#(they briefly thought about going without them but decided 'nah that IS too much toning down') | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

messwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan. A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM 🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss and @oneblonded for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. 💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it.

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad.

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind.

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts.

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair.

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is.

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?”

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture.

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more.

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen.

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.”

Sure, of course, you dumbass did.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky.

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face.

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.”

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill.

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well.

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free.

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.”

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that.

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting.

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage.

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up.

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing.

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified.

Well, you’re already liking the place.

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage.

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more.

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around.

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain.

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered.

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs.

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.

Yours, to be even more specific.

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into.

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends.

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed.

“What? Can’t even look at me now?”

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat.

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast.

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by.

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.”

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there.

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it.

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke.

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker.

"Iwa-channn~''

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up.

“Okay, uh, good show?”

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands.

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation.

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him.

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power.

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body.

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you.

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him.

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around.

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief.

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away.

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that.

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face.

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands.

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name.

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you.

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?”

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss.

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight.

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs.

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye.

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time.

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside.

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips.

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.”

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause.

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.”

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...”

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance.

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!”

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins.

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door.

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~”

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin.

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time.

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing.

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine.

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling.

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours.

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips.

“I think we’ve waited too long.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass.

“Yours.”

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so.

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb.

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care.

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets.

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise.

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath.

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one.

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way.

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words.

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you.

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again.

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside.

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before.

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise.

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face.

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode.

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips.

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab #cw exhibitionism

508 notes · View notes

pinkmirth · 4 years ago

Text

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps.

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

“Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?”

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

#bnha thirst #mha thirst #bakugou imagines #bnha Imagines #Katsuki Bakugou imagines #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bnha insert #mha insert #Bakugou smut #bnha smut #harmoni writes

296 notes · View notes

shyficwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 12

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: You want to make a run into town, but you're forced to take one of the Guardians with you if you want to leave. Guess who get's the pleasure of annoying you? If that wasn't bad enough, someone decides to show up at your door...

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: For my records, this is day 17 of the Guardians living with reader.

Word Count: 6,751

"Where you going?"

You turned and looked towards the source of the voice, Peter's voice, coming from a door to the kitchen. You had just grabbed your keys from the kitchen counter and you were finishing up the short list on your phone.

Obviously you had intended to quickly run your errands the other day when you planned to take the raccoon corpse into town to be tested, but when Fury showed up having brought his own doctor and lab to test the raccoon on site, and also sentenced you to wearing your arm in a sling, you obviously hadn't done that.

It had been a couple days since then, you having wanted to get used to the sling a little bit before attempting to drive. You knew it still wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but you really wanted out of the house.

"Just running into town," you say, not paying him much mind.

"Why?" he asked, his tone weighting the word, almost as if he wanted to tell you that you weren't allowed.

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Because I need to? Ya know, check the mail, pick some stuff up, post a few bills?" You knew it could all wait, and the bills could be paid online if you really needed to, but he probably didn't know that. "Unless you need something I really don't see what it is to you." You weren't meaning to sound like a dick, but he was acting weird. You didn't like his tone, and his weirdness was only emphasized when you start to approach the doorway to exit the kitchen but he didn't move.

His eyes briefly went to your arm in the sling-brace. "Don't you think you should be taking it easy?"

That's what it was. Knew it. You roll your eyes so hard one might think they'd get stuck. "I'm literally fine." You make a shooing motion but he still doesn't move. Sighing, you make your way toward the other door, only to hear him jogging up the hall to meet you there, the sound making you pause before completing the distance, rolling your eyes before continuing on to see he had indeed done just that. You awkwardly cross your good arm with the one in the sling. "Can I help you?" you say irritably.

Gamora entered the kitchen from the other doorway and you looked to her. "Can you please make your boyfriend stop being annoying?" you ask.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," she quipped with a slight smile, "Why? what's he doing now?"

By now Peter had entered the kitchen through the doorway he had been blocking. He ignored Gamora's quip about him being forever annoying and said, "She's trying to leave, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, lucky for me, you're not my boss," you say, admittedly a bit childishly.

Peter then donned a smug grin. "You're right. She is." He nodded in Gamora's direction, referring to the task Fury had assigned Gamora, essentially making her your babysitter as punishment for you neglecting to seek medical attention for your arm.

Your nostrils flared in irritation at him bringing it up and Gamora gave him a look that clearly stated she was uncomfortable. No one had mentioned the incident since the first day. You, because you didn't want to be reminded Fury was treating you like a child, and the others for pretty much the same reason, seeing no reason to provoke you, especially since you were seemingly behaving. (Again, aside from Rocket, but you had taken to keeping your earbuds in for most of the time, so if he did act like a dick to you it often fell on deaf ears.)

"Peter, I really doubt Fury intended for us to keep her locked inside." Gamora said, having assumed Peter was only wanting to refuse to let you go out for a walk, which she didn't understand, because he hadn't said anything when you took one the other day.

"Well I really doubt she's supposed to drive like that."

Finally understanding the issue Gamora grimaced. Peter was probably right.

Just then Yondu and Kraglin came into the kitchen looking to make something to eat, but saw the tense atmosphere.

"What's goin' on?" asked Yondu with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't heard any fighting coming in, but the way you were standing between Peter and Gamora almost implied someone was getting into it.

Peter spoke up, stating how you were looking to make a run into town and how he thought it was a bad idea for you to drive, only he phrased it to group him and Gamora together as having the thought, which prompted Gamora to say back to him that she actually hadn't given her opinion on the situation yet.

Yondu eyed you, or more specifically the brace on your arm. "Can ya drive like that?"

"Yeah." you reply. It was true, the arm in the brace wasn't the one you'd need for changing gears or signaling, so you should be fine, even if truthfully it'd be better if you didn't.

Yondu shared a glance to Kraglin and then shrugged. "Don't see a problem then." He turned toward the pantry, Kraglin following his lead, before he added, "Long as ya take Quill with ya."

You blinked. "Excuse me? Why would I- That's not- I'm not-" You were caught off guard and were now sputtering, clearly not thrilled with his addendum.

Yondu grinned at Kraglin, who was wondering where the elder was going with this, before saying nonchalantly, "If you're too nervous to take a passenger like that, then ya don't need to be going alone."

"I didn't say that!" you countered, pushing down the fact that the thought actually had entered your mind. "Maybe I just don't want to be annoyed by him- and I actually don't know if I can take him. That was never discussed." Again, this was also true. The topic hadn't come up. You had no idea if they were allowed to leave the property. Sure, for some it seemed obvious that they couldn't go into public, but you truthfully had never asked and had consequently never been told.

"He's Terran. Not like you'll run into issue there. I s'pose we could always call yer boss and ask..." His tone was laced with a grin as he turned back to face you with a Terran fruit he'd come to enjoy. A pear, he believed it was called. He was sure you wouldn't go for calling Fury, and he was right.

"No, we don't need to do that," you say irritably. Last thing you wanted to do was call Fury for something like this when he was already unhappy with you.

"I do think it'd be better if someone went with you," Gamora finally spoke up. "It couldn't hurt, at least." She was actually leaning towards the "don't let the Terran with an injured arm drive" party, but part of her believed you'd probably be fine and wanted to soften as much conflict as possible. Being transported in SHIELD vehicles she had seen how the insides operated, and it didn't look so complicated that you'd need both arms. It's not as if you were piloting a ship, and if you did wind up needing help, she was sure Peter could figure the vehicle out well enough.

You give her a mournful look and Yondu speaks again.

"But if yer still set on goin alone, I'm sure Gamora there won't mind callin' that Fury feller. Bet ya just wanna get away so ya can take that brace off without gettin in trouble," he said cooly with a grin. Catching the frown Gamora threw his way he added, "An' if she don't, I can always do it myself."

You tilted your head at the man, expression a mix of confused irritation. "First off, no, I'm not just leaving to do that. Secondly, who do you think you are? My mom?" you snarked.

"Nah, but yer acting like a kid. Somebody's gotta knock some common sense in that stubborn head of yers." Yondu replied, unfazed by your attempted insult as he took a bite of the pear and nodded once more to your injury.

You didn't get it. Why would he care? Why did any of them care?? Was it guilt? Because you wouldn't have been injured if they weren't there? You wanted to ask but settled for just sighing in defeat. You looked Peter over. He wasn't wearing a shirt with any alien writing on it, so at least he wouldn't get any funny looks for that. "Fine," you relented. "Get ready."

Peter let out a triumphant laugh and said he was already ready to go.

You took a moment and opened a couple drawers before finding what you were looking for. "Take these just in case." You tossed him a pair of black sunglasses. "You'll look like a douchebag, but you're probably used to that."

Peter let out a, "Hey!" but you ignored him, making your way past the others to the front door, telling Peter to hurry up.

***

"Can I drive?" Peter asked as the two of you walked to your vehicle.

"Absolutely not." you answered back with an incredulous glare.

"Why not? It'd be easier to let me drive than you try to drive with your arm in that."

"Because I seriously doubt you have a drivers license," you begin to say. Peter opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when you added, "that would be valid here." You open the driver's side door and add, "And because I don't even know if you know how to drive."

"I'll let you know I've been flying a ship since I was ten!" Peter countered.

"I don't care." you reply. "You're not driving. I can't risk us getting pulled over and you not have a license. You're fully free to stay here if you have a problem with that." You gesture back towards the house.

Peter disappointedly huffed but got in the passenger seat. You won this round.

***

Once you and Peter had left out the front door Yondu grimaced. "Might've miscalculated that one..."

"What'dya mean?" Kraglin asked. Gamora also gave him a funny look.

"Thought fer sure tellin' her to take Quill would've made her see that stayin' put wasn't that bad."

"Wait, you were trying to use reverse psychology??" Gamora asked, clearly annoyed.

"If that's what ya want to call it." Yondu shrugged with a frown, watching through the window as you pulled away down the drive, making sure the vehicle looked like it was driving straight. Luckily for you, it was. Otherwise he was fully prepared to whistle and spear a couple of your tires. Kitchen window would've needed replacing too if that happened, seeing as it was closed.

"Doesn't matter what I call it! It didn't work!" Gamora scolded. "If you didn't think it was a good idea you should have just taken our side instead of trying to play games and sending Peter with her!!"

"What'dya mean 'our side'? You were saying she should take someone with her too!"

"I didn't mean it!" Gamora snapped back.

Kraglin looked uncomfortable, not liking the feeling of being stuck in the room while the two of the more intimidating Guardians argued. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by leaving he just stood there and nibbled at his protein bar.

"Calm down, missy." Yondu said. "It'll be fine. And if not, Quill's got one of those phone things SHIELD gave us. Boy can handle himself."

Gamora glared but didn't speak any further, choosing instead to grab an apple off the table and head to her room. Yes, it likely would be fine, but it didn't mean she felt good about it.

***

After several minutes of driving in silence Peter tried to make conversation.

"So... lotta trees out here..."

"Uh huh."

"You make these trips into town often?"

You shrugged.

"I can see you don't feel much like talking..." Peter said awkwardly. You obviously weren't pleased with taking a passenger.

You turned on the radio in response.

Peter tried again after a few minutes when the music cut to a commercial break, trying a different tactic. "So, why are you afraid of doctors?" he asked, turning the radio down.

You gave him a strange look. "What? Where'd you get that idea."

He went into how you seemed tense when the doctor was checking you over when Fury came, and then recounted an incident that had happened the other day.

You had been reading in the sitting room when Mantis came in. You overheard her tell Gamora that her throat hurt, and so you pulled a lozenge from a drawer in the nearby table, telling her to suck on it and to tell you if it still hurt in an hour. If it did, you'd contact SHIELD to inform them she needed to see a doctor. Hearing this, Kraglin had piped up and asked why you would see that Mantis got a doctor straight away, but you had to have one forced on you. You gave him a look before telling him that it was different, and left the room before he could ask how.

"I only just put the two together." Peter said. "It must be because you're scared of doctors."

"No," you said flatly. "I'm not scared of doctors. I just didn't need one. If Mantis was sick, she would have needed one."

"But you did need one." Peter countered. "And Agent Hill told me about what you did in Romania. You needed one then too. Why would you do that to yourself unless you were too scared to go see a doctor?"

You exhale out your nose, annoyed that Maria had been telling him your business. "I'm not afraid of doctors, ok? It was an important job. There wasn't the time to stop and say 'Oops, will ya look at that, my appendix needs out. Better put the job on hold so I can find a doctor.' Not when I can do it myself. Happy?"

"She said you nearly died. That doesn't sound like being able to do it yourself. You can't do things like that. It's insane."

Your face hardened. Who did this guy think he was? Telling you what to do, you barely knew each other! "What's insane is a crime ring that traffics children to the wealthy elite for sexual favors," you snap at him. "So I guess I'm sorry if I wasn't willing to compromise the job to go lay in a damn hospital bed."

Peter didn't know what to say to that. He still thought you were insane for performing surgery on yourself, but he couldn't quite find a suitable argument after what you just said. After a moment he asked, "Did... did they get out?"

You knew he meant the kids. You swallowed. "Most of them. I don't want to talk about it." You turned the music back up, and Peter let it go.

The two of you rode in silence for a good bit longer before Peter turned the music back down again to speak.

"How much longer until we get where we're going?" he asked.

"Not long. Another ten minutes maybe. Why?"

"I need to take a leak."

You almost roll your eyes. "Why didn't you go before we left the house?"

"I didn't have to go then!"

A huffed laugh escaped your throat. "Seriously? You're like a toddler." You shake your head and say, "Do I need to pull over? I can if it's an emergency."

Peter almost pouted from the toddler comment. "No, I can hold it."

"Alright. Suit yourself."

About five minutes later you come up to a town, and a few minutes after that pull into the lot of a shop, the first stop on your list.

"I just have to run in here and grab a few things, they'll have a toilet you can use." you say as the two of you got out of the car, adding, "Don't forget those sunglasses. I don't want to take any chances."

He rolled his eyes but put them on anyway.

Upon entering the store you told Peter he'd find the toilet in the back and told him you'd be looking in the spices, pointing in the direction he'd find you when he was finished. You debated going along and waiting for him since he was technically your responsibility, but you decided against it. The shop wasn't too large so you trusted he wouldn't get lost on his own.

You split off on your separate ways and you grab a hand basket before heading towards the spices. You had only browsed for a short while when suddenly Peter was back at your side. "That was quick." you said to him, locating two of the spices you needed and dropping them in your basket.

"Door said it was out of order." Peter replied, sounding almost pouty.

You shook your head and said, "See, this is why you go before we leave the house." You find the last spice you needed and give him a knowing look as you began walking away from the spices.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid!" Peter said indignantly, following you as you left the aisle.

"Don't act like one." you reply, turning to find the cleaning aisle. SHIELD had been kind enough to include other basic things like toilet tissue on their supply drops, which you had been grateful for with eight other people living in your home, and the Guardians had already come with their own toiletries like toothpaste and soap, but you were seemingly on your own for cleaning supplies. You were now running low on dish and laundry soap. Gods, there was always laundry now. At least they did their own. Mostly.

"You're one to talk!" Peter retorted, gesturing to your arm.

You glare over to him as you walked. You swore, if you heard one more time about how you were acting like a child just for being stubborn about not seeing a doctor...

"Ow! You did that on purpose!"

"Did not." You said flatly, though you absolutely had smacked him with the basket on purpose. Not super hard or anything, but enough for him to feel it crack him in the knee.

He pinched you on the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Didn't do it on purpose." Peter mocked.

You were by the dish soap now and so you set the basket down to grab a bottle. However, you were sure to flick Peter on the back of the head before you did.

"You did not just flick me!" he said irritably, retaliating by giving your exposed side a couple quick squeezes.

Your arm jerked down fast as lightening, having been just shy of grabbing your preferred bottle of dish soap. Your cheeks were burning and you looked around as you scolded him in a whisper-yell. "We are in a public shop! Don't you dare start that!"

"You started it," he countered smugly. However, his the smugness was wiped off his face when you gave him a taste of his medicine.

"See how you like it then!" you say, using your good arm to return his actions. You hadn't been positive it would work, but you weren't disappointed to see the playing field leveled when it did.

Peter's eyebrows shot above the sunglasses, his eyes widening as he crippled away from the touch and grabbed your wrist. "Don't! I told you I had to pee!"

"Oh." You had been so busy bickering it had honestly slipped your mind. "Sorry."

"Truce?" Peter offered, releasing your hand.

"Yeah, fine. Truce." you agreed, reaching up to finally grab the bottle of dish liquid, a little embarrassed as you realized how much like children the two of you had just acted. "Just hurry up and figure out if you or your friends need anything before we leave," you say, making your way down the aisle to grab the laundry detergent.

It was Peter's turn to look embarrassed, only for a completely different reason. "Actually, now that you mention it- if it's ok, I was wondering if they sell... "certain"... things here?"

You put the detergent in the basket and begin to head towards the pharmacy section, realizing it wouldn't hurt to pick up some bug spray and more of that gel for the bites. Mantis had a bad habit of getting bit by midges, and most of the others had started falling victim to them as well. You didn't look at Peter as you walked, saying, "You're going to have to be way more specific than that, dude."

Peter's cheeks we turning noticeably pink by the time you looked at him when he said, "You know... um... the things... for "special moments..." he used air quotes and looked quite uncomfortable, even with the sunglasses hiding his eyes. "Um... you know... uh... When two people like each other very much..."

You wanted to cover your mouth to hide your grin, but one arm was stuck in a sling-brace and the other was too busy holding the grocery basket. "Are you asking if they sell condoms here?" You tried really hard to bite back a laugh, but a tiny chuckle slipped out. It wasn't that he was asking for them that was funny, it was the way he seemed like a teenage boy about it, all nervous and such like you'd call his mother on him.

Peter's face was bright red now. "Don't laugh! Just- never mind."

"No, it's totally cool. It's just funny. I mean, we're adults, you can ask for them. Like, at least you're being safe about it." Suddenly feeling in a better mood and wanting to tease him you say, "Unless... do we need to have 'the talk' young man?" Now you really couldn't hide your giggles.

"So not cool!" Peter pouted, hiding his face in his hands.

You nudged him in the arm and pointed him down that aisle and told him he could find what he needed there. You continued up a couple aisles to grab the bug repellent and itch cream.

You met back up and he wordlessly threw what he had retrieved into the basket, barely looking at you as he did so. You held back giggles at his behavior and asked if he knew of anything else you needed to grab before checking out.

Peter shook his head, and you can tell by his expression he's eager to leave the shop and go back to the house. You almost feel bad for laughing, and you get an idea.

"If your friends liked the Oreos I can pick you up some more. We'll pass that aisle to get to the checkout anyway."

Peter nodded and you grabbed another double sleeve of Oreos before walking to check out. You only hoped you wouldn't get stuck with one of those chatty cashiers.

Wouldn't you know it, of course you did. You weren't super familiar with the cashiers despite frequenting this store, but you had become familiar with the fact that you didn't care for the one who's line you got stuck in, not realizing you had until it was too late.

Normally you feel for retail workers. You knew it was a tough job, but this one cashier just didn't know how to get the hint that not every item he scanned needed a comment.

Laundry soap? "Ooh! Great taste in scent!" Spices? "Someone likes cooking! Anything good tonight? Yum Yum! Ha ha!" Bug spray and itch cream? "Oh those nasty midges are out again. I feel you, haha." Cond-? Oh fuck. "Oh ho! Someone's getting luck-ay tonight! Am I right, my dude?" He winked at Peter, who noticed you looked like you wanted to reach across and murder the cashier.

Peter chuckled nervously and tried to smooth it over. At least, that's what you thought he was attempting. "Oh- aha- no. We're not together. We're uh- She's my sister."

You snapped a glare at Peter as you thrust your payment to the cashier and grabbed one of the two bags before storming off, telling him to keep the change. Peter grabbed the other bag and left the cashier standing there, who at least finally had the decency to look embarrassed by his comment.

Peter caught up with you quickly.

"Don't call me your sister. I barely know you," you say grumpily. That wasn't really the full reason it upset you. Peter wasn't your brother. Your brother was gone. Peter didn't get to call you that.

"Sorry, I panicked," he said.

You brush him off. You knew there was no way he could know. "Whatever, let's just leave. Sooner we finish in town sooner we can go back to the house."

You made your next stop to a nearby petrol station to fill up your car and give Peter a chance to find a working toilet. After the two of you successfully completed both tasks respectively, you stopped by the post office to grab the mail and post your bills while you left Peter in the car. On your way out of the post office you caught glimpse of someone across the road and a brick fell in your stomach when they waved, indicating they clearly saw you. You nodded back out of politeness but hurried to get in your car.

You buckled in and looked in the rearview mirror, only to see the person, a middle aged woman in a flowery blouse, walking towards your car, still not quite to the road yet, and waving her arms trying to get your attention.

"Fuck," you say, putting the car in gear to reverse before stopping to put it back in drive to finish pulling away. This would be so much quicker if your arm wasn't in the damn sling, but you still managed even with having to completely stop to remove your hand from the wheel to safely change gears.

"What?" Peter asked, turning to look out the back window once you began to pull forward.

"Don't worry about it- and don't look back!" you scold. You take a peek in your review mirror to see the woman gesturing in defeat, thinking you hadn't seen her trying to get your attention, and you let a small relieved sigh.

"Who was that?"

"No one." you replied.

"So you ran away... from no one. Sure."

You shoot him a look and turn the radio back up, clearly signaling that you weren't about to discuss it. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

***

Once home you told Peter to put his "special" items (yes, you called them that, air quotes and all, just to embarrass him) in one of his pockets unless he didn't mind advertising them to the rest of his friends. You had assumed he'd be embarrassed if they were just on display for the others based on how he acted in the shop, and the fact that he obeyed implied to you that you were correct.

Once inside you and Peter made your way to the kitchen to put things away. He had refused to let you carry both bags, and you didn't fight him.

Sitting at the table were Kraglin, Yondu and Rocket. On the table were five empty bowls and an empty tub of ice cream.

You sat your bag on the counter and began pulling out it's contents to put them away. Honestly you were slightly bummed that they had finished off the whole thing, if you had known that you might have picked some more up while you were in town, but you didn't say anything about that. You did, however, say something along the lines of "Looks like you guys had fun without us."

Kraglin, who knew you didn't like the house to be messy and knew they were expected to keep up after themselves, began gathering the bowls to put them in the sink, to the eyeroll of Rocket.

"Yup. Ya two missed the party," said Yondu with a chuckle. "I'll admit, that ice cream stuff ain't bad." He then said to Peter, "Yer girlfriend is the only one who didn't want any."

You froze in place, your eyes widened. It hadn't clicked before. Your mind had been preoccupied with other things. Ice cream. Five bowls. There were seven people left at the house. Gamora hadn't wanted any. Tiny Groot probably shared with someone else. Yondu literally said he ate some. That meant... fuck.

You turned around to face them. Looking right at Yondu you say, "Uh, how long ago would you say you guys had the ice-cream?"

"Not quite half an hour ago, why?"

You bit your lips before saying, "Do none of you think to read labels before you eat things?"

Kraglin rolled his eyes playfully as he sat back down. "What? Ya mad we ate your snack?" he teased.

"No no no-" you state, holding up your pointer fingers like a teacher instructing the class on why they were incorrect. You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or groan. Probably the later. You look over at Peter, who held a slight grimace on his face. You say to him, "You know what ice cream is?"

Peter nodded. He remembered ice cream. He also knew the moment Yondu claimed to have eaten it what the problem was.

You look back to the others. "Any of you know what ice cream is?"

Yondu and Kraglin exchange a strange look and Rocket rolls his eyes, wanting you to get to the point.

"It's basically frozen milk."

"Ah." Yondu says, clasping his hands on the table and dipping his head with a slight wince of understanding. He was about to have a bad time. Kraglin and Rocket now share a look that can only be described as 'Crap..." (No pun intended)

Disbelieving laughter bubbles up your throat as you bend below the sink to retrieve a can of aerosolized air freshener and plop it down on the table in front of Yondu. "That's for you, for the inevitable. Use it." You walk to haphazardly throw the contents of your grocery bag in the pantry, leaving your mail on the counter and grabbing your earbuds. "Make sure to open the windows... I'm going for a walk, because there's no way I'm sticking around to deal with that again," you say, giving a mock salute as you make your way out the back door, leaving the guys there to deal with what was sure to be the horrible aftermath of their oversight.

*** You finally came back a couple hours later to find all the windows still open, but no one outside, and decided that was probably a good sign.

You cautiously re-entered the house to find that no bad smells seemed to have stuck around and decided to go look for survivors, but first you needed a snack. You were starving.

You ate a pop-tart just for something quick and then found everyone in the sitting room. Feeling in decent humor you said, "Oh good. You lived." This earned groans from the others. They weren't really annoyed with you for abandoning ship, so much as they were annoyed that Yondu would have messed up and ate dairy for a second time. Well, Peter was a little annoyed that you had just left him there when he hadn't been part of who caused the issue, but he'd get over it.

Your phone started to go off, startling you and a couple others in the process. You checked the caller-id and recognized the number. "Nope," you say aloud, ignoring the call.

"Who was that?" Peter asked.

"No one," you reply, only for your phone to chime with a text almost in response. You open the text and your eyes widen before you make your way quickly but calmly to the windows to shut them and draw the curtains.

This, of course, gathers the attention of the Guardians.

"What's wrong?" Yondu asks, perplexed by your behavior.

"Nothing," you answer at first, before turning to face them and amending it to, "Nobody's home," and continuing your task with the other three windows, still trying to retain a semblance of being calm.

The others watched as you made your way about the room, sharing perplexed glances. Once finished with the final window at the back of the room you started heading towards the door when Mantis grabbed your hand.

"Are you ok? What can we do?" she asked, concerned. "Please tell me?" She could feel you didn't want to ask for help, but she hoped her asking nicely might work.

You barely glance at her, don't notice her antennae are glowing. "I'm fine. If you want, I could use some help shutting the rest of the windows and curtains, please and thank you." You pull away and head to the hall, where they can see you draw the curtains on the front door shut through the sitting room doorway.

"I know you said you can ease people into compliance, but I didn't think you could actually make people do things." Peter whispered to Mantis. He naturally just assumed that's what happened. You, miss "I don't need help from anyone!" had actually asked for help. Clearly that wouldn't happen without some Mantis mojo. The closest you had come to asking for help was the first time Yondu had dairy and you wanted Peter to help open the windows, but still, that was less asking for help and more of telling him what to do if he wanted to live.

"I can't." Mantis replied. "She was genuinely asking. She's very nervous."

Peter shared a look with Gamora and Drax stood up from the couch to follow you, and the they followed him along with Mantis.

Yondu and Kraglin stayed in the sitting room with Rocket, who told himself he didn't care about whatever this nonsense was about and continued to play with Groot. Kraglin and Yondu exchanged puzzled looks, because unlike Rocket they were genuinely curious what was going on to make you as nervous as Mantis claimed. Why were you batting down the hatches for?

In the kitchen Drax helped you close the windows and curtains. As soon as he heard Mantis say she felt you were nervous he felt there must be a good reason and that he should probably help you, just in case.

Then you started shutting out the lights, and this increased the other's concerns.

"What's going on?" Gamora asked, authority in her voice as she followed you out of the kitchen. You may be their host, but she still felt they had a right to know what was going on, if they were in danger.

"Nothing." you say, shutting off the lights in the hall on the way to the sitting room.

"If it was nothing you wouldn't be doing this. Something is wrong. Do we need to call SHIELD?" She asked more insistently, not believing you.

You turn to her irritably at the doorway. "No. We don't need SHIELD," you say, flicking the switch to turn the sitting room's light off, much to the puzzlement of those inside.

"I will if you don't tell us what's wrong."

Just then there was a knock at the front door, and you visibly startled in response before freezing in place and whisper yelling, "Quiet!"

The other's obeyed, not sure what else to do or what was going on.

Peter quietly stepped out of the kitchen where he had been peeking through one of the curtains when he thought he could see the dim glow of headlights through the fabric. He saw a blue car pull up next to yours, and out of it stepped a tall man in a light grey sweater and a woman in a floral print blouse. She looked familiar.

"Hey," Peter whispered across the hall, "It looks like that woman from earlier. The one you ran away from."

"Shut up." you hissed.

Gamora looked at the two of you in confusion, but didn't say anything, didn't get the chance, because the knock sounded again and a woman's voice could be heard from the other side of the door calling your name.

"We know you're in there." said the voice. It wasn't angry or confrontational like the others might expect for someone you were apparently hiding from. "Your car's in the drive and we saw you shutting the lights out when we drove up."

You grimaced.

"We just want to talk." It was the man's voice this time.

Peter and Gamora looked at you expectantly, and you shook your head at them. Drax was now standing behind Peter in the kitchen doorway, Mantis having already moved past him to stand next to Gamora in the hall with you.

"Yes, we just want to talk." The woman's voice again. "We saw you in town today, we've been thinking about you."

By now Yondu and Kraglin had made their way closer to the door to better hear what was being said. They didn't care if they were being nosy.

The man spoke your name now, questioningly, as if to ask if you could hear them. "Ok, we understand if you don't want to see us, but please listen; We forgive you, and we're sorry."

You take in a breath, trying to mask your feelings with the others near. They were looking at you. Gamora's face had softened, wondering what the man meant. Forgave you for what? Sorry for what?

"We shouldn't have blamed you for what happened. We know that now." came the woman's voice. "We've had a lot of time to think it over, and we were wrong."

The man spoke again. "We were just hoping you could find it in your heart to forgive us, too."

You felt your chest tighten and you eyes burn, and so you clenched your jaw and your fists, unwilling to show any emotion to the space-strangers in your home, but they noticed anyway.

Peter gestured to get your attention and mouthed, "Open the door."

You shook your head, and he gave you a confused look. You nodded your head towards Mantis and Gamora as if to say, "Um, not with aliens in my hall!" Although that wasn't completely the reason, and you had the feeling he could tell, as he only sighed and frowned slightly in response.

After a pause the woman spoke again. "Alright. We understand you may not be ready yet. Maybe another time. We're still at the same place when you're ready to speak with us. Hopefully that's soon. We'll be going now."

You waited a few moments before approaching the door, and the other's thought you might finally be going to talk to the couple. You didn't, mostly to Peter's disappointment. Instead you peeked through a sliver in the curtains to watch them leave, not pulling away until their vehicle was gone.

As soon as you stepped back from the door Peter asked, "What was that? Who were they?"

"Nothing and no one," you answer, not meeting anyone's gaze as you flicked the hall light back on and walk towards the stairs.

Mantis grabbed your hand, but you pulled away, telling her that you weren't in the mood to hold hands right then and you were going to go take a shower. She just looked down sadly in response, but you wouldn't look at her to notice.

No one stopped you as you walked upstairs, and when you were out of earshot, Drax whispered to Mantis asking what you had been feeling just then, having noticed Mantis had been reading you when she grabbed your hand.

The other's listened in to her answer as she mournfully replied. She hadn't been able to touch you for long enough to get a full reading, but there had been one dominant emotion when she did touch you. You had been sad.

This only rose more questions from the team. Had the couple been been angry with you? What had you done? Why would their forgiveness have made you sad?

Weren't most people happy to be forgiven?

The sound of your bedroom door opening and shutting travelled down the stairs, followed shortly by the same noise of the bathroom door as you entered for your shower.

Yondu almost thought he could hear the faint sounds of crying before the noise was drowned out by the sound of a shower blasting on.

#guardians of the galaxy #gotg #fanfiction #x reader fic #x reader #peter quill #star lord #fluff #yondu udonta #yondu lives #kraglin obfonteri #gamora #drax the destroyer #mantis #rocket raccoon #baby groot #shopping #drama #mystery

126 notes · View notes

red-talisman · 4 years ago

Text

An unbetaed snippet of post-CQL canon Yunmeng reconciliation, which is mostly extremely morbid and blunt conversation after beating each other hard enough that they’re too tired for their usual conflicting modes of emotional avoidance.

EDIT: now edited and posted on AO3. :D

CW for past suicidal ideation. Part of my “let WWX express some of his cynical humor and creepiness more often” and “let WWX find out about JC’s own sacrifice goddamnit” agendas.

___________________

Jiang Cheng stares blankly into the trees, their trunks slowly disappearing in the deepening darkness of twilight. Wei Wuxian’s back is warm against his and heaving for breath just as heavily. He thinks his ankle might be broken, but Wei Wuxian is probably worse off.

“You’re an asshole,” Wei Wuxian says thickly.

“Hypocrite,” Jiang Cheng mutters without heat, and Wei Wuxian manages a snort between his gasps.

“Yeah.” After a moment, he adds, with an echo of the old Yiling Laozu in his voice, “You know that if you ever do something like that again, I’ll probably find a way to do something worse than I did before.”

“If I do what, save your life by pulling the same fucking sacrificial shit that you do?”

“I swear to every god out there that I will bring you back as a fierce corpse and kill you myself,” Wei Wuxian says in a pleasant, albeit still somewhat breathless, tone. “I will dismember your carcass and make Jin Guangyao look like a fucking amateur.”

“Good thing Mo Xuanyu’s core isn’t worth shit, then,” Jiang Cheng replies. All of his attention is focused on the feeling of his brother’s bones and muscles moving against his own spine.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause. Somewhere distant Jiang Cheng hears the panicked yells of what’s probably the juniors they left behind a few li back. Then Wei Wuxian sighs. “We’re really fucked up.”

Jiang Cheng takes his time considering and discarding several possible responses. His ankle hurts like a bitch; Mo Xuanyu’s core may not be worth shit, but damn if his asshole genius brother hasn’t figured out how to make the most of it anyway. He finally settles on a tired, “Yeah.”

The silence stretches on long enough that Wei Wuxian goes on, more quietly, “You and Shijie are the only reason I didn’t die in the Burial Mounds. The Wens grabbed me before I knew whether or not you’d even survived the core transfer.”

Jiang Cheng tilts his head just enough to glance briefly over his shoulder. “How did you survive the Burial Mounds?”

“Nope, no, I’m not putting that on you. Not even Lan Zhan knows. I can’t...I can’t do that.”

“Fine. Then tell me, is any of it going to come back and bite us in the ass at the worst possible moment?” he asks dryly.

Wei Wuxian snorts, humorless. “Nah. It’s all mine.”

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?”

When Wei Wuxian hesitates for a few telling seconds, Jiang Cheng mutters, “You fucking asshole.”

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian sighs again.

“You left me.”

“You didn’t need me.”

“Who the fuck said that?”

The knobs of Wei Wuxian’s spine are starting to press painfully into Jiang Cheng’s. Wei Wuxian snorts. “I was practically a fierce corpse myself when I dragged myself out of the Burial Mounds. Your position as sect leader was too precarious,” he says bluntly. “You were seventeen years old with no real family, a sister who was getting married off anyway, and an adopted brother who’d been controversial years before the war even happened and who was clearly half-mad and getting worse. And I...my mind never really left the Mounds, honestly.” He coughs, makes a wet sound, and spits. “If I stayed much longer I was going to end up dragging you back into Hell with me. I was a risk you couldn’t afford and I wasn’t going to destroy Yunmeng Jiang a second time.”

"Don’t pull that bullshit, Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng is so, so tired. “Mother was wrong. You know Wen Chao was looking for any excuse. You’re as responsible for that as our shidi was for using a round kite.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t respond. Jiang Cheng makes a mental note to beat that nonsense out of him in the future, when he can lift his arms again and his ankle isn’t most likely broken.

But Jiang Cheng remembers what it was like to try turning weapons, human and sword alike, into tools of peace. There are still whole weeks of the Sunshot Campaign that are just smears of sense-memory: the cacophony of screams and curses; the reek of mass funeral pyres and the soft ash drifting through the air like black, silent snow; the startling warmth of being suddenly drenched in blood after Sandu sliced open another living human. Half the time he’d come back to himself laughing hysterically, unable to see anything through the tears on his face, and as the war dragged on, the tears eventually dried up. It had taken months afterwards to settle into the mindset of rebuilding for Lotus Pier. (If he’s honest with himself, he never really did settle there. There's always a part of him still dragging itself through mud made by blood spilled on battlefields and churned up by soldiers' boots.)

“Jin Ling’s the only reason I never actually killed myself after you died,” Jiang Cheng says. “...Don’t you ever tell him that.”

“Wait, what?” Wei Wuxian snaps.

“You saying I would’ve died without a core - it was never about not having a core, you idiot, not really.” Not to say that hadn’t hurt, and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t know how he would’ve managed life as a commoner. But there were still worse things to lose than a core, which had also just lost and was about to lose yet again. “I had a few ideas on how to do it, depending on where I was and what was available when I decided I might as well get it over with.” He huffs a brief laugh and idly rubs his thumb over Sandu’s hilt. “I thought poison might be a good option, if a little heavy-handed on the metaphor.”

“I’d be laughing,” Wei Wuxian says flatly, “if you weren’t talking about killing my little brother.”

“Am I?”

“You never stopped.”

The silhouettes of the trees start to blur in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “You left. You left, and everyone died, and somehow I was responsible for keeping our sister’s baby alive while the wolves tried to eat what remained of our sect from every direction. You left.”

“I never wanted to.”

“But you did.”

“Because I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe.”

“Because you chose strangers over family.”

“Because I didn’t see any other way to keep you safe,” Wei Wuxian hisses. Apparently they’re not so exhausted that they can’t get pissed after all. “I was hardly human anymore, Jiang Cheng. If I was going to die, then at least I’d die actually managing to save innocent people this time around and you would be safe from me.”

“I never wanted you to do that for me!”

“And I never wanted you to do that for me!”

The tension that had them both struggling to sit up straight suddenly breaks, and their backs collide again. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth against the urge to groan over the pain that ricochets through his chest and down his limbs. He hears a muffled yelp from behind him.

“You’re a damned fucking asshole and you’re my fucking brother and I hate you and don’t you ever assume you know what I need again, do you understand me,” snarls Jiang Cheng.

“You’re the damned fucking asshole and if you ever do that again then I will brand a reminder into your flesh right over the scar from the discipline whip,” Wei Wuxian snaps back, because he's never held back from fighting dirty if he thought it necessary.

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

They both stare into the dark forest, in opposite directions. It sounds like the juniors have finally picked up their tracks. Useless, the whole lot - Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hadn't exactly been subtle in stepping aside for a private conversation that inevitably escalated, how could it take the kids this long?

"Those dumbasses had better not forget that we're on a night-hunt," he says.

"Like we did?" Wei Wuxian replies.

"You started it."

"Did not."

"No, I'm not doing this with you."

"Hey, you started this one."

"Shut the fuck up."

They fall silent again. A cold breeze picks up and Jiang Cheng feels Wei Wuxian shiver, pressing back just a little more firmly against Jiang Cheng for warmth, and he...leans back too. Just a little.

"I'm still fucking pissed at you," says Wei Wuxian.

"And I've got years' worth to pay you back for," says Jiang Cheng.

"Fine."

"Sect Leader Jiang!" they hear. "Senior Wei!"

"If you don't show up for the mid-autumn festival," Jiang Cheng suddenly says, "I'll come drag you out of the Cloud Recesses by the heels."

"But the dogs - "

"Don't be an idiot. Jin Ling's dog is the only one allowed in Lotus Pier, you know that."

Well, come to think of it, Wei Wuxian probably doesn't know that, but whatever, now he does. Wei Wuxian is terrifyingly silent, but before Jiang Cheng can say something that will inevitably bring them back to throwing fists, he hears a quiet, "Yeah, okay."

"Do you think they killed each other?" they hear Lan Jingyi asking loudly. "I mean, Sandu Shengshou versus the Yiling Patriarch - who would win?"

"Don't be an idiot," retorts Jin Ling, and Wei Wuxian's body briefly shakes with a laugh. "My uncle, obviously."

"They're both your uncle, idiot!"

Jiang Cheng just sighs and lets his head fall back against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

#jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yunmeng bros #yunmeng reconciliation #through inappropriate and blunt conversation #this is not Trauma-Informed (TM)#i just wanted to vent some of my own feelings about them both #jukebox fic #mdzs

515 notes · View notes

nightshade-minho · 4 years ago

Text

-Blue Book- (11)

Warnings: anger, stress, y/n briefly wants to murder felix, a lot of negative emotions, headaches, light suggestiveness, britney spears cameo (nah just kidding- or am i)

Wc: 4.1k (finally a blue book part that’s longer than 2k)

Stop. Stop thinking about her. Stop thinking about how she’s probably out with Minho right now, having fun and laughing over inside jokes.

Sometimes he wished he could just dig into his brain and remove all traces of you. He simply couldn't think of another way to truly get rid of you, eradicate every remnant that stayed in his brain, reminding him how he’d felt back then.

Years had passed, and he still wasn't over it. There was a tiny part of him that thought maybe seeing you again would calm him down, and remind him that it wasn't a big deal. You'd changed, and he had too. It was time to get over petty high school grievances.

And yet, when he saw you with Minho again...he realized it simply wasn't possible. You were going to plague him for the rest of your life, and he knew it.

"I know pancakes are a weird choice for dinner but- Are you listening to me? Earth to Chan-"

Chan snapped back to reality, blinking as he stared at Felix, who pushed a plate of pancakes towards him, a concerned look on his face.

"I was asking you where you're staying at right now."

"Oh." Chan nodded thankfully, taking the fork and digging in. He was terribly hungry, and he'd missed Felix's cooking. His pancakes were always so soft and fluffy...a lot like him, to be honest.

To be honest, he didn't quite know yet. He hadn't left his parents on good terms, and now he found himself penniless unless he made up with them. Not one to beg, he'd decided to look around for a job. So far, he wasn’t all that successful. There was a heavy weight on his heart preventing him from truly committing to his work. He found it impossible to focus.

Felix sighed, taking a seat opposite him. " Chan...do you not have a place to stay?"

He shook his head finally, his gaze on the plate as he ate. He'd already told Felix the situation with his parents, somewhat. If his perception of Felix was right, he would be overcome with sympathy.

He was right. Felix wrung his fingers, his thoughts racing. He hated seeing the distraught expression on Chan's face. The words were on the tip of his tongue- the only thing stopping him was the thought of how you'd react.

You'd be pissed, beyond doubt.

Felix swallowed. Then again, this was his apartment. You didn't really have the right to oppose him if he wanted to let someone else stay for a bit. Besides, maybe he'd be able to talk some sense into you?

How bad could it be?

"Chan..." He began, inhaling.

"Do you want to stay here? At least until you find a place."

Chan sighed. There it was. He wasn’t surprised to find out he’d predicted correctly. Felix had been his best friend, after all. He knew him like the back of his hand. "Are you sure you...and your roommate...would be fine with it?"

"I'm positive." He lied, scratching the back of his neck as Chan groaned.

He didn't really have another choice. Psyching himself up to agree, Chan sucked in a breath and pushed away his intruding emotions.

"Sure."

***

You knocked on the door, inhaling deeply as you ran through all the different ways you were going to murder Felix in your head. You couldn’t believe it. He really had the audacity to not only invite him over, but also neglect to inform you the same.

Tapping your foot, you rubbed your forehead as the door remained closed. Sighing, you dug into your bag for your keys, procuring them after a few seconds of searching through the crumpled chewing gum packets and loose coins. You really had to clear out your bag sometime.

You entered your apartment, yawning as you shed your coat, heading to the kitchen for a drink. Your throat was dry, your head pounding with stress. Ugh, what a bad day it had been. Marginally better due to the time you’d spent with Minho- but still bad. Chan’s sudden appearance really had put a damper on everything you’d done since then.

As you reached the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks.

Fuck. You turned around immediately when you saw who was sat at the table, an empty plate in front of him as he scrolled through his phone. He hadn’t seen you standing in the doorway. Yet.

Carefully, you started padding away as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, the gods really weren’t in the mood to smile upon you today.

“Y/n?”

His voice was tired, bare of any emotion whatsoever. You twisted your neck to look at him, opening your mouth and closing it. He was staring at you, his eyes devoid of feeling, his lips pressed in a thin line. You had no clue what to say. Looking at his face again brought back memories you’d much rather forget.

“It’s...nice to see you again.” He mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you.

‘Nice’ was really not the word.

“Yeah. How have you been?” You managed to ask, swallowing the lump in your throat. He drummed his fingers on the table top as his mind searched for an appropriate response. You watched him, your heart clenching as you remembered the way his hand felt in yours.

“Fine.” He finally decided to say. “I’ve been fine, more or less.” After all, he was used to lying.

“And you? Having fun with Minho?” There was a slight bite to his voice as he uttered the words, making you raise an eyebrow. Suddenly, the anger you harbored towards him was reignited. What was he implying? It shocked you that he could talk like that, without a trace of apology in his tone. As if it was you who’d betrayed him, and not the other way around.

“For your information, yes. We’re having a lot of fun.” You snapped, turning and leaving the kitchen to go straight to your room. Just read a book, listen to some music and calm yourself down. He’ll be gone soon.

Chan watched you walk away, his hands balling into fists. So you had absolutely no remorse, whatsoever.

He bit his lip, hating the weird amalgamation of emotions that were gripping him like a vice. He’d felt envy flood him as you said it, rubbing it in his face. Shaking his head, he turned back to his phone, biting his lip.

***

You knocked on Felix's door, biting your lip in anger as you waited for him to open it. Tapping your foot, you shook your head. Why was he still here, even? He should be gone by now.

"Looking for Felix?"

You started, turning around with a glare on your face.

Shit. He was way too close to you, his face inches away from yours. All you'd have to do is lean in just the tiniest bit, and your lips would be on his...

"He went out. Errands. Won't be back till tonight."

You groaned, taking a step back as you rolled your eyes. "Okay, whatever."

Chan watched you, an amused smile making its way onto his face. He'd flustered you a little, that much was evident. He wasn't quite sure yet if that was something to be proud of...but it was the little victories that counted, right? A part of him was glad that he still managed to have some sort of effect on you, even after all these years.

"You know if it's important, you can always tell me. Is there anything I can get you?"

You scoffed, shaking your head as you backed up further, your hand on the doorknob. "This is my home." you reminded him, his incredulous sentence rubbing you the wrong way.

Chan almost felt bad for you.

Shrugging, he turned to walk away. "Not anymore."

"Huh?" His words took a while to sink into your brain, and you raised your eyebrow in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Y/n...is that any way to talk to your new roommate?"

No. No way. Felix wouldn't...

"What?!"

"Not forever." He shrugged, his hand running through his hair. "Just until I find a permanent place to stay. Until then though, I'll be here."

This couldn't be happening. The anger was increasing slowly, rage directed to your roommate as well as the man in front of you.

Chan looked back at you, sighing as he noted the upset expression growing on your face. Did you really hate him that much?

"Look. I'll stay out of your hair." He muttered, his tone clipped. "I don't think it will be that difficult for us to co-exist if we manage to be civil to each other."

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. "Sure. I don't care." You had already planned on remaining in your room for the entirety of his stay, however impractical that would be. You weren’t ready to dig up all that trauma from your teenhood just yet.

Chan gritted his teeth, his eyes searching yours as he thought of what else to say. The atmosphere was tense- too many things left unsaid, half spoken promises lingering in the air between you. It was frustrating, yet Chan held himself back. He was an adult now. There was no space for immaturity or trivial grudges in his life currently- no, he had to stay strong. With his credentials, it would be fairly easy to land a job. He just had to speed the process up, and soon enough he’d be out of this apartment.

So he took a deep breath and gave you a smile, turning around to go back to the kitchen. He prided himself in his decision, a small first step to eliminating his inability to let go.

You watched as he left, chewing on your lip. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you turned to go back into your room, grabbing your phone and dialing Felix’s number aggressively.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Um, I left to grab some groceries-”

“Did you really offer to let him stay at our place?” You asked, your tone calm as you gripped the bed sheets.

“W-well...yeah..” You heard him gulp on the line. “It’s just for a few days, Y/n, till he gets a job-”

“And do you know how long that’s going to take?” You hissed, rubbing your temple as you heard his footsteps in the kitchen.

“I...look, Y/n. You have every right to be angry. I’m sorry, I should have checked with you first before making a decision.”

“No shit.”

A sigh. “Look, I won’t be home till evening. Please um...keep it mature. Again, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, cutting the call and throwing your phone onto the mattress. It was going to be fine, as long as you stayed away. The apartment was small, so you couldn’t avoid running into him, though...whatever. It’d be fine, you’d be able to hold yourself out for a few days, if Felix was to be believed. You rubbed your forehead, groaning.

You were in dire need of a nap.

Sighing, you fell back onto the cushy pillows, curling up on the mattress. Your head was throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. You needed a glass of water, but you weren’t going to leave your room today, at least until Felix comes back.

You hated the way your heart was still pounding, your emotions a jumbled mess. It was natural, right? To be this affected? He was your first love, after all. And he’d betrayed you.

At first, you didn’t want to believe it. There was a part of you that hoped a tiny part of Chan had actually loved you, a part that hoped Minho was lying. But then you’d asked Felix about the ‘bet’, and the guilty look on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Of course it had been suspicious, the popular guy coming up to talk to you- a lonely new kid who barely anyone talked to, especially when half his friend group were cold to you. But the more time you spent with him, the more you had begun to feel like he truly did love you. Was it even possible to fake emotions as well as he had? Chan was a good actor.

After you left, Chan never acknowledged the message you’d sent him. Not at all. You’d poured your heart out, for nothing. It had been the final nail in the coffin, the final incident convincing you that he’d never truly loved you back.

You sighed and sat up to switch the lights off, flooding the room in darkness as you buried your face in the pillow. There was complete silence in the room for a few minutes, and you let out a peaceful hum, snuggling further into the blanket. Sleep was beginning to overtake you slowly, your eyes closing as you slipped further into dreamland. You slept for about an hour, untroubled.

That is, until there was a loud crash from beyond the door, forcing you to shoot up and rub your eyes, anger coursing through you. You threw the blankets off your figure, storming up to your door and flinging it open. Ugh, fuck this. Fuck staying in your room and not causing trouble. You needed an outlet for this pent up anger, or you were going to fucking lose it.

“What the fuck was that?” You called out loudly, only to be returned with complete silence. Standing in the middle of the empty living room, you furrowed your brows in confusion.

The bathroom door opened just as you were ready to turn around and head back into your room. Swiveling around, you glared at Chan as he stepped out, a rather innocent look on his face. Innocent...nothing like the fact that he was fresh out of the shower, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist.

For a minute, you were rendered dumb. Your eyes watched as his dripping wet hair trailed droplets of water down his torso, down the ridges of his abs and disappearing into the towel. You didn’t even know he looked like that underneath those clothes...

“Hey. Sorry for the noise.” Chan mumbled, pushing his hair back as he closed the door behind him. “The shower caddy fell down randomly. Don’t worry, I fixed it.”

His blank expression slowly transformed into something more devious as he shut the door. He smirked as he observed your expression, his ego boosting as he realized he was the reason you were speechless.

“I- well-” You grunted and shook your head. “You fucked up my nap. Thanks a fucking lot.” You grumbled, crossing your arms as you kept your gaze fixed on his face. “Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.” You coughed, voice slightly shaky as you desperately tried to conceal your burning cheeks,

“And...put some clothes on.” You grumbled before heading back. Before you could, though, you felt a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

Stopping yourself before you could stumble too close to him, you looked up at him angrily, yanking your wrist away. “What?” You hissed.

“You don’t look too well.” He said, lifting his hand to your forehead. Before he could press his hand to your skin though, you backed away out of his reach.

“I’m perfectly fine. It’s just a tiny headache.” You lied, your head throbbing with a migraine even as you said it.

“Hm.” Chan’s face softened a little as he sighed. “A headache? Do you need water? I have some pills that could help numb the pain.”

You shook your head vehemently. “I don’t want anything you offer me.” You tried to ignore the flash of hurt in his eyes as you said the words. No, Chan wasn’t the victim here, you were. What right did he have to display vulnerability?

“Fine.” Chan opened his mouth, looking like he had more to say. For a second, he contemplated blurting everything out then and there. He wanted you to know the pain he’d been living with through his years...he wanted you to know that despite your betrayal, you were all that was a constant in his mind. And yet, as he continued watching your icy glare, he knew you weren’t in a position to be amicable.

“Get some rest.” He muttered, anger seeping in again at your coldness, mixing with the concern that was still etched into his heart.

“That’s what I was fucking doing before you woke me up so rudely.”

Ugh. God, he really did have enough of your behavior.

“Stop being a brat, Y/n. Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean you get to be snippy with me. You have no right to be angry.”

The fuck? Oh, this entitled prick-

“I have every right to be! This is my house you just barged into, I make the rules here. So shut up and leave me alone.” You spat out, clenching your fists.

Chan felt an unknown urge creep through his being as you continued your remarks, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to calm himself down for a second. Okay, so this definitely wasn’t the sunshiney Y/n he’d once known.

“Felix asked me to stay, I didn’t barge in.. God, you really are a bitch. I’m a guest here, and yet you’re treating me like-”

That was the last straw. You inhaled deeply, feeling your headache grow worse as your anger amplified. You’d had enough. Biting your lip, you shoved past him and headed for the front door. You couldn’t be in the same space as this dickhead for a second longer.

“Where are you going?” His voice was confused, as he turned to look at you storming out in your pajamas.

“Fuck you. Away from here.” You explained, flashing him one last glare over your shoulder as you slammed the door behind you.

Chan stood in the middle of the room, letting out a deep sigh at your sudden departure.

What was he going to tell Felix? He’d promised himself that he’d keep it civil.

He seemed to be breaking a lot of promises lately...

***

You stood outside of the door, leaning against it and trying to calm down your breathing, chest heaving. Just the sight of him brought back memories you wished you could bury. How could you be expected to live in the same place as him without wanting to tear out your eyeballs?

Just when you’d thought you were finally moving on, he barreled his way back into your life. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to be mature.

You just wanted him to know you were no longer the meek little optimistic girl you once had been. Adult life has a cruel way of opening your eyes.

Rose colored lenses eventually lead to dismay and disappointment.

***

You didn’t realize you were going to Minho’s apartment until you reached his door, hand poised over the door to knock. Breathing in, you firmly rapped on the wood. A few minutes of silence passed, and you tilted your head in confusion. Minho usually answered the door right away, without too much delay.

You waited a bit before deciding to ring the doorbell, heaving a sigh of relief when the door finally opened, revealing a smiling Minho.

“Hey, thought it was you. I was in the shower.” Clearly. His hair was slightly wet and he’d clearly pulled on the first shirt he could find- unless he actually liked wearing 2009 Britney Spears t-shirts around the house.

Why was the universe chucking so many soaking wet boys at you today? At least Minho was clothed.

You chuckled as you pointed out the motif on the shirt. “’Oops I Did It Again’? Really?”

He shook his head, crossing his arms. “Hey, that music video is a masterpiece. Did you know it was released on my birthday?”

You giggled. “Of course it was.”

He smiled, before standing up straighter. “Wait, why are you here?”

You pursed your lips playfully. “Do I need a reason to visit one of my best friends?”

“Of course you don’t. We just spent time together in the afternoon, though. Is there a reason you’re back so early?” He questioned, placing a finger on his chin and pretending like he was deep in thought. “Oh, got it. You can’t get enough of me.” He said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, walking in as he stood aside to let you in. Minho’s apartment was smaller than the one you shared with Felix, but a lot more nicely decorated. You flopped down onto the sofa, sighing. “That’s not it.” You shook your head. “It’s Chan.”

“Oh. Him.” Minho cleared his throat, crossing his arms as he came to sit down next to you. “What about him?” He asked carefully.

“He’s staying with us.”

“What?” Minho wasn’t sure he’d heard right for a moment, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Yeah, Felix let him stay. Until he gets a job, apparently.” You groaned, slipping off your shoes and curling your knees up to your chest. “I can’t stand being around him. Not after what he did to me. You understand, right?”

Minho stayed silent for a few minutes, swallowing the lump in his throat as he leaned back. “Right…”

You watched Minho, frowning at his expression. “Anyway, as I said, I couldn’t stay there. Um, can I crash here for a few days? He said he’ll get a job soon and move out, so it’ll be quick.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “Oh? Yeah! You can! You can stay.” He blurted, trying not to seem too eager. His ears turned a light shade of red as he watched you nod in relief, snuggling further into the cushions. “I’ll take the couch.” You mumbled, eyes fluttering as you rubbed your forehead for the millionth time.

“No, you take my bed. I’m alright on the couch.”

You opened an eye, shaking your head. “Minho, this is your home. Unlike Chan, I’m a good house guest.”

“Yeah but... I don’t want you out here on the couch alone. This isn’t exactly a nice neighborhood.”

You sat up, sighing. “I’d feel bad stealing your bed while you sleep on this lumpy couch.”

“Aha! So you admit it’s uncomfortable! That’s it, you’re sleeping in my bed. Besides, it’s big enough for the two of us!”

Minho wished he could take it back almost as soon as he said it. “Um, I mean…”

You raised your eyebrows, shrugging. “Uh, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” You sat up, a little shakily as your head swam. “God, my head hurts.”

Minho shot up to his feet, sighing. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.” He grabbed your hand gently, taking you to his bedroom and making you sit down on the edge. You hummed in content, eyes still closed as you burrowed under the covers, snuggling into Minho’s pillows that faintly smelled of his cologne. It was comforting, and soon you found sleep overtaking you.

Minho sighed as he watched you fall asleep, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was nowhere near sleepy and had originally been planning on making some dinner before you came, but now he didn’t want to leave you alone.

Groaning, he lay down on his mattress, pulling the sheets over his body and making sure to leave a respectful amount of distance between you.

He watched you for a while, your eyelashes fluttering slightly as you slept, chest rising and falling with your breaths.

He didn’t know what he was feeling, exactly. There were strong emotions gripping his heart, most of them towards you, and yet he couldn’t act on any of them. Hell, he couldn’t even comprehend half of them.

Minho turned to face the ceiling, eyes following the tiny crack in the plaster. He couldn’t deny it any longer.

Guilt. The heavy weight sat on his heart was guilt. Thick, all consuming guilt, that threatened to swallow him whole unless he came clean.

He knew he didn’t deserve you...not just because of how he’d acted, but also because of what he was keeping from you. He didn’t deserve for you to accept his apologies, not after the way he’d treated you. Not after he’d kept the complete truth about Chan from you.

Was he being an asshole? Chan was once his friend. A close friend, one he spent every day with. And yet he’d screwed him over.

For a minute, he wondered what would happen if he told you that he’d been the one to make the bet. He’d made Chan continue with it despite his reluctance. He’d noticed Chan actually falling in love with you, and yet had brushed it over.

Would you still be beside him now if you knew?

He doesn’t want to find out. No.

There was moonlight streaming through his window, illuminating the entire room too brightly. The light, combined with the remorse, ensured a sleepless night.

He glanced at you again. At least he’d have you by his side. For now...

#chan angst #chan smut #chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #chris smut #chris angst #chris fluff #skz smut #skz angst #skz fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #minho angst #felix fluff #felix angst

343 notes · View notes

el-gilliath · 4 years ago

Text

Maybe Forever

I did two remixes this year, and for @rnmremix I took on @daughterofelros and her story Maybe Someday which is about Michael plantsitting Alex’s plants. I turned it around, and this has Alex plantsitting Michael’s plants. I angsted in this, but the ending is still happy. Happy reading!

Ao3

It takes him by surprise when he gets the question, as it’s something he never thought Michael would ever be a fan of. Not because it’s wrong, immoral, strange or anything like that. He just didn’t expect it. Because, you know, it’s... Plants. Green things with foliage and sometimes flowers in all different shapes and sizes. Michael is rough, wild curly hair, motor oil, science and sass. Plants don't seem like something he would enjoy or care about. But here he is, down in Michael’s bunker where plants really shouldn’t thrive. But they are. Thriving, that is. Growing wild and beautiful in what is seemingly organized chaos around Michael’s science equipment and feats of mechanical engineering.

“This is what you want me to watch for you? Plants?” he asks incredulously as he looks around.

“Yeah? Something wrong with plants?”

He can hear the defensiveness in Michael’s tone of voice, and he flinches minutely. “That’s not what I meant, Guerin. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you had them, especially down here.”

“There's nothing wrong with keeping plants down here you know.”

“I know that,” Alex says, his own tone becoming more defensive. “I’m surprised you have plants, I didn’t know that would interest you. That’s all.”

“I can have hobbies you know,” Michael replies, looking like he’s already regretting asking Alex to water them while he’s gone for a week.

Alex just looks at him, eyebrows lifting at the way Michael is acting, wondering if they can ever be close again without bickering. Michael seems to realize it too, as his posture relaxes with a deep sigh. He’s visibly calming himself down, and Alex can’t help but admire how easily he does it. Especially since he knows it isn’t easy at all for Michael, so used to keeping the charade that keeps him and his family safe up at all times.

“Sorry. I’m being defensive for no damn reason over here.” Michael sighs again, impossibly deeper this time. Like sighing takes deep stress away from him. Maybe it does, for all Alex knows. “My mom kept plants, and could grow them with her powers. I… I wanted to try it too.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Alex says, smiling at him. It’s tentative, but honest. Real. “And I’m sorry too, I was honestly just surprised, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it.”

“It’s okay.” Michael smiles in return. “So. You think you could be up for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll watch over them. No promises they’ll be alive when you get back though.”

“Nah, you’re Alex Manes. You can do anything.”

The smile on Alex’s face turns wry, probably a bit unsure. It’s not true, in so many ways. But he appreciates what Michael is trying to do. The confidence he’s trying to instill in the face of a task Alex has never had before. Michael knows how uneasy he is when it comes to situations like this. But he’ll power through like he always does. Especially for Michael. And it’s plants. It can’t be that hard.

-----

He quickly finds that he’s wrong. So damned wrong. He has no idea how Michael created a thriving garden in the dark bunker but it quickly becomes apparent that Alex cannot do the same thing. He can water them and trim them if needed but three days into Michael’s week away from Roswell and they’re starting to droop. Sad, missing Michael, drooping. The worst part is he knows how they feel. And his life has officially turned even weirder now that he’s sympathizing with plants. But he can’t help but feel for them, as the flowers lose a little of their shine the longer Michael is away, how the leaves aren’t quite as green. Their person isn’t there anymore. Maybe they’ve given up on Michael coming back.

Kind of like Alex has. Oh, he knows Michael is coming back to town, he’s only in Albuquerque for a week with Isobel. But as the days grow longer the plants still turn sadder.

If he can’t do this one thing for Michael, how can he ever hope to get him back. In the way he wants, in the way it matters. Back in his arms, his life, preferably one day his, or even their, house. After Maria, after Forrest, after his dad.

Realizing he wanted Michael officially back, out, proud and completely took a long time. The knowledge of it not so hard, the need and want harder. They’ve wasted time, so much damn time. And here he is, surrounded by green and yellow and blue, things so important to Michael because his mom was supposedly good at it. And Alex is having the hardest time keeping them alive and well. It’s making him feel like his dad, trapping aliens behind glass walls and torturing them for kicks.

He just wants to do this right. Then maybe, just maybe, he can find the courage within to tell Michael his hopes. But it’s not looking too good. He’s tried everything, watering, giving them lots of light, talking to them, hanging out in the bunker in case it’ll help. But so far it’s not working and the plants just droop more by the hour. Michael coming home is still three days away, they’ll end up being dead if he can’t fix this. And he fears whatever progress they’ve made will die with them.

He’s out of options though, he doesn't know what to try next. He’s not an alien, he doesn’t have powers nor gifts with anything besides guns and computers. Neither which will be handy here. He looks around desperate to find something that can help.

He doesn’t expect to spot a guitar. The same guitar he tried gifting to Michael which failed desperately. The same guitar he regifted him later, after Maria, after Forrest. When death of loved ones and broken hearts weren’t between them. When they could actually call each other friends. Regardless if that friendship was still fraught with tension, a will they or won’t they that still weighs heavily on them. Even when they try to push past it and just be.

But the guitar means much to them. Music in general means much to them. Maybe it’ll help.

He picks it up gently, taking it out of its case with great care before running his hand over it and smiles. The strings have just been changed, Michael has been taking good care of it. Something eases inside of him when he sees that, though he doesn’t quite understand why. The guitar isn’t a symbol of their relationship, Michael making sure the guitar is in tip top shape doesn’t really mean anything. It just means he likes playing. It still brings a tingle to the pit of his stomach which he crushes swiftly and surely. There’s no point in useless hope.

He brings it over to the chair by Michael’s drawing board and sits down, settling it gently on his legs and making sure no pressure is on his prosthesis as he sits with the guitar. He takes a few deep breaths before he strums. Of course the guitar is finely tuned.

He still checks everything before softly starting to play. He’s played Wonderwall a thousand times, he’s sick as hell of it but he still plays it first every time he picks up a guitar. Old habits are hard to break. He plays bits of the melody to warm up, humming alongside it as he does. Five minutes in, he’s relaxed, he’s more settled, he feels good.

He drifts from Wonderwall, eyes closing as he moves over to various songs from Breaking Benjamin, stripped down versions of My Chemical Romance, seamlessly switching to Blink 182, Placebo, Snow Patrol and The Strokes. He loses himself in A Perfect Circle, in Third Eye Blind and The Cranberries, resurfacing after he’s hit Linkin Park, Gavin Degraw, Panic! At the Disco and the odd Spice Girls song just to switch it up.

He lets the last note fall as he breathes out, smiling at the peace he feels just from the instrument in his hands, his voice slightly raspy from singing and the contentment of being wanted and free in Michael’s space. He smiles to himself, taking another deep breath as he opens his eyes again, looking at his watch to find that almost three hours has passed since he started playing. He’s not surprised though, music has always been the place he felt the most free, the most able to be himself.

He takes another deep breath, briefly closing his eyes again as he centers himself before he looks up at the plants. They look the same, but no worse either, so he figures he’s done all he can for the day. He decides to go home for the night, he’ll come back tomorrow and continue trying his best to keep them alive. He doesn’t want to fail now.

———

The shock comes when he gets down the ladder the next evening after a gruelling day at the base. He comes down expecting the plants to be their usual droopy selves but instead he finds them perked up, their foliage nice and green, the flowers shining and pretty. He almost calls out Michael’s name to check if he’s there, but he knows he’s not, having talked to him just an hour earlier. He’s still in Albuquerque, still there for a couple days with Isobel and the newly arrived Max. Just three aliens in the big city, he’d joked, Max hissing at him to keep his voice down in the background while Isobel laughed. They deserve the time away to just be siblings, after everything. But the thrill of Michael calling him still sits in his brain, making him smile.

But there’s still the mystery of the plants. Happier plants. Plants who don’t look like they’re on the brink of giving up. And the only thing he did differently was playing guitar and singing. Maybe that’s how Michael keeps them happy. He decides not to mistrust his instincts the way he usually does and after checking the soil and making sure everything else is okay he gets out the guitar again. He still starts with Wonderwall, still hates it, still can’t break the habit. But he moves along faster than yesterday, switching to other songs of Oasis, moving along to Death Cab for Cutie, The White Stripes, Stereophonics and HIM, before jumping over to Shinedown, Muse, Journey and Creed. He plays for hours like yesterday, loves every minute of it, and feels more relaxed when he opens his eyes again at the end and sees the plants visibly better in front of his eyes.

He laughs to himself, a laugh filled with more desperation and relief than he wants to admit. But it’s okay. Maybe he can do this.

———

He spends hours down in the bunker the next two days, playing everything and anything he has in his repertoire, rediscovering the love he has for the music he grew up with and feeling the thrill of just his hands, his voice and the guitar, surrounded by Michael’s space, Michael’s plants, Michael’s mechanics. He’s surrounded in every way by Michael Guerin, and his own wants, hopes and dreams for the man and what he longs for them to become. He’s spent years away from Roswell and Michael before but now, after one week of him gone, after one week of his voice in his ears as they talk and laugh on the phone until Isobel or Max drags him away, he misses him. Misses everything that they were, everything that they are, everything that they’re heading for. And Alex knows where they’re headed, now. Knows where he wants them to head.

He’s there when he hears Michael’s truck, still playing guitar, strumming along on notes shaping up to be another song, the melody forming underneath his fingers as words form in his head. He doesn’t stop playing, but instead listens as the truck stops and Michael gets out, as his heavy steps move towards the bunker and down the ladder. He opens his eyes as Michael stops, watches him with a smile forming as Michael stares at him and the plants in awe.

“Damn Alex, I’d have stayed home if I knew listening to you play was on the menu.”

Alex snorts, stopping his strumming and placing the guitar back in the case before he gets up on his feet. “It was the only thing I could think of to keep them alive. We had a few dicey days before I started playing, and apparently they liked it.”

“You’re a good player, Alex, no wonder they liked it.”

Alex smiles, taking a step closer to Michael. “Maybe. I’m just glad I got to be here, it’s been fun.”

Michael tilts his head in that inquisitive way of his, but Alex just shakes his head. His revelations and discoveries are too heavy for this moment, he’ll get to them eventually. Michael nods, understanding without needing words that this is something to be left for now. They’re good at that, easy, silent communication. Too bad they kind of suck at the harder communication, but that’s all fixable.

“Hey. Thanks for doing this.”

“Any time, Michael.” Alex looks down for a second. “I’m happy you trusted me with this.”

“I had no doubts you could do it. The doubts were all yours.”

Alex can’t deny that’s true. But here, in the bunker, surrounded by plants and Michael smiling at him in his carefree and relaxed way, Alex feels another doubt snap. And before he lets himself second guess it, he steps forward and cradles Michael’s face in his hands. He sees the look of shock, but also the hope that blooms in Michael’s eyes and pulls him softly towards him in case Michael pulls back. But he doesn’t have to worry, Michael pushes forward as easily as Alex pulls and their lips meet softly. It’s a sweet kiss, a familiar one, but no less exciting with no small amount of fireworks firing in the pit of Alex’s belly as Michael puts his arms around his waist and pulls him closer still. It’s everything Alex wanted, everything he needs, the appreciation and love for Michael flaring as their first kiss in a long time keeps on going.

It turns from sweet to needy, to wanting, to unbelievably hot quickly, but that’s always the way it is with them. They can’t help but want each other in all ways. They both break apart at the same time, moving away from the kiss but not from each other, leaning their foreheads together as they smile and laugh at each other, their happiness bubbling between them. It’s never a question if both of them want it, they already know that. Maybe this time they can have it too.

“So,” Michael says after a while. “My plants decided to try and die on you and you got them back by singing and playing to them? How’s you figure that out?”

“Well.” Alex sneaks another kiss just because he can, a thrill going through him as Michael hums in a happy tone. “I figured you sang to them. You know, since your guitar was down here.”

Michael pulls back and gives him a puzzled look. “Alex, I live in an old airstream in the middle of a junkyard. I keep it down here so it won’t be stolen.”

“Oh,” Alex says. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Michael kisses him again. “I’m glad you can afford not to.”

“Guerin-”

“No, Alex. Your life has been shitty enough, be happy you don’t have to worry about that too.”

“How about...” Alex pauses, gathering his courage. “How about you keep it at my place? It’ll be safe there too.”

“Oh yeah?” The smile Michael gives him is blinding, beautiful. Happy. “You wouldn’t mind having me in your space?”

Alex smiles in return. He leans in, kissing Michael dirty and hot, the way both of them want it. ”I definitely wouldn’t. I’ll even take the plants, if you want to.”

He smiles wider as Michael laughs, head thrown back with unruly curls bouncing as he does. They need to talk, figure them out and take it day by day. But he’s so gorgeous, and Alex wants to keep him forever. Him and the green things who are perking up even more in Michael’s presence. And here he thought they were bonding.

“The guitar first. The plants we can talk about down the line,” Michael replies when he finally stops laughing. He tilts his head forward, looking at Alex through long lashes. Alex feels the same want bubbling in his stomach as always. He wants Michael in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room. He wants him close, he wants them to be good. Together. They have a long way to go still, but it feels like a beginning. It feels like hope.

“I’d like that.”

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #rnmremix2021 #my fic #that feeling when you forget the name of your fic #and give it the incorrect title

50 notes · View notes

petri808 · 3 years ago

Text

Pranks Are So Revealing Sometimes…

@itafushiweek One bed prompt

After everything had finally settled and damages were assessed to Tokyo jujutsu high following the Kamo incident, the faculty decided it was time for a full renovation. They would fix the damaged areas but also update other undamaged parts. Including the dorms according to their teacher. The students were given a schedule of when each of their rooms would be worked on and given boxes to pack their belongings for temporary storage.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo grinned. “Shouldn’t take more than a day or two per room.”

“Yeah, okay,” Megumi stared back up at his teacher after reading the information. “But where are we supposed to sleep if our room is being renovated?”

“Oh, well since the unoccupied rooms will also be renovated during this process…” the man tapped his chin. “Got it! You bunk with Yuuji, then switch when it’s his rooms turn.”

“Cool! A sleepover!” Yuuji pumped his fists in the air. “We can hang out and watch movies and eat junk food and just crash from a food coma.”

Megumi swallowed thickly with a groan. “I’d rather you give me your credit card,” directing his comment to Gojo, “so I can get a hotel room.”

“No, can do buddy. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

Yuuji threw an arm over Megumi’s. “It’ll be fine,” his brilliant smile causing the man’s cheeks to redden. “Movies and food, we’ll have fun.”

Megumi looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ugh! Fine!”

“Good.” Gojo patted his student on the shoulder. “Now that’s settled, get packing young Megumi. Tomorrow we’ll be starting with your room.”

With Yuuji’s help, it didn’t take long for Megumi to pack up his belongings. There really wasn’t much, fitting everything into 3 medium sized boxes. Mostly clothes, some books, and minor items. He packed a bag with just enough to be displaced a couple of days, and if the renovations took longer, he could probably just borrow clothes from Yuuji. They were roughly the same size anyway. The boxes were then taken to Yuuji’s room and stacked in a corner out of the way.

But the full toll of the situation didn’t really hit Megumi until the morning of the renovations. He was awoken around 7 am by Gojo, letting him know the construction workers would be there in 15 minutes. Great. So, he dragged himself out of bed and walked into Yuuji’s room planning to get a couple more hours of sleep. It should be fine considering Yuuji rarely got up early on a day off.

The problem was— ‘Only one bed…’ Megumi groaned internally as he swiped his hand down his face. Duh! How could he have missed this detail?! And there was no way to fit a second bed in the room since they were only designed for single occupancy.

“Ugh…” Megumi shuffled back out of the room in irritation. Guess he’ll just go get breakfast and figure out what to do next!

Look, he didn’t have a problem sharing a bed with another person. It’s just sleeping on a bed instead of the hardwood floor, what’s the issue with that? If it was anyone else, Nobara, Toge, Maki, Yuta, whatever— no problem. The PROBLEM is it’s Yuuji. Maybe one of them will let him stay with them? Megumi put his head down on the kitchen table with his arms over his head in frustration. No… that would be weird to ask. Gojo already made all the arrangements between everyone, so if he suddenly had an issue with it, they might find that suspicious and he really didn’t need them asking questions, or worse teasing him about it.

He could hear it all too. What’s wrong with Yuuji? You worried something might happen? Too afraid to confront your feelings. Wink, wink. Aww that’s so cute you’re embarrassed. But Yuuji’s a good catch. Yada, Yada. Maki’s monotone, “just man up” tone was not something Megumi wanted to hear. ‘It’s just a night or two… no big deal. He’ll sleep on one side; I’ll sleep on the other. What could go wrong?’

“Morning!”

Megumi’s body immediately went stiff at the sound of Yuuji voice. Damn guy was like a cat this morning, he never heard him come in! Or did he just miss it because he was too wrapped up in his mind?

“Yeah… morning,” Megumi responded as he sat up in his chair and pretended everything was fine. “Sorry, I didn’t make coffee or anything yet.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can make breakfast. Want some?” Yuuji responded in his chipper way.

“Sure, since you’re offering.”

“I see they started working on your room. That’s what woke me up.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, That’s why I’m up too. Gojo kicked me out at 7.”

“Oh, if you were tired, you could’ve just gone back to sleep in my room.”

“Nah. I’m fine.”

“You still look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Yuuji placed a plate of food in front of his friend, then sat down across from him with his own. “So, got any plans for today?”

“Not really.”

“I was thinking of grabbing some snacks from the store for tonight.”

“Something happening tonight?”

“Movie night! Remember?”

“You were serious about that?!”

“Of course! We rarely have time to relax, so this is a perfect opportunity.”

“Well, since I’m stuck in your room… what movie are you picking?”

“You can choose. I don’t really care. How about I’m in charge of snacks and you grab the movies.”

“Fine. I’ll dig something up.”

The pair part ways for the rest of the day. Megumi felt it best to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t think about that night. So, after breakfast he got some training in with Yuta and Maki who between the two really kept him on his toes. The construction work on his room sounded a lot more extensive than Gojo had relayed based on all the noise coming from within. Someone had placed a “do not enter” sign on the door, and so when Megumi walked past it, he didn’t bother peeking. By the time he returned from shopping around 5pm, it was silent. ‘Guess they’re done for the day.’ But since the sign was still up, it wasn’t finished. ‘Ugh, it better be done by tomorrow night.’

“Hey, Megumi!”

Megumi froze in place. Damn it with Yuuji sneaking up on him! He turned around. “Yeah?”

“I got food!” Yuuji held up two plastic bags stuffed full. “Dinner, snacks, drinks. Did you grab the movies?”

Megumi pulled three DVD cases out of his shopping bag and showed it to his friend. Three movies would kill about six hours, which meant sleeping right after they were finished, equaled less dead time to worry about.

“Sweet! Let’s get started!”

The moment of dread was upon Megumi the instant he walked into Yuuji’s room and laid eyes on that single bed. And as the dorm mate puttered around oblivious to his nervousness, he just watched quietly as the man plopped the bags onto the bed and grabbed a laptop from the desk. This was it, no turning back now.

“Why are you just standing there?” Yuuji questioned with laughter in his tone and patted the bed. “Come on, before the food gets cold.”

Megumi rolled his eyes as if nothing was wrong, but his heartbeat picked up the pace with each step towards the bed. He should be happy that Yuuji was so oblivious to emotions, and yet a part of him was annoyed… maybe disappointed… Megumi quickly shut those thoughts down as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“So, just to get it out of the way. How is this gonna work? Like which side do I sleep on?” Megumi questioned.

Yuuji stopped fusing with a food container and looked over. “Oh, hmm, doesn’t matter to me. I can sleep on either side.”

Well since he was already on one side. “I’ll just take this side I’m on then.”

Yuuji gave him a thumbs up. “Pass me the first movie.”

The first movie… all the movies he’d chosen were just action types. Megumi wanted something with as little romance as possible and knew Yuuji didn’t mind action or horror. Frankly, he thought it was funny his friend still loved horror after becoming a jujutsu sorcerer. Don’t they see enough of it in real life? Between the movies and the eating, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Yuuji became so engrossed in what was on the screen, it helped his anxieties stay lowered.

Megumi had taken up a position with his back against the wall sitting upright, and legs stretched out in front of him, while Yuuji was next to him with about a foot of space between them. Mid-way through the third movie, Megumi was genuinely paying attention since he’d never seen it before, when he felt a pressure against his shoulder. His eyes flared, cheeks heated up, and adrenaline spiked his heart rate. Yuuji had fallen asleep against his shoulder. No kidding this guy could fall asleep anywhere! Versus him who was too wide awake now to even think about it.

The last thing he wanted to do was awaken the sleeping man and make things even more awkward. So, Megumi tried to gently push his friend away to simply rest against the wall. His first several tries failed, but on the fourth, success… briefly.

“Mmm,” Yuuji stirred without waking and shifted on his own to curl up in Megumi’s lap instead!

‘Fuck, my life!’ Megumi screamed in his head. Things just went from bad to a disaster!

Again, Megumi tried to shift the man away, but every time he tried Yuuji would whine.

“Stop moving…” Yuuji mumbled and wrapped his arms around Megumi’s waist, snuggling his face deeper into the man’s leg.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Megumi gritted out in a muffled anger. By now, his whole body felt like it’d been stuck in a furnace and was being roasted alive. Ugh! Yuuji had turned into a damn octopus clinging to its meal! And yet… Megumi had to admit the man was cute as he slept. Geez, he even smiled in his sleep!

Not much he could really do, Megumi exhaled in defeat. So, he did his best to turn off the laptop screen using his foot and shift it close enough to reach. He then grabbed it and placed it onto the nightstand next to the bed, leaving them in a darkened room with only the gentle breathing of Yuuji as any sound. Okay, fine! Megumi counseled himself. Just ignore the fact there’s someone attached to you and try to get some sleep. The faster he went to sleep, the faster the nightmare would end. So, he shifted his body to lie down, then turned over onto his side hoping Yuuji would also readjust.

And the man did, just not in a way Megumi wanted. Yuuji simply snuggled up to his back and weaved an arm around his torso like he was one of those giant stuffed animals you win at a fair! He pushed the arm away, but it sprang back into place.

Megumi screamed in his head. He was so tired… ‘just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it…’

The sound of birds chirping caused Megumi to rouse the next morning. Perfect, his torture was over, it was time to get up— ‘Why was the pillow so hard—’ his eyes opened in a panic as his hand felt the unmistakable sensation of muscle beneath clothing. Without moving an inch only his eyes shifted over and saw the outline of Yuuji’s body lying on his back and he was curled up against his side! ‘Oh, fuck!’

Fight or flight kicked into overdrive as Megumi sprang from the bed like a cat and bolted out of the room. Every nerve ending along his skin was on fire and his mind freaking out, praying Yuuji had slept through it all. ‘This is gonna be so awkward if— What the?!’

As soon as he made it out of the room, Megumi almost ran right smack into Gojo. The man had one hand on Megumi’s bedroom door and the other carried a cursed doll, like the one Yuuji had trained with to practice energy control. “What is that for?”

Realizing he was busted, Gojo slipped the doll behind his back. “Nothing. I was just gonna check on the progress.”

“Uh-huh…” Megumi’s eyebrow raised, instantly suspicious. “Well, let’s just check,” he opened the door himself and walked in. “What’s going on?!” He whipped around. “Are they finished?” Because his room looked exactly like he’d left it the morning before. And he meant exactly!

“Really?!” Gojo pretended to be surprised. “That was quick! Looks like you can move back in. Well, see you at breakfast.”

Gojo turned to leave but Megumi grabbed his shoulder.

“Oi! What the hell?! There was no construction was there you prick?!”

“Nonsense! They must’ve finished yesterday.”

Megumi narrowed a menacing glare at the teacher. “That damn doll was the one making all the noise, wasn’t it?”

“Um… no…”

“And you were about to plant it for a second day!”

“Of course, not! I’m just carrying it around…”

“You’re such a shit liar!”

“Careful Megumi, might wanna keep your voice down lest wake up Yuuji.”

“What do I care if he wakes up now?”

“He’ll find you missing and the bed empty and be sad.” Gojo grinned defiantly then took off in a sprint, cackling like a mad man down the hall.

Bastard pranked him! Megumi screamed as he took off after the man. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

#itafushi week #itafushi #itafushi fan fiction #itafushi fan fic #itadori yuuji #megumi fushiguro #satoru gojo #one bed prompt #fushita

53 notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

valentine’s day

warnings: cursing as per usual. also. angsty!!! blame the anon tho not me I accept zero responsibility for anything here. it’s about the GROWTH people

wordcount: 2.2k

source: @obi-kin

Rafe called Sophie at 5pm on Valentine’s Day, his tone unusually bright. Sophie had been in the architecture studio all week and they hadn’t seen each other in a few days, so he was especially eager to take her out. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was a sucker for romance. His last long-term girlfriend hadn’t really entertained it, and made fun of him often for trying too hard. While Sophie might have occasionally ribbed him for his gestures, she made a point to show him she appreciated it, which always made him more eager to please.

“Hey! Will you be ready soon? I’ll pick you up,” Rafe greeted when she answered.

“Ready?” Sophie sounded distant, with her phone on speaker lying on the desk next to her work.

“...Yes? That’s what I said, are you ready?” He cocked his head with the phone pressed to his ear, thinking he might have had bad reception.

She furrowed her brow, trying to think if she had forgotten something. She was usually meticulous about her plans, marking everything down in her calendar no matter what. “Ready for what?”

From his voice, she could tell he was becoming more and more deflated, but couldn’t quite place why.

“Soph, you’re serious?”

She wrinkled her nose a little at the question. “Yes, I’m serious. What am I missing here?”

“Ready for dinner. Downtown.” Rafe didn’t give her anything more, hoping she’d remember, hoping she didn’t completely forget something he’d been looking forward to for the past week. He ran his hand through his hair impatiently as he waited for her response.

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to remember. “Rafe, I can’t go to dinner tonight, I have to work on my project due Friday. I got caught up with helping some of my students earlier.”

To him, she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, just factual. He was silent, almost in disbelief for a moment. “Right. I forgot school comes first.”

His tone was more bitter than he intended, and she almost flinched just hearing it over the phone, her own voice growing apologetic. “Well, yeah, I have to -”

“S’whatever.” He cut her off abruptly. “I have to go. Have fun with your project.”

“Rafe...” she tried, unsuccessful as he hung up. Feeling uneasy, she briefly debated calling him back to figure out what was up, but another student knocked on the studio door and she got distracted helping them try to find spare supplies. After a while, she decided to just push it off and ignore it, chalking it up to a bad day on his end.

A few hours later, when it was nearing midnight, Rafe shot her a text - a simple ‘How much longer? I’ll come drive you home.’ He had cancelled their dinner reservation and got Mexican with the boys instead, but resisted from indulging in the drink specials, knowing he still wanted to see Sophie despite her forgetting their plans.

Still a little stung from his comments (and completely unaware of what she did), she shot back her text right away - ‘I’m fine, I’ll walk.’ She was packing up her things when he texted, planning on leaving soon anyways, but wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her after his demeanor on the phone.

Always loyal, Rafe was already waiting out front in his car when she walked out a few minutes later. She scowled at his stubbornness that rivaled hers but strolled up to the car anyways and opened the door, but didn’t get in just yet. “Are you still mad at me?”

He paused for a moment, considering his response. “I’m not really happy with you right now, no. But get in. I don’t want you walking home alone.”

She sighed but climbed in, setting her backpack at her feet, and crossed her arms across her chest with a little huff. “Look, Rafe, I don’t know what I did to make you all pissed off, but -”

Rafe leaned back and pulled out a bouquet of flowers from the backseat, setting it in her lap. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Dead silence.

Her jaw dropped and she glanced at her phone for the date, just to confirm how badly she’d screwed up. “I...fuck,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t forget. Tried giving you the benefit of the doubt, you know.” His voice softened a little but he kept his eyes trained on the road, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel.

Sophie looked like she was about to cry, shrinking back into her seat as her cheeks grew hot. “I’m so, so sorry, Rafe. I guess I thought it was next week or something. I know this was important to you.”

He exhaled at her apology, glancing over with concern when he saw her wobbling lip and teary eyes. “It’s fine, Soph, it’s nothing to cry over.”

“No, I - you’ve been so sweet, and so supportive, and I was being totally selfish,” she started rambling, reaching out for him and only stopping once he took her hand and squeezed gently. He only wanted to make her realize how he felt for a moment, not to make her truly upset.

It was like all the stress from the past week had all piled up on her at once and this was the tipping point, something she could have controlled. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. “I’m going to make it up to you. Saturday. I mean it.”

He turned to her at the stoplight and ran his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to calm her down. “What if I have homework?”

“Oh.” Sophie’s face fell. “Right, never mind -”

Rafe laughed a little, shaking his head quickly. “No, no, I’m sorry, that was mean. Saturday, then?”

“Yes.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Saturday, belated Valentine’s Day. I won’t be a terrible girlfriend.”

“You’re not a terrible girlfriend.” He hesitated before continuing, pulling up on the street outside her sorority house and turning off the car so he could walk her to the door like always. “Just, um.” After a few seconds, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me.” She reached out and took his hand again, brows knitting together in concern.

He spoke quickly, only making eye contact once he got it all out. “Sometimes I feel like second place to your schoolwork.” After a moment’s pause, he added quickly, “and it’s not a big deal, I really admire how hard you work and I know it’s important to you. But.” He shrugged. “It just felt like something I should tell you.”

“Rafe, baby...” She frowned, squeezing his hand in reassurance upon hearing his confession. “I love you so damn much, you know that?”

He nodded and leaned over to kiss her, hating the way her eyes started welling up with tears again. “I know. I love you too. We don’t have to talk about it, it doesn’t really matter.”

“It does matter.” She shook her head and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “I fucked up, and I’ve been getting way too caught up with school. That’s not fair to you.”

“I know you’re busy.” He mumbled, pressing his head into her touch. “S’okay. I’m being needy, or whatever.”

“You’re not.” She crawled over the center console without a second thought, albeit a little awkwardly, and threw her arms around him once she sat on his lap, holding him close. “That thought hasn’t occurred to me once. Ever.”

He let his head rest against her shoulder, nuzzling into her. “You’re sure? Because my ex -”

“Rafe.” She frowned as she cut him off. “I’m sure.” She told him confidently, rubbing small little circles against his back. “I’ve missed you, I’ve been way too busy. And I’m so sorry I fucked up Valentine’s Day for you, I know you’d been looking forward to it.”

He hummed in acknowledgment against her neck, relaxing more at her touch. “Do I get you the whole day Saturday?”

“The whole weekend, even.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He laughed and lifted his head, giving her a sweet kiss. “Two whole days with just you might be too much to handle.”

She blushed and poked his stomach, holding back a grin. “Stop it, you love me.”

“I do. My favorite.” He grinned and kissed her again, then nodded toward her sorority house. “Any chance I could come up with you?”

“Depends, do you want to watch Gone Girl with my roommates?”

Rafe furrowed his brow in concern. “Gone Girl? On Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes.” She nodded once. “We’ve all been single on the holiday for the last two years, it’s tradition.”

“Can’t partake in tradition if you’re locked down.” He teased. “Unfortunately the boys are home tonight too, so. Looks like we’re both going home to empty beds.”

Sophie scowled and leaned forward, bumping their noses together then resting her forehead on his. “Three more months and then we’ll have our own rooms in senior houses to have all the sleepovers we want.”

“Ah, not quite. Three more months and then you’re leaving me for a whole more three months.” Rafe corrected, resting his hands on her hips and rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs.

“Don’t remind me, that’s the worst part.” She groaned, dropping her head down to his shoulder. “I’m gonna pack you in my suitcase, you think you can make the flight in cargo?”

“Nah, you’d miss out on the clothing space.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She mumbled against his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“As comfortable as this is, can we move to the backseat if we’re stuck here for a second? I want to give you your gift.”

She lifted her head and nodded, then crawled into the backseat, Rafe laughing as he got out then slid in the back with her. Sophie grabbed her backpack from the front seat. “Wait, me first. Close your eyes. It’s not wrapped yet, because I wasn’t ready - well, um. Just close your eyes.” She tripped over her words, cheeks feeling hot again as she thought again about how poorly she handled the day.

He reached out and squeezed her shoulders quickly. “It’s alright, Soph.”

“It’s not. But just close your eyes.”

Rafe nodded dutifully and shut his eyes, holding out an expectant hand. She placed a small wooden jewelry box in it, unwrapped, with dark red felt lining and a little grid organizer inside. He opened his eyes and furrowed his brow for a moment, running his thumb over the stained wood with his engraved initials on top. “It’s a box?”

She laughed. “Open it.”

He undid the latch and grinned once he realized what it was, with one of his rings she had ‘borrowed’ nestled inside. “How’d you know I needed one of these?”

“Because you’re always putting them in terrible spots. I took that one from the cupholder in your car last week.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I made it, is it okay? Do you like it?”

“It’s awesome, Soph.” He leaned forward and kissed her quickly once he noticed her nerves. “I can’t believe you can make this kind of stuff, it’s fucking cool.”

She smiled, relaxing a little. “It’s not much, but I think it could be useful. Better than just setting your rings on your counter, anyways.”

“I love it.” He smiled back, then reached down and pulled out a gift bag from under the seat, handing it to her. “This is kind of...well, I don’t know, it’s not really a romantic gift. So maybe lower your expectations.” He warned.

Sophie raised her eyebrows, confused, until she unwrapped the gift and pulled out a big set of nice drawing markers, meant for architecture. Her meager eight pack had been steadily drying out over the semester, bought second hand from an older student, and were barely getting her by. She hadn’t realized he noticed from his time just hanging out in the studio with her.

“Wow.” She breathed out, unzipping the case and running her fingers over the markers all lined up.

“Is it okay? That’s the brand you use, right? And the colors are okay?” His eyes flitted over her face with brief concern.

She nodded quickly and set them aside, pulling him into a hug. “It’s perfect, Rafe, I don’t think you know how much I needed those.” She took a deep breath, a little shaky.

“You’re welcome, baby.” He ran his hands up and down her back, pulling her into his lap. “Hey. No crying.”

She sniffled a little, mumbling into his shirt. “M’not crying.”

“You are too, I can hear it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and she lifted her head to kiss his lips. “I don’t like it when you cry.”

“I don’t like crying when I’m with you.” She gave herself a moment to compose herself. “Thank you, Rafe, so much. You’re too good to me.”

“No such thing.” He kissed her long and slow, cupping his hand against her cheek. “I love you Soph, no matter what.”

“Love you too. I promise, I’ll make Valentine’s Day up to you this weekend. You can hold this over me forever.” She teased, tugging gently on the ends of his hair.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Forever’s a long time.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll need it if you’re gonna put up with me for that long.” She grinned and kissed him quickly, not giving him a second to think about her words before crawling off his lap and grabbing the flowers and her gift. “I love you. You’re my favorite, I mean it.”

“Mine too.” He took the hint and helped her out of the car, then walked her to the door. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

#rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe #outer banks college #college outer banks #obx fanfic #i always forget my tags lmao #also posting hella late again but whatever #i'm gonna guess this gets like. 40 notes #good thing i have almost 800 followers #ratio is a bitch man #ok stop complaining i'm fine

95 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years ago

Note

BLU M!Sniper and RED F!Sniper split roasting their lover M!Scout?

(warnings for roughness and mention of jealousy, possessiveness, etc)

He had to know it was a long shot, but there he was, giving her puppy eyes and trying his best to explain himself.

 It was a bold thing to ask. And he admitted as much, admitted that he knew she hated the guy, and besides that he didn’t know how fond she was of... well, sharing. She spent probably half the time she complained about things complaining about the guy being a bastard, and a shitty sniper overall, accusing him of being a prick and having a big head and being a coward first and foremost. But also, Scout just thought, y’know, maybe...

And she had a very confident ‘no’ locked and loaded, ready to go, but then she looked back over at him and saw those puppy eyes again, and the only word that she managed to say after a minute was a particularly grumpy “Bugger.”

And when she eventually said yes—with a few stipulations—he didn’t exactly need to know, that... some of the problem was the fact that after a few years, her frustration with the other team’s Sniper had gotten a bit... charged. In a few ways. And she made sure to stress that she wasn’t going to be the one putting in the leg work to try to convince the bastard of anything, but she would be calling the shots.

The speed at which Scout agreed to all of that made her a little concerned that she was somehow being played, still.

Then apparently he actually managed it, then they were meeting at a bar, and Scout tactfully placed himself between the two of them at that bar so they wouldn’t strangle each other before they could talk, and she knew him well enough to be able to tell that his smile was just slightly forced as he looked between them.

“Uh, so, Snipes,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, we figured the name thing might get confusing, so I’ll still be callin’ you Snipes, but, uh—“

“Mick,” the other Sniper cut in before he could keep rambling. “Just call me Mick.”

“Funny, rhymes with ‘prick’,” she quipped.

His jaw tightened. Scout fidgeted, hurried to cut in again.

“Uh, but, yeah, I couldn’t get into details much since I figured we could kinda figure that stuff out a little better once, uh... once we get there, y’know?” he trailed, glancing around their vicinity briefly, self-consciously.

“I get the gist of it,” Mick said. “Agreed enough to show up, at least.”

“Not worried we’re here to ambush and kill you?” she asked.

“Implying I’m scared of you,” he said, and her grip on her glass tightened, and she was about to say a few choice words when she felt Scout’s hand on her knee, squeezing lightly, and she just huffed, taking another drink.

“So, if you’ve got any, uh, questions—“ Scout tried.

“Here’s one,” Mick cut in. “What are we all telling our employers?”

And he was surprisingly civil after that while they talked briefly about the implications for their jobs, and came to the collective conclusion that if one of them was screwed over, they’d all be screwed over, so they didn’t particularly plan on being rats. Sniper then informed Mick about a few house rules, mainly that if Scout told him to stop or let up, he’d damn well stop and let up, and that he could get rough if Scout asked, and Scout flushed all the way up to his ears during the entirety of it but for the most part she considered this important enough to ignore him.

And then they were finishing off their drinks, and then they were heading to the motel, and then Scout was getting them a room key and left the two of them alone for a moment.

 She had Mick by the collar in a moment, yanked down to make up for the two or so inches of difference in their heights. “Alright, you listen here,” she growled, sunglasses pulled off for the moment. “I bloody well mean it when I say that I don’t want you trying to make this into a contest. He’s my boyfriend, end of story. No matter what happens, I had him first. Clear?”

“Too bad you apparently need to bring someone else in to help keep him pleased,” Mick smirked, grinning like a bastard, and the only thing she could think to do that would wipe that stupid fucking smile off his face better than a swift punch to the nose was to kiss him like she wanted to maim in the process, so that’s what she did.

When Scout came back not even five minutes later, he found them both flushed, hair a mess, looking borderline murderous. “So... we’re doin’ this?” he asked feebly, and was yanked bodily towards their room.

She found herself on top of Scout in bed, boxing him in and kissing him like the world was ending while Mick mucked around in the bathroom. She didn’t waste time before starting to pull him free of his shirt, of his belt, and wasn’t surprised to find him already half-hard by the time she got a hand into his pants to cup at him.

When she pulled away enough to try and get her own shirt off, she registered the surprise that seemed to be evident on Scout’s face, the vague confusion largely overshadowed by awe. And she took the opportunity to bend down, mouth finding the space just under his jaw, stopping there to nip and suck hard enough to make him jolt, groan, grip at her shoulders—not pushing or pulling, just holding on for dear life as she sucked a mark and finally pulled away to look down at him again.

“Mine,” was all she said, voice a growl, and he nodded vigorously, clearly already dizzied by the entirety of what was going on.

And then she heard the door to the bathroom opening, and she pulled back enough to glance back in the direction of it, and was only half-surprised to see Mick already shirtless. Still had the shades on, though.

“Be patient,” she murmured to Scout, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek to quiet the beginning of a complaint when she sat up and climbed off him, moving to her bag to get what she’d need.

And by the time she’d untangled the increasingly-familiar harness and gotten it most of the way on, she was distracted by the sound of a stifled groan. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that apparently Mick had taken over for her, and was two fingers deep and carefully spreading Scout open, quieting how loud Scout tended to get with a biting kiss.

She paused entirely to watch for a few seconds, surprised by how hot that visual was making her, sending a shiver clambering up her spine, and even slightly more surprised at how quickly he was working. Clearly he had some experience with this.

“Bring a lot of men around seedy motels?” she couldn’t help but quip, trying to distract herself from the heat thrumming through her.

Mick pulled away from the kiss to raise an eyebrow at her. That was when she noticed that apparently Scout had coaxed him out of his glasses. “Enough,” he admitted casually, tone entirely more level than it should have been given the way that, now without a kiss to distract him, Scout had needed to bite down on the meat of his own hand to keep quiet, a litany of pleased little noises pouring out of his mouth.

“I imagine this is just another Saturday for you, then,” she huffed, finally managing to get that one buckle that always stuck to cooperate with her.

“Nah,” Mick replied, glancing back down at Scout for a moment while he reached and took his by then straining dick in his hand, giving it a brief pump just to hear the way Scout’s voice cracked high for a second. “Have to admit, this one here’s been caught on my scope a few times besides just to shoot him. He’s good-looking.”

Scout looked like he very much wanted to reply to that somehow, but his first word was replaced by a choked noise as Mick twisted his wrist just so and squeezed around the head, thrusting his fingers once, hard. She caught Scout’s eye, saw the same awe on his face, like he wasn’t entirely sure this was really happening, then saw the hunger flit into his expression as she pushed the toy into place on the harness and finished tightening it. “You’re right on that,” she agreed, moving over and cupping at Scout’s cheek, feeling the heat of his face under her hand and grinning at the fact that he couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at the strap or at her face. “But if you think he looks good now, you should see him here in a few minutes.”

“Might not be that long,” Mick replied, glancing over at the attachment and pulling his fingers free, wiping off his hand.

“I’m, I’m good,” Scout agreed, nodding hard. “So, how are we gonna do this, are we—“

Mick shut him up with a pair of hands bodily flipping him over and promptly pulling him up onto his knees, and Scout’s shiver of pleasure at the manhandling was misread by Mick, who squeezed his hips comfortingly for a moment. “Me in front, yeah?” he asked Sniper, who nodded, Scout hurriedly stammering out in the affirmative as well.

And she was slowed down in her attempt to arrange everything how she pleased at the visual of Scout fumbling his way through trying to open Mick’s pants one-handed, just a little bit too pleased at the notion of sucking him off, taking him into his mouth with enthusiasm that was just a touch too much, made that jealous streak flare up for just a second, and she didn’t bother reining herself in as much as usual as she dug fingernails into his hips, pushing in.

That groan he always made at that initial push was muffled, then echoed by Mick as Scout sank further forward and apparently did something very right. She couldn’t tell as well from the angle she’d found herself in, and didn’t particularly care. She’d only care if those noises started sounding too strained.

“Pull his hair,” she suggested, pleased to find that at the very least, she got to be the most put-together. Mick glanced up, expression hazy. “He likes it.”

He did so without further commentary, threading a hand in through the longer hair up at the top of his head and tugging, using it for leverage to push him down further. Scout groaned his appreciation, a distinct flex in his back letting Sniper know he was honestly leaning in to it just as much as Mick was pulling.

Alright, she was coming around. He won. Scout was right. This was a good idea.

She didn’t bother warming him up into things, knowing that he’d sometimes complain about her going too slow when she did it on normal nights, and he’d be even more frustrated if she did now. She just started straight into rocking her hips in steady motions, knowing by then just the right rhythm to leave him breathless without making her get too out of breath. She could keep it up for a good, long time, and always ended up enraptured at the way Scout melted, arching into it and gasping and moaning and gorgeous.

This time, he was a little distracted by clearly putting a good amount of effort into sucking off the other man, but even then he was noisy, and that only made Mick buck into his mouth all the more often.

“Gorgeous thing,” Mick choked, petting through his hair for a moment before snaring it and using it to buck into his mouth with more intent than before, and Scout just moaned, tilting slightly to accommodate. “God. Like you’re bloody made for this.”

“You have no idea,” Sniper said, breath a bit hard but still even, rhythm speeding for a moment to make Scout squirm. “I go too long without doing this to him and he gets so needy. He’d probably beg, if I made him wait too long. The way he begged for this tells me that much.”

“He’s blushing,” Mick informed her with a breathless sort of chuckle, and she saw that his ears were indeed turning red. “Poor thing. Can’t even defend himself with his mouth full.”

Scout made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that might have had something to do with the little extra roll Sniper put on the end of her next thrust, but Mick raised an eyebrow, pulling him back from his hair.

“Somethin’ to say, there?” he asked, hand falling to tip Scout’s chin up, and Sniper heard the way he was panting and slowed down her thrusts, knowing how close he had to be if he was making that kind of noise on the exhale.

Scout panted for another few moments, and finally made a disgruntled noise, shifting his weight. Sniper had to move forward with him a little bit, and he choked on breath for a moment before he recovered enough to speak. “If you’re gonna fuck my mouth, do it already,” he said, voice harder than expected. “And, and you can pull my hair harder than that.”

Sniper chuckled at Mick’s expression, slightly taken aback but clearly thrilled by this turn of events. “Alright then, get back down here,” he rumbled, and Scout did with enthusiasm, and then the pace was shifting.

She waited until Mick found his rhythm before she matched it, stepping up a notch, moving in double-time with the thrusts into Scout’s mouth. The skin of their thighs slapped together and Scout made desperate little noises every few thrusts, clearly completely overwhelmed by the way he’d gone so lax she needed to hold up his hips some amount for him. She only stopped occasionally to try and catch her breath or to readjust, shifting to long, slow strokes aimed as best she could to drag mercilessly against his prostate, and Scout whined helplessly each time it happened, bucking for emphasis until she started back up into the speed she’d had before again.

Mick seemed to sense something she didn’t—probably aided by the fact that he could see Scout’s face, feel his moaning—and told Scout to stroke himself. He did, moaning kicking up in pitch with his desperation, and that pushed Mick over the edge, swearing and fucking more roughly into Scout’s mouth before he spilled with a hard shudder. Scout moaned his pleasure when he could get air, strokes slowing down as he focused on not choking, and then his mouth was freed and he was panting and groaning against Mick’s thigh, rocking more firmly back into Sniper’s thrusts.

“Gonna come for me?” Sniper crooned in the sweet, teasing voice that always made him shiver when he was like this. “C’mon, we wanna see.”

Mick hummed in the affirmative, petting through his hair. Scout’s head was tilted a bit now, and Sniper watched Mick’s thumb drawing across his bottom lip, watched Scout’s eyebrows screw together with it, eyes falling closed, and Sniper filed it away as something she should try on him later. She moved to those long, firm strokes again, and Scout choked on nothing, going tense, jerking under her.

“Gorgeous,” she praised, rocking once and twice more for good measure, and he unclenched his teeth enough to gasp at it, and then he was relaxing, breathing hard.

She pulled free slowly and carefully, and Scout’s grunt of vague discomfort was muffled, Mick having leaned down to kiss him, still dominating but considerably more gentle than before. She left them to it as she stood to unclasp the harness, a little out of breath herself.

She’d only gotten one leg free when a pair of arms snaked around her waist, a familiar nose pressed into her hair, a breathless little chuckle fanning against her overheated neck. “Hey, c’mon, what about you?” Scout mumbled, half teasing and half hopeful.

She scoffed, but it was hard to get much feeling behind it. Seeing him like that, and the way the strap pressed against her as she’d been fucking him, and how hot the whole situation was, it all added up to make her feel… well. A good bit more turned on than she’d thought she would be. “What about me?” she asked, kicking free the rest of the way and trying not to separate from him.

“I want you to like this, too,” he said, and she jumped a little at the feeling of fingers trailing at her inner thigh.

“You don’t need to do that, I’ll be—“ she started, and was cut off as her breath hitched, Scout having gotten bold enough to push his fingertips against her more firmly. Her exhale was shaky as he trailed his fingers against her, the slickness there under his callouses apparently taking both of them by surprise if Scout’s little gasp was any indication.

“Jesus,” Scout whispered, sounding a little awed, a little desperate. “C’mon, please? I can’t just leave you like this, I wanna—“

 His index and middle fingers found either side of her clit, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure, and her knees threatened to buckle for a moment. “Ngh,” was what she managed instead of a proper response, pulse hammering, and she gasped outright as Scout’s other hand rose to cup and squeeze at her breast, making her arch. “Christ, I, fine, just—“

He nosed her hair aside, pressing a kiss into her neck and kneading at her just so, his own breathing a little shaky.

“Wait,” she bit out, and he stopped, freezing in place.

That gave her time and brainpower to move, turning around and pushing him down onto the bed again, boxing him in with her legs before leaning down, kissing him absolutely silly. His noise of confusion morphed into a noise of contentment, hands finding her waist almost automatically. When she pulled away again a long moment, he was flushed and clearly a little dizzied, his lopsided smile on display. “That a yes?” he asked, hopeful.

She glanced him up and down. “Mostly I’m just surprised you’re still up for more,” she admitted. “Figured we’d put you through the paces already.”

“Nah,” he said, squeezing appreciatively for a moment. “You know I’m always up for more of whatever.”

“Even after getting fucked two ways in one go?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

“Especially,” he admitted, head turning for a moment to glance at the other man, who admittedly she’d almost forgotten about. Mick appeared to be about halfway through a cigarette, shamelessly ogling the two of them, making no attempt to cover himself up and grinning a little when she met his eyes.

Mick looked at her for a moment, then down at Scout, who she felt shift a little under her, clearly preening at the attention, at the heat there. Mick stretched his neck from one side to the other languidly and reached to tap out his cigarette before he looked back over at Sniper. “You’ve got rubbers, yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She nodded. “How about I take back and you take front this round?”

She blinked, glancing him over, then down at Scout. She was honestly a little surprised to hear they were ready to go again already, having not expected much more than that first round and maybe an attempt to crowd into one mattress if Scout was feeling particularly needy after. But then she looked at his face, and Scout seemed to be trying his hardest to give her his best puppy eyes.

“Bugger,” she sighed, and Scout grinned.

#//sniperscout #//fem!characters #//teasing #//powerplay #//begging

23 notes · View notes

thetomorrowshow · 4 years ago

Text

Slower Than Words Ch. 28

First - Previous - Next

cw: light physical violence, spiraling thoughts

They always say that time stops. The world freezes. Nothing so much as breathes when you meet their eyes. The world is dreamlike, and the two of you are the only things in it. The only life, pulled together by instantaneous love.

That wasn't what happened when Patton saw Virgil.

Instead, time seemed to skip a beat, then move even faster than before.

Several seconds were lost, and Patton stared around as the room changed. Remus’s parents were hugging the other person who entered with Virgil, who he guessed was Remus’s brother Roman. Remus was standing now, closer to the mantel on the other side of the room, and suddenly Remus’s dad wasn’t even in the room, he was outside with Roman, and Virgil was leaving too. Patton exchanged a look with Remus—he clearly recognized Virgil. He looked scared, and kept biting his lips. Patton felt fear rise, and almost stood up himself—it felt strange, to be the only thing that hadn’t moved. Like he was in the eye of a storm. It was times like these that Patton wished he could hear.

Roman was back and Remus seemed to cower away, turning his face. That didn’t hide him. Roman’s eyes landed on Patton for a moment, who waved awkwardly. A crease of confusion appeared between his eyes, barely affecting his cheery smile, then he saw Remus and his face lost all color and the smile slid from his lips.

Roman stepped forward slowly, as if time had stopped for him—and maybe it had. Patton felt afraid to breathe, afraid to disturb the almost shimmering quality of this meeting. Roman approached his brother, and Patton could certainly see the resemblance. Sure, Roman’s hair was shorter and styled, and he was clean-shaven, but the two were almost exactly the same height. Their hair color was within a shade of difference, and Roman had that same dimple that Remus did. Even their body types appeared to be modeled off each other. If Patton hadn’t known better, he would have guessed they were twins.

Roman was turned away from him, so if he said anything, Patton didn’t know. What Patton did know was that Remus said something, accompanied with a slight quirk of his mouth, then crumpled against the wall as Roman’s fist hit his face.

Patton did jump up now, and Remus’s dad ran to check on Remus while his mom held Roman back. Then Patton turned to the door and saw Virgil again, clearly saying something, eyes scrunched up as he ran his fingers along his forearm.

Virgil. He looked just like himself, but different. His hair was shorter—normal length for him, probably, just dipping into his eyes. His eyes were far more clear than Patton had ever seen them, and he was surprised to see just how sparkly they really were—almost as if rays of sun were peeking through the cloudy grey. His jeans were torn and splattered with paint, but it was probably on purpose. He was wearing a hoodie, plain black, not near as nice as the purple-patched one Patton was wearing. His cheeks were full, there was a ring on his hand, his shoes were nice.

For everything that made Virgil unrecognizable, there was something that was unmistakably him. The shadows under his eyes matched the black of his jacket. His fingers tapped lithely on his forearm, as if spelling. His stance was slouched, and the curve of his lip caught between his teeth spoke volumes about how anxious he was. He ran one hand through his hair, causing it to stick straight up and causing Patton to experience a wave of intense homesickness. This was his Virgil.

Patton was across the room in three strides that felt like only half of one, time skipping again until he found himself in front of Virgil, tripping over a bump in the carpet, quite literally falling into his arms. Virgil tensed. Patton waited.

And waited.

Wasn’t this when everything was supposed to become perfect? The moment where it all washed away, and nothing mattered except him? A shield against the outer world, safe forever in his arms.

But Patton still felt hurt. He still felt angry at his father. He still felt lost. He still felt like something inside was broken, or missing, or taken. Being with Virgil was supposed to fix everything, but nothing felt like it had changed.

Tears built up in Patton’s eyes as he let Virgil push him away. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Why wasn’t it okay yet? Why did he still feel wrong?

He loved Virgil so much. Maybe he could be not-okay. Maybe he could be not-better, with Virgil.

That sounded . . . all right. That sounded lovely, even.

Softly, Patton took Virgil’s arm, not letting him jerk away when he tried. Virgil, he traced, trying not to let the tears spill onto his cheeks. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. It’s me. It’s me. It’s Patton.

“Roman Hyrum Allred! Do not punch your brother—do not punch anyone!”

“Nah, it’s . . . it’s, uh, okay. Dad.” Remus prodded his nose gingerly. It stung, but didn’t seem to be broken. “I told him he could.”

Roman shook his hand out, pulling away from their mom. “Hey,” he said casually. “Where’ve you been?”

Remus let his dad help him up. “Around,” he answered, just as casually. He didn’t really feel like baring his soul at the moment.

“Remus, are you all right?” his dad asked quietly, checking out his face with concern. It must’ve looked pretty bad. Still, Remus waved him off.

“Yeah. Just glad he remembered the three R’s.”

Across from him, Roman smiled sheepishly. “I kept my promise.” He laughed slightly, then let the smile fade. “Why are you here?” This was sort of what Remus had been afraid of. He didn’t exactly feel welcome, but to have it spelled out like that sucked. His family had grown up without him. Roman looked so old, No longer the little middle-school kid in the front row of the choir concert. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it—he’d accepted long ago that he’d lost them, probably forever. Now, though, it really hit home. Remus hadn’t just lost them. He’d lost an entire life, one that he wasn’t sure he could ever get back.

Even now, surrounded by his family, he felt like a stranger. The house was the same house, these were the same people, but he no longer belonged to them. It felt fake. Nothing like how he’d imagined a reunion to be.

Remus wondered if he could pass off the tears as a result of the burning in his nose.

“I, uh,” Remus cleared his throat. “I got lost. And trapped.” He held Roman’s gaze. There was nothing familiar in those eyes. “I tell ya, all I’ve wanted for years was to come back.”

“So why didn’t you?” Roman asked. He didn’t waver, didn’t even blink, his expression more solemn than Remus had ever seen on a thirteen year old--because he wasn’t thirteen. He was a whole adult.

“It’s not that simple—” Remus started, but Roman cut him off.

“Yes it is.” His tone brokered no argument, and Remus watched the openness in his eyes shutter closed. “It is that simple. All you have to do is tell me where you were and why you couldn’t come back. That’s all I need. Then I’ll forgive you.”

Remus balked. He wasn’t here for forgiveness—except he was, sort of. He wanted to make up for leaving them, he wanted to tell them everything that had kept him from returning home, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he sit them down and calmly explain that he got caught up in a cult that brainwashed him to the point of rewriting and erasing old memories? How could he tell them that he only barely escaped with his life, then struggled to even remember their names?

“I can’t,” he muttered. Roman turned away. “Of course,” Roman said tiredly. “Like always. Virgil, would you—?” he fell silent. Roman’s arms fell to his sides as he stared at something. Remus leaned to the side, trying to see what it was.

Remus had seen Virgil when he’d walked in, but had completely ignored him. It was absurd for him to be here—what were the odds that Virgil would be kidnapped by a cult Remus was in, and also know Roman, halfway across the country? Remus would have written it off as a hallucination if Patton hadn’t also seen him. So instead, he decided to focus on more tangible things, like his college-age brother and his unfamiliar eyes.

Now Virgil had fallen to his knees, his mouth an ‘o’, choking on tears. In his arms was Patton, also bawling his eyes out. They were holding onto each other so tightly Remus could see Virgil’s knuckles turning white, bunched up in Pat’s hoodie. Honestly? Remus wasn’t surprised. Other than, of course, the ongoing shock that Virgil was even here.

This was the weirdest day ever, and coming from a man who had lived in a cult for about a decade? That was saying something.

Roman crouched beside the two, laying his hand on Patton’s back. “You must be Patton,” he said kindly. “It’s so good to meet you.”

Okay, now Remus was crying. When had his brother graduated from the shrimpy little eighth grader who was constantly picking fights to a smiling young man who would comfort people he hardly knew? Not for the first time (and certainly not for the last), Remus wished he’d never left.

Virgil laughed wetly, briefly letting go of Patton to lightly smack Roman’s arm. “He can’t hear, moron,” he croaked.

Remus left before he could see any more, stumbling a bit in the doorway of the kitchen. This wasn’t really his moment. This wasn’t his moment, or home, or life. This all felt so . . . weird. So . . . out of place.

Roman seemed happy, at least. Better than he’d been before he left. Remus couldn’t believe he’d remembered, and kept that promise all those years.

“You gotta stop fighting everyone.”

“You’re not my dad!”

The kid turned away, tension in every line of his body. Remus rolled his eyes. “So?” he said, shutting his bedroom door. “Stop acting out. It’s embarrassing.”

Roman laughed bitterly. “For who? You?”

“Yeah, maybe!”

Roman turned back. Tears were dripping from the corners of his eyes. “Well, maybe I don’t want to be good at school! That’s all you all want from me, isn’t it? You don’t actually care about me!”

If Remus knew anything, that was teenage angst. Roman was barely thirteen, why did he have so much already?

“I never said you had to be good at school,” Remus replied, gesturing to the bed. Roman didn’t sit down. “I just said you need to stop fighting. School blows. I don’t care if you get good grades or whatever. But it’s even worse without friends, and y’aren’t gonna have any of those if you don’t stop throwing hands and start shaking hands.”

“But I want to hit things!” To prove his point, the kid stomped hard enough that the bed shook.

“Okay, how about this?” Remus took a step closer, spreading his arms wide. “You’re mad? Hit me. You can take it out on me because I’m your brother. You can lose friends. You can’t lose me. We’re stuck together.”

Roman bit his lip and looked away. Remus waited patiently. After clearly thinking it over for a few moments, Roman turned back. His eyes were squinted, but trusting.

“Promise?”

“‘Course I do.”

“But what if there’s someone else who really needs to be punched?”

Remus burst out laughing. “Like who?”

Roman shrugged, his foot tracing a circle on the floor. “I dunno. Some people just need it, y’know?”

Remus considered it, still chuckling. Some people did need it. “All right, people who deserve it. Maybe. . . .” he paused, then it came to him. “Three groups of people, okay?”

Roman nodded, grinning.

“The three R’s,” Remus said, counting them off on his fingers. “Racists, rapists, and Remus. That’s who you can punch, and that's it. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Then Roman’s fist collided with his stomach and Remus ducked away, laughing.

Well, Roman had kept his promise. Remus hadn’t kept his own.

“Son? Do you need anything?”

Remus stared out the kitchen window, trying to avoid looking at the all-new tiling, or his mother, or back at the living room. “N-no,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m good. Thanks, Mom.”

Virgil’s brain wouldn’t shut up. It kept accusing Patton of being a hallucination, or telling him he was back in the room, or insisting that this was just a dream.

Virgil ignored it. Even if this wasn’t real, it was everything he wanted.

It was night now, but his mind hadn’t stopped racing. Just this morning he’d been running to English to turn in a paper before the professor’s office closed, and now he was in bed with the love of—with Patton wrapped around him. Virgil had no clue what time it was. He didn’t want to move to tap his phone and jostle Patton. Still, it was probably late enough that everyone else was asleep.

Patton wasn’t. He was laying very still, his head pressed against Virgil’s chest, but he was definitely not asleep. His breathing was too loud, and his body too stiff.

The first thing Roman had done was call Virgil’s therapist to gloat or something. Virgil had begged him not too, but a Roman with a purpose was unstoppable. So now Virgil had no therapist because Roman got caught up in the moment and fired her.

Throughout all that, Virgil never let go of Patton. He knew his way around the Allred household better than Patton did, but let him guide anyway. They even held hands during dinner, making it awkward to use silverware, but Virgil wouldn’t have it any other way.

It hit him again just how impossible this was. That Patton was here.

Remus had told a very long story about it, but one that was definitely censored. He hadn’t talked much at all about his own time in the cult, which Virgil was very curious about. He hadn’t recognized him until he mentioned rescuing Virgil.

Remus had put all the pieces together, in a way. He was the connection, the one who knew everybody in the story. It felt crazy—the same man who dragged him from the cult was the same man who was friends with Patton’s dad and was the same man who was his roommate’s long lost brother. No, it didn’t just feel crazy. It was absolutely insane.

Patton shifted, drawing his leg down from where it was draped over Virgil’s. Then he snuffled, reached out, and clicked on a light. He lay half on top of Virgil, so that they were chest to chest, his legs on the other side of the bed, his hands resting on Virgil’s head and face.

Virgil lay still as Patton traced a hand over his face. The room was silent and Virgil didn’t dare break it. His eyelashes fluttered as Patton smoothed down his brows with both thumbs in gentle, rubbing motions. He’d already done this to Patton several times today, so he figured it was only fair that he let Patton do what he needed to.

Virgil’s heart seemed to shake in his chest. He still felt not-quite-right. Maybe he didn’t believe this was real, or the despair of losing Patton was still too fresh to have him back already. Somehow, though, he knew that Patton would be able to fill the cracks. The parts of him that felt not-Virgil could be Patton. Without even conscious thought, Virgil’s hands moved in the signs he’d practiced over and over and over.

“I love you.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. Patton’s hands left from where they were combing his hair out of his eyes. Virgil didn’t feel worried. Well, for a second he did. For a brief second, his stomach dropped and the world ended. Then Patton spoke.

“I love you.”

Virgil froze. That—that was—Patton—?

It sounded just like him. It sounded like his quiet, wheezing laugh, that got higher in pitch instead of louder. It sounded exactly the way his hands felt, rubbing up and down his back during a night-long hug. It sounded like how his smile felt under Virgil’s fingers, the way one side was higher than the other and his lips were slightly cracked in the middle. It sounded like Patton.

Slowly, almost as if scared, Patton’s hands returned to his face, cupping his cheeks tenderly.

Virgil did the same, one hand buried in his hair, the thumb of his other hand pressed into Patton’s cheek while his fingers curled near his ear.

As if unsure, Patton came carefully closer, Virgil’s hand putting light pressure on his head to tilt it down.

The room was quiet, nothing but their steady breathing breaking the silence. The darkness that was all that Virgil could see somehow no longer felt oppressive, more . . . unexplored. Full of everything, all the disappointments and happiness and anxiety and hurt and new and love.

Cracked in the middle, Patton’s lips pressed gently against his, barely moving at all. His hands tensed, but remained gentle on Virgil’s cheeks. Virgil reciprocated softly, letting Patton lead. The tip of Patton's nose brushed against his, feather light. Slowly, and with a very soft kissing noise, Patton pulled away, drawing Virgil's chin up with him.

Virgil’s hand on Patton's cheek traveled down to his mouth, tracing that smile that was higher on one side.

Then he pulled him back down.

~ Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck @larkiaquail @anteonnix @fantasticfander21

101 notes · View notes

yayteaberry · 3 years ago

Text

*SFW* Sunflower (Momo)

In retrospect, you may have had a crush on Momo from the moment you officially met her. That would’ve been your third year of school, when you came to Japan.

You were born in America but the hero programs in any state didn’t compare to UA, so your parents moved to Sakai to pursue your education in the hopes that it’d give you an edge. And that’s how you met Momo, instantly making friends with her as she seemed like she needed one.

Naturally you’ve always been extroverted, Momo being a more reclusive child meant that it was a perfect contrast of excitability to her peacefulness.

For some reason you were enamored with her, you’d follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked it of you. A strong bond formed that way, that promise to be there for each other goes both ways. Honestly you might be in love with her at this point.

It’d be difficult to say you weren’t, everything she did seemed perfect to you. She’s incredibly smart, adorable near constantly, admirable in her goals, there isn’t a thing you would change even if you could.

Today has gone the usual pace, extremely boring until combat training, and extremely boring after. Taking English seems a little unnecessary to you right now, but you do understand that a large part of marketing depends on western audiences since they’re the ones who tend to go overboard on obsessing over such things.

All in all, you find it worth it since Momo loves the current unit studying the Shakespeare play ‘romeo and juliet’.

“It’s just so romantic!”, Momo gushes before taking a sip of tea, “I can’t stop thinking about that quote, ‘A rose by any name would smell as sweet’.”

You nod, “It really is.”

The both of you are relaxing in the dorms common room, idly watching a show you’ve never seen before on TV. She’s sat next to you on the couch, legs crossed with her plate for her cup resting on her upper thigh, you sitting as unladylike as humanly possible per the usual.

“Roses are romantic in general, I’d hope to encapsulate their atmosphere of love and dedication. Maybe someday I’ll remind someone of one.”, she says wistfully.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “Well you’ve never reminded me of one, I think they’re overrated. You remind me of a sunflower.”

“Is that a crack at my height?”, she quips dryly, putting her cup down with a quiet ‘clink’.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m an inch taller for one,”, you say passively as you sit up, invested in the fight scene playing out, “and for two it’s because of who you are as a person. They’re tall, sure, but nobody really thinks of that first when they think of one.”

“Well what do they think of?” She asks curiously, more focused on you than the TV.

“Warmth. Comfort. Strength. A rose is delicate, they need a specific type of dirt, a specific allotment of water per day or they’ll wilt and die. Sunflowers are resilient and function with anything thrown their way. They root themselves in rocky soil, they withstand hostile wind, it’s common for them to be the only sunflower in that particular spot despite all those aesthetic pictures of ‘em in fields.” You aren’t thinking about what you’re saying, just letting it all flow freely without the usual censoring you do. “They’re a beautiful flower no matter what, but they handle themselves with a composition that roses couldn’t ever hope to achieve. When I think of a rose I think of a borderline sickly and needy little thing, when I think of a sunflower I think of tenacity and adaptability.”

Too absorbed into the show, you don’t see the pink across the bridge of her nose or the way her eyes are wide open, unsure of how she should respond, so she doesn’t. You barely remember you’ve said anything at all, time passing smoothly for you.

Though you lose interest once all the action is over, turning to see what Momo is up to since she’s been quiet for a while. Like she usually does when lost in thought, she’s got her eyebrows knitted together as she stares a hole into the carpet, drumming her fingers along her cup.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”, you ask as you scoot closer to her, breaking her out of her mental labyrinth.

She blinks a few times and offers an odd laugh, “O-Oh! Nothing, just… Nothing! It’s nothing.”

“Okay?”, you say with a drawn out O, “You absolutely sure it’s nothing?”

With a nod she stands, dropping the cup's plate onto the floor. She swipes it up before you can even bend over for it, hurriedly shuffling off towards the dorm kitchen without another word.

You just sit in place, seriously confused over the abnormal behavior.

… Did what’s playing on TV bother her? Sometimes she thinks about the logistics of certain things too hard but there’s nothing that happened that should upset her like that.

After a solid ten minutes passes and she doesn’t return, you follow her into the kitchen to see if she’s still there.

She is, just as you suspected, leaning against the counter with a hand at the side of her face as she’s gotten lost in thought again.

"Hey?", you say to announce your presence, which doesn't work to get her attention so you stand beside her and give a concerned hum, "Momo?"

That works well enough, her jumping slightly. "Y-yes?"

"Are you okay? You're not usually like this, what's wrong?", worrying for her well-being leaks into your words, tone drenched with it.

"... It's just...", she pauses to give a frustrated grunt at her inability to express herself how she internally wants, "Just, I can't stop thinking about what you said."

Your heart sinks into your stomach at that, what did you say to her!?

"I guess I didn't see how much I feared that I was fragile, I tend to stiffen up sometimes and I'm more sheltered than others because of my well off background. It means a lot that you said what you did, validates me more than I thought I needed." She smiles and sighs, "More so, I don't understand why it's making me react like this." It's now that you notice how her cheeks are tinted pink, her awkward posture adding to her cute appearance.

"Huh, I'm glad I could help you feel better then.", you say as you force your eyes off of her and onto the coffee pot across the room.

"Hearing that was nearly hypnotizing, I couldn't stop staring at you!", she giggles as she speaks, "It's like that made me fall in love with you even more!" At first you were going to laugh with her but that second sentence has you frozen, sight locked onto her as you turn bright red.

She meets your eyes and neither of you can do anything now, locked into a standstill as her words hang in the air. You're looping it over and over in your head already, only able to remember bits and pieces of what you'd said to her earlier despite how desperately you're tugging at your memory.

Does... She feels the same..?

You open your mouth to speak but only huff with a nervous chuckle, rubbing at the back of your neck as your brain turns to mush. A second attempt proves just as successful, until you decide to just go for it. Fuck it, you've been holding back on this for years now.

"Momo," you say tenderly as you take both of her hands into yours, "I think... N-No, it's definite, I know that how I feel about you is concrete."

Her eyes glance down to your lips briefly, tempting you to do the same, finding that it makes you light headed to indulge in thinking about how plush her lips are. She takes care of herself extremely well, her skin is always so ungodly soft and you know those lips have to be the same, it's a guilty pleasure of yours to daydream about what it'd be like.

Here's your chance.

Taking the lead, you lean in close with hesitance, gauging her reaction. Like a deer in headlights she stands in place, though when you stop moving you notice that she'd been leaning in too. Your heart feels like it might pop from the tension, her hands squeezing yours in anticipation.

"Heya, kero.", chirps Tsuyu as she wanders into the kitchen innocently, not noticing the moment she was now a part of because she's making a line straight for the fridge, unaware of the position you're in.

Just as your lips brush against hers you recoil to turn towards your friend, letting go of Momo as you turn tomato red, ears burning with embarrassment.

"Hi!", you nearly shout back with way too much volume, smiling tensely, taking a step away from Momo.

Tsuyu grabs a can of soda and closes the fridge, opening it as she looks directly at you both. "... Is everything okay here?"

"Yes! Perfect! Couldn't be better!", you nearly cut her off with your over-enthusiastic response. You go to spare Momo a glance only to watch as she flees the scene, making you jealous and lonely at the same time.

Tsuyu hums sarcastically, “Sure. Better go say something to her before the moment passes.”

“What moment?” Even you have to admit that you’re a terrible liar.

She rolls her eyes as she pops the tab on her can, calmly walking towards the common room.

You give yourself a second to panic before you lightly jog towards the girls wing, knowing she’s likely smothering herself in her bed right now.

When you get to her door, you find yourself hesitating.

She’s your best friend! You can totally talk to her about this!

… Except that you just confirmed your feelings for her, something you’ve never talked about in any way.

Neither of you have ever discussed having a crush with one another, it just didn’t happen intense enough to merit a conversation. You make a jokes about how you’re likely a lesbian, does that count?

Ah why is this so difficult! She was about to kiss you, she feels the same way you do! Unless she didn’t… Oh god what if she wasn’t doing anything because she wasn’t into it. Oh god! How can you ever be near her again if she actually did mean that comment as a joke?

Is that why she ran off? Does she need time alone? Would you be intruding? Is this crossing a line?

In the middle of your anxiety digging a hole into your brain, her door opens, snapping you out of it.

There she stands, as pink as ever, fidgeting with her hands as she keeps her sight firmly on the floor. You try to say something but your words catch in your throat, rendering both of you useless for the moment.

“I-I think I’m in love with you!”, in blurt-mode you say that at an unacceptable volume for such a phrase, hands balled at your sides to help you force it out. “No one compares to you in my life, t-there’s never been anyone like you that I’ve even heard about! And, and I just, god, Momo I wanna kiss you so bad it’s stupid,”

Like a caveman pouring her heart out, you put it all on the table, awaiting the response of the potential love of your life. She’s not fragile physically but emotionally she really can be, for a moment you contemplate whether you ruined everything by being so upfront.

Though it’s all dismissed when she surprises you by closing the gap and kissing you, grabbing at your forearms to keep balance. Your eyes are wide, secretly enthralled by how determined her expression is, her eyes tightly closed.

When she pulls away you follow closely to give her one of your own, face aching from the continual blushing you’ve done for the last ten minutes. She doesn’t stop you, soft hands cradling your jaw as you wrap your arms around her, her knees going weak prompting you to take a few steps into her room to keep her standing.

This time you allow her to pull away, heart once again dropping to see that she’s on the verge of tears. “Are you okay?”, you ask as you loosely let go, not moving any.

“Y-Yeah! I um…”, she clears her throat, blinking away at the water blurring her sight, “For so long I’ve been so scared you didn’t feel the same, a-and I got scared I was projecting onto you. But, this is happening, and… It feels really good…”

You’re moved by that, sniffling with a wide smile. “Jeeze, and here I was thinking the exact same thing. Kinda dumb of us both, huh?”

From the doorway Mina laughs, “We’re lesbians, I think it comes with the territory to be stupid.”

“God damn, is every girl here gay? My gay-dar doesn’t work at all.”, you ask yourself with a huff, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

Momo shoves her face into your shoulder and mumbles to herself, “Why can’t we just be alone…”

“Wait! How long have you been there!”, you ask with confusion, turning to look towards your pink friend.

“Like two seconds, I just sensed something happening when I heard yelling and had to come see! I’m so glad you two talked things out, it was so intense waiting for this.”, she says with the usual excitement reserved for a reality show.

“Are - were we that obvious?” Incredulous, you raise your eyebrows as you sift over what this all must’ve looked like from a distance.

“Mhm”, she takes her cellphone out as she talks, “I thought you guys were already dating until I found out you weren’t! Everyone is gonna be psyched!”

“Everyone!?”, both you and Momo exclaim, filled with dread at the prospect of becoming a piece of gossip to be spread around. Well, spread around for the second time apparently.

#momo yaoyozoru #momo #momo x reader #mha fluff #fluff #female reader #AFAB reader #sfw #a03 fic

20 notes · View notes

imnotusedtobeingloved · 4 years ago

Text

THE COOLER

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Characters: Zuko, Sokka, Suki, Hakoda, Chit Sang.

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part eight of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! It’s part eight already! Please tell me your opinion in the comments.

“I need backup over here!” The voices were muffled by the thick metal door of your cell. The walls were covered in ice, as was the floor and the ceiling. You had no idea how much time exactly passed, since you’d been thrown in here. A day? Maybe two? No idea. The only apparent thing was that it seemed to get colder by the second. The temperature was picking and biting at your skin, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. Protected by your inner fire and a mere pair of linen clothes, there wasn’t much you could do to escape. Only hope was left, praying that either Zuko or Sokka would find you.

“No firebending! Into the cooler!” You heard from the halls. The guards had managed it once again. Riling an inmate up to the point where they were forced to use fire, only for the pleasure to stuff them into a cooler seconds later. It was sick. “But... but there are no free coolers left!” You breathed deeply, rearranging your naked feet on the hard ice. “Just stick them together in a cell!” The man from outside barked, before the door of your cooler was opened and a familiar figure was thrown in, before it got closed again.

“Zu... Zuko?” You stuttered, worn out from hours of fighting the cold. His eyes widened as he took you in, limbs barely held warm by your inner flame. “Y/N...,” He grabbed your arm. “There you are. You’re getting cold,” You gave him a short nod, almost whining as he took his warm hand away. “I tried to keep warm as long as possible, but I’m so exhausted,” You rambled, until he softly shushed you. “Come here,” He moved to put an arm around you, but you pushed back slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up. What’s it look like?” You were still reluctant to let him close, but to be honest, you’d been shivering for forever and it was better to take a little warmth than to freeze. So the next time he tried to draw you in, you didn’t resist. Your body burned where it touched his, as if Zuko’s hands left hot fingerprints on your skin.

“Sokka has a plan to get us out of here,” By now you were halfway on his lap, not willing to let go of the newfound source of heat. It was strange to be so close to him again. But the good kind of strange. “What did he come up with?” Your body relaxed in his grasp, while he explained the plan the group had agreed on, as well as who would be taking part. You were glad to hear that Suki had showed up, knowing how much Sokka had missed her. He’d told you about her countless times. Once you were warmed up enough to move your limbs again, the both of you worked together to loosen the cooler from it’s frame, getting back into sitting position once you’d removed all bolts and screws.

Silence followed the quest, but to your surprise, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. “How did you even end up in here?” Your skin tingled where your arms and tighs touched as you sat next to each other. “That’s a long story,” You answered, as you leaned your head against his shoulder. Your mind was running with different thoughts, fighting a battle on it’s own and contemplating if what you were doing right now really was a good idea.

But Zuko put his arm around you once more. Lost in your own head before, you hadn’t even realized how close you were. “Y/N?” You hummed, nose almost touching his as you stared into his amber eyes. “You know that i love you, right?” His voice had dropped to a soft murmur, almost sounding hoarse. Your breath got caught in your throat, as you could see your own reflection in his orbs. They were burning into your own, hot with affection and full of emotions. There was no denying that Zuko had a raw, natural beauty to him, that could not be undone. Not even by the scar, framing his eye. “I know...” You whispered, sight briefly dropping to his lips, mere inches from your own, before shooting up again. His mouth parted slightly, as he leaned closer. So close that you could already feel his hot breath on your own, eager to taste his lips on yours again.

And then the door of the cooler opened, leading the two of you to drift apart in a flash. Tough Sokka didn’t seem to sense the tension in the atmosphere when he stepped in. “I can take the two of you back to your cell if you’ve learned your lesson,” He said, winking at you, relieved that Zuko and you had landed in the same cell. Zuko shot you a look that you avoided with ease, before he caught himself, releasing a firey breath and revealing all the bolts and screws. “Yes, I have ... completely.” He answered with a smirk. The prince came off completely unbothered by what had almost happened just seconds before. Unlike you. But luckily the non-bender was far too occupied by the escape plan to notice. He lifted his visor, whispering quitely. “I got Suki and Chit Sang out of their cells a few minutes ago. They’ll be waiting for us at the shore,”

Suddenly you sensed a sound from the hall, reacting quickly and pulling Sokka inside. “Someone’s coming!” You explained, closing the door behind him. The voices remained a mumble, until they turned into your passage. “Yeah, new arrivals coming in at dawn,” A male tone reached your ears first, before a female one followed. “Anybody interesting?” She asked. “Nah, just the usual. Some robbers, a couple traitors, some war prisoners, though I did hear there might be a pirate,” You could see Sokka’s worried glance out of the corner of your eye, as you conrinued to listen in on the conversation. “No fooling!” The female guard exclaimed, before their voices faded into nothing once more. “War prisoners. It could be your father,”

“I know,” Sokka said, trailing off. “Well, what should we do? Are we going ahead with the plan or are we waiting another night?” The prince asked the right question, but the Water Tribe boy was clearly in over his head at this point. “I don’t know! Is it right for me to risk Suki’s freedom, all of our freedom on the slim chance that my dad is gonna show up?” You and Zuko shared a brief look. “It’s your call, Sokka,” You inclined softly.

And by night the descision was made. Suki and Chit Sang were already waiting outside the prison, as you, Zuko and Sokka rolled the detached cooler down the hill. The both of them moved to help, before the man spoke up. “Took you guys long enough. This here’s my girl and my best buddy, they’re coming too,” You sighed as he pointed to a male sitting on a rock, as well as a waving woman. Now there were even more people you had to transport, which meant there was an even higher risk to get caught. “Fine. Everybody in the cooler. Let’s go,” Sokka decided. The group proceeded to move the cooler into the water, as he lifted a rock to hide his Water Tribe outfit.

“Are you sure you wanna go? You’re the one who said you wanted to redeem yourself. Redeem your honor. Rescuing your dad is your chance,” Zuko questioned, leaving the boy a last chance to go back. “Your dad” Suki asked, approaching the three of you. You tried to explain the situation to her, while Sokka and Zuko had another discussion about the possibility of his father coming in. “Hey, if you four are done cuddling, can we get a move on” Chit Sang eventually interrupted, earning a glare from you. You could understand how difficult this descision was for your friend. His failure layed heavy on his shoulders, and it was something that had come up multiple times. You remembered all the quiet moments at night when he couldn’t sleep, needing to be reassured again and again.

“No. I’m staying. You guys go,” His gaze wandered to Suki. “You’ve been here long enough,” But the girl shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you, Sokka,” Zuko agreed. “I’m staying, too,” And so did you. “So am i,”

“Not me, I’m out. Let’s roll, baby,” Chit Sang exclaimed, pushing the cooler into the lake and jumping in. You could see Sokka’s hope weavering as he watched them leave. “We gave up our only chance of escaping. I hope we haven’t just made a huge mistake,” You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. “Come on, Sokka. Let’s go back,” Morning was arriving by now and the four of you begann climbing back up at the outside of the prison wall as the screams of the guards alerted everyone.

“The plan failed! They’re caught!” Sokka said, eyes widening. “This is a lockdown! We have new prisoners arriving! Everything must be completely secure!” You heard from above, watching the disaster unfold. A male guard fired a large ballista bolt, catching hold of the cooler and dragging it back towardsthe shore. “The gondola’s moving,” Sokka pointed towards the approaching gondola. “This is it. If my dad’s not there, we’ve risked everything for nothing,” You’d made it to the yard when it arrived, staring for it’s door to open. “We had to,” Suki assured him, holding his hand. “Come on, come on ...,” You could feel Zuko moving closer to you, as he watched the people coming out. “Is that him?” He asked, as a large man with a tattoo and a nose ring stepped forward. “My dad doesn’t have a nose ring. Where is he?” A ton of men left the gondola, but the right one didn’t seem to be there. “That’s it? That can’t be it,”

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Suki spoke softly, trying to give him some comfort. “Oh, no,” Sokka mumbled, afraid he’d made the wrong choice once more. “Hey, you! Get off the gondola!” But then, Hakoda stepped out. “Dad...,” You heard Sokka whisper in front of you and a smile spread out on your face. He’d made the right call after all.

tags: @zvkonation @viva-la-millennia @randomness501 @drheinzd @kaylove12 @duh-dobrik @yeetscreetiwannaeat @ashnkamfeun @hailkyoshi @shortmexicangirl @animexholic @sorrythatspussynal @mochminnie @ninadewitt

#avatar imagine #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko fanfic #avatar the last airbender

80 notes · View notes

sailorsero · 4 years ago

Text

you know i’m stupid for you 1/?

author: claire (@sailorsero) ship: adult kaminari denki x reader prompt/genre: band/musician!au/poppunk!denki wordcount: 1483 warnings: swearing (for the moment, this is all) a/n: • written for the BNHarem Making Beautiful Music Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • thank you to @unbreakablekiribaku for the header! • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘stupid for you’ by waterparks

you know i’m stupid for you part one

***

RIOT! PRESENTS: DYNAMIGHT - A ROTATING HEADLINE TOUR Combining forces for the second annual Riot! Radio/Magazine empire tour are punk pop staples Chargebolt, indie rockers Plus Ultra! and newcomers Rolling Thunder, fresh off the release of their debut album, ‘Revelry in the Dark’. The tour format of a different running order each night, the mix of genres and an abundance of talent promises a sick show you won’t want to miss! The tour starts tomorrow night in Fukuoka, ending in Sapporo at the end of the month. Tickets | Details

Day 1: Fukuoka

***

The past 24 hours had been hectic and overwhelming; the last minute preparations, the packing, the 17 FaceTime calls Mina insisted were necessary for packing, the flight to Fukuoka, the hotel, meeting the approximately 3674 people involved in the tour (okay, really approximately), the soundchecks, the press, making sure Todoroki didn’t get lost (again). It could have been enough to have you considering your plan B vocation of Professional Kitten Cuddler (you’d seen a Buzzfeed article once), if it wasn’t for this feeling, right here and now.

The house lights had dimmed away to almost nothing, causing the steady thrum of chatter from the crowd to surge into a roar of anticipation that matched your own perfectly; waiting sidestage in the dark knowing you were on the precipice of doing what you loved most always made you feel electric.

You’d followed Shinsou onto the stage as the eyewateringly bright lights hit, securing the strap of your bass before looking without seeing out at where you knew the crowd was. You were really here, on this stage, with your best friends, on the biggest tour you’d done so far as a band. You let yourself bask in the joy that brought for a moment longer, before turning towards your bandmates, tilting your head in silent question. Quick nods from Tokoyami and Shinsou and a peace sign from Mina were all you needed before you turned to Todoroki to count in. Everything after that was the most beautiful white noise.

***

8 songs flew by quicker than you could ever remember, Shinsou’s synths fading out as Mina yelled into the mic like she was going for Present Mic’s radio slot.

“Our record is available from the merch table and we are on all relevant social media - @ rollingthunder! Our TikToks are epic! We have been Rolling Thunder, you have been fucking beautiful - goodnight!!!”

“‘Our TikToks are epic’?!” Shinsou rounded on the lead singer as soon as you were all sidestage again.

Mina put her hands on her hips, giving off the energy of an elementary school teacher who had to do this a lot. “They are epic! It’s not my fault you never want to be in them!”

“Maybe that’s why they’re epic?” Todoroki deadpanned, removing the sweat-soaked towel from around his neck.

The snort you gave out at the impossible-to-tell-if-it-was-intended-as-an-insult-or-not-because-it’s-Todoroki insult died off early as you caught sight of him.

Fuck. He’d actually gotten hotter overnight.

Kaminari made a beeline straight for you from the door that lead to the backstage area, 100 watt smile firmly in place. “Hey, you. Great set out there! Totally dope!”

“You were watching?” You were too caught off guard to school your tone into anything less giddy, and you knew you’d be hearing about it until you could hide in your bunk on the tourbus. Maybe not even then if your bandmates didn’t respect the sanctity of the curtain.

“Yeah, of course! We were up on the balcony, in the private bit? You know?” You assumed Sero and Kirishima formed the ‘we’ he was talking about, as they appeared one after another through the same door, grinning widely.

“Yeah, totally, I remember they said there was somewhere to watch the other sets from...cool!”

A part of you died inside as you heard yourself reply and you wondered briefly if there was any chance your whole band wasn’t watching this interaction. Hearing ‘cool!!!’ mimicked in four wildly different attempts at your voice shut that down.

There was no way Kaminari hadn’t heard all four impressions, but he was nice enough to pretend he hadn’t.

“Yeah! So, uh...you could totally watch our set, now! If, you know, you want...” He trailed off, looking hesitantly hopeful and fiddling with one of his many, many earrings.

His golden eyes had been staring into yours for the whole of your conversation so far and you found yourself getting lost in his gaze, all of the noise of the crowd buzzing and the crew swapping the setup over becoming distant to your ears.

Until his bassist slapped him on his back - hard - shit-eating grin all over his face.

“Smooth like silk, Denks!”

“Shut up, Sero!” Kaminari whined, breaking eye contact with you to shove at his bandmate’s arm.

No one said anything for what felt like the longest seven seconds in history. Kirishima cleared his throat politely and smiled encouragingly, but seemed to run out of ideas after that.

“We’ll watch you guys! But only if you tell us how awesome we were!” Mina’s arm slid seamlessly to link with yours as you remembered how much you loved this pink-haired angel. She was a socialising expert and had rescued you all right before the silence had slid past the point of no return into Awkwardsville.

Kaminari seemed to share your sentiment, as it wasn’t with only a little relief he began to shower the rest of your band with praise. It was only when he’d rambled his way to complimenting the way Tokoyami held his guitar that Shinsou decided it was his turn to steer the conversation. “Don’t you have a drummer? Did he not want to watch our set?”

“Nah, he said he ‘didn’t wanna watch a bunch of electro emos with stupid hair sing about going to Hot Topic or what-the-fuck-whatever’,” Sero cheerfully announced, ignoring the choking sound the apparently-direct quote forced out of the blonde you couldn’t take your eyes off of.

“Wow. He’s charming.” Shinsou replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“He is, isn’t he?” Kirishima sighed, sounding like he’d have actual stars in his eyes if you could bring yoursef to stop looking at Kaminari and check. Which you Absolutely Could Not.

You’d met Kaminari at 1 this afternoon, and he’d been pretty much all you’d thought about since 1:01.

***

“Okay, so, Chargebolt - Eijirou Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Katsuki Bakugou, Denki Kaminari. Plus Ultra! - Izu...”

You were pretty sure one of the tour managers was still speaking, introducing the other band you were sharing this tour with, but you couldn’t focus on anything else. Kaminari. Denki. Denki Kaminari.

The ear you could see was adorned with multiple piercings, and the one you couldn’t was covered with a sweep of blonde hair with a black lightening bolt dyed into it. Golden eyes, pink lips. Not particularly tall, or jacked, but lean and muscled where you could see. A black Fatgum Records T-shirt over a black and white striped longsleeve, tucked into ripped jeans that fell into laced up boots. Were those fingers tattoos? It was definitely yellow nail polish and a multitude of silver rings. Talk about ‘exactly my type on paper’. Fuck!

You wondered for a second who exactly it was who had given this man the right. Then you realised he was moving - towards you.

“Hey! Y/N Y/L/N, right? I heard you guys on Present Mic’s show, the Live Lounge? That was incredible!”

Had your mouth been wide open the entire time he was talking? You really couldn’t be sure either way.

“Hey! Yeah, that’s uh...me! Thanks, I was really nervous but he was so cool.”

Kaminari nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Present Mic? Yeah, what a legend! We haven’t been on for a hot minute but we’ll probably go back next album cycle.”

You were pretty sure you were supposed to be making introductions to everyone in the room right now, but before you knew it, it had been fifteen minutes and the only person you’d spoken to was Kaminari. A way-too-stressed-for-the-first-day-of-tour looking woman was trying to politely usher Kaminari away to wherever Chargebolt’s schedule had them being right now, but he hesitated after he said a (hopefully) reluctant goodbye.

“Yeah, so...it’s so cool to be working with you! And, y’know, that work is...touring together, so we could like...hang out! Yeah? If you want?”

You ignored your own manager materialising at your side tapping her watch for a moment longer to nod quickly and breathe out a response.

“Yeah, we could, I want.”

Kaminari’s face broke out into a smile as big as the gag Shinsou was doing behind him. “Yeah. Yeah! Great! See you later!”

You’d pretended not to watch them leave the room.

The rest of your band had been only too happy to inform you that you’d failed to pull it off.

***

i have decided to make this a multi-chapter fic and will post/link a masterlist and link to ao3 when i post there so you can follow this story if you would like to!

ao3 • collab masterlist

#my writing #bnha x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki #denki x reader #kaminari #denki #mha x reader #bnharemcollab

64 notes · View notes

winryofresembool · 3 years ago

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 35

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Final Waystation chapter, yay!

Or: In which Leo and Calypso both make some progress.

A/N: OK, first of all, within these 3 weeks we have hit 3 pretty big milestones! 1) It was this fic's first anniversary this friday so hooray for that! Can't believe this story has been in my life so long already. 2) We've reached 7000 hits on ao3! It's crazy to think so many of you are reading this even though not all that many seem to like Caleo! And 3) We have also reached 90k words with this chapter! No, when I started planning this fic I definitely did not plan to make it over 100k words but that really seems to be the direction it's going to :'D I /do/ however hope that once we finally get the flatmates back to their flat, we are (slowly) starting our journey towards the 'final arc'. But how many words will that take? Only Apollo knows, I guess.

Alright, enough rambling! Now, enjoy and please, please, please, let me know what you think of this chapter (and the previous one if you haven't) because I /really/ do want to know what you think. Was it about time? Are these two being too sappy? And all that stuff!

Words: 4287

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

After the whole ‘kitchen episode’ Leo and Calypso went back to spend some time with Leo’s family who were playing Monopoly in Waystation’s small library. Calypso had expected to be questioned about what had happened in the kitchen. To her surprise, though, Emmie just briefly asked if the flatmates had managed to resolve their issues, to which they answered a quick ‘yes’, and that was the end of that conversation. Even though Calypso was grateful that she or Jo hadn’t asked more, at the same time, one part of her did want to tell them.

Once a new round of Monopoly was finished (with Leo winning, even though the others kept whispering to him that he should let Georgina win), it was already pretty late and Leo and Calypso withdrew into their respective rooms. When it got quiet in the hallway, though, there was a knock on Calypso’s door.

“Who is it?” Calypso asked from her bed where she had been resting, thinking about the events of that day.

The voice from the other side of the door said: “Just me, Leo. Can I come in?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t do anything funny while in here,” Calypso replied, half joking, half serious.

“What, nothing funny? But Leo Valdez and fun go hand in hand,” he claimed through the door.

Calypso rolled her eyes at him even though he couldn’t see. “Ugh, you know what I mean. Listen, I know we are… um…” she stopped to taste the word in her mouth, “... dating now, but I have decided that I want to take it slowly. Too many bad experiences in the past. I hope you get that.”

“Alright, I understand,” Leo said to her relief. “Don’t worry, I won’t be trying anything ‘funny’ as you called it. I’m a man of my word!”

“In that case, you can come in here,” Calypso told him, sitting up on her bed.

Leo entered the room, still wearing the day clothes (surprisingly, jeans and a white shirt this time, and not his favorite overalls. While Calypso loved the overalls, she did have to admit that he looked pretty nice in the current outfit) even though it was already pretty late. Calypso herself had changed into her pajamas, a pink flannel shirt and pants that matched it. She followed Leo to a small couch opposite to her bed, sitting down next to him. At first she kept some space between them but after some hesitation and some encouraging looks from Leo, she finally snuggled up by his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her hand was laying on her pajama pants and he lowered his on it, tracing the outline with his thumb. Calypso was happy to notice he felt nicely warm on the cool winter night.

“I am glad we can do this now,” she said quietly, watching their hands.

“Me too. Although, we could probably have done it a whole lot earlier if we weren’t so damn stubborn,” Leo reminded her.

“Ouch. Yeah, that is probably true,” Calypso admitted, closing her eyes.

“So… it’s been a day,” Leo said when a silence fell between them. “It has…” Calypso agreed. “Weird how this morning seems to have happened like a year ago.” “Yeah…” Calypso shifted slightly on her spot by Leo’s side. “Can I ask you a question, though? How are you feeling now? You know… after… everything...”

“I… it’s hard to say,” Leo answered. “I’m not gonna claim that us kissing fixed all of my problems. Nah, it doesn’t work like that. Don’t get me wrong, it was awesome but - woah, am I really saying this? - I think the opening up part was more important. It clarified some things in my head. You know, like what I want to do and what I should do. And the fact that you have experienced something similar… This is probably gonna sound awful, but I was kinda relieved to hear that. Don’t get me wrong; I wish that you wouldn’t have had to go through any of that, but since you have… it means we understand each other. I can trust that you won’t judge me, which I honestly can’t say about all the people.”

“Yeah.” Calypso nodded slightly, not removing her head from his shoulder. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

“And…” Leo continued, and Calypso imagined a grin spreading on his face, “Now I have some good memories to associate Christmas with. That definitely doesn’t hurt, right?”

“I’m glad I managed to give you something else to think about, then.” Calypso smiled.

“You certainly did. For real, I’ve had to pinch myself a couple of times this evening,” Leo confessed.

“Why?” Calypso frowned.

“Because it’s hard to believe it’s true. I mean this. Us.”

“And why is that?” Calypso wanted to know.

“Because you’re great in practically every possible way while I’m… me?”

Calypso raised her head from Leo’s shoulder and gave Leo her best ‘are you kidding me’ look. “Listen to me now. Aside from your guilt complex, you really should work on your self esteem some more. You’re a good person, Leo, even though you don’t always seem to think so. Of course you have your flaws just like I do, but I don’t love some superhuman version of you. Me from a few months ago is probably shaking her head so hard right now, but here’s what I think: you’re smart. And funny when you’re not trying to. And persistent. Hard-working. You make fixing things seem effortless. And you’re ready to put your loved ones’ happiness before yours. In fact, I think sometimes you care so much that it hurts you. But it only makes me care about you even more."

Leo was quiet for a while, probably still trying to swallow Calypso’s words.

“Woah, um… Thanks, Sunshine. I guess two people can really see the same thing very differently.”

“Yes, we can,” Calypso agreed. “I bet your view of me is also very different from how I see myself.”

“You’re probably right there.”

Calypso decided to change the topic when it got quiet. “Do you think that your family has any idea? About what happened between us?”

“I think we did our acting pretty well.” Leo grinned against her hair. “It’s pretty suspicious, though, that they didn’t ask us anything.”

“Well, better that way than trying to answer some awkward questions,” Calypso noted. “Um… I hope you know that I would really like to tell them about us, but… it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I know. You just want to protect me, right? I would also want to protect you if I was in your situation.”

“Mmmmh.”

A comfortable silence fell between the couple. Calypso was happy to notice that Leo was so relaxed in her company that he didn’t even swing his legs back and forth like he often did. Eventually he spoke:

“Hey… you asked me how I am doing but what about you? I know I haven’t made this day easy for you…”

“I appreciate you asking. To be honest? I’m doing pretty well now. This night has been… unexpected, to say the least. I didn’t think I would be brave enough to get over my worries, but here we finally are. It’s a bit scary…” Calypso noticed Leo’s hand twitching slightly on hers, so she was quick to add: “... but like you said, also relieving. Don’t worry, I will be sticking to my word. There are no take backs now,” Calypso reassured him.

“Good.” Leo nodded.

“Hey... “ Calypso said when she spotted something on the nearby desk. “I, uh, know that we both have been really testing our boundaries today, but there’s something I would still like to try. That is, if that’s OK with you.”

“Alright. What is it?” Leo asked curiously.

“My mum always used to light up some candles by the windowsill on Christmas night when I was a kid. She said she did that in memory of those who weren’t there to celebrate with us anymore. That’s a tradition that’s stuck with me until now. Emmie put some candles over there…” Calypso nodded towards a desk by the window, “... earlier today, but I didn’t know how you would feel about me using them, so I didn’t. But… What do you say? You could take it as a part of your training.”

Leo didn’t seem to love the idea at first but finally he gave in.

“Alright. But just one. And it needs to be far from all the other objects.”

“Yes. Don’t worry, we both will keep a watchful eye on it.”

Calypso felt Leo’s eyes on her the whole time as she rose from the sofa and lit up the candle. He was seemingly relieved when she sat back down next to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “You know all about the fire’s dangerous sides…” Calypso started with a calming tone, “... but it can be very useful too when used right. It can ruin, but it can also help to build new things. A lot of your precious machines wouldn’t exist without fire, right? Have you ever stopped to consider that?”

Leo frowned at her, taking her words in. “Are you trying to say that fire has many different sides to it, just like us people? But if we only choose to see the negative, we will never understand the positive sides?”

“Yes, basically. We are both very judgemental towards ourselves, but today was a good example that not everyone sees us the same way.”

“Yeah… You’re not wrong there… I’ll try to remember that.”

“Me too.”

Calypso noticed Leo glanced at the candle briefly before his eyes returned to her. He was still a little stiff but a lot less so than when Calypso had lit up the candle.

“I was thinking…” he said suddenly. “Since we are official now and all that… Should we, you know, do something together… you know, outside our flat… sometime? When this vacation is over?”

“You mean like a date?” Calypso asked, surprised by the chance of the topic. But then again, she figured it might have been his way to try to distract himself. “Hmmm, let me think…” Leo already looked a bit worried for a moment before she finally started smiling at him. “Alright. I suppose we can do that.”

“And will we resume our movie nights? And cooking sessions?” His eyes lit up almost like the candle on the desk.

“Of course, you weirdo. I don’t think I have any reason to avoid you anymore, now that you know…”

“Know what?” Leo grinned. “That you think Leo Valdez is pretty damn hot?”

Calypso knew that Leo was most likely expecting her to lash at him, so she decided to use a different kind of tactic. She gave him a flirtiest smile she could muster, and replied:

“Sure. Let me tell you a little secret: when you are wearing those overalls you always do, my heart feels like it’s doing somersaults in my chest…”

Leo blinked at her a couple of times as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“Wait, what? What did you just say?”

Calypso snorted. “Just playing your own game, you know.”

“Oh, alright. I see now.” Leo’s ears went red, which amused Calypso a lot.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she chirped at him, poking his cheek playfully.

“Har har.”

Calypso pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“I hope you know I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t 100% comfortable around you. I had already decided that I would not… I would not allow myself to go through what I already did several times before, but you just had to make me break my promise to myself.”

“And you know what?” Leo turned his head so they were eye to eye. “I’m not sorry at all that I made you do that.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Calypso rolled her eyes at him. They kept gazing at each other for a moment before Calypso’s urge to kiss her fool of a boyfriend got too strong. It was a light and gentle kiss, one that she hoped told him that she was happy to be where she was and also proud of him for being able to handle the flame of the candle.

“Whoa, what was that for?” Leo asked once Calypso had pulled away.

“Just to shut you up for a moment,” Calypso lied.

“Nah. You wouldn’t want me to do that,” Leo grinned at her knowingly.

“Alright. Maybe I wouldn’t. So keep talking,” Calypso encouraged him.

“Okay,” Leo obliged. “About what?”

“Anything, really. Something silly and light, Leo Valdez style.”

Leo seemed to think about Calypso’s request for a moment.

“Hey, have you heard about the time when Jason had a party at his father’s house without him knowing and Piper…”

Leo continued telling her silly stories about his friends (even though a few involved also Percy, that didn’t ruin Calypso’s mood). From that they moved onto other things, such as what an ideal date would be for each of them (their opinions differed less than expected, to Calypso’s surprise), the favorite place they had ever visited (Calypso remembered Malta and the nearby islands quite fondly), and how fast Georgina would build her 1000-piece puzzle. The time flew by as they talked and Calypso was surprised to notice at some point that it was almost 3 AM and the candle had gone out a long time ago without either of them noticing. Leo snuck back into his room as quietly as possible, but not without giving Calypso one last good night kiss in the dark hallway before they separated.

…

The Christmas break was coming to an end and it was Leo and Calypso’s last full day at Waystation. Calypso felt a little bitter sweet about it; on one hand the vacation had been a bit of a rollercoaster emotionally, but on the other hand everything had ended better than she had dared to expect. She knew that she and Leo still had plenty of work to do when it came to their communication skills and of course she was also worried something would go wrong – specifically, regarding her father – but it still felt so freeing to be able to tell what she really thought and to be able to love and be loved.

She would of course miss the people of Waystation. Georgina was adorable and seemed to have basically adopted Calypso as her big sister at this point. She enjoyed teaching things to the girl; baking, gardening, sewing, even a little bit of singing… She was also pretty quick-witted for someone of her age and Calypso was quite certain that she did know that something was going on between her and Leo no matter how hard they were trying to deny it. Leo’s mothers were also great people and they had already told Calypso that she was welcome to Waystation any time she wanted. They also mentioned that they didn’t mind if she kicked Leo’s butt a bit sometimes when he deserved it. She had thanked them and told them that she’d keep their advice in mind.

The final day didn’t go entirely without surprises. Emmie had quickly mentioned that they would be getting more dinner guests that day, but Calypso hadn’t been prepared for the entire Hunters of Artemis crew to show up. They were old acquaintances of Jo and Emmie, the group’s former coaches, and the older women still asked them to drop by whenever they were nearby. To Calypso’s surprise, when she heard about the visit, her instinct to flee was not quite as strong anymore as it had been when she had last seen Thalia and Reyna.

“Are you OK with this?” Leo asked after Emmie had gone back to greet the visitors. “I remember that you weren’t eager to talk to them at the Halloween party and now I understand why… If you wanna, like, go out and check the foster animals or something like that, we can do that.”

“I think… I think it’s time for me to face my past,” Calypso replied. “I can’t do that if I hide every time I see someone who used to know Zoë…”

“That’s a fair point,” Leo agreed. “But still, don’t push yourself too hard.”

Soon the couple was in the hallway where everyone had gathered.

“Oh, there you two are!” Jo exclaimed when she saw them. “I was already starting to wonder if you had gone back to your flat earlier than planned.”

“Oh, nah,” Leo denied, waving his hand nonchalantly. “We just had some things we needed to discuss.”

Jo looked at him suspiciously, probably wondering what exactly they had discussed. “Hmm. Well, it’s good that you seem to be on speaking terms again. Anyway, Calypso, I believe you haven’t met these people before, so say hello to the Hunters of Artemis. Thalia Grace…” She pointed at a young woman with dark, spiky hair, whom Calypso remembered from the Halloween party. “Reyna Ramírez-Arellano…” Another dark haired girl, with a long braid, however, nodded at Calypso. “And here’s…” Jo continued her introductions but the names simply went through her brain and didn’t stay there. Maybe it was the Leo influence, she wondered; she didn’t remember having issues with focusing earlier.

“Hi, all.” She tried to sound confident but she didn’t think she succeeded very well. Surely Reyna and Thalia remembered how she had spent a whole night trying to avoid talking to them, getting drunk and throwing up in Piper’s bathroom in the end. “Hello,” Reyna spoke first. “I believe I’ve seen you once before. At Jason’s place last month, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Calypso had to admit reluctantly. Well, at least she wasn’t drunk in a mythology themed costume right now, she thought, so she had a chance to give them a bit better picture of herself than earlier.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you properly now,” Reyna said and shook her hand.

“Likewise,” Calypso told her, although she still felt like she was not living up to the meaning of her name, ‘she who conceals’.

“And you probably saw Thalia at that party too. Jason’s sister. My… friend.” Reyna glanced at the other girl quickly when she said the word ‘friend’.

Calypso noticed the slight hesitation and remembered Leo and some others as well mention that the two girls most likely had something going on even though they had to hide it because of their status on their archery team. She knew better than to bring that up, though.

“Hello, Thalia. Yes, I remember seeing you there,” she replied, mainly to be polite.

Before anyone had time to say anything else, Jo told the group that the guests were free to explore the house or do anything they wanted while she and Emmie were finishing the dinner and setting the tables. Many of the Hunters headed back out to the yard to see the animals or do a little bit of exercising before the meal, but Reyna and Thalia had apparently spent their afternoon practicing so they needed a little down time. Leo asked Calypso if she would have preferred to go to help Emmie and Jo but she remained stubborn. If she couldn’t do this now, she didn’t know she would be able to do it, so she guided Leo to the living room where Reyna and Thalia had gone.

When Thalia heard they had entered the room, she turned towards them.

“We didn’t really get a chance to talk the last time I saw you,” she noted bluntly.

“Sorry about that; I was having a bit of a rough day back then, to be honest,” Calypso replied vaguely.

“To me it looked like you were having the most fun out of all of us,” Thalia said, but Reyna elbowed her in the ribs. “Hey!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Calypso sighed. “I wasn’t acting like myself that evening.”

“We all have those days…” Reyna reassured her.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Calypso shrugged.

“Someone mentioned that your last name is Astal,” Thalia noted when it got quiet again. “Is that true?”

“Yes, unfortunately it is,” Calypso replied, getting a bit anxious because she knew where this conversation was heading to. “Why do you ask?”

Her hand quickly reached for Leo’s, who was still standing next to her, and even though she couldn’t hold it in front of the others, feeling his fingers right next to hers felt reassuring.

“Because it’s probably not a very common last name, right?” Thalia inquired, “and we used to have someone on our team whose last name was Astal before she took her mother’s last name. Zoë Nightshade, does that ring any bells?”

“Yes. She was my older sister,” Calypso confirmed, feeling herself stiffen a bit.

“Oh… I’m so sorry… I mean, I heard what happened to her… Just horrible.” Thalia shook her head.

Calypso was struggling to find the right words, but Leo quickly tapped on her back with his fingers when the others didn't notice and that helped her to root herself. “I don’t think there are any words to describe it,” she mumbled. “Um, did you know my sister well?”

“Not as well as some others on our team, to be honest. I had only been on the team for a few months before we heard the news about the accident…” Thalia said. “But she seemed like such a great person. One of our most talented archers for sure, and really determined. She was always the first on the field and the last to leave.”

“That… that does sound like her,” Calypso smiled a bit sadly. “Did she… did she ever talk about her home life to you?”

“Not much.” Thalia shrugged. “A bit.”

“Oh… What did she say?” Calypso wanted to know.

“I did get the impression that she really hated her father. And her mother lived somewhere far, apparently? But she did mention her sisters every once in a while. Did she have any other younger siblings besides you?” Thalia asked.

“No, she didn’t. She was the second youngest and I am the youngest of the group. Big family… But is there a reason why you ask that?”

“You see, she did sometimes talk about her baby sister. I remember that she always wished she could do more for her because she thought her sister deserved better than what she… Wait, what’s wrong?” she stopped when she noticed Calypso’s reaction.

Even though Calypso had tried her best to stay calm, once she heard what Zoë had said about her, she couldn’t stop the tears anymore. Leo quickly stepped in front of her while she tried to recover and glared at Thalia angrily.

“Calypso was there when the accident happened,” he blurted. “Do you think she really wants to talk about her the whole time?”

“I thought she would be happy to hear that her sister respected her a lot,” Thalia attempted to defend herself.

“But…” Leo wanted to continue the debate but Calypso stopped him.

“No, Leo, it’s OK.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not OK!” Leo exclaimed.

She took a deep breath and withdrew herself from Leo’s arms. “It is. I mean… It's not easy for me to talk about her, but it’s like I said earlier. I need to learn to live with this. Does it hurt? Yeah. But I’m also thankful for hearing her say that about me. She wished I could experience a better life than she did prior to her joining the Hunters. I hope that if she’s watching me right now… from wherever she is… she’s happy for me. Well… I’m not out of the woods yet, as you can surely see right now," she chuckled ironically, referring to her teary face, "but… you know. I’m getting there. I’m feeling better than I have in a long while. And that’s what counts.”

“I don’t know what your source of happiness is, but whatever it is, I’m sure she would be happy for you.” Thalia nodded approvingly.

“Some things are better kept secrets,” Calypso replied mysteriously, turning to Reyna. “Did you know my sister?”

“No, unfortunately not,” Reyna replied. “I joined this group only a couple of years ago. Thalia’s been on it way longer. But I’ve heard a lot of stories about her from some of our older teammates, and it sounded like she was someone everyone looked up to. Even our coach complimented her sometimes and she never compliments anyone unless for a very good reason.”

“It sounds like she was really enjoying her life and had great people around her before… you know. It’s… great. I saw how hard she fought to get out of our father’s grip and do what she really wanted. She was happy with you guys.” The evil side of Calypso’s brain wanted to add that ‘she was happy until I messed it up for her’. She considered the fact that she managed to call herself out before she said that sentence aloud as some kind of progress.

“Yeah. I really think she was,” Thalia reassured her.

Calypso gave her a small, sad smile. “Good.”

After that the group started talking about other things. Thalia told Calypso some stories about Jason. Reyna explained why she had decided to join the Hunters even though she had already been doing well on another team before that. Leo also contributed to the stories sometimes and at some point, Calypso noticed that she was feeling quite at ease with this group. Even though Zoë was still briefly mentioned on a few occasions, it didn’t bother her as much anymore. Some kind of lock had opened inside her and she didn’t plan to close it anymore.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

15 notes · View notes