. Knees knocking against one another, Amilyn’s hand skirted over the smooth fabrics of Leia’s gown to cup the side of her bum, lifting her up in as chaste a manner as she could, and Leia laughed as well.

“Oh, I see,” Leia only sounded reticent, lifting her skirt slightly in order to straddle Amilyn’s legs and sit on her lap. “Always trying to get your way.”

Leia didn’t kiss her again right away, instead brushing her thumbs over Amilyn’s cheeks, making her eyes flutter shut as she drank in the sensations. Leia’s fingers on her neck, their thighs pressed close, Leia’s breath mingling with her own.

“What did I ever do to deserve such kindness?” Leia asked.

Fiercely, and half-instinctively, Amilyn reached for Leia’s wrists before she could pull away.

“You’ve always been good.” She knew her voice sounded darker, but emotions were fighting her for control, and she wanted to make sure Leia heard this. “You do what’s right, and people— I see that.” Amilyn did let one of Leia’s hands slip away from her skin, in order to turn her head and kiss the palm.

Leia made a little moan, sounding almost regretful, and slipped her other hand back into Amilyn’s hair. Amilyn gasped a little as Leia tugged lightly, and then their sounds were smothered in another kiss. Amilyn ran her hands over the curve of her back, pulling her closer, Leia’s breasts pressing against her. Her breath shuddered as she realized how much she’d wanted this, to keep her close, as she wondered if this might be it, at last, when she could have more than she’d previously dreamed.

Leia’s hand pressed lightly against Amilyn’s collabone, just a few inches above her breast, and Amilyn was sure Leia could feel her heart fluttering wildly. She pulled back, both of them breathing heavily, and Leia just looked at her for a moment, eyes so dark, they seemed lost, unable to focus.

“Do I deserve you?” Leia asked.

Amilyn tried to understand what was going on, afraid to break the spell of the moment, where Leia was in her arms, where there was a spark of pleasure, yearning to be more. She searched in dark eyes, knowing that Leia was watching her closely.

“I’m not the one—” Amilyn broke off as the scuff of shoes breaking from the party sounded closer.

“General?”

Leia sighed, already beginning to slip away, and in a pang of desperation, Amilyn scooped her arms around Leia again, pressing her mouth briefly but wildly against Leia’s.

“Everything,” Amilyn said with a sigh. “You deserve everything you want. Anything I can give…”

Leia’s hands floated across Amilyn’s shoulders as she rose to stand.

“General Organa?”

The sound of that voice seemed to slowly move forward, the crisp click of shoes on the polished stone floor chasing away the heat of their embrace.

“Will you accompany me back inside?” Leia asked, suddenly unable to look Amilyn in the eye, busying herself with straightening her dress.

“Always,” Amilyn replied, slipping her hand inside Leia’s. “Anywhere.” She stood as well and leaned down to press a kiss to Leia’s forehead, and let Leia lean against her for one second more before the lights would shine on them again, and chase the last vestiges of intimacy away.

“For as long as you need me,” Amilyn said.

“Thank you.” Leia placed her hand back in the crook of Amilyn’s elbow, and they followed the attaché back into the room filled with light and laughter, and so much less beautiful than their shaded bower under the stars.

#star wars wlw week #starwarswlweek2021 #star wars #leia organa #amilyn holdo #AmiLyn #fanfiction #prompt fill

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knuffled · 3 years

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Just Practice - Chapter 14

here’s the latest chapter! hope you all enjoy it! if you could leave a comment, it would mean the world to me! not that many people commented last chapter sadly.

ao3 link for people on mobile

Out of all of Annabeth’s friends, Piper undoubtedly had the largest house. It was a beautiful three story house with a modern minimalist aesthetic, but it somehow also managed to retain a homely atmosphere. As an aspiring architect, Annabeth thought that it was a feast for the eyes, but Piper had never liked it, mainly because her father was hardly ever home. That was ideal for someone like Annabeth, but Piper was a huge extrovert so she found it unbearable having such a huge house to herself. Piper did her best to circumvent that by having friends over whenever possible, a role that usually fell on Jason’s shoulders, but Annabeth had dropped by after school instead to work on a partner project that they had been assigned for their history class.

Piper greeted her at the front door, practically half-asleep. She was wearing pajamas that had smiling cartoon cupcakes printed on them, her choppy hair was thoroughly disheveled, and her eyes were dazed and unfocused. Annabeth was particularly amused by the impression left on her face from sleeping with her cheek pressed against the seams of two sofa cushions.

“You look positively glamorous, darling.”

Piper half-heartedly rolled her eyes and led her to the living room. “Shut up, I was doing hot girl shit.”

“I didn’t know napping qualified as ‘hot girl shit’,” Annabeth said, making air quotes.

“There’s a reason they call it beauty sleep, babe,” Piper said.

They stopped at the living room, and the sight there only made Annabeth’s smirk widen. It was a complete mess, strewn about with empty bags of cheetos, bottles of kombucha, and half-empty oreo trays. Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest and gave Piper a significant look, wondering what sort of excuse she would come up with, but Piper just flipped her off and dove belly first onto the sofa.

“Before you ask, I was too busy to clean,” Piper said, voice muffled by a sofa cushion.

“Busy doing hot girl shit?” Annabeth prompted innocently.

Piper turned her head to glower at her. “You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

Annabeth bit back a smile and lifted a half-empty bottle of kombucha from the coffee table. She gave it a ginger sniff and gagged at the fermented smell.

“I don’t know how you can drink this stuff.”

“It’s good for your digestive system,” Piper said, sighing.

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think it’ll be enough to offset the fact that your diet consists solely of flaming hot cheetos and oreos.”

“I’m seriously like ten seconds away from kicking you out of my house,” Piper warned.

Annabeth laughed and said, “Alright, alright, I assume that means you’re ready to start working on the project then?”

Piper groaned into the sofa and forced herself to sit upright. “You’re an absolute menace.”

Annabeth rummaged through her backpack for her laptop and the project rubric instead of looking at her. “I love you, too.”

Piper sighed melodramatically and cleared the coffee table of its aforementioned debris so that they had a place to work. They spent nearly two hours researching content for their project, and Annabeth was happy with the amount of work they were able to get done. For all their bickering, she and Piper had always made an excellent team, and this project was no exception. That being said, by the end of the two hour mark, Piper was beginning to burn on fumes.

“God, why on fucking earth did I ever think taking AP Euro my senior year was a good idea,” Piper groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Spring break can’t come soon enough.”

“It’s still over a month away,” Annabeth laughed. “We could take a break if you’d like.”

Piper looked up at her abruptly with wide eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with Annabeth?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and said, “We got a lot of work done, so it’s fine if we chill a bit.”

Piper pressed a kiss to Annabeth’s cheek before she could react and beamed at her. “Want something to eat? I’m getting hungry.”

Annabeth scowled and rubbed her cheek. “Uh, do you still have Oreos?”

“Of course, I do,” Piper grinned. “I’m not a heathen.”

“Milk?”

Piper pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “Oh, Annabeth, I am so proud of you.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Annabeth laughed, shoving her.

Piper danced to the kitchen and came back a short while later with a fresh box of oreos and two glasses of milk. Annabeth’s step-mother was a health nut, so they never had junk food at home. She also had to adhere to a strict-ish diet because she was an athlete, so this was the first time in literal years that Annabeth had had the chance to eat an oreo.

“These are a lot better than I remember,” Annabeth said.

“You’re goddamn right. Oreos are gods gift to humanity,” Piper said.

Annabeth smiled. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“So ungrateful,” Piper sniffed. “You can get sent to hell for that sort of thing you know?”

“For not being obsessed with oreos?” Annabeth laughed.

“For having bad taste,” Piper said, giving her a significant look.

“Guilty as charged,” Annabeth sighed. “I mean, I’m friends with you after all.”

Piper groaned and shoved her. “Bitch.”

“You started it,” Annabeth laughed. “I was just enjoying my oreos in peace.”

“I have been nothing but a gracious host, and yet you come into my house and insult me and my all time favorite snack for good measure,” Piper said, shaking her head. “This is why whites don’t deserve rights.”

Annabeth raised her glass of milk. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Sometimes, I honestly wonder how Percy puts up with you.”

“Easy, he’s a lot nicer than you, so I don’t feel the need to sass him,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

“You’re just in denial,” Annabeth teased.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “How is he doing by the way? I haven’t talked to him lately, but I know State is around the corner.”

“He’s doing okay, I think,” Annabeth said. “I haven’t really asked him about it.”

“No Valentine’s Day plans, I’m assuming?” Piper asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nah, I don’t want to break his concentration,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. “How about you and Jason? Got a hot date lined up or something?”

“We were just thinking of getting dinner some place nice,” Piper said, shrugging.

“So that means Taco Bell is a no, then?” Annabeth asked, grinning.

“Very funny,” Piper said, narrowing her eyes. “I think we’re going to some Japanese place downtown or something.”

“Hmm, sushi sounds nice.”

Piper shook her head and said, “It’s honestly impressive how you somehow always forget that I’m vegetarian, even after all these years.”

Annabeth’s face turned pink. “Oh, right, sorry.”

Piper knocked elbows with her instead of saying anything and reached for another cookie. Annabeth watched her dunk the cookie in her glass of milk a little too vigorously, causing some of it to spill onto her pajama bottoms, and couldn’t help imagining how Jason would have chided her for it if he had been here. It was still endlessly bemusing to her how two people so diametrically unlike one another had so much romantic chemistry together.

“You ever think about how wild it is that you and Jason have been together for four years now?” Annabeth asked.

Piper laughed and said, “Definitely have a lot more since graduation is coming up soon. It’s pretty insane to me too.”

“What’s your secret, oh wise one,” Annabeth asked teasingly.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “We just communicate really well, ever since day one. Neither of us hide anything from each other. If we are bothered by something, we talk about it. Sometimes that means we get into fights, but it’s still better than bottling everything up.”

Annabeth’s heart squeezed a little in her chest. In contrast, she and Percy hardly ever spoke openly anymore. The weight of all the things they had both left unsaid had snowballed and taken on a line of its own. She didn’t think it had brewed into bitterness, but it felt like ice on the surface of a pond. Shallow and liable to break at any moment.

“We also just genuinely like each other too,” Piper said. “There’s no way we would have lasted if we hated each other’s guts or got bored of each other. Kind of the opposite honestly. The more I got to know him, the harder I fell for him.”

“How could you tell?” Annabeth asked. “Was there a specific moment you realized or something?”

Piper hummed under her breath and stared up at the ceiling. “Hard to say. It wasn’t anything big or dramatic, just little things piling on top of each other, until one day, I just knew. Kind of like getting taller or falling asleep. You don’t notice it when it happens only when you look back.”

When Annabeth was silent, Piper continued and said, “I will say that the first time I can remember consciously thinking it was after a meet sophomore year. Don’t remember how it went, but I can still picture how he looked after the race. He was all gross and sweaty and caked with mud, but his cheeks were pink from all the running and it just made him glow. And at that moment, I just remember thinking ‘Wow, I’m actually in love with this guy.’”

There was something about the way Piper spoke that even Annabeth could hear how much she loved him just by her tone, that it made a lump form in Annabeth’s throat.

“I’m so happy for you two,” Annabeth said softly. “You are both two of the most amazing people I have ever met, so I’m glad you are together.”

Piper laughed and said, “It’s weird to hear you pay me a compliment, but thanks.”

“After that shameless display of ungratefulness, I would suggest you don’t get used to it,” Annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Piper rolled her eyes and sank back into the sofa. “Is there something going on with you?”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“You tend to ask lots of questions when you’re upset about something,” Piper said, shrugging.

Annabeth blinked. She had no idea that she did that.

“Nothing in particular,” Annabeth said carefully. “Just wanted to hear from someone that’s been in a relationship for four years. I’m still new to it, and I don’t want to fuck everything up.”

“Learn anything useful then?” Piper asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth was quiet for a while and tried to choose her words carefully. “The part about communicating was helpful.”

Piper gave her a knowing smile. “Really? Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“I feel like it was easier when we were only friends,” Annabeth said.

“Hmm, Percy was just doing a lot of work behind the scenes for you to make you feel that way. Now that you’re in a relationship, it’s harder for him to do that, so it’s only exposing issues that were already there,” Piper said.

Annabeth frowned. “What do you mean?”

Piper shrugged and said, “Well, part of it is that Percy is stupidly empathetic, so he would anticipate your emotional needs and provide for them with you having to do much. The bigger problem is that you don’t really understand the way he thinks, so you are incapable of doing the same for him.”

A spark of anger lit in Annabeth’s chest. “Well, why don’t you spell it out for me since I’m apparently so ignorant?”

“Annabeth, chill. I’m not saying you’re a bad friend or that I know more about him than you do,” Piper said, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Then what are you saying?” Annabeth hissed.

Piper sighed again and said, “Look, I love you and everything, but you don’t fully understand that other people don’t think or see the world in the same way you do. I’ll give you an example. What do you usually do when you’re really upset about something?”

After a moment, Annabeth said, “I give myself some space until I am ready to talk about it.”

“Exactly,” Piper said, nodding. “Percy is not like that. When he’s upset, he wants someone to press him about it, like really press him. There are a lot of reasons for it, but one huge reason is that he doesn’t feel like his problems are worth anyone else’s attention, so you have to convince him otherwise.”

Annabeth was stunned. That had legitimately never occurred to her. She had always assumed that Percy would come to her if he needed to because that’s what she did whenever she was upset. She whenever she had given him space in the past, thinking it would help, it had looked like callous silence to him instead, a sign that she didn’t care enough to hear what was going on.

Her mind raced. How many times in the past had she fucked up monumentally because this had never occurred to her?

“Do you get what I mean now?” Piper prompted.

Annabeth nodded slowly and said, “I- I had no idea. I just sort of assumed he was like me.”

“That’s a perfectly normal thing to do,” Piper said. “Like I said earlier, I’m not telling you this because I think you’re a shitty human being or whatever. I’m telling you because the way that you and Percy communicate has some really deep, fundamental issues, and that it has been that way for years now.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Annabeth asked, trying not to let anger creep in her voice. “I could have done so much more to avoid hurting him.”

“Because you wouldn’t have listened to me,” Piper said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your relationship with Percy is something sacred to you. You take pride in being close to him and knowing him really well. If I had said something contrary to that, you would have gone ballistic. You getting mad earlier was more than enough proof of that. I can only tell you now because you’re finally starting to notice issues for yourself.”

Annabeth grit her teeth and stared down at her lap. Piper was right. She was right, but it was so crippling to hear that Annabeth had been such a god-awful friend. Annabeth did take great pride in how well she thought she knew Percy, but ever since they had started fake-dating, she had started realizing she had deluded herself the entire time. It was incredibly jarring for her to realize that her vision of him compared to reality was so off, especially when she prided herself in the keenness of her judgment and intellect.

Piper squeezed her shoulder and said, “Look, I know this must have been a lot for you to hear, but you’re not alone. Almost everyone has trouble seeing people distinctly, as they are. People like Percy who do it naturally are the rare ones.”

“Then what should I do?” Annabeth asked tersely. “I feel so stuck.”

“Don’t assume so much. If you’re upset, tell him. If you want him to open up, ask him to. The only way to know what’s on his mind is to ask him. You don’t have to try so hard to read his mind for him,” Piper explained.

Annabeth nodded curtly and said, “I’m just so mad at myself.”

“I get it, but it’s not all on you. Percy also shoulders some responsibility, but it’s hard to blame him. Lord knows how much he has done for us,” Piper mused. “Besides, he has his own issues that he needs to deal with.”

“I-I’ll do what I can,” Annabeth said.

“If it’s you, I think you can do it,” Piper said, smiling softly.

As nice as it was to hear that, Annabeth had no self-confidence in her ability to be a good friend, not anymore. Still, Piper was right. Percy had done so much for her. If this could help him somehow, then she was determined to do her best.

After a few more minutes of silence, Piper said, “We should probably get back to the project.”

Annabeth smiled despite herself and feigned wiping a tear from her eye. “I never thought I’d live to hear the day you’d say that.”

:::

In keeping with tradition, Annabeth still somehow managed to find a way to be late to the State Swimming Championship. It was held at a neighboring high school not far from Westwood, but she had stayed up all night the day before painting a sign for Percy, which led to her sleeping through her alarm. She had brushed her teeth and taken as quick a shower as she possibly could before dashing out of her house, sign tucked beneath her arm.

By the time she made it inside, the first heat was already over. Annabeth scanned the bleachers and found all her friends sitting next to Sally. She took the steps three at a time and took a moment to catch her breath before she took a seat between Sally and Piper.

“Where’s Estelle?” Annabeth asked.

“Paul took her to go back some snacks at the concession stand. How have you been, dear?” Sally asked.

“I’m good. School is getting busy, but I’m getting by,” Annabeth said. “How’s Percy doing?”

“He seemed ready. Cautious, but focused,” Sally said.

“That’s good to hear,” Annabeth said.

Estelle and Paul returned with bags of snacks for everyone. They passed them around to all of Percy’s friends and squeezed past to sit next to Sally. Estelle was thrilled to see Annabeth and threw her arms around her neck.

“Annabeth!” Estelle squealed.

Annabeth laughed and hugged her back. “How have you been, Stella?”

“Good! I just lost a tooth last night. See?” Estelle said, giving Annabeth a toothy smile.

“Wow, did you get a visit from the tooth fairy?” Annabeth asked.

Estelle nodded vigorously. “I got five whole dollars!”

“What are you going to spend it on?”

“She used her money to buy snacks for everyone,” Paul interjected.

“Daddy!” Estelle huffed.

Paul held his palms up in surrender. “Oh, sorry, she told me not to tell anyone about that.”

“Thanks, Stella!” Annabeth said, smiling. “She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” Paul said proudly. “It’s the Jackson genes, I’m telling you.”

“Oh, hush,” Sally said, though she looked pleased anyways.

Paul grinned at her and turned to Annabeth. “It’s been a while since we have had time to catch up, Annabeth. I heard you got into Berkeley! That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, thank you,” Annabeth said, hiding a smile.

“It’s a wonderful school. I’m sure you’ll love it,” Paul said.

Annabeth was about to thank him, but they were interrupted by an announcement that the next heat was to begin for men’s free style. The State tournament was different compared to other tournaments held during the regular season. There would be a preliminary round of ten heats of six swimmers each, and then the top six swimmers would be selected based off their times to participate in a final round. The winner of the final would win the entire competition. It was therefore possible to have the best time in the prelims and still lose if someone placed higher than you in the last round. Annabeth had never been a fan of the way the tournament was run, but there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Percy was going to be in the penultimate heat, so there was still time before he participated. In fact, he wasn’t even out of the locker room yet. Annabeth knew that he was staying inside to maintain his focus until the start of his heat. She recognized one of his teammates that was in the next heat, so she paid attention to him even though it was hard to feel interested.

After the heat began, Annabeth was once again reminded of how much fiercer the competition was at State compared to the other meets. Percy hadn’t competed against many of the swimmers here because they lived on the other side of the state. It might have been a function of the fact that it was her first time seeing some of them, but the competition looked stronger this year than it had in previous ones. They were so skilled that Annabeth wasn’t sure Percy was a shoe-in for first like she had initially thought.

There was one swimmer in particular from the sixth heat, Castellan, that was particularly scary. The effortless, graceful way he swam reminded her a lot of Percy’s form, and he managed to win his heat by a wide margin. She had never seen him before in any of the other meets or from previous years either. He must have moved to the State sometime this season. Nevertheless, it sowed a seed of worry in her mind that continued to take deeper root even after his heat ended.

Eventually, Percy finally made his way out when his heat was announced. Annabeth was relieved to see the familiar cold intensity on his face that she was accustomed to. After the last meet, she had been afraid that his focus would still be shaky when State finally rolled around, but instead Percy looked more focussed now than she had ever seen him before. Everything about him gave off the impression that he was going to win.

When his heat finally began, Percy dove into the water clinically and quickly pulled ahead of the competition. Annabeth and the rest of their friends cheered loudly for him as he touched off the other side of the pool, almost a full body’s length ahead of the person in second. The rest of the race only solidified Percy’s lead as he pulled further and further ahead.

Once he touched the opposite wall, Percy burst out of the water and took a moment to catch his breath, but then he looked over to the opposite end of the pool and pressed his lips in a thin line. Annabeth was confused at first because his time was fantastic, and he had done so well in his heat, but then she realized his time had been slower than that swimmer from the sixth heat. Although it wasn’t an indication of how the finals would go, it was still damaging to realize that someone had done better than you in the prelims.

Annabeth worried her lip and turned to Piper when she felt her hand on her shoulder. “Why does he look so annoyed?” Piper whispered.

“That guy from the sixth heat, Castellan, had a better time than he did,” Annabeth muttered.

Piper blinked and looked back down at Percy. “Wait, really?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the end of the world or anything, but it’s gonna pile some extra pressure onto his shoulders.”

“He’ll be fine,” Jason ventured, from beside Piper. “If he keeps his cool, he can put up a good fight. Besides, I don’t think their times were off by a lot.”

“True,” Annabeth agreed. “It would have been a lot worse if it was a blowout.”

“There’s a break before the finals start right?” Hazel asked, speaking across from Jason.

Piper looked at the meet schedule and nodded. “Yeah, there’s a half hour to give the competitors from the later heats time to rest before the finals.”

“Should we go see him or something?” Hazel asked.

Jason shook his head and said, “No, there’s a chance that we just make him lose focus. Besides, there nothing we can really say to help him.”

“Well, that fucking sucks,” Rachel huffed.

Hazel nudged Rachel with her elbow and whispered, “Don’t swear! Estelle is here.”

Rachel winced and said to Sally, “Sorry, Mrs. Jackson.”

Sally gave her a mischievous smile and said, “You should be, dear.”

That got a laugh out of all of them, much to Estelle’s confusion. They talked amongst themselves during the break before Annabeth realized she needed to run to the bathroom. Annabeth wasn’t gone long, but on her way back, she ran into someone walking the other way.

“Ouch.”

Annabeth stumbled back and rubbed her shoulder. “Sorry, are you okay?”

“Oh, hey, look who it is,” Percy said, smiling down at her.

“Oh, hey,” Annabeth said, blinking. “I was just coming back from the bathroom.”

Percy laughed and said, “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

There was an awkward pause where Annabeth debated if she should continue talking to him or if that would break his focus. His body language was relaxed, but Annabeth could tell that there was some tension in his shoulders. The way he lingered there gave her the impression that he wanted to talk to her, so she figured it was alright to say something.

“How are you doing?”

Percy coughed and looked away surreptitiously. “Fine.”

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t look fine to me.”

Percy blinked like he was surprised she had called him out. In the past, Annabeth would have ignored the signs under the assumption that he didn’t want to talk about it, but after her conversation with Piper, she didn’t want to keep making those mistakes anymore.

Eventually, Percy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you get a chance to see that Castellan guy from the sixth heat?”

Annabeth nodded and said, “Yeah, he seemed pretty good.”

“His time was pretty insane,” Percy said slowly. “Better than my PR.”

“It wasn’t that far off though,” Annabeth said, leaning against the wall.

Percy rubbed his chin. “That’s true.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you don’t think you can beat him,” Annabeth said softly.

Percy looked up at her abruptly with wide eyes. “Uh...”

“Guilty as charged, huh?”

There was a pause before Percy laughed humorlessly and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Usually, I never think about that sort of thing at meets. I’m only focused on doing my best. But now, I can’t help wondering if my best would even be enough.”

“I wish I could be super peppy and say that it definitely is, but I’ve had those thoughts too many times to say that to you. It would feel fake and you’d know it,” Annabeth started.

“That’s not exactly making me feel better,” Percy joked half-heartedly.

“Shut up, I was getting to it,” Annabeth said, knocking elbows with him.

Percy made a show of rubbing his elbows, which made her roll her eyes before she continued.

“Remember how you told me after the invitational that I had to believe that I hadn’t hit my limit yet, that I could still do better? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, and I’m realizing that you were right. I’m killing any chance of improving if I believe it can’t be done. At the end of the day, I still want to keep competing, so I might as well believe in myself and keep trying.”

Percy was silent at this, so Annabeth continued. “My point is, you’ve gotta have faith in yourself. If that guy is better than you, make him prove it. Don’t do that work for him. You’re an insanely good swimmer. I know you can beat him. That’s not me saying that as a friend, but as another athlete. I know you have what it takes. Only question is: do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t think I’m good,” Percy said. “If it was just me, I wouldn’t be so worried, but so many people have put so much effort and faith in me that I can’t let them down. Like, I’ve always disappointed people, all my life, and there’s a voice in my head that tells me this time won’t be any different.”

“Fuck everyone else,” Annabeth said vehemently. “The people that care about you just want you to try your best.”

When Percy remained silent, Annabeth framed his face with her hands and forced him to meet her eyes. “Listen to me: all you have to do is go out there and swim. Nothing else matters. Okay?”

Percy was quiet for a while before he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“You got this,” Annabeth said, squeezing his shoulders. “Give ‘em hell, Perce.”

“I will. Thanks, Annabeth,” Percy said, smiling. “I’ll see you after the finals are over?”

“I thought that went without saying,” Annabeth grinned. “There’s a chocolate milkshake from Martha’s with your name on it, after all.”

“Finally, something worth fighting for,” Percy sighed melodramatically.

Annabeth laughed and pushed him towards the locker room. “Alright, get going, champ. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Percy took a deep breath to steel himself and gave her one final nod before he made for the locker rooms. Annabeth waited for him to leave before she headed back to the bleachers. Piper gave her a questioning look as she sat down, as if to ask what took her so long, but Annabeth shrugged and remained silent.

The participants of the final heat left the locker room shortly after and stood in front of the pool. Percy’s lane was in the middle, right next to Castellan, from the sixth heat, but he looked composed and concentrated.

The swimmers stepped onto the diving boards and took their starting positions, bodies taut with anticipation. At the official’s whistle, they all dove into the water in unison. Percy and the other boy both quickly pulled ahead of the other four swimmers, but Percy lagged behind him ever so slightly. Annabeth leaned forward, forgetting to cheer, and worried her lower lip. She could tell Percy was trying to surge ahead of Castellan, but no matter what he did, the distance continued to remain unclosed for the first hundred meters.

Before they both touched off the wall for the final fifty meters, Percy seemed to lag further behind than he had all race. Annabeth’s heart sank, but somehow Percy surged forward on the last twenty meters and managed to pull alongside Castellan. At the end of the race, it was too close to tell who had won because they both appeared to finish at the same time.

Annabeth whipped towards the board on the far end of the pool and waited for the times to show, heart thundering in her chest. The subsequent seconds stretched like an eternity, but then numbers suddenly flickered on the board. It took Annabeth a second to process the results, but once she did, her heart soared in her chest.

Percy had won, but it had been unbelievably close.

Immediately, she looked back down for Percy and noticed the incredulous look on his face. It took his teammates tackling him for him to realize that he had won, a dumbfounded smile blossoming across his face. Annabeth clasped her hands in front of her mouth and tried to ignore the way her face hurt from smiling so hard. She could hear Piper and the rest of her friends going crazy beside her, but the noise felt distant like sound traveling through water.

They all made their way down to him, and Estelle and Paul were the first to speak to him before Sally pulled him into a fierce hug with misty eyes. After that, Piper jumped on his back and cheered while Jason congratulated him. Rachel and Hazel went next, followed by Frank and Leo, and through it all, Annabeth watched off to the side and tried not to tear up.

She felt so incredibly proud of him. All those years of grueling practice, nights spent staying late to get in extra laps at the pool, managing the pressure of his captaincy - all of it had paid off in the end, and she was so happy it had. He deserved all of it.

Finally, Percy locked eyes with her and slipped out of the arms of their other friends and wordlessly opened his arms. Annabeth didn’t even realize she was moving until she tackled him in a hug. He was still sopping wet from the race, so her shirt got wet but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Annabeth buried her face in the crook of his neck and squeezed Percy as tightly as she could.

It was hard to say how long they stayed like that, but eventually, she pulled away from his arms and looked up at him with a stupid grin on her face. “You did it! I’m so happy for you!”

Percy offered her an incredulous smile. “Somehow.”

“Shut up, you deserved to win. One hundred percent,” Annabeth said, poking his chest.

Percy’s ears turned red, and he tried to look away from her. “It was all thanks to a certain someone’s pep talk.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Annabeth said, but her heart felt ten times larger in her chest anyways.

“Seriously, I was really freaking out,” Percy said earnestly. “So thank you. Seriously.”

Annabeth bit back a smile. “You’re welcome. Seriously.”

“You never make things easy for me, do you,” Percy said, sighing melodramatically.

“Of course not,” Annabeth said. “I thought you would have figured that out after all these years.”

Percy shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a slow learner.”

“At least you’re not a slow swimmer,” Annabeth teased.

Percy rolled his eyes and said, “So what next? Martha’s?”

“You sure you want to celebrate with me and not your family?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Percy laughed. “I know they’ll monopolize me later today. But first, I want that chocolate milkshake you promised me.”

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to get carried away by what he was saying. Still, she couldn’t help the feeling of exhilaration washing over her.

“Alright, Martha’s it is,” Annabeth said. “Go finish your shower and get dressed. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Percy nodded and left to tell his family their plans and to say goodbye to the rest of their friends, who were getting ready to leave. Piper gave her a knowing look on her way out, but Annabeth made a show of pointedly ignoring her.

A short while later, Percy met her at the entrance to the parking lot, his hair still wet from the shower. They drove to Martha’s in silence, only accompanied by the feeble radio in her dad’s car. The sun was just beginning to set, diffusing pink and blue across the spread of the horizon. At that proximity, Percy smelled distractingly of body wash, making Annabeth’s face prickle.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” Percy said, breaking the silence.

Annabeth glanced at him. “Hmm?”

“What you told me really helped,” Percy said.

“You’re being too nice,” Annabeth said.

“No, seriously, I was pretty sure I was gonna lose. Like on the last hundred meters, I kept thinking that it was only natural that I would let everyone down again, but then I heard your voice in my head, saying ‘All you have to do is go out there and swim’. I don’t know how or why, but that got me out of my own head and helped me win,” Percy explained.

Annabeth’s throat was dry. “I’m, uh, glad it helped.”

She caught his soft smile in the mirror. “Yeah, me too.”

“It’ll be your turn in April,” he said. “You’ll win State too, and then I’ll have to be the one buying milkshakes next time around.”

“Damn straight,” Annabeth said. “I can’t rest until I kick Reyna’s ass.”

“I can’t tell if you hate her or adore her,” Percy said, smirking.

“A little of both,” Annabeth admitted. “People that have never lost once in their lives piss me off, but Reyna’s a good person and fun to be around.”

“I did beat her at the batting cages,” Percy pointed out.

“Doesn’t count unless I’m the one doing it,” Annabeth said, shaking her head.

Percy’s grin grew wider before he turned away from her, making Annabeth scowl. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I just thought that was a very ‘Annabeth’ thing to say,” Percy said, shrugging.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Percy said, still grinning.

“Asshole,” Annabeth huffed.

There was a lull in the conversation while Annabeth began to turn something over in her mind. At first, it had seemed like a stupid idea, but the more that she thought about it, the more she wanted to go for it.

“H-Hey, I know you said you’d get me a milkshake if I won and all, but is it cool if I ask for something else instead?” Annabeth asked, fingers curling tighter around the steering wheel.

“Your wish is my command, your majesty.”

“Shut up, I’m being serious,” Annabeth laughed.

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Percy said, shrugging. “What did you want instead?”

Annabeth swallowed and said, “I’ll let it be a surprise for now. Just promise not to chicken out when the time comes.”

“You’re not gonna ask me to like run around school naked or something right?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth barked a laugh. “Tempting, but no.”

Percy hummed to himself for a while before he sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to trust you not to make me do something embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry so much. I promise it’s not that bad. Just wanted to ask you something. Besides, there’s no guarantee that I’ll even win, after all,” Annabeth said.

Percy yawned and curled up in his seat and closed his eyes. “I don’t know, I’m pretty certain you’ll win.”

Annabeth glanced at him. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Dunno, I just believe in you,” Percy said simply.

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the urge to tell him that he was making a mistake. Honestly, she didn’t think she had a snowball’s chance in hell of beating Reyna at State, but she would still try her best to repay Percy’s faith in her. As a fellow athlete, he wouldn’t say something like that just to be nice. If he thought she had a shot, then maybe he was seeing something in her that she couldn’t.

The sky continued to darken, and Annabeth found herself thinking that even if she couldn’t believe in herself, maybe she could believe in how much Percy believed in her instead.

#just practice #percabeth fake dating au #percabeth #percabeth fic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #i'm really happy with this chapter #hopefully people think the character work is as nuanced as it feels to me #i will give u my first born if you comment and reblog

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 11- Fond Memories

Summary: It’s just a memory, but it’s a good one.

Warning: fluff, smut ur welcome

Masterlist

June 21, 2016 - Bucharest, Romania

Wandering down the crowded streets of Bucharest, your eyes casually survey the surrounding area until they land on a little news cart holding the latest universal gossip that may spark a possible interest in the random civilian, among other things.

It’s hot out on this fine summers day, so all you carry on your person is your usual travel boots, black jeans, and a tank top to show off those guns of yours that Bucky loves so much. In your right hand is a plastic grocery bag hung loosely in your fingers, filled with two oranges and a cold lemonade, Bucky’s request. Though it’s slowly losing its chill from the afternoon heat.

As of recently you’ve become the designated grocery store adventurer since it’s the middle of summer and Bucky’s usual attire is to wear pants and a long sleeved shirt with gloves because of well, his arm. And since he doesn’t want to feel too out of place, also considering he’s incredibly cautious about where he shows off his metal appendage. You handle business on the streets, which today happens to be getting some fruit and a cold beverage back home to your man.

Though you’re admittedly a bit distracted by the local newspapers seated comfortably on their propped up stand. Soon you’re at the young teens cart, eyeing up the paper with curious eyes, “Hello miss.” Greets the boy in Romanian as you give a nod in acknowledgment, “That was sure something that happened in Sokovia huh, people still talking about it even now...glad I don’t live there. But uh, I guess the Avengers saved the day, well, most of it I think.”

“No doubt they probably helped cause it.” You add bitterly, eyes scanning over the heroic faces of Ironman and Captain America as they stand with great pose and purpose on the front magazine. Heroes? What a bunch of bullshit and flashy images underlying the darker truth to these people. These so called saviors.

If they truly cared, if real heroes actually gave a shit besides attempting to clean up their own messes, Hydra would be completely eradicated from the face of the earth and trafficking rings wouldn’t exist. But here we are.

“Uh, you wanna buy a paper?” Asks the young boy, smiling a shy yet hopeful grin.

I’d rather get stabbed, you think.

“No thanks, just here to look.” You add bluntly before turning on your heel and walking away, sauntering down the street as more people pass by you on your way to the apartment complex just over the next block. In no time have you reached the building, heading up the long flight of stairs before at long last do you stop at the front door.

Your relationship with Bucky is still relatively new, so you don’t want to startle him by just bursting in, so instead do you knock a couple times to gather is attention. Hopefully he’s not snoozing again. Taking a step back, you can hear shuffling from the other side before he reaches the door. You smile, knowing he can see you through the peep hole, “I got lemonade.” You add, holding up the bag as he unlocks the door, opening it up a crack before cautiously glancing to either side of you.

Realizing the coast is most certainly clear, Bucky opens the door fully to reveal nothing more then some grey sweatpants and a loose sleeveless black t-shirt hung perfectly against his body, amplifying his beefy muscles that not only could crush a man but can most definitely get you feeling all sorts of ways when used appropriately.

“Yes, get in here Y/N.” Urges Bucky with a humored smile and a small wave as you quickly wander in past him before setting your bag on the far counter near the sink.

Taking the decently cool beverage out, you turn around to face Bucky, who’s standing semi-awkwardly out in the open. A small dust of pink covers his stubbled cheeks as you take him all in. It’s not like you haven’t seen him bare ass naked before, it’s just, he feels comfortable enough to let his guard down with you and that's somethings he’s never truly ever felt before. He gets a little shy sometimes, so what?

“They finally had it. So I snatched this beautiful bitch the second my eyes landed on her. Hope it soothes all your troubles away and sends you on a spiritual journey through the meadows of....uh, wherever this place is from.” You mutter, trying to figure out how to pronounce the name of the company as he walks over to you; giving up on that curiosity, you decide to hand Bucky the drink instead, “Yeah, whatever I hope it tastes good.”

He gratefully accepts, “Thanks Y/N, you’re the best. Seriously.” Praises Bucky as he twists the lid off and takes a drink, face appearing to rather enjoy it as he proceeds to down the whole 8oz sugary bittersweet contents right before your vary eyes.

Well, he certainly wasn’t lying.

He finally pulls the bottle from his wet lips, taking a deep breath as you raise a brow at him, “I’m gonna take that as you finding nothing wrong with it whatsoever.” Licking the sweet wetness from his pink lips, Bucky chuckles before shrugging.

“I haven’t had lemonade since the 40’s so even if it was actually kinda bitter, I don’t think I would have noticed.”

“Damn. That long?” You question as he nods, “Fuck those assholes,” You growl, taking a step closer to Bucky so that he can pull you into his arms as you raise your head to greet him, “now they can never keep you from such rare pleasures ever again.”

Bucky reveals a beautiful white toothed smile, thick arms holding you close as he presses his forehead to yours, “And what would you do if they did?”

Running your hands up and down his muscular back, you gently place a sweet kiss against his plush lips, “I’d fucking gut every single one of them until you’re safe with me, drinking all the lemonade you could ask for.” He chuckles lightly before pressing his lips against yours once again, the taste of sugary lemonade reaching your tongue as he lets you explore his mouth a bit, Bucky doing the same with you.

Hands feeling your enticing vessel up as he takes in everything about you that he could possibly get from this positioning with you wrapped up in his arms, you fully enjoy this wonderful moment with your sweet man. Somedays he gets all cold and withdrawn, nightmares seeping into his scarred mind that pull forth dark memories back out into the open.

He’ll wake up next to you in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as he quickly scans the small apartment for any signs of possible danger threatening himself or even your own life. Then for the rest of the day he’ll stay considerably more quiet then usual, agitated with himself and the general world, though he’s never short with you when he gets like this. You hate to see him when he’s like that, frustrated, distant, and in a low pit of despair from everything Hydra put him through.

But he never once has lashed out at you when he’s having a rough day, he’s well aware how Hydra has toyed with your head and pulled the strings time and time again before you broke from their inky black tentacles. He knows you understand how he feels, and he knows how your mental and physical resilience has aided in your self healing from the trauma they’ve given you.

Although for Bucky, he’s still marked from deep within, everything they’ve ever burned into his brain is still there. Just below the surface. All the memories, all the commands, all the deaths, everything they imprinted on him still clings to him like an unrelenting demon.

But the days when he’s more soft and clingy appear to claim Bucky the most, and those days are your absolute favorite. Sure his handsome face still reveals a bit of that usual Bucky darkness that gives his eyes a tinge of roughed beauty, something that admittedly draws you in even further.

He’ll choose to speak with you on his own accord, tease you if he’s in the mood, and hold a part of your body that intrigues him the most for that length of time. He gravitates in your direction when he’s having a good day, seeking out your attention in any way conceivable and making it an absolute necessary goal of his to give you as much loving as he possibly can try in a single hour.

You love days like this, you love feeling wanted and appreciated for your very existence when so many would rather see you dead. You love having those big beautiful blues studying every single curve, muscle, and blemish on your skin like a student to their books. He practically drinks you in, making it his mission to hold you close and speak sweet nothings that will be remembered for a hundred years more.

So when you have to leave for supplies or pay the rent, Bucky feels like a lonely and lost old house cat with nothing to do all day except wait as patiently as he can until you arrive home safe and sound. He obviously doesn’t slip this to you about how he feels when you must vacate the premise and venture out into the unknown for however long it takes.

But you know, if it wasn’t already evident on his face when you greet him after such travels. The way his face lights up in excitement and relief once he finally sees you, the telltale crinkle in the corner of his eyes, and the way that his lips pull into a positive grin that could make you swoon in an instant.

You could absolutely just about die happy, you’ve never been more catered to and loved on in your entire life since you’ve started living with Bucky in Romania, well, since your once fragile relationship took a turn for the best. Resulting in whatever beautiful thing you two have going on now, though neither of you have outwardly labeled your growing relationship.

It’s more so an unspoken thing that’s adherently mutual, the both of you clearly understanding this isn’t some friends with benefits type shit. Oh no, definitely far from that. So what you have with Bucky right now is something so deeply special and bound by so much more then physical love and personal feelings.

You two have lived a past like no other, survived like beasts of war for masters who threw the command and controlled the reigns. Fought together, bled together, and kept imprisoned by Hydra together. Your pasts are blooded and heavy, but it’s only worked to make your relationship stronger. And perhaps that’s the only positive of what those fuckers did to you, without them, you’d never have met the Winter Soldier.

Without them, you’d never have lived this long to find Bucky Barnes, never have been given the opportunity to see him for all that he’s worth. And to you, he’s worth more then all the stars in the sky.

Your lover kisses your lips once more as you smile into the soft embrace, causing him to laugh as you pull away, “What’s so funny?” Wonders Bucky, revealing his own beautiful smile that could light up the darkest room.

Raising your hands to gently touch the sides of his stubbled cheeks, you give him a small peck, “You taste like lemons.” You muse.

“Oh, is that good then?” He asks, brow raised as you give him another quick kiss in reply before he smiles a lovestruck grin back down at you, “I think I’ll take that as a yes.”

You smile brightly before tugging on a lock of his dark shoulder length hair, “You plan on turning into the wolfman soon? It’s touching your shoulders now.”

Bucky side eyes your fingers laced through his admittedly long hair, “I guess......maybe it needs a little cut.” He begrudgingly admits, “But only a little cut, okay. Not a lot.” Worries your sweet man as you let go of his dark mane to pull away from his muscular vessel.

Hands outward and forming the shape of a square as you size him up for a photographic image sent directly into your brain, “Yeah. I can work with this, you got the looks. The face, very nice. Body, oh dear lord is it fine. Mhmm hmm, and that hair? Absolutely glorious, a lot of volume, shiny, good bounce to it....oh yeah I can work with this...”

“Are you done?” Chuckles Bucky as you drop your hands to your thighs.

“What? I was just pretending to be your photographer, was I not convincing enough?”

“Well..”

You take a step forward, gently touching the bottom of his chin before making a cheeky face and turning to wander towards the bathroom, Bucky slowly following your lead in curiosity as you explain, “I’ll have you know Barnes, I once convinced some high end Bulgarian official that I was actually a Russian princess in hiding. He believed it too.” You mutter while rummaging through the drawers under the bathroom sink. Bucky leaning against the doorway as he watches you intently.

“Honestly, it was rather pathetic too. Old fucker was so drunk I could have told him I was a pixie from the realm of toxic waste baskets and he would have believed me.” You add, searching for wherever the fucking scissors went, “Of course his idiot companions were none the wiser and I got the intel I needed out of him. How you ask?” Grabbing the silver coated utensil from out of the drawer, you rise to your full height.

Cutting the air, you throw him a wink as you move to wander past him, “That information is top secret. But let’s just say he never made it back to his friends.” You smirk, setting the scissors on the small center table before snatching the tiny plastic trash can and taking it with you over to the table once again.

Bucky watches as you pull the two chairs to face opposite of one another, placing the trash can in the center of the two wooden seats as you bring your bum down on to the flat chair. “Now sit. This may get messy.”

Bucky snorts, moving to do just that, “I don’t wanna see any blood, Y/N. I know how you are with sharp objects.” Jokes your man with a telling smirk as you simply roll your eyes before pulling your right leg up, leaning it against your left thigh as you begin unlacing your boots. “Whatcha doing there Y/N?”

Tugging on the sides of your boots to loosen them up, you throw him a side glance, “Getting comfortable.”

Bucky nods, “Of course. This is serious business.”

You chuckle, pulling off your boot and throwing it to the side before exchanging your one leg for the other, “Gives you more time to check me out.”

Biting his bottom lip, Bucky leans his metal elbow against the table as he shamelessly watches you do your thing, “Well, no.....I wasn’t doing that, definitely not....but uh, I like your socks. Very interesting choice.” Points Bucky while you toss your other boot to the floor with a small thud. Shaking your head while Bucky makes fun of your current socks that reach above your ankles, a multitude of cartoon rainbow kittens dancing all about with a solid grey background. One tiny worn down hole showing some skin on the back of your heel that would most likely have blistered by now if not for your healing capabilities.

“Huh? Oh, these fuckers?” You snicker, sticking one foot close to his face as he leans back to avoid your teasing, “Fought them off a homeless guy in the park.”

Bucky makes a humored expression ranging between slight disgust and great amusement at your theatrical antics, reaching his flesh hand out to catch your ankle before you can smack him with your extremity. “I’m sure you kicked his ass.”

Setting your foot down, you nod, “Oh I did, you should have seen it, I’m sure you could have learned a thing or two.”

“Okay.” Mutters Bucky sarcastically whilst rolling his eyes, “At least I’m not the one in the care-bear socks.”

You raise a brow at him, legitimately impressed by this reference, “I’m surprised you even know what that is.” You tease before sticking your one foot out and pointing both hands in its general direction, “These. Are cat socks for your information....but no one ever said pretty people were smart so I won’t hold it against you.”

“Ouch.” Laughs Bucky, “Take a look in the mirror hot stuff.”

Smacking his metal arm, you pick up the scissors, “Okay smartass now I’m going to give you a weird haircut for that one.”

“I said you were hot.” Protests Bucky with a laugh as you slice the scissors in the air menacingly, “Forgive me.”

“You implied I was lacking in smarts so now you’re getting a shitty haircut you dumbfuck, come here you coward!” Bucky leans backwards towards the table as you press your freehand on his chest, your other hand held upwards by Bucky’s metal fist as you practically lean your whole body against his. Scissors snapping in the air as he attempts to restrain you.

“Y/N! I’m sorry please don’t cut my hair weird I’ll never leave the apartment again.” He pleads through amused giggles as you playfully let him keep you from doing any sort of damage to his beautiful dark locks.

“You don’t leave the apartment to begin with!”

“That’s true but still!”

“Let me go and I will be nice about it.” You reason, “I promise.” Bucky gives you a half nervous glance before letting go of your wrist, smiling down at him, you slide off his body before seating yourself back down again. “See, not so hard. Now take your shirt off and turn around.”

Bucky’s brows raise instantly while he breaks out into a suggestive grin, “Y/N, that’s kinky.”

Rolling your eyes, you bite your bottom lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction of a genuine smile, “Do it or I’ll hurt you, and not how you like it.” Bucky snorts as you break out into a smile, “Come on muscles I wanna see some skin.”

“Is this really necessary?” Wonders Bucky as he grasps the bottom of his shirt.

“Yes.” You reply, watching as he removes his tank top with ease before setting it atop the cold surface of the table, “It’s so you don’t get hair all over your shirt Barnes, and don’t say it’s not a big deal cause I know you’ll get itchy.”

“Whatever. Just don’t cut me.” Grumbles Bucky as he shifts around in his chair so that you have a clear view of the back of his head and all that glorious hair just screaming to be snipped to perfection. “Seriously be careful.”

Scooting your chair closer so that your legs are parted for a better angle, you semi-roughly tug down on his dark locks causing the super soldier to grunt in pain, “Y/N!” Grumbles Bucky through clenched teeth, “What the hell?” He whines as you chuckle mischievously from behind him.

“Oh shut it you big baby, I know what I’m doing.” Bucky’s mouth opens to protest, but before he’s able to throw something witty at you to counter your sass, you’ve made a loud snip snip sound with the scissors.

“Careful.” Worries Bucky as you hold a chunk of his hair before letting the utensil slice right through the brown follicles like a knife through some soft chocolate cake. Soon more and more tuffs of discarded hair fall into the wastebasket as you work around the back of his head. He doesn’t say a word the whole time as you skillfully cut your way to a half-descent haircut.

After a good five minutes, you lean back to examine your work, “Okay, looking good.”

“Can I see.”

“No.” You deadpan with a small chuckle before pressing the handle of the scissors to his bare back, “Turn around wolfman I need to do the front.”

Sighing, Bucky shifts, turning around to finally face you. Both your legs staggered side by side now as he looks into your eyes like a beaten down puppy, “Oh don’t look at me like that Barnes. Your torture session is almost over.” You add before kissing your fingers and pressing them against his lips for a brief second of silent affection.

Bucky cracks a handsome grin while your left hand messes up his long bangs, “Must you do that too.” Complains your grumbly lover in annoyance as you slice some areas near his face. “Yep. I’m not cutting all of it, I’m just giving your eyes some trim to see. Bucky you’ve been putting your hair up in buns for a week now.”

“Okay fine.”

“I mean, I like it. But you need a cut, I miss seeing your pretty face.” Bucky closes his eyes as you make quick work of his hair, deciding it best to just keep his thoughts to himself and let you do your masterful work, hopefully resulting in a decent job well done.

Soon he hears one last snip before you dramatically gasp causing his eyes to shoot open, “What did you do!?” Worries Bucky as you start smiling like an idiot.

“Oh my...ha, you look so good!” You affirm with an excited squeak of joy, setting the scissors down on the table before reaching your hands out to dive your fingers through his soft mane like an excited child petting a furry cat for the first time.

Bucky’s hands wrap around your forearms as he smiles, “Okay, okay, Y/N...” Starts Bucky as you take your hands and gently push his hair back to see his handsome face.

“Why, hello there Mr. Barnes.” You slyly jest as he studies your smirking face, “Don’t you just look absolutely dashing.”

“Am I free to look now?” Implores your lover with a shy smile as he rests his hands to either one of your thighs, squeezing lightly while you nod. “Go for it.”

He lets go, getting up from the chair to saunter on into the bathroom to observe your skilled work as a terribly underpaid hairdresser. In the meantime, you’ve cleaned off the few stray hairs coating the table and dumped them in the small trash can. Setting the chairs back into their normal positioning as you place the trash back in it’s usual spot by the window.

A mischievous grin coating your features as you stand causally by the fridge, awaiting Bucky who soon walks out of the bathroom. Smile on his beautiful features before his face falls into a confused yet oddly amused expression. “Y/N what are you doing? You look like Hitler.”

“What? No I don’t!” You protest, removing Bucky’s discarded lock of hair from your upper lip and tossing it in the trash, “Well you look.....uh, you look like uh.....I don’t know. You look really hot, I’m kind of distracted not gonna lie.”

Bucky smiles, cheeks dusting a light pink color as he walks closer to you. Noticeably still lacking an actual shirt which is doing wonders to your swirling thoughts that are turning a bit dirty, and those grey sweatpants? Hanging dangerously low on his beautiful body, you can see his famous V line in your peripheral vision as you strain to keep your eyes locked with his.

Oh he is challenging you big time.

Bucky, too observant for his own good, takes the hint that you’re starting to get a little hot and bothered with him looking like that all shirtless in the room and whatnot. Fresh haircut, low pants, and nothing better to do on this fine summer evening.

He raises an intrigued brow, “I know that look.” Muses Bucky with a knowing devilish grin as you shake your head at him, eyes darting to the newspaper covered window. You hate getting caught.

“Nope. What would make you think I’m thinking of...of, whatever you’re thinking. Alright listen, my mind is all pure and good up in here...so I, I have no idea whatever the fuck you’re talking about.” Bucky chuckles, chest rising in little spurts as he humors you, taking a couple more steps closer as you bite your lip in anticipation. Shit, he’s got you right where he wants you.

Ever so gently does five metal fingers reach up to caress the side of your cheek, trailing sweet icy lines down to your chin as his bare chest presses sweetly against your clothed breasts. Flesh hand holding your lower back, pressing you into him, “Y/N.” Whispers Bucky, sounding more like a genuine question as he tilts his head to the side, “What’r you thinking of?”

Pursing your lips together to keep from revealing a full grin to give him that proud satisfaction of turning you on without much effort, you raise a brow, free hand reaching downwards to gently palm him through his sweats that are indeed beginning to tent.

“Hmm. Guess I got you too, and all I did was stand here.” You proudly conclude, slipping a hand into his pants as you trail your fingers up and down his hardening length, causing Bucky to groan in arousal at your playful teasing. “Fuck me I could listen to that voice for a thousand years and never get tired of hearing you moan Buck.”

Bucky grabs your hand currently exploring his neither regions, pulling it out as he takes both your hands with his, face leaning in real close to yours, “I was not moaning.” He confirms with a sly grin, “This...is a moan.” And a second later he’s pressing his flesh digits into your clothed heat, rubbing your growing arousal with the pads of his skilled fingers as your face shifts with pleasure.

“oh.” Softly escapes from your parted lips, the sound coming out as more of a breathy gasp of air then anything really comprehensible.

Soon a large grin has found its way onto your flushed features, “You bastard.” Bucky chuckles at your less then heated curse given freely to him before removing his fingers from their pleasurable assault on your sensitive area that’s calling for some real attention, you kiss him again before muttering, “Come on Barnes....”

His lips dance in time with yours as he keeps you from speaking anything otherwise witty back at him, flesh and metal hand trailing up your body until they find the lower rim of your tank top. He pulls the material upwards, breaking the kiss for but a swift moment to let the fabric completely slide right off of your body and onto the floor below.

Lips on yours in an instant as his nimble fingers skillfully unclasp your bra, you’d have praised him for the semi-troublesome work if not for the fact that he’s now using those talented hands of his to knead your naked breasts like the most valuable and sweetest dough in all the land. Touching them with the tenderness of a skilled lover who knows just how to get his lady feeling all sorts of good.

Trailing your digits up and down his bare back, you shift your face to the side so he can keep stealing away more kisses while you try and form a sentence, “Buck...mhmm....mmmm.....Bucky, I need you, mhmm, I need you in me...right, right now.” You mutter in between moans while Bucky’s hardness rubs through his sweatpants and onto your thighs.

His hands trail up to gather the sides of your face in his palms, lips finally parting from yours as his beautiful blues gaze lovingly into your blissful expression, “I think that’s a fantastic idea Y/N. Now if you could lay on this table so I can take your pants off that’d be great.” Softly adds Bucky as you quickly steal a kiss in reply before scooting yourself upon the wooden table.

Leaning your body back as he quickly removes the clothing from your lower half, underwear sliding off next to leave you in nothing but your wit and will, and naked everything. His lust filled eyes trail hungrily down from your protruding breasts to your soaked neither regions hot and ready for his willing member.

“Enough drooling over me Barnes, I wanna see what you’ve got.” He chuckles at getting so easily caught; listening to your inquisition, he swiftly removes those annoying grey sweatpants before slipping off the tight boxers with ease.

Your eyes widen in excitement at the hardened length dripping in precum, his king jewels swollen and ready to send you into a world of wonders soon enough.

Bucky, noticing how your eyes swirl with hunger, takes a step forward, placing his hand on your knee, “This angles kinda weird so...can you turn around?” Asks the super soldier apprehensively, you two have never done it this way before. It’s pretty tame all things considered, but it’s something you’re more than willing to try.

You nod with a mischievous grin, “That’s a little kinky.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, snorting with laughter nonetheless, “Why are you..never mind.” Muses your lover while you swiftly scoot your naked bum off of the table before kissing his cheek and turning around. Laying your stomach against the warmed surface of the wood as you bend over for Bucky to begin his godly work.

Soon his hands are feeling up your beautiful bum before wandering to your sides, “This good? Are you comfortable like this, just tell me if we need the bed instead and I can..”

“Bucky just fuck me.” You quickly interrupt, pushing your ass against his member that’s quite literally poking provocatively at your naked cheeks. “Yeah, okay, right on that.” Replies your man as he holds your left hip in place, flesh hand steadying his cock as he approaches your slick folds.

You can’t see him from this angle, relying on sounds and feel alone; you’re soon pleasantly relieved of the lack of contact when his manhood finally touches the surface of your two mounds before Bucky pushes himself into you.

Spreading you wide open and bare unto him as his length slides completely into your dripping core that’s heated and buzzing with your arousal. He feels good, really good. The slight discomfort gone in an instant as you quickly adjust perfectly in tune with his fullness and girth that stretches your walls so beautifully.

Bucky lets out a pleasant sigh before gently squeezing your hips, “Y/N are you good?” Wonders your sweet man, balls deep inside you but still making it important that you’re feeling as fantastic as him. How considerate.

With one hand gripping the far edge of the table and the other one thrown back to smack affectionately against his hip, you nod while face is pressed against the flat wood, “So good Buck....so good.” You mutter happily.

Taking this as a positive sign, Bucky smiles joyously before pulling a good ways out of you and thrusting himself back in again. Replicating this wondrous action for a good thirty more seconds as he draws your vessel into a new plane of pleasure with each fantastical stroke.

You’re left with soft moans reaching Bucky’s ears while the poor table attempts to keep in its place as Bucky thrusts full force into you over and over again, the legs of wood scraping against the flooring with each pump into your core. Grunting with effort not gone unnoticed by you in the slightest.

Nothing in the small apartment is heard except for the familiar skin on skin contact associated with this or any type of lovemaking, though right now, this angle, and those beautiful groans dripping off of his tongue sets this scene as more of a good fucking between the two of you if you’re being completely honest here.

Bucky’s cock pulses and twitches in excitement as he pulls in and out of you, hands tightly gripping the sides of your hips enough to bruise when all is said and done, luckily for you, quick healing is one of your attributes. Paying no mind the dull ache of his fingers against your flesh, you grip the edge of the table as the titular coil of growing pleasure begins its usual act upon your womanhood.

Bucky’s relentless, pushing himself into you just right with that delicious cock of his, sliding in and out of your slick walls as he works his magic. “oh God Buck...” You moan in absolute bliss, brows raising upwards at the growing sensation building up into your persistent climax.

He smiles to himself, proud of his fruitful efforts to turn you into a moaning mess underneath him, soon he’s picking up the pace with vigor and palpable stamina that you’re all to willing to match. “Buck....oh fu...fuck, I’m so-I’m so close....mhmm..” He slams into you harder now, causing the table to slide across the floor as he continues his pleasurable assault on your core that’s bringing you quickly to the edge of paradise.

“Ah shit.” Mumbles Bucky, realizing this current positioning is messing up his groove since this damn table keeps annoyingly moving in time with his thrusts. A second later his metal arm his lifting your stomach upwards, body to much of a mess to protest, you’re soon pleasantly surprised when your naked back falls flush against his sweaty toned torso as he holds you close.

His metallic hand slides up to hold you in between your breasts as his flesh hand trails down your body until it finds your sensitive bud, Bucky’s skilled fingers rub deliciously against the swollen flesh as he thrusts up into you vigorously. You suppress a whiny moan as your one hand grips tightly onto his forearm holding you to his body. While your other hand reaches up to take a fistful of hair as his head drapes over the side of your shoulder, plush lips planting wet kisses all along your heated skin.

“Mhmm you taste so good.” Praises Bucky as he licks your naked flesh before gently biting down playfully, leaving more love marks as he continues to play with your clit as the coil inside you threatens to unwind.

“Buck, I-I can’t...I’m gonna...” Bucky listens as you begin mumbling incoherent Russian when your orgasm finally hits you full force now, your warm walls tightening around his cock as you emit a plethora of loud moans. Tugging on his hair as he smiles against your skin for the work he’s done.

Your fingers quickly slip from his thick dark locks as you fight to keep your legs from giving out at the intense rush of pleasure flowing through your vessel as Bucky’s fingers spell circles on your sensitive bud. You’re soon getting overstimulated when suddenly he pulls his hand to wrap around your stomach as he finally cums inside you.

The beautiful sounds of Bucky’s low groans and moans filling your ears as he spills himself up into you, cock twitching as he releases it all. The feeling of his cum rushing into your hot center never fails to turn you weak, especially when his body shakes with pleasure as he subconsciously holds you closer while riding out his orgasm.

He thrusts into you a couple more times just to feel it through as he unknowingly sparks more electricity into your already fucked out core that’s now dripping with not only your natural arousal but his hot liquid. Bucky’s head falls into the crook of your neck as he stops pumping into you, plush lips kissing your heated skin as he just embraces the moment of standing butt-ass naked in the kitchen balls deep in you, his loving and beautifully fuckable girlfriend.

He stands like this for about forty whole seconds until you reach a hand up to tug playfully on his hair, “I think we need a shower now.”

Bucky’s lips smile against your skin as he picks his head up, kissing your neck while he pulls himself out of you. His cum slowly trailing down your inner thighs as he turns you around to face him, “I think you’re right. Let’s go before that gets on the floor.” Chuckles Bucky as he takes your hand and walks you into the bathroom.

You stand by the sink as he turns on the shower, fumbling with the settings while you snatch a tissue and begin cleaning yourself up a bit until he turns around, “Wait Y/N, let me do that.” States Bucky as he takes the tissue out of your hand, kneeling down to get a better angle, “It’s kinda my fault anyways and you’ve done enough...”

“I could handle it Buck, but I mean yeah, go for it.” You muse as he whips off the milky liquid trailing lines down your inner thighs, “I don’t doubt you know how to clean a crime scene.”

“This isn’t a crime scene.” Asserts Bucky as he whips away the last of it while you chuckle at his confused facial expression.

He stands as you saunter past him, taking a step into the shower before looking over your shoulder, “Well, guess you’re just gonna have to murder this pussy again and we’ll find out how well your clean up really is.” You tease with a knowing wink before disappearing into the plastic curtains.

Bucky’s brows raise in surprised excitement as he quickly follows you in, soon his hands are feeling you up in all sorts of places. Drawing soft moans of the sweetest sounds into the sexually charged atmosphere, no doubt riling you up for round two. God you love him so fucking much.

Waking with a start, you’re surprised to find your heartbeat racing a mile a minute. Then the wonderful memories of last nights dream hits you like a truck, that wasn’t just a dream, that was a real memory with Bucky. One of the many fantastic ones between the two of you before Zemo happened, before Tony tried to kill him, before Wakanda, and before Thanos ruined it all with a simple snap of his goddamn fingers.

Just a fucking dream. Another good memory. That’s it.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky fic #bucky smut #james buchanan barnes

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itsmyescape-xangelx · 3 years

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Video Games + Hangovers

Note: Thank you to everybody who gave my first fic so much love! I’m back with another established MacRiley fic. I’ve turned it into a series so this is Part 2 of “They say the world was built for two.” You can read it below or on Ao3. Hope you guys like it!

The cab pulled out of the driveway as Bozer walked towards Mac’s house. Despite Bozer’s irritable mood, a small smile tugged at his lips as a few more memories from the night before started coming back to him. The team thought it’d be a good idea to hold a game night since they’d have the next day off from work. A day off that was long overdue if Bozer said so himself. All of his friends were pretty competitive when it came to game night, but things got hilariously heated when Russ and Desi started fighting over the title for best bartender.

During their last mission, Desi and Russ had went undercover as bartenders. While Russ was more skilled at serving good drinks, people were mesmerized with Desi’s bar tricks like throwing up and catching bottles that were sometimes lit with fire. With the type of show Desi had put on it was easy to believe she was a bartender, but one sip of the drinks she made quickly cleared that misconception. Except for Desi, apparently. She thought her drinks were pretty good and really took a liking to playing bartender even after the mission was successfully completed.

Which is why last night everyone was forced to taste the concoctions Russ and Desi brewed up to see who, in fact, was the more skilled bartender. Desi’s drinks, if you can call them that, did not taste the greatest, but damn did they get you drunk. Soon they were all having too much fun playing mixologists and serving their drinks to one another that the competition was completely forgotten. They all shared an Uber home because none of them were in any shape to get behind the wheel.

Game night was a lot of fun, but the hangover and the pounding in his head this morning, not so much. He would much rather be at home right now, but he needs his car for work tomorrow. So here he was on this bright and early day, picking up his car instead of sleeping in his comfy bed with the curtains drawn shut.

When Bozer texted earlier to see if it was okay for him to drop by, Riley said she’d leave the door unlocked for him. Bozer closed the front door behind him and as he walked towards the kitchen, he called out to his friends. “Hey guys! I-.”

Before Bozer could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by someone shushing him. For a second, the agent thought something was wrong and his instincts immediately put him on guard. That was until he turned toward the living room and saw Riley chilling on the couch facing the TV. She didn’t even turn to greet at him. Rude.

Sporting her favourite lazy day tights and an oversized Metallica t-shirt, Riley looked perfectly at home with a controller in hand, laying on Mac’s couch. Correction. Mac and Riley’s couch now. Riley moved in a few weeks ago after about a year of dating Mac.

When Mac and Riley first announced they were moving in together, Bozer couldn’t help but smile, not only because he was happy but because of the irony of the whole situation. When Riley first came into their lives, she had fit in so quickly and perfectly with the group that he had once offered her to come live in the same house she now lives in. Back then Riley had refused saying she was looking for a place that would be just hers, a home. And now she had found one with Mac in that very house. It’s funny how things came full circle.

However, happy was not the word he’d use to describe his mood right now. “Why are you shushing me?”

“Would you be quiet.” Riley whispered yelled, still not bothering to turn back to look at Bozer. Once Riley had a controller in her hand, there was barely anything that could force her attention away from the screen.

Bozer wasn’t sure what was going on, but he whispered back, just to be on the safe side. “Good to see you to Riley. I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Bozer remarked with a little sass and sarcasm.

“Hmm,” was Riley’s only reply as she continued playing.

“Can’t believe a game is more important than turning around to greet your best friend who’s come bearing donuts.” Bozer whispered as he pocketed his car keys that were sitting on the counter and then walked toward her. He still didn’t understand why they were whispering.

Oh. Never mind.

Bozer now stood by the fireplace, staring at the couch. The couch on which both Riley and Mac were laying. Well Riley was laying on the couch, Mac was comfortably laying on top of her, peacefully sleeping. Riley was slouched against the armrest with her legs spread across the edge of the couch. Mac was settled between Riley and the back of the couch, probably to avoid crushing his girlfriend, with his legs tangled with hers. Mac used Riley as pillow by laying his head on her stomach and wrapping his arms around her. MacGyver, always improvising. This allowed Riley to rest the controller in her hands on his back while he slept, and she played her video game.

Riley finally paused her game and turned towards Bozer. Her game face was quickly overtaken by a questioning smile as she whispered, “donuts?”

Bozer gasped, putting one hand over his heart and raising the box of donuts with the other. “Oh wow, really? You pause the game for donuts but not me, your best friend, your elder brother? I am deeply offended.” Then held up a hand before Riley could counter his claim of being the older sibling and whisper yelled, “for shame Miss Davis. For shame!”

Riley couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s theatrics but quickly stilled, trying not to wake her boyfriend up from his nap.

Both of them stared at Mac as Bozer questioned her. “I’m guessing sleeping beauty here is the reason we’re whispering?”

Riley smiled and bent down to place a kiss against his hair. “He’s sleeping off his hangover, like I’m sure you did too.”

“Yeah.” Bozer huffed out. “Last night will definitely be memorable for a long time. That is, what I can remember of it.”

Bozer and Riley began laughing again as they remembered their antics from the night before but were trying to be quieter this time. But both of them stopped as they heard Mac’s voice come out a little hoarse and muffled against Riley’s stomach. “I thought sleeping beauty was supposed to be awakened with a true love’s kiss?”

Riley’s smile widened while Bozer shook his head. “Did I miss the memo where we decided we’re just not doing greetings anymore? Hello to you too, Mac.” Bozer said with just a bit of exasperation but the smile on his face told them he wasn’t really upset. Mac’s only reply was a wave of his hand before wrapping it around Riley again.

Riley chuckled, “you’re awake.”

Mac still looked groggy but managed to open his eyes just enough to look up at Riley. Riley put the controller onto the coffee table and slid down the couch, pulling Mac up towards her. “I can totally fix the kiss thing, beautiful.” Mac couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at that before bending down to kiss her.

Bozer had never seen Mac let anyone take care of him like this until he and Riley finally got together. Even then, it was slow going. He was really glad to see Mac let Riley in a little more each day and vice versa. He was truly happy for them, but it didn’t mean he had to stand here to witness all this.

“Aww true love’s kiss.” Bozer teased. “Well, I got my car keys, so I guess I’ll be going?”

Mac and Riley both looked up at Bozer, looking just a tiny bit embarrassed. Riley spoke up first as Mac went back to staring at his girlfriend. “Sorry Bozer! It’s just nice to finally have a day to ourselves. And thank you for the donuts!”

Bozer just smiled. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Thanks, Boze!” Mac replied without taking his eyes off Riley.

As Bozer turned to walk out, the last thing he saw was Mac get more comfortable as he kissed and nuzzled into the crook of Riley’s neck. Riley ran her fingers through Mac’s hair and stroked his back as she also closed her eyes, settling in for another nap.

Bozer couldn’t help but smile as he closed the front door behind him and walked towards his car. He was truly happy seeing his two best friends show one another the love, care and respect they deserved. Moreover, he was thrilled that they found it with each other because if there is one thing Bozer knew for certain, it was that Mac and Riley’s love was the forever kind.

And they were definitely on the right track, another nap was an excellent idea.

#MacRiley #Angus MacGyver #riley davis #wilt bozer #established relationship #fluff #macgyver

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #tayce #a'whora #friends with benefits to lovers #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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higuchimon · 3 years

Text

[fanfic] Rigors of Choice

Edo took a break from his training, setting himself into one of the most comfortabl chairs and sipping at a cup of his favorite tea. Everything seemed quiet for the moment. He didn't doubt that something would happen to stir events up again, but for now, he enjoyed the rest. He wondered who he would duel once the Pro League season started up again. There were so many options. He looked forward to another battle against Manjoume Jun, and once Marufuji Ryou got back on his feet - well, that would be interesting.

He considered various strategies he could use against them and others, planning what might happen. It would all depend on what lay in the future and for now, he enjoyed the pleasure of not knowing.

His phone rang. Edo's lips quirked for a moment before he answered. He knew who it would be, since very few people had that particular number, and Ryou was too busy healing and dealing with Fujiwara Yuusuke to give him a call. He allowed it just two rings before answering.

"Hello, Saiou," he murmured, knowing the cadence of that breath before a word was spoken. "What can I do for you?" He wondered exactly what it was Saiou wanted. He hoped everything was all right.

"I - I have a question," Saiou said at last, his voice faltering. Edo tensed. He didn't like the idea of Saiou being in trouble of any sort.

"What is it?"

Saiou hesitated again before speaking. "What is my favorite snack?"

Edo blinked a few times. Of all the questions in the world, he'd never expected to hear that. "Excuse me?"

"I don't remember what my favorite snack is," Saiou confessed more than a little sheepishly. "I was thinking about getting one, but - none of them feel right."

Edo closed his eyes for a few seconds. Saiou's recovery had been coming along very well but there were times when something just didn't work right. This seemed to be one of those. He drew in a silent breath, hoping that Saiou didn't hear him, and spoke. "I can get there soon." He knew that he could just tell Saiou what sort of snack he liked, but knew this was a rare chance to see Saiou's face when he had that snack for the not-quite-first time. Plus, he didn’t want to just pick. That wouldn’t help at all.

"All right. I'm at the apartment." Saiou told him. Edo promised again to be there soon, hung up, and told his trainer that he would work late that night. Then he quickly headed out, trying not to smile too much. Saiou could sometimes be adorable without even tying to be.

Saiou needed to learn to do this, and it really wouldn’t be that difficult. Perhaps even a touch amusing. Edo headed up to the apartment and inside, smiling at the sight of Saiou sat in his favorite chair. The former psychic rose to his feet as soon as Edo entered, brightening in the same moment.

Edo's first instinct was just to hug him. Even when he looked more cheerful, he still looked so lost, as if the weighty concept of choosing a snack was too much for him to bear. Instead, Edo rested a comforting hand on Saiou's shoulder. It wasn’t easy given the difference in their heights, but he did it regardless.

"Did you want to go to the store?" Edo asked quietly. "Or did you have something else in mind?" It wouldn't be the first time that Saiou shopped online. He wasn't exactly afraid of leaving the apartment, but he wasn't good at talking to people these days. So most of the time he didn't bother and just ordered what he wanted in.

Saiou pressed his lips together for a few heartbeats then straightened up. "The store. There's a chocolate store at the end of the block."

Edo had seen it on his trips in and out. He'd never gone inside, though, having too much of his own work to do. But he nodded. "Let's go then."

Truth to tell, he didn't know if Saiou even had a favorite sweet or snack in general. Usually he sampled various teas and whatever it was that Mizuchi made for snacks. He wondered if he could persuade Saiou to try and make his own snacks eventually. Something like that might be able to ground him, something Saiou could use drastically.

To begin with, though, the two of them headed downstairs and to the sweet store. Stepping inside meant entering a place where the scent of chocolate wafted over them like a tidal wave. Edo had never been too fond of chocolate himself but he could see why it appealed to some people. He glanced over at Saiou, who stared at all of the offerings as if he truly wanted to take them all and knew that he couldn't.

In many ways, Saiou had to learn how to be a person all over again. He'd relied on his second sight for so long, never having to make a proper decision because he knew what would happen long before it did, and now that he didn't have that anymore, he had to learn how to work his way through all the options that life had to offer. Edo wondered if he'd gotten around to picking a favored toothpaste yet.

"Which one of them really appeal to you?" He asked, gesturing to all of the wares. Saiou glanced at each of them in turn, worrying at his lip before he he started to walk down the aisles. He didn't stop for long at any of them, observing. Edo walked along with him, spying a few chocolates that he knew Saiou had tasted before. But he didn't seem interested in those, until he stopped by a row of KitKats, in an extremely wide variety of flavors.

"These are interesting," he said at last, nodding towards the racks of sweets. Saiou glanced that way, nodding in agreement, though quite slowly, as if he weren't actually sure he agreed or not. He took a hesitant step closer.

"I've had these before," he mused, eyes flicking from one brightly wrapped sample to another. Edo agreed, letting Saiou come to his own conclusions and make up his own mind. He knew which one he liked, but Saiou needed to make his own choice. It wouldn't help him in any way to choose for him.

Slowly Saiou reached out for one of the items. His touch was hesitant at first as he brushed his fingertips across one of the items, then another of them, not picking up anything until he came to one in particular. His eyes lightened at once.

"I remember this one - I liked it."

Edo checked which one it was - dark matcha KitKats. Saiou had always had a soft spot for KitKats, he'd noticed, and more than once Edo had brought a few over when he'd gone on trips back to the States. Saiou savored each and every one of them, but he'd always enjoyed these the most. So now he nodded.

"Is that the one you want right now?"

Saiou hesitated for a few seconds, then pressed his lips together and picked it up. Then he glanced at Edo, a question clearly visible in those brilliant violet eyes of his. Edo nodded; this was a trip for Saiou and he could do whatever he pleased. Edo’s concern was only that he did do what he wanted.

With that gesture of support, Saiou stepped over to the drink area. Edo didn't stop himself from smiling. Saiou learning how to do things because he wanted to do them and not because destiny told him to do it - he knew how it felt. There was something unutterably thrilling about choices.

While waiting for Saiou to make his decision there, Edo examined the sweets himself, wondering if he wanted something. There were so many options and flavors that he only saw in Japan. He snorted softly at the "Black Thunder" brand - it wasn't Manjoume's, but he'd probably be having them as sponsors sooner or later. He ended up picking up some salted caramel and went over to select his own drink, pleased to see Saiou now holding a nicely chilled white peach cider. He'd never quite had the taste for that himself, but he'd seen Saiou enjoy it before. That meant he still had the same tastes - he just had to remember them all, and be sure he wanted them, instead of being told to eat or drink something because his visions told him that was what he'd eat or drink.

Edo didn't often take breaks from his training, especially for little snacks like this, but this was one time he found himself very glad to have done so.

The End

Notes: I finally have finished GX Rare Pairs Week! Now I can get back to GX Month (and oh, boy, do I have a lot to get caught up on there!)

Saiou has a lot of adjusting to do. But he will have help!

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #GXRarePairsWeek #destinyshipping #edo phoenix #saiou takuma #saiou x edo #edo x saiou

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