#An open shoulder looks incredibly hot when combined with a confident step and a big smile!! 🥰 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makoodlesarchive · 5 years ago

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(oh my god they were roommates!)

so this is late and i’m sorry, but happy birthday bakubabe!

ok so i was totally unprepared for people to like dragon dick kiri so i am feeling blessed 🙏🏻 knowing that other people now have to suffer in dragon dick kiri hell with me!

still not 100% sure if i’m happy with how this came out, but either way this is thanks to @lady-bakuhoe !

pairing: kirishima eijirou x reader x bakugou katsuki

word count: 6.3k

warnings: threesome, oral sex (receiving), vaginal sex, voyeurism, dragon dick kiri

this is part 2 to bad dragon! || dragon dick kiri masterlist

Tip Jar!

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Dating Kirishima was never boring, in day-to-day life or in the bedroom, but there was an incredibly distinct difference to his overall demeanour and behaviour once you started being intimate with him. The privilege of watching him grow more confident in his own skin feels like a gift, and knowing that you’re able to help with that growth always causes a warmth to settle in your chest. He stops shying away from innocent touches like hugs and cuddles, he starts getting comfortable touching you first; He’s steadily adjusting to the idea that you’re not going to push him away or reject him. Things are good. Better than good. Kirishima is an absolute sweetheart as always, and the sex is amazing.

He’s starting to get so much better with initiating things with you, and that includes PDA. You guess that’s how it starts. It begins with the little things; he’ll pull you in for a kiss, with you pressed tight between his legs, and you’ll feel the back of your neck prickle. When you’re making out on the couch with you straddling his lap, you’ll hear a creak from down the hall. When things start to get hot and heavy when you’re in the shared space of the living room (as they inevitably do, because the both of you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourselves), sometimes you catch a flash of movement over Kirishima’s shoulder.

They’re little things, but they culminate in one undeniable realisation: Bakugou likes to watch.

The first time you bring it up to Kirishima, you’re not sure he believes you. That’s fine; he’s only just starting to come to terms with accepting his own body, and you don’t want to totally blow his mind with the revelation that other people just might be interested in his unusual but very sexy cock, much less his best friend and roommate. Baby steps.

Soon enough though, he seems to notice for himself. Whenever you come over and the two of you are hanging out on the couch, Bakugou’s door will be cracked open just a little. Sometimes when the two of you are getting busy in Kirishima’s bedroom, you can hear footsteps right outside the door. It’s nothing overt or invasive, but once you know he’s out there listening to his best friend ploughing you into the mattress, it’s pretty damn hard to ignore.

And honestly? It’s kind of hot. It’s not like you can blame Bakugou for being curious, after all. Knowing that his best friend is packing what Kirishima describes himself as “a weird dick” is enough to make anyone really fucking curious about what exactly “weird” entails. You imagine that any natural curiosity would only be further exacerbated by the fact that his bedroom neighbours Kirishima’s, and he can definitely hear the very enthusiastic sex that you’re having.

Bakugou’s burgeoning peeking habits combined with the fact that Kirishima is horny a lot and is starting to get real comfortable letting you know that means that it’s pretty inevitable that Bakugou is eventually going to walk in on the two of you in a compromising position. The position in question ends up being pretty tame, in the end; you’re on your knees in front of the couch, Kirishima’s dick stretching your mouth wide as spit and precum dribbles down your chin and neck, when the front door opens and Bakugou storms in.

Between the three of you, you honestly don’t know who is more surprised by Bakugou’s sudden interruption. Bakugou totally freezes, eyes wide in shock. You can feel Kirishima tense up beneath your hands. You stare up at the two of them, your mouth still full of Kirishima’s cock.

There’s a brief silence, then- “Why are you fucking on the couch!” Bakugou yells, a vein prominent on his forehead.

“We’re not!” Kirishima yells back, colour high in his cheeks as his cock slips from your mouth. “We were just- I mean, okay, I know what it looks like, but we weren’t going to- fuck, man, I’m sorry-” Kirishima has reached one hand down to cover himself as the other hand reaches out to you to help you to your feet, but one hand just isn’t enough to hide his dick from sight.

Bakugou still looks furious and embarrassed at having walked in on the two of you like this, but it’s impossible to miss the way his eyes track downwards. Kirishima doesn’t seem to notice where his best friend’s gaze has wandered to, too busy babbling out mortified apologies, but you notice. You see the exact moment that the look in Bakugou’s eyes switches from annoyance to curiosity.

“Do you want to see?” you ask quietly, watching Bakugou closely for a reaction.

Kirishima’s head swings around to stare at you, mouth open, but your attention is on Bakugou. He’s looking at you with just as much disbelief as Kirishima is, but there’s heat simmering in his eyes too. “See what?” he says, feigning ignorance as if you can’t see the way his gaze seems magnetically drawn to look at Kirishima’s crotch and your precome-stained face.

“Kiri doesn’t mind.” you say softly, mindful that any wrong word or shift in tone could set him off. What you’re saying is true, anyway; the two of you have talked about this, though you’re not sure that either of you actually expected to be in this position.

Bakugou looks to Kirishima, who settles slowly back into the couch and gives an exaggerated shrug. He’s trying to come off as casual, but he misses the mark by a longshot. He’s biting at the inside of his cheek and his jaw is tense. “I don’t mind, bro,” he says, then gives a self-deprecating chuckle, “Can’t promise you’ll like what you see, though.”

You pinch his thigh and scowl at him. “Stop that.” You look back to Bakugou and beckon him over. “Come on. You want to see, right?”

Honestly, you’re not sure if Bakugou is going to go for it. Listening in while the two of you fuck is very different from being personally invited into the action, and you can see him warring with himself over how to approach the situation. After what feels like forever but can’t be more than a moment or two, Bakugou steps forward. Kirishima exhales heavily through his nose, as though he’d been holding his breath with anticipation. He’s still tense, but this is Bakugou, his best friend. You don’t think there’s anyone in the world that Kirishima trusts more, but that also means that it’s going to hurt all that much more if Bakugou reacts badly.

Judging by the impressive bulge in the front of Bakugou’s pants, there’s no need to worry about that. Bakugou steps up beside you and pauses, unsure of himself. Kirishima just stares up at him, equally unsure. The moment stretches out, broken by you getting impatient and reaching out to gently pull Kirishima’s hand away from his very weak attempt at covering himself up.

“Holy fuck.” is Bakugou’s initial reaction to seeing Kirishima’s entire cock for the first time. Kirishima’s arms twitch to cover himself up again, but Bakugou continues with, “How the fuck do you move with that thing in between your legs?”

You snort a laugh, unable to help yourself, and with that the tension is broken. Kirishima chuckles a bit too and relaxes into the couch. “I wear a very supportive jockstrap.”

Bakugou is still staring, the high points of his cheeks flushed red. Kirishima’s hard on, which had been wilting a little, is starting to very visibly fill out again. It’s straining against Kirishima’s belly, precome trailing down the ridges and dripping onto the muscles of his abdomen. It makes for a very fetching sight, and Bakugou can’t seem to take his eyes off it. When he finally speaks, he says “Can I touch it?”, and his voice sounds raw, like he’s been swallowing something sharp.

“Oh shit,” Kirishima breathes, surprise slackening his jaw, “Uh. Yeah. Please.”

Bakugou’s knees hit the floor right next to you, and then he’s reaching out and tentatively taking hold of Kirishima’s length. The moment his fingertips close around it, a spurt of precome dribbles out of Kirishima’s slit, and Bakugou watches with wide eyes as it slips down his knuckles, sticky and wet. His gaze slides from his own hand to your face, and the mess all over your mouth and chin that you haven’t bothered to wipe away yet. “Is that-?”

“He makes a mess when he’s like this,” you murmur, grinning up at your boyfriend. “Wait till you see how much he comes.”

Bakugou’s throat bobs, “Shit.” he breathes, so quietly that you wonder if he meant to say it at all. He thumbs at the underside of Kirishima’s cock, where the flesh is ridged and swirled. That seems to prove too much for Kirishima, who had been holding patiently still up to that point -- he tips his head back and moans quietly as his hips jump, his cock thrusting in Bakugou’s fist. “You’re- it’s big.”

Kirishima laughs thickly, face tilted towards the ceiling. “Yeah. Not what you were expecting, huh? Even though I told you about it?”

The frown that crosses Bakugou’s face at that seems purely reflexive, as though it’s just instinct to be annoyed at the mere suggestion that he had been wrong about something. “Knowing and seeing are two different things, asshole.” he snaps, readjusting his grip on Kirishima’s cock and making him moan. His fingers trail down to where it thickens at the base, and over the swollen, squishy area right at the bottom. It’s still wet and shiny and sticky from the combination of precum and your spit, and Bakugou seems fascinated by the slickness.

You squirm where you’re kneeling, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable. Watching Bakugou explore Kirishima’s cock like this, his mouth hanging just a little bit open as he grazes his knuckles over all the sensitive bumps along the top, and Kirishima’s soft moaning has you squeezing your thighs together tight. Your panties are getting sticky and wet, but you don’t want to touch yourself in case you ruin the moment.

Almost as though Bakugou can sense your discomfort, his gaze cuts to you abruptly and he narrows his eyes. “He fucks you with this?”

Heat shudders through you, and you nod with your lip bitten between your teeth.

“How?” Bakugou’s gaze drops to your crotch, hidden by the hem of your sundress, as though it might offer him some answers.

“Practice,” you say, and find that you sound just as raw and affected as Bakugou does. “And he produces a lot of precum, which helps.” Kirishima makes a garbled noise of embarrassment when you say that and hides his face behind his hands, as though that could somehow block out his best friend and his girlfriend on their knees in front of them and having a discussion over his cock about how he fucks.

Bakugou looks at Kirishima’s covered face thoughtfully. “I want to see.” he says, and it sounds like an order.

Kirishima reaches for you immediately, but you hesitate. “I��m not ready.” you say. You’re horny as hell, and you’ve definitely soaked through your panties, but Kirishima is big and he just is not going to fit unless you’re stretched out and prepared for him.

The whine that escapes Kirishima at that is a little desperate and a little impatient, but it’s Bakugou that he looks to next. “Want to get her ready for me?” he asks. It’s his way of taking control of the situation, of ensuring that Bakugou isn’t just sat on the outside looking in, that all three of you are actively involved in the unfolding events.

“Fuck, yes.” Bakugou breathes, a feral little grin lighting up his face. “How?”

You’re a little surprised at how willing Bakugou is to defer to Kirishima in this, but you suppose that he’s way out of his comfort zone. There’s not much time to think too much about it, in any case, because Kirishima is tugging you up onto his lap and spreading your legs wide. Your back is pressed against his chest, ass sat just in front of his cock. Your dress is hitched up around your hips, leaving your damp, sticky panties on display. You want to be embarrassed, but Kirishima is rocking his thick cock into the small of your back and Bakugou is shuffling forward so that his head is between your legs.

“Shit,” Bakugou says, his breath hot on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “You’re so wet.”

“Can’t blame her for being excited.” Kirishima rumbles a laugh, and you feel the vibrations of it run down your spine. “What do you want him to do to you, sweetheart?”

Bakugou’s face is inches from your clothed pussy, and his hands are playing with the elastic waistband of your panties without actively trying to remove them. The bastard is grinning at you, like he thinks it’s funny watching you struggle to articulate what you want him to do to you. It’s embarrassing, but you figure that if Kirishima was able to lay himself bare and vulnerable in front of the two of you, then the least you can do is make one measly request out loud. “I want you to- can you please, uh, use your mouth?”

Bakugou’s grin gets impossibly wider, “Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll eat you up whole. But only because you said please.”

His mouth descends on you, licking and sucking through your panties. Even with the fabric barrier, the wet heat of his mouth has your head tilting back onto Kirishima’s shoulder with a moan. Thankfully, Bakugou is too impatient to keep up the teasing for any significant amount of time. Your panties are dragged down your legs and then thrown somewhere over Bakugou’s shoulder -- he doesn’t even look where he’s throwing them, his gaze fixed between your legs. Your legs twitch closed, embarrassed at the attention. You have a sudden and intense sympathy for Kirishima as you realise how he must have felt with you and Bakugou examining his cock.

There’s no time to feel self-conscious though, because then Bakugou is pushing your legs open, diving down, latching onto your clit and sucking. You squeal and your hips buck, but Kirishima’s big hands land on your hips and pin you down, keeping you still as Bakugou suckles at your cunt.

“Fuck!” you gasp, trying to tilt your hips away from his mouth. It’s too much, too fast, but the two of them hold you still and force you to take it until you’re trembling in their hands.

Kirishima hooks his chin over your shoulder so that he can look down and watch Bakugou’s head between your legs. Even from the corner of your eyes, you can see the excited little smile that’s playing on his lips. “How does his mouth feel on you, baby?” he whispers into your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a little shiver down your spine.

“Feels -ah! - good,” you say, burying your face into Kirishima’s neck. Your thighs keep reflexively twitching closed, but each time Bakugou just bats them open again without pause. His tongue slides down the lips of your pussy until he reaches your slit, and then his tongue is wiggling inside of you and you’re whining into the skin of Kirishima’s throat.

Kirishima kisses your temple, but he doesn’t look away from the sight below -- he’s barely even blinking as he watches Bakugou eat you out. You feel like you’re about to catch fire, bucking your hips desperately into Bakugou’s face as he tongue-fucks you. He just grunts and shoots a quick look up at Kirishima, who promptly readjusts his grip across your stomach so that you can’t move. His cock is pressing into the dip at the small of your back, scalding hot and hard as a goddamn rock.

Bakugou pulls back for half a second to catch his breath, and then he leans in and gets right back to it. He mouths along the lips of your pussy, his teeth grazing and scratching at the sensitive skin just right. You make a noise that sounds embarrassingly close to a sob, and feel Bakugou grinning into the soft flesh of your pussy. Kirishima coos into your ear, telling you how good you are as his hands pull your dress up to your waist so he can run his hands along your skin.

“Do you like him licking at you?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to the vulnerable spot just behind your earlobe.

It shouldn’t be surprising that Bakugou is as aggressive with giving head as he is with just about everything else that he ever does, but having his entire attention focused on eating you out is just the right kind of overwhelming. You want desperately to wind your hands into the wild blonde hair bobbing between your legs, but also really want to come and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing to snap at you, so you go for the safe option and reach back to wrap your fingers around Kirishima’s spiked hair instead.

Bakugou’s tongue traces your folds, pulling them into his mouth and suckling. You relax a little, humming your pleasure into Kirishima’s neck. But then Bakugou is digging his tongue into the top of your folds and locating the nub of your clit with absolute precision, and you arch your back with a little scream. Kirishima laughs quietly at your reaction, and you can feel his cock twitch against your back. “Oh, now you’re getting warmed up, huh?”

Bakugou is relentless, devoting everything he has to your clit. He laps at it, stiffens his tongue to a point and flicks at it, wraps his lips around it again and sucks. When he introduces his teeth and grazes it, you’re gone; your whole body seizes up and you keen as you come, but even then Bakugou doesn’t pull away. He laps and suckles at you until you’re gasping and writhing from the overstimulation.

You can’t catch your breath after your orgasm because his mouth is still busy with your clit. He lets go of one of your hips and then suddenly he’s slipping two fingers into you, the slide made easy by how slick you’ve gotten. You have to bite back the scream that wants to escape from between your teeth, tossing your head back desperately onto Kirishima’s chest and whining.

“Gorgeous.” Kirishima praises you, smoothing a few loose strands of hair back from your forehead. He leans over you a little for a better view, admiring the sight of Bakugou tonguing at your clit and pushing his fingers all the way inside of you. “Fuck.” Kirishima breathes, rutting his hips against your ass. “Enjoying yourself, bro?”

Bakugou finally detaches himself from your clit, but his fingers continue fucking in and out of you as he looks up to Kirishima. The entire lower half of his face is wet and shiny from your slick and his own spit, and he looks absolutely obscene as he grins. His tongue pokes out and licks the mess off of his lips. “Yeah,” he says, crooking his fingers into the spongey area at the front of your inner walls and snickering as you squeal, “Yeah, I sure fucking am.”

Kirishima hauls you further up his body so that you’re practically sitting on his lower belly, his cock jutting out in front of you. The move causes Bakugou’s fingers to slip out of you, and you make a dissatisfied little noise at the loss, pussy clenching up around nothing. “Don’t worry, baby, he’s going to put them back in.” Kirishima promises you, his hand slipping up your dress and thumbing at your hardening nipples.

“Fucking hell.” Bakugou says, shuffling forward so he can get to your pussy again. His fingers slip in with little to no resistance, your body so wet and ready that it sucks him in with ease. His eyes go half-lidded when he feels how easy you take his fingers. “Damn. You always this ready for it?”

“Fuck off.” you snap, but the words have virtually no edge to them thanks to the breathless, desperate quality of your voice. You’re actually kind of embarrassed that it came out of your mouth, but neither of them make any mention of it.

Bakugou is watching avidly as his fingers slide in and out, adding a third. You spread your legs wider and lift your knees, silently hoping he’ll take it as the invitation that it is and fuck you harder. He complies happily, and the wet, squelching sounds that come from his fingers in your cunt only seem to work Kirishima up. “Bakugou,” he grunts, “Touch me again, bro?”

“Fuck,” Bakugou groans a little, but then his other hand is gripping Kirishima and jerking him and Kirishima is moaning into your neck and squeezing your hips tight. One hand really isn’t enough to properly grip Kirishima’s cock, and Bakugou seems to realise this almost instantly. He makes up for it in the same way he seems to approach every challenge in life -- unmitigated, aggressive enthusiasm. Kirishima gasps into the back of your neck at the brutally fast pace Bakugou sets, and you look down in time to see precum dribbling in a steady stream down his cock, making a mess of Bakugou’s fingers.

Bakugou’s coordination is impressive -- it can’t be easy to finger-fuck you and jerk Kirishima off at the same time, but he manages to pull it off with zeal. You whimper into Kirishima’s ear as Bakugou adds a fourth finger. Kirishima kneads at your breasts with his hands and groans as Bakugou’s fingers rub rough circles around the raised bumps at the tip of his cock. “Fuck, bro,” he moans, his cock dribbling out precum in streams all over Bakugou’s fist, “Feels so good!”

“Stop calling me bro when I have your cock in my hand.” Bakugou snaps irritably, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s tenting the front of his pants so badly that it looks like he’s parodying a boner.

Kirishima just laughs, strangled and breathless, and says to you, “Baby, are you nearly ready? Because I’m all sorts of worked up, and I want to cum inside you.”

“Her pussy clenches around my fingers everytime I move a muscle or you say a goddamned word.” Bakugou says before you get the chance to answer, grinning as he rubs the pads of his fingers against your insides. His thumb lands on your sensitive, swollen clit and rubs hard, and you nearly cry out as your back bows and you push eagerly into his touch, “Fuck yes. Arch your back a little more, come on. Look at you going nice and tight around my fingers.”

“Holy fuck.” you choke, pulling at Kirishima’s hair as Bakugou plays with your pussy. It’s too much and not enough, and your hips keep undulating like they can’t decide whether to twitch away from the stimulation or to go back for more.

“Fuck, just look at you riding my fingers. You gonna do that around his massive fucking cock?”

You and Kirishima both moan, and that seems to be the last straw. Kirishima picks you up and Bakugou’s fingers slide out of you once more, but you barely have any time to register the emptiness before the tip of Kirishima’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in. Bakugou scrambles back a little to make sure he has a proper view -- his eyes are wide as he watches Kirishima begin to press into you, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch.

You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open. You’re used to the stretch at this stage, and you’re so worked up that the slow and steady pace that Kirishima’s going at is driving you crazy, like an itch that’s just out of reach. You press your hips back into him, trying to get him deeper inside of you faster, but his hands are clamped tight around your hips to restrict your movement.

“Easy, baby girl.” he rumbles into your ear, breath coming in short puffs, “I’m calling the shots, and right now, we’re going slow.”

The frustrated sound you make in response is nearly a growl, and it pulls an amused little snort from Bakugou. “I’m ready, I can take more-!”

“I know, baby, I know.” Kirishima bites at the junction between your neck and shoulder as he slides another inch deeper inside of you. “But we gotta give Bakugou time to enjoy the view.”

Bakugou seems to be doing exactly that; he’s shuffled a little closer so he can see better, and he watches avidly as Kirishima slowly rocks his cock into you. He reaches out and runs his fingers along the edge of your pussy, right where Kirishima’s dick is stretching you out. “Fuck,” he says, and his breath blows hot against your skin where you’re still damp from his mouth, “You’re taking him like a champ.”

That might be one of the nicest things that Bakugou’s ever said to you, but you don’t get a chance to properly appreciate it because with one sharp thrust Kirishima’s cock bottoms out inside of you. You whimper -- you’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Bakugou’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight. The feel of his fingertips rubbing at where you’re stretched taut around Kirishima is making you clench up around the thickness of the intrusion inside you, which in turn has Kirishima moaning into your shoulder.

Kirishima is holding maddeningly still inside of you, ignoring your desperate attempts at wriggling around in his lap trying to get him to move. Just when you think he’s never going to move, he leans forward so that his mouth is against your ear, and nips at your earlobe. “I'm gonna fuck you so hard you cum just from the shock of it, baby.”

“Please!” you moan helplessly, dropping your head down to your chest.

Kirishima laughs, a little breathlessly, and then pulls his hips back and fucks up into you in one smooth movement. You cry out, scrambling to grab a hold of something to stabilise yourself as you’re rocked hard by Kirishima’s thrusts. There’s nothing to hold, so you just have to ride with the motion of his body, grinding back into him every time his hips jerk against yours.

Movement catches your eye, and you look up to see that Bakugou has stuffed his hand down his pants and is now fisting his own cock with the hand that was covered with Kirishima’s precum. His face is contorted in the most intensely turned on look you’ve ever seen, and you can’t help arching back into Kirishima, pushing your hips forward a little more so he has a better view. Bakugou curses and leans forward so he can watch your pussy bouncing around Kirishima’s cock as it splits you open.

You’re so wet down there, from your own juices and Bakugou’s spit and Kirishima’s cock that’s dribbling precum like a leaky faucet. Precum is spilling out of you despite the way Kirishima is plugging you up, and you feel it smearing all over your pussy, thighs, and Kirishima’s stomach. Bakugou is watching the precum as it leaks out of you, his expression nearly awed. “Always wanted to really watch.” he says to no one in particular. His hand is gripping his balls, and you realise that he’s probably trying to stave off his orgasm, trying to last until you and Kirishima are done. “Hey, Y/N. How does his cock feel in you?”

You screw your eyes shut as Kirishima pulls nearly all the way out before slamming back in, “Ah! Big!”

“No shit,” Bakugou says, rubbing his thumb roughly over the head of his cock as he fucks his own fist. “It feel good?”

“Yeah, god, yes! So good!”

“Can you- fuck- can you feel those ridgey things when his dick is inside you?” Bakugou grunts, hunching over his cock as his hand moves faster.

“Mmhm! Can feel them rubbing against me.” you gasp.

Kirishima whimpers. Bakugou’s questions are only winding him up; you can tell by the way the base of his cock is engorging and pulsing against you. “‘M gonna come soon.” he babbles, humping into you so hard that your entire body is nearly flung off his lap, “You feel so good, so hot and tight on my cock, baby. God, your pussy is so perfect. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Bakugou’s breathing is getting heavier, and you can see his balls drawing tighter as he plays with his dick. Right when he’s about to cum all over the carpet he stops, letting go of himself altogether. Even with nothing touching it, his dick is twitching and straining against his stomach. “I wanna suck on your tits.”

Bakugou’s hoarse voice and rough confession has Kirishima groaning and reaching up to pull the straps of your sundress down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples are hard and sensitive already from Kirishima pawing at them, so when Bakugou’s hot mouth closes around your right breast as Kirishima kneads your left one you think you might actually explode.

The swollen base of Kirishima’s cock pulses slightly on every stroke, a sure sign that he’s close to spilling all over the place. Another sign is his fast, heavy breathing and the way that he babbles about how good you feel into your ear, “You’re so good to me, baby girl. You’re clamping down around me so nice, you’re - ah, fuck, you’re so good! So tight and hot. I’m gonna cum inside you. Wait, can I cum inside you? Is it okay- ah! Let Bakugou watch me cum inside you, baby.”

Bakugou lets your tit fall out of his mouth and sits back on his ankles. “You gonna cum now?”

“Ngh! Yeah.” says Kirishima, his voice gone thin and needy. His hip are pounding into you at such a rapid pace that you can’t catch your breath. You have to throw your arms over Bakugou’s shoulders for support, the force of his thrusts nearly sending you flying to the floor. “Sorry, baby, I know I’m being rough. Your pussy just feels so good wrapped around me, I can’t- fuck, I can’t-”

“It’s fine, just- ah!- do it!” you beg. The breath is being driven out of your lungs with every thrust, and it should be overwhelming but you can feel heat beginning to pool in your lower belly.

You can feel the base of his cock tensing, swollen with the cum he’s about to release. He ruts into you, biting at your shoulders just hard enough to leave behind impressions of his teeth. “I love you, I love your pussy and- oh fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!” With a cry, he jerks his hips into you and begins moaning desperately as he begins emptying his load inside of you. He keeps fucking into you even as he’s cumming, but his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier until he slips out of you entirely and ends up humping the air.

Bakugou watches open-mouthed as Kirishima’s cock flexes and sprays cum onto the floor and the couch. “What the fuck.” he breathes. He’s so surprised by the sheer force and quantity of Kirishima’s cum that he apparently forgets about his own cock, sitting red and leaking in his fist, in favour of watching.

You’re so aroused that you swear your pussy is twitching, and you’re so close to your own orgasm that you let your impatience get the better of you. Kirishima still isn’t entirely done cumming when you stuff his cock back up inside you and start riding him again, clutching at his knees and crying out as the tip hits that one spot inside you that makes you feel gooey inside. Your eyes are half-closed as you fuck yourself back on Kirishima’s cock, relishing the satisfied little cries he’s emitting into the space between your shoulder blades, but you can still see Bakugou fisting and tugging at his cock like a desperate man.

The pleasure sitting in your lower belly is starting to coil tight, and your movements get a little sloppy as you desperately chase your release on Kirishima’s dick. The pleasure is so close to cresting when suddenly the room seems to flip, and before you know it your face is pressed into the couch. The hot length of Kirishima’s cock slides home inside of you again, and you moan delightedly as you realise that he hasn’t gone soft yet. “Fuck me, Eiji, I need you to- now!”

“I got you, baby.” he croons in your ear, smoothing your sweat-soaked hair back as he hikes your ass up and begins fucking you again.

It only takes two more hard thrusts before you’re tossing your head back and shaking apart with a short little scream, your entire body drawing up tight and tensing so hard that you can hardly see. Kirishima is still rutting blindly into you, making the best little noises as his cock begins to swell again.

It feels like you’re cumming forever, the ecstasy drawn out by Kirishima’s frantic humping as the ridges on his cock drag along your insides and light up every nerve and sweet spot you have. Feeling you come undone around his dick is always Kirishima’s favourite part, and you can feel his excitement in the way his movements become choppy and desperate as he tries to shove himself as far inside you as he can get. With a full body shiver and a drawn-out whine he comes again, although it may just be a second wave of his first orgasm -- you’re not sure if he ever finished cumming in the first place. You whimper quietly at the feeling of him flooding your insides, relaxing into his hands as he grasps you close to his chest.

There’s a gasp, and when you turn your head to the side you’re greeted with the sight of Bakugou beginning to cum. He moans, his legs spread wide and his hips canting forward with every pulse of cum that drips from his dick. You can feel Kirishima shifting behind you, his hips still rocking softly into you, and you know that he’s watching too. You feel like you’re in heaven; not only do you have the privilege of getting fucked out by Kirishima, but you also get to watch Bakugou cum all over himself, and they’re both just so hot like this.

Bakugou sits back on his hands and focuses on his breathing as he tries to calm down, one shaky breath after another. “Fucking hell.”

Kirishima kisses your neck as he pulls out. “You were so good, sweetheart, you’re so amazing.” He murmurs, then looks to Bakugou. “Uh. So...”

“Let me see.” Bakugou interrupts, pushing forward so he can get a proper look at you. His thumb brushes over your over-sensitive sex, and he rumbles a quiet laugh at the shudder that rips through you at the touch. You know without looking that he’s running his thumb over the mess of cum that oozing out of you, marveling at the sheer amount of it. “Fuck. Shit. Do you always cum this much?”

“Yeah,” Kirishima says bashfully, shifting his weight and tucking his dick self-consciously back into his pants, uncaring of the cum staining his clothes. “Uh, pretty much.”

“She’s covered in it. Damn.” he glances up and meets your eyes, and gives you such a wicked grin that your breath hitches a little. “You able to walk after taking that?”

The mere idea of moving has your muscles twinging, and you laugh as you shake your head into the couch. “No way. Just leave me like this for a while, I’m happy.”

The boys laugh, and Kirishima smooths his hand over your back. “Don’t you want to shower?” he asks fondly.

You definitely want to shower, but you’re also really not ready to move. Your limbs are floppy and achey, and you’re tired enough that you can mostly ignore the feeling of sweat and cum drying on your skin. “Mmmm.” is all you manage to say.

“How ‘bout I get you a towel and we cuddle in bed, hm?” he offers as a compromise, leaning down to scoop your boneless body into his arms. You let your head drop against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his muscles shifting beneath you as he shifts your weight around in his arms. The first time he had lifted you like this you had shrieked, certain that he was going to drop you, but that had only seemed to make him all the more determined to prove to you at every opportunity that he was strong enough to pick you up and carry you anywhere at any time.

“Hang on,” says Bakugou, halting Kirishima in his tracks. “What about this fucking mess?” he demands, gesturing at the cum-stained couch and floor.

“Huh? I’ll clean up later.” Kirishima says, edging out of the room.

“Clean up later? We’re gonna have to bleach the whole damn room. We definitely need a new fucking couch too, look at it!”

“Right, right.” Kirishima agrees, very obviously not listening. He set off down the hall, nuzzling a quick kiss onto your forehead before glancing over his shoulder. “Hey, come and cuddle with us.”

“Hah? You need to buy us a new couch, asshole!”

“You got it, man,” Kirishima agrees blithely, kicking open his bedroom door. “You coming?” You peer hopefully over Kirishima’s shoulder, and shoot him a beaming smile when Bakugou sends a doubtful little look towards you. The uncertainty in his expression is wiped clear, and then he gives a jerky little shrug and stomps down the hallway after the two of you.

“What the fuck ever. Don’t think you’re gonna get out of cleaning your mess up though, you bastard!”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader x bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kiri x reader x baku #bnha x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #dragon dick kiri

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thefirstcourtesan · 4 years ago

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First Love and Other Complications: A My Two First Loves rewrite Chapter 1

First Love and Other Complications

By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.

Author’s Notes- This chapter combines the first 2.5 chapters of MTFL and introduces all the LIs but changes things around a bit as we set up the premise. The MTFL timeline sucks (like every choices book), so I will be playing around with that too.

Pairings- Mason/MC, eventual Noah/MC

Summary- Jess and Mason take a big step but not everyone seems thrilled and Jess is saved by a mysterious stranger.

Rating- PG-13

Chapter One- The Beginning of Everything

“Mason, I like you.”

I practiced it out loud and then groaned. “Ugh. That sounds stupid. Of course he knows I like him.”

I took a deep breath and tried again. “Mason, I like like you.”

Another groan, that was even worse.

“Mason, I—“

My final attempt at preparation was cut off by a sound at my window. He was here!

Mason had been crawling in my window for years, although it was a little harder now that he lived a few blocks away instead of next door, but it felt right. Especially tonight.

I let him in and drank in the sight of him. Tall and muscular with a friendly grin that melted my heart. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice me staring, instead he seemed just as focused on me as I was on him and my heart skipped a beat. Could he feel the same?

I stepped closer, almost hesitantly, and Mason immediately wrapped me in a warm hug. Instantly everything felt right again. Mason’s arms had always been my safe place. Suddenly I felt doubt about my decision. What if he didn’t feel teh same and I lost him? Could I handle that?

I pushed that thought aside. No, I had to do this. I had to know.

“Mason-“

“Jess-“

We started to speak at the exact same moment.

“Great minds, I guess,” Mason said with a laugh as we stepped back from the hug, “you first.”

Great. I could do this. I had to do this.

“Mason... I love you,” the words came out in a rush and I could feel the heat rushing to my cheek, “and not... not as a friend.”

There. I had done it. After three years of bottling it inside, I had told Mason Jennings how I felt and now it was out of my hands.

Mason looked stunned by my words and he was silent for a long moment, long enough that dread started creeping in and I wished I was anywhere else. Why had I said that? What had I done?

Just as I was about to tell him it was a joke or something, I felt Mason’s hands on my waist and realized I was being pulled into his arms, pressed right up against his muscular chest.

“I have wanted to hear that for so long,” Mason said, “I feel the same way. It’s you, Jess, it’s always been you, I have just been so worried about losing our friendship, afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.” He gazed at me with wonder. “But you do.”

I nodded shyly. “Yeah.” My hands rested on his shoulders, wondering what came next,

I didn’t have to wonder for long because Mason lowered his head and his lips met mine. I had spent all of high school daydreaming about kissing Mason Jennings and the reality was better than anything I could ever have imagined. It was easy to lose myself in the kiss, the feel of Mason’s arms around me and i could have stayed like that forever, except for the sound of footprints coming up the stairs.

Mason and I broke apart in a hurry.

“My dad!”

“I guess I should go,” Mason said reluctantly, moving towards the window, he turned back to smile at me, “Jess, I am glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too.” I told him, though I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. Kissing? Talking about our feelings? Where did we stand?

The footsteps got louder.

“Mason!” I whispered urgently.

He grinned. “I’m going. After all, it would be a bad start to Senior Year, if I got murdered by my girlfriend’s father for being caught in her room after curfew.” He said the words so easily and I felt warmth rush through me again.

Girlfriend.

Just like that I was Mason Jenning’s girlfriend. I had everything I had ever wanted and as I watched Mason climb out the window, our eyes meeting to share one last smile, I was confident that Senior year was going to exactly the way I planned.

I was so naive.

The next morning I was floating on air when I went for breakfast but that faded fast after a fight with my dad over my outfit. A fight that left me standing in my room trying to figure out what to wear that wouldn’t make me look like a soccer mom.

I was weighing my options, these jeans weren’t too bad, when my door opened.

“Coast is clear, Dad got called into work,” my sister Mackenzie told me from the door way.

I sighed with relief. “Oh thank god.”

“Yeah, now you don’t have to show up your first day as Mason Jenning’s girlfriend dressed like you are 40,” she teased.

I turned to look at her. “How did you...?”

“Thin walls,” she answered with a shrug, “besides I spent the entire summer watching you obsess over your cell signal and waiting for texts from him, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out there was something going on.”

Before I could think of a response, my phone went off and Mack slipped away as I checked the text.

Forgot to ask last night, do you need a ride?

No, I am riding with Ava, but thanks for asking. ❤️

See you at school then. Bet you look beautiful. But then you always do. 😘

I was smiling widely as I read Mason’s texts. He really was such a sweet guy and officially mine. If it was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

I was back to feeling like I was floating on air when I ran out the door to meet my best friend, Ava Lawrence, the Cheer Captain to my Vice Captain and my partner in crime since Freshman year.

“Jess, you look amazing!” She exclaimed, taking in my short skirt and pink crop top, “two months in the wilderness obviously agreed with you!” She wrapped her arms around me in a quick, enthusiastic hug before we got in her car. “I am so glad hare back!”

“Me too, fill me in everything I missed,” I encouraged, “the parties, the fights, the breakups.”

Ava laughed, “that will take more than 5 minutes but I will give you the highlights.” She gave me a quick rundown on the most intense hook-ups and break-ups and then gave me a sly smile, “what about you? Did you fall madly in love while in the middle of nowhere?”

I laughed, “not while I was in Wyoming, no, but I do have news.” I smiled widely, unable to contain my happiness, “Mason and I... We’re together.”

Ava froze as she was about to get out of her car, her hand on the door. “You and Mason?”

I nodded, “yeah, I know we have been friends for so long that it might seem surprising, but I have been in love with him forever and I finally got the guts to tell him.”

“That’s... great,” Ava told me, though her expression was more surprised than thrilled, “I’m really happy for you.”

I would have questioned her reaction, but as soon as I stepped out of Ava’s car I was wrapped in strong arms.

“Hey, you.” Mason told me, smiling down at me.

“Hey,” I said softly, leaning into him. I let myself melt into the warmth of his embrace and bask in the fact that this was my new normal. It was a long moment before I even realized that Ava had slipped away.

I wondered a little bit about her strange reaction, but then Mason tilted my face up to his and all thoughts of anyone else faded as I gazed up at him. “We need to plan a first date,” he reminded me, “I have football practice and I know you have cheer, but after that?”

“I’d like that,” I told him, leaning against him for another moment before sighing, “but first I guess I should go to class.”

“Yeah, my dead would murder me if I skipped,” Mason agreed, he kissed the top of my head and let me go, giving me one more heart-melting grin before we parted ways.

“Oh look who it is, Jess Price. Looking hot as usual, Jess.”

I groaned at the sound of the voice. Darren Hastings was Eastridge’s resident creep and he had been harassing me since Freshman year.

I shoved my books in my locker and turned around. “What do you want Darren?”

“Since you’re asking so nicely, how about a date?” He said with a slimy grin, leaning in and pinning me against the locker.

“Not in your wildest dreams.” I told him, trying to push him away. I was strong from four years of cheerleading, but not strong enough.

Darren took it as a challenge and leaned in closer. “Oh come on, you don’t mean that.”

Just as I was considering my options (including a kick to the groin), someone pulled him away forcibly.

“I believe the lady said no.”

I looked up into the incredibly handsome face of a boy I had never seen before.

Darren was scowling. “Noah Harris, they let you come back, huh? I thought this school had standards.”

Noah, if that was his name, looked unphased by the insult. “Apparently not, since the let you attend.” He shot Darren a decidedly unfriendly look. “I think you should find somewhere else to be. Pronto.”

Darren took the hint and scampered off, after giving Noah one more nasty look.

“Are you ok?” Noah asked, turning his attention to me for the first time.

I smiled. “I am. Thanks for that, I have been telling Darren no for years and he just never stops. Usually, it’s more annoying than anything, but...”

“No, I get it,” Noah assured me, “you shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Are you new here?” I asked after a moment, “I thought I knew everyone.”

“Not new, exactly,” Noah answered slowly, “I’ve been... away.”

That sounded mysterious but at the same time I didn’t want to pry. “I guess I don’t need to offer a school tour then?” I teased.

Noah grinned. “I don’t know, a tour could be nice, re-acquaint with me all the hot spots. If you are willing, of course.”

The offer had been in jest, but he had done me a favor, so... “of course, follow me.” I laughed. “I guess I should introduce myself first, I’m Jess.”

He took the hand I held out and shook it. His grip was warm and firm. “Noah.”

“Well, Noah, follow me and I will give you the official Welcome to Eastridge tour.”

#playchoices #my two first loves #misha fics #first love and other complications

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thisbrokenmask · 4 years ago

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Havana Nights

Title: Havana Nights

Pairing: Jin x reader

Genre: Meet-cute, flirting

Warnings: sexual tension?, Jin being a big-ass flirt, Y/N also being a big-ass flirt

Word Count: 5.1k

Song inspiration: Airplane Pt. 2

A/N: Even though ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo Event is now over, I’m still planning on finishing as many of the songs on my bingo card as I can! I was actually working on this in plenty of time before the end of the event but I just couldn’t get the wording right until this week.

I also didn’t realise I would end up writing for Jin the most before I started this but what can I say, WWH just does things to me ig.

You were grateful for the cool rush of air that graced your skin as you entered the bar; the fan fixed above the door was one of many attempting to circulate air around the room, but was the only one that would actually grant any relief from the sticky heat of the midsummer night. You knew that as soon as you took another step into the bar you would be hit by the feverish aura radiating from the undulating mass of writhing bodies on the dancefloor, so you took a few moments to revel in the cool relief before you left it.

Pulling your hair away from your neck and tilting your head to the side to allow the fanned air to hit your pulse point, you smiled at the music that met your ears. You couldn’t see much above the crowd, but you could tell that Ernesto had found another band to perform live rather than playing the same well-loved tracks each night on his beloved jukebox.

You made your way through the crowd towards the bar, helpless against the smile that pulled at your lips when you saw Ernesto already pouring you a drink. You’d always wanted to come to Cuba, something about the classic cars and the brightly-coloured streets drawing you in, so when you’d decided to travel on your own - a la Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love - Cuba had been first on your list. You hadn’t really had a plan when you’d arrived, but you’d quickly settled in and found a few friends, even writing articles for a local magazine to get you by once your savings started to look a bit thin. You’d met Ernesto no more than a week into your time in Havana, when you’d wandered into the nicest-looking bar near your temporary apartment and he’d immediately taken you under his wing. You were the same age as his own daughter, apparently, but she’d decided to go to graduate school in America and he was missing her, so he made sure he looked after girls like you when they came into his establishment. You had grown to care for him in return, as him being roughly the same age as your own father made it easy to return the familial affection. Carmella, his wife, had started popping round to your apartment to bring you food a few times a week before you eventually started being invited for dinner on a regular basis. As the weeks had gone on, you’d found yourself feeling like this might just be your new home, at least for the foreseeable future, and Ernesto and Carmella had been delighted when you’d told them as such.

You spent several nights a week at his bar, either chatting to him and some regulars you’d befriended just to be out of the house after a day of writing, or to cut a little loose on the weekends. Ernesto often refused to let men buy you a drink, adamant none of them were good enough for you, but all it took was a smile from you and he would back down, never intervening if you wanted to approach someone on your own.

��Buena noches, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile, sliding your favourite daiquiri towards you as you took a seat at the bar.

“Buena noches, Tio,” you greeted him in return, wrapping your hand around the ice-filled glass and feeling the condensation wet your skin. “New singers tonight?”

Ernesto grinned at you before looking over to the group of heads you could see bobbing on the other side of the crowd. “Sí! They come to me last night, seven of them! They ask to perform here, I say they have to prove they can sing first,” Ernesto recounts the story to you and several other patrons as he continues to serve drinks, everyone listening with a smile as he raises a finger, as if he’s about to confide a secret. “They come this morning, they sing a few songs for me and Carmella and I put them straight on the board for tonight!” He laughs as he gestures towards the bar’s entrance, referring to the small notice board that sits on the wall outside to which he attaches the names of the bands he lets play here. You curse yourself for not checking it before you came in. “I don’t understand a lot of it but I’ve been around long enough to know they’re good. They’re from Korea, can you believe? From Korea to my little bar in Havana!” Ernesto is chuckling to himself about the strings of fate being pulled in such a way to bring this band to him, his patrons unable to hold back their grins at his unfaltering spirit, and his awe of them deepens your curiosity ten-fold.

Craning your neck, you attempt to catch sight of the singers through the crowd but can only spy several heads of hair as they bop in time to the beat of their current song. You count six in total; sleek black, two dirty blonds, dark red, what you believe is a head of pale pink, and a wide-brimmed cream hat, but you struggle to see more than glimpses of the faces beneath. Taking a sip of your drink through your straw, the combination of sharp lemon and smooth white rum floods your taste buds as you continue to watch for gaps in the crowd. The music changes several times before you drain your glass, but all of them have kept the crowd thriving and grinding in front of you.

Placing your empty glass back on the bar, you tuck your hair behind your ear and straighten out your dress as you stand up. You slip between the bodies, letting yourself sink into the heat and the movement of the bodies around you that push and pull like a hot ocean tide. You’ve come to find the sticky heat of the crowds here comforting, almost blissful in how easily they melt away the stresses and worries of your daily life. Ernesto’s is your haven, and the effect of the dancefloor is now instantaneous.

You push your way to the front, bodies parting easily to let you through, and find yourself staring into the shining dark eyes of who you assume is the seventh man that you couldn’t see before. His blond hair is brighter than the other two you had already spotted, shimmering under the lights like the finest white-gold thread.

You notice his eyes quickly glance over you before a small smirk tugs at the corner of his plush lips, his singing uninterrupted. The air of professionalism around him strikes you, as you’re used to a lot of amateur musicians coming through and getting flustered by the proximity of the crowds. You feel heat rise in your cheeks at his close scrutiny of your outfit, your face, and your body, but you also feel heat settle in your abdomen as his gaze never breaks from your own. To grant yourself some minor relief, you look away to observe their set up, your suspicions that they’re more than a travelling band being confirmed the more you see.

An invisible line on the floor has been mutually agreed between them and the patrons in lieu of an actual stage, a laptop, a few speakers and seven microphones the extent of their equipment. All seven of them are dressed impeccably, their outfits clearly chosen to appear casual and lightweight to suit the heat, yet the evidence of high-quality labels is visible to those who pay attention. All seven of them are also incredibly handsome in their own rights, a combination of sharp and softer jawlines all presided over by deep brown eyes.

There wasn’t enough room for choreography, but the subtle moves they could pull off were infallibly synchronised. Whether it was shifting their weight from foot to foot in a sway to the beat or performing simple gestures with their arms, as you look down the row of them you could see that none of them were even half a second out of sync.

The singer in front of you is still watching you, although the intensity of his gaze seems to have lessened slightly while you’ve been distracted. When you look back to him, you see a harder edge start to creep back in again and it stokes the heat in your abdomen.

You let your gaze drift down him and he watches with interest as you drink in the sight of him. The loose material of his shirt keeps you from being able to distinguish where his waist tapers, but it does nothing to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You briefly wonder what it would be like to hold onto them if he was holding himself above you and whether you’d be able to feel the muscles flexing under your fingers, but you blink the thoughts away, hoping your open appreciation wasn’t too obvious. His simple black jeans accentuate the length of his legs and the strength of his thighs, and you definitely feel your temperature rise as you skim back upwards to his face.

If you weren’t looking into them, you might not believe that human eyes could be as dark as the ones in front of you, but given the way they burn into yours as soon as they meet, swirling with intrigue and temptation, you’d be a fool to deny the power they hold. You barely notice the song has ended, only becoming aware of it once the man in front of you turns away and walks towards the back of the stage, but not before dropping you a wink. You’re confused but too wired up to turn away, feeling adrenaline rush through your veins as you watch eagerly to see what’s happening. The seven singers gather together briefly, grabbing bottles of water and towels to dab at their faces as they murmur between themselves. The crowd behind you has stilled, but the hum of applause and conversation prevents silence from falling. Soon enough, the band breaks apart to form a vague line, looking out to the crowd before the tallest one steps forward to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for allowing us to entertain you tonight,” his voice is deep and smooth and his accented American gives his words a lilt that makes him even more charming. It’s definitely the voice of a man charismatic enough to apparently be the band’s leader, you think. The crowd applauds behind you, cheers and whoops ringing out loud enough that the leader has to wait a few seconds to speak again. “We’ve thoroughly enjoyed singing for you tonight, and we hope you’ve enjoyed our performance. We’re going to take a break now, but we’ll be back after a short while. For now, please speak to our man, Yunki, if you have any requests.” He gestures to the dark red-headed man to his left, who raises his hand in a wave before heading to the back of the stage and leaning over the laptop, clicking buttons.

The blond you’d been eyeing catches your eye again, the two of you immediately locking gazes. You’ve never experienced a pull towards another person as intense as this before, especially when it’s only after eye contact, and you feel your knees weakening under his gaze. The rest of the members begin to disperse, most heading in your direction to head towards the bar, your blond beau cocking an eyebrow as he begins to walk towards you. Feeling a rush of confidence under his heated stare, you let your lips twitch into a coy smile before turning and making your way back through the crowd, feeling your heart race with excitement and hope that he’s following you as you suspect he will.

You return to the bar to find your earlier seat still vacant, but your empty glass has been removed and the bartop wiped down. You see Ernesto already grabbing a fresh glass before you even take your seat, a knowing smile in his eyes as he shakes his head fondly at you and a grin breaking across your lips. You see his eyes flicker to something behind you before returning to finishing your drink but, before you can turn to look, he brings your drink to you and places it down with a flourish.

“And what can I get for the best singers my bar has ever seen?”

You hear several low chuckles from behind you, five of the seven men having gathered behind you to order from the bar. You turn on the stool to sit sideways, Ernesto on your right and the band on your left, and your eyes immediately meet with the blond at the back of the group. He’s already gazing at you by the time you turn around, his dark eyes steadily watching you, the same smirk from earlier once again pushing up the corner of his lips. He seems to be as interested in you as you are in him, which sends a thrill pulsing through your body.

“Five of your coldest beers, please, sir,” the leader says in front of you with a charming smile as he dips a hand into his pockets to find his money, “and a single of your finest whiskey, too. Neat, please.”

“Coming right up!” Ernesto turns to start the drinks, leaving the six of you to exchange silent smiles before you decide to speak.

“You guys are the best band I’ve ever seen here,” you tell them, turning more to lean against the bar as you speak. “I’m pretty sure Ernesto would keep you here permanently if you let him.”

“Ah, thank you very much,” the leader bows his head slightly with a grin, his eyes scrunching closed adorably, his cheeks dimpling. A few more thank yous echo from around the group, all of them having heard your compliment, proud yet bashful grins lighting up all of their faces. “I’m Namjoon,” he offers his hand to you, which you take, and he shakes it gently.

“Y/N,” you offer back with a smile as he releases your hand.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he says. “It suits you.”

You can’t help the hard blush that burns your cheeks, especially when you see the other singers nodding in agreement with him, but you still preen under their complimentary smiles. It’s hard not to feel flattered when you have five very handsome and obviously talented gentlemen agreeing that you’re beautiful.

“You’re too kind,” you say instead, taking a sip through your straw to hide your smile and attempt to cool yourself down slightly. When you return the glass to the bar, Namjoon turns to introduce you to the other men at his side.

“Where are my manners?” he says with a chuckle. “Y/N, let me introduce you to my friends. This is Seokjin-hyung,” he gestures to the man at the back, ushering him to the front and making your heart hammer in your chest as the man you can’t stop staring at steps forward.

The word ‘hello’ has never seemed so attractive as it does when he says it, taking your hand in his and dipping down to press a light kiss to your skin. You miss the others roll their eyes and laugh quietly at his antics, too enchanted by the deep eyes you’re finally seeing up close: they’re dark as sin, yet they glimmer under the lights in a way that reminds you of obsidian glass. He lifts his head once more, his blond hair appearing almost white when it catches the light as he does so, and looks at you with a small smile, saying, “Please, call me Jin.” He holds your gaze and you find yourself nodding dumbly, completely entranced. You don’t see the knowing looks passed between the men around you before he’s stepping back and letting your hand gently slip from his grasp, as if he can’t quite bring himself to let you go.

Namjoon glances between the two of you with a smirk, clearing his throat gently to break the eye contact between you. You shake your head slightly and send a small apologetic smile his way, but he’s either very understanding or doesn’t notice as he gestures to the next man.

“This is Hoseok-”

“Please, call me Hobi.” You don’t miss the snickers this time as he copies his bandmate, although he skips the kiss to your hand. The radiant grin he offers as he shakes your hand instead is contagious and you’re sure it would be enough to cheer you up if you weren’t already in such a good mood. His black hair is parted down the middle and sits gently above his eyebrows, and you wonder if all of them get dimples in their cheeks when they smile, because so far you’re three for three.

“Jimin,” Namjoon gestures to the next man along, whose handsome features are so delicately refined you’d possibly call him beautiful instead, his face blessed with a devilish combination of a sharp jaw and soft eyes, plush lips and apple cheeks.

“It’s a pleasure,” he smiles, bowing nearly 45 degrees as he takes your hand. His voice is as melodic when he talks as you remember it was when you saw him sing just minutes ago, although it seems slightly deeper in conversation.

“Our youngest, Jungkook,” Namjoon gestures to the man standing at your left elbow, who you definitely wouldn’t have guessed was the youngest. He’s taller than Jimin, looks like he might be taller than Hobi as well, and even his arms held politely in front of him can’t hide how broad his chest is. You suppose his eyes give his youth away, wide and curious as they are underneath his peach-pink hair, but he still quirks his lips in a smile as he greets you.

“Nice to meet you,” he says with a shallower bow than Jimin’s, and his deep voice takes you by surprise - you’re pretty sure you witnessed him effortlessly hitting several high notes that you could only dream of reaching. You’re not sure if it’s his age, but he seems more nervous than the others and lets go of your hand sooner than his friends.

“The two over there,” Namjoon leans closer to you as he points to the two men still standing by the equipment, one you recognise as the ‘Yunki’ previously introduced to the crowd when they announced their break and the other talking to him quietly, watching as Yunki taps away at his laptop. “- are Yunki-hyung and Tae. Tae’s the one with the hat.” You giggle at how bluntly he says it, missing the way all of them watch you with gentle smiles as you do so.

“Hyung?” you look to Jin questioningly, feeling the weight of the foreign word on your tongue as you try to figure out its meaning. “Brothers?”

All of the men chuckle slightly, but none of them come across as malicious or even teasing. “Sort of,” he grins with a nod. “But probably not in the way you’re thinking,” he explains, and you find yourself unable to look away from the kindness in his eyes as he elaborates. “It’s a Korean word, not a surname. More like a term of endearment. We use it to address our friends - and our actual brothers - who are older than us; it’s like a sign of respect.”

“I see,” you nod, offering a sheepish smile to the rest of your company. “My mistake.” They all shake their heads good-naturedly, clearly used to having to explain this to people as they’ve travelled. Your mind briefly wonders how old they all are, whether they’re older or younger than you. “So, would I use it? If you’re older than me, I mean.”

“No, no,” another chuckle escapes Namjoon as he pushes his hair back, another quiet titter of laughter spreading through the group. “‘Hyung’ is just for guys, and only when they talk to other guys that are older than them, family or not.” He pauses, frowning slightly as he considers just how much detail to go into in the middle of a bar. He’s not in the mood to give a full honorifics lesson and, by the way your eyes shift to Jin, he supposes you aren’t in the mood to hear one, either. “There are different words for everyone, really.”

“So what would I call you guys?” Now that your focus on Namjoon has been broken, you struggle to keep it away from Jin for more than a few seconds, your eyes constantly drifting back to him. It allows you to notice the way his pupils dilate slightly at your question, his voice sounding before Namjoon even has a chance to take a breath.

“‘Oppa’,” he tells you, his hungry gaze holding onto yours as if he’s daring you to look away from him.

“Oppa?” You ask experimentally, letting the word roll off your tongue and exaggerating the pout of your lips as you do, taking note of the way his shoulders seem to tense when he hears you say it. You bite into the corner of your lip to try and stop the smirk you can feel pushing at your cheeks, vaguely aware that there are four other men here watching you essentially eye-fuck their friend.

Your gaze is broken when Ernesto returns just moments later with five of his largest bottles of beer, holding them by their necks before he places them down, pools of water immediately gathering on the bar from the condensation dripping off the bottles. You sit up again and turn back to watch him, barely even seeing the small bottle opener tucked between his fingers as he expertly plucks off all the bottle caps, dropping them all into the bin you know he keeps behind the bar for that very purpose. You cock an eyebrow at him, silently questioning how it seemed to take him much longer than normal to collect a couple of beers, but he simply winks at you with a smile. You shake your head lightheartedly, knowing that his tardiness is his way of giving you time with these men and an unspoken sign of his opinion that at least one of them might just be good enough for you. He retrieves a glass next and then reaches up for a bottle of whiskey you’ve never seen him serve before. The seal is broken but it looks like barely more than a few singles have ever been served out of it. You wince at the thought of the price tag the drink must come with, especially given how small it is, and also wonder which one of them is the one with such a refined taste.

Your eyes drift to Jin, wondering if his lips will be the ones coated in the sweet, oaky taste of whiskey and whether you’d be able to taste it if you kissed him afterwards, but for once he’s not actually looking at you. He’s murmuring something into Hobi’s ear, his face turned away from you so that you can only see the round outline of his cheeks and the sharp rise of his jawline. You notice the back of his ears have gone slightly pink, but it’s Hobi’s mischievous smile towards you that really captures your attention. Whatever Jin’s saying, you’re growing more sure with every second that it’s about you, especially when Hobi winks at you, but you’re aware that the little you can hear from this distance is Korean. You tell yourself you’re just imagining things as you move your hair back off your shoulders, although you’re not sure if you do so to cool yourself down or to distract yourself.

“Anything else?” Ernesto asks, smiling warmly at the men beside you, and Jungkook mumbles something to Namjoon in their native tongue that makes the leader startle, his eyes widening almost comically.

“Oh! A glass of water, please,” he says, putting notes down on the bar.

Ernesto nods but pushes the notes back towards Namjoon before he goes to get the final drink. You watch Namjoon’s face contort in confusion, stifling a laugh when he looks at you for an answer.

“Did I do something wrong?” he whispers, unsure if he’s missed a cultural cue or has been impolite in some way.

“No, no,” you assure him gently, resting your chin on your hand, but hold off from giving him any further explanation until Ernesto returns.

“Excuse me, sir, did I pay the wrong amount?” Namjoon’s hesitant, probably painfully aware that Ernesto is responsible for his current employment but desperately wanting to do the right thing.

“My singers don’t pay,” Ernesto says firmly, ignoring the money Namjoon’s holding out to him as he pushes the drinks forward. You notice Jimin stand a little taller at this, nudging Jungkook with his elbow and grinning, wiggling his eyebrows at what he’s essentially just heard as meaning an open bar, but Hobi sends him a slight warning glare and his grin turns into a smirk that he tries to hide behind pretending to wipe his upper lip.

If nothing else happens, you’re certain you’ve found a reasonable drinking buddy in Jimin, should he wish to join you after his set.

“I’ll take this to Yunki-hyung,” Hobi says, picking up the glass of whiskey before taking one of the beers and walking away.

“Pass me the water, please, hyung,” Jimin says, pointing to the glass. Namjoon passes it over to him, then grabs two beers and gives one each to Jimin and Jungkook. You watch them follow Hobi back through the crowd, Jimin passing the water to Taehyung before offering a sip of his beer, which Tae sniffs but seems skeptical, taking a large drink of water instead, much to Jimin’s apparent amusement.

You’re left with Namjoon and Jin, Namjoon still trying to insist he pays Ernesto in as polite a way as he can muster, while Jin leans past him to take his drink. He leans right between you and Namjoon, leaving you staring directly at his broad chest merely inches from your face. You’ve barely had a chance to take in the sweet, woody aroma of his cologne before he’s pulling away again, a hint of something close to cinnamon lingering before he disappears.

You don’t turn to watch him leave, returning your focus to Namjoon’s valiant yet pointless efforts in order to distract yourself from the heavy weight sinking in your chest. You’d thought Jin would stay and talk to you, especially with the way you’d both been eyeing each other all night, and you can’t say you’re not disappointed.

Although, the feeling doesn’t last for long.

“So, tell me,” you almost jump at the words that are murmured in your ear, turning on your barstool to see Jin taking a seat on the one beside you. His body is leant forward towards you, close enough to keep your conversation private and, once you’ve turned fully, for your knees to brush against his. “If singers don’t pay here, how am I supposed to buy you a drink?”

“Well, oppa,” you lean closer to him, emphasising your newly-learnt word as you place your hand on his thigh, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, hard. “I’m sure you could think of something else you could give me.” The muscles under your fingers tense and you’re sure you both feel the jolt of electricity that passes between you, even if you do still curse the denim that prevents you from feeling the skin of his thigh directly under your fingertips.

“I’m sure I could,” his eyes once again drift down your body, unabashed in how he so brazenly drinks in the way your skin shimmers under the lights. You hear Namjoon cough awkwardly behind you before he walks away, but you can’t pull your eyes away from Jin. He wets his lips as he zones in on the exposed curve of your neck, your eyes following the brief flash of pink of his tongue before you lock eyes once more.

“Dinner, maybe?” His eyes drop to your mouth when you speak, fascinated by the way your lips mould around your words.

“Sounds good.”

“Mmm, I agree.” You’ve both been gradually leaning in closer and now you can feel his breath as it ghosts over your skin, resisting the shiver that scurries up your spine in favour of scaling his thigh with your hand. There’s barely a few inches of space between your noses now, both pairs of eyes darting rapidly to take in every feature they can. The hand that was holding his drink on the bar now begins to lightly caress your upper arm, drawing small circles with the wet condensation on his fingers.

“What are you doing later?”

“All the restaurants will be shut by the time you guys finish,” you tell him with a grin, but he’s undeterred.

“I’ll cook for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You any good?”

“Never had any complaints.” You get the distinct feeling he’s not just talking about food anymore when his hand goes from drawing circles on your arm to gently wrapping around it to hold you close.

“What can you do?”

“Whatever you want,” he declares, briefly letting go of your arm to tuck your hair behind your ear. His hand lingers, his fingers gently playing with your hair.

“Sounds promising.” Your fingers brush against the bottom of his belt, your heart rate rapidly increasing as you feel his breath against your own lips.

“Jin-hyung!” You can’t help but laugh at the rush of air on your lips when Jin sighs, his head dropping slightly, and above the crowd you hear what sounds like Hobi yelping and several different laughs. Jin looks back up to you, an apologetic smile on his lips as you both feel the heat of the moment begin to slip away, although he still plays with the ends of your hair.

“They’re calling you,” you mumble, your hand slipping back down his thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. He looks over your shoulder and lifts his chin slightly in acknowledgement of his band before turning back to you, his palm finally coming to cup your cheek.

“I’ll see you later?”

“For dinner?” you smirk, and a dark gleam returns to his eyes as he bites his lip.

“For dinner.”

If you would like to read my other works, please visit my masterlist

#bts fic #jin fic #kim seokjin #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #airplane pt 2 #bts fanfic #jin x reader #jin x y/n #bts fluff #fwlbingo #bts airplane pt 2 #bts #bangtan sonyeondan

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angelkurenai · 5 years ago

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Hottie from 4B - Dean Winchester x Reader (Soulmates/Neighbors AU)

Title: Hottie from 4B

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Imagine living in a world where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. When your eyes meet, colors burst all around you filling every single corner as far as your eyes can see. So what happens when you figure out that your new neighbor - who to you is still Hottie from 4B because you haven’t heard his name yet - has the most striking pair of green eyes that stare in shock back at you?

The first time you saw him you couldn't lie, you were certain you looked like a creep who couldn't stop staring at the new hottie next door. Not that there really has been another hottie next door ever since like, well, ever. Maybe that was part of the reason why you stared, who knew?

You hadn't seen much of his face, especially given how fast he had turned to face the other way or how you were in a rush to make it to the elevator, your car and a very impatient boss demanding you weren't late a minute. That however didn't stop you from pausing in your tracks and just straight forward ogle the man's back. Long legs covered in dark faded jeans, slightly bent but with a very attractive and confident swagger as he strode towards yet another box he had to carry. Broad shoulders covered first in a flannel and then a dark T-shirt, moved as he took off the first material of clothing. As if his back and shoulders didn't have you staring already then those big, firm arms seriously made you stop blinking altogether just so you wouldn't miss even a split second. It was only when he actually disappeared out of your line of sight and the open door didn't do any help in letting you enjoy the view that was called your new neighbor anymore. You knew it was a bit too wrong but there was no harm in admiring, was there?

A sad sigh had left your lips but there was only so much you could do. And with the elevator doors pulling open before you and your clock telling you that you were already more than a handful of minutes late, your mind couldn't afford to think about hottie from 4B but rather to come up with an excuse about why you were late that would calm down Amara. Maybe if her brother showed up she'd be in a better mood? You could play that card, yes.

By the time you had come back home there was no moving truck on the road and no boxes by the entrance for sure. The door to the apartment was closed and you realized in the end that that was your interaction for the day with your neighbor.

The second time you saw him once more didn't include eye contact. Well, you didn't take a look at him at all in all honesty. It was a couple days later actually, all the while you have been too busy with work to welcome him.

You were just getting out of the elevator, scrambling to keep all your papers - all the papers Amara had the pleasure of forcing you to take with you to work on outside work because did you have a personal life? Not at all! - within their folders despite how much they seemed to want to slip out on the floor. Nearly bumping into a solid chest you had almost dropped every file so you couldn't forget that kind of scare but maybe the voice you heard coming out of the apartment could have made you forget your own name.

“Alright, but call mom first. Oh and don't forget the pie!” it was gruff and deep, the kind of voice that could have many women right at his feet just begging him to say other things meant for them to hear and only them.

“Yeah yeah, I-” but the man that had just come out of the apartment, and who was probably related to your new neighbor given his previous words, stopped abruptly when he realized he was heading right towards you, stopping barely just in time “Oh I'm so sorry! Are you alright?”

“No, no it's fine. As long as these files are in place then I'm alive.” you said with a soft laugh and he gave you an adorable dimpled smile that would have any lady instantly melting, especially given how handsome he was. And yet the only thing that came to your mind was how handsome could your new neighbor be if he had the same kind of genes as the tall guy.

“Alright then. I'm sorry again.” he said ever-so-politely and you returned the smile before both of you were rushing towards your previous direction. Opening your door you couldn't help but look back curiously at your neighbor's door to see it slightly ajar. You wished that by some miracle you could have the power to push that door open even further so that you could take another look at him. If anything, he only closed it shut much to your disappointment.

The third time, unlike what you believed, wasn't the charm. More days had passed and although you had gotten the opportunity to hear that far-too-sexy-for-your-health voice more than a handful of times, you had yet to see him. Granted, you had been incredibly busy to even see any of your friends, let alone Hottie from 4B, but at least hearing to his singing in the shower did make up for it up to some part.

The third time consisted of a combination of the first two. Hearing his voice as you exited your apartment building your attention was immediately drawn to him. He was talking on the phone about some lost box, well, nearly spitting threats and you couldn't lie about the scene being a bit too hot for you to admit out loud. Again no eye-contact was made but bit by bit you were able to gather more information about your new neighbor such as the fact that he owned a gorgeous dark car that most certainly looked like an Impala. You were able to catch a couple more details about his face and again, you'd be damned if you lied by saying he wasn't handsome. Every feature you could make from the other side of the road that he was told you that Hottie from 4B was indeed the perfect name for him and you were almost – mind you, almost – not too eager to find out his real name yet.

The fourth time had yet to come as it seemed. You had been a bit more busy than the previous days but thankfully this time it wasn't because of work. You finally had the chance to catch up with your loved ones and even more finally you had the chance to spent the whole day with your best friend. Who by the way was once more late and left you to wait by the entrance of your apartment building in the cold morning a bit too sleepy and also bored out of your mind.

Well, the universe had a funny way of making you less bored as it seemed. Or waking you up. Whatever it was.

“What the hell do you mean this is the only box you could find?” you recognised that voice all-too-well after hearing it almost every morning through the wall of your apartment “I specifically told you there were two boxes, both of which you failed to have here in time more specifically: two weeks ago!”

“Sir we understand that these boxes might contain objects of significant value to you but we cannot-” the other man started apologizing but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

“Oh I'm sure you can! Especially if I remind you that my brother is the best lawyer in all of New York.” his voice wasn't as raised as before but the threat was very much real and his lower voice sounded even more scary if you were honest; so you wouldn't want to be on the other guy's shoes.

A small pause followed and after having taken a few steps away from your previous place you could see the scene with your own eyes now, just as Hottie from 4B took a deep breath in “That box you failed to bring here in time had every photo of my father- my dead father that I've ever had of him. So damn right, objects of fucking value they are.”

“We- we are sorry sir, really.” there was a hint of sympathy but still the man was defensive towards your neighbor “But please allow me to tell you that the first box was delivered to you to this very complex and we do have the papers to prove that.”

“Papers I did not sign apparently!”

“Well the building administrator did and he apparently had an authorization for it, it is not our fault you were not informed. So as I was saying we cannot do anything about that one. As for the second box-”

“So you're saying it's my fault somehow?” your neighbor's voice started to raise again. Anybody hearing the exchange might have thought he was being a bit irrational but given what the box held and the fact that, apparently, the building administrator had not informed him about some of the rules of the apartment complex on top of the transporters losing such an important box, you were sure he had every right to yell when the man before him seemed to give zero fucksabout the whole issue.

“No, sir, we are definitely not. But as I was saying, there is nothing more we can do and you could tell your lawyer that.” there was even a hint of sarcasm that had you been in your neighbor's place you would have loved to punch out of the other man “So, concerning the second box you didn't receive we apologize and are delivering it to you now, free of cost. Have a nice day!”

Your neighbor clenched his jaw, lips pursing for a couple seconds before in the end he grumbled a bit in defeat “You too.”

Once the other man left and before you even realized it, you caught yourself making your way towards your neighbor who was now tiredly rubbing his eyes and clenching his jaw to keep his lower lip from trembling. He was in great distress and you could almost feel your heart hurting for him. You wished you could help, you wanted so bad to, but for the love of you didn't know how.

“Son of a bitch.” you almost heard him hiss, turning his back to you without even knowing it because you had not made your presence known yet. Your eyes kept moving around the place as you bit your lip, trying to figure a way out to take some of the stress off his shoulders, if there ever was one, until-

Your eyes widened in realization set down on you and you couldn't help but exclaim “That's it!”

Apparently you didn't think about the man close to you that had yet to take notice of your presence. He nearly jumped in his place, turning so fast to face you that he nearly fell down.

“Oh shit!” you hid your face behind your hands in embarrassment just for three seconds before you finally mustered enough courage to look the man straight in the eyes. You were too taken by the sheer beauty of this man when you finally stood face to face with him to comprehend the gasp that escaped his lips. You certainly did take notice of the way his lips stayed parted and he stumbled back a step or two, though. His eyes, wide beautiful and an incredible shade of green, stared back at you with possibly as much surprise as yours gazed back at his. You didn't know if it was because you had scared him or because too taken by looking at you, only left speechless. You, for sure, were left speechless because of the features of the man himself and at the realization that seeing him from a distance all the time did no justice to him and his stunning features.

It took you a good couple seconds to gather your thoughts and remember not to gawk at him like a weirdo. You blinked, looking away for a second only “I'm so sorry, I must have startled you. I didn't mean to. I'm- I'm-” you cleared your throat, extending a hand “My name's (Y/n). (Y/n) (Yl/n).”

He hesitated for a bit, a bit too long, to extend his hand to the point it confused you as to why he still looked so frozen in his place and shocked. In the end he blinked and nervously cleared his own throat, taking your hand in his and shaking it. His voice was very low and almost thick with a king of emotion you couldn't place yet “Dean. Dean Winchester.”

An explosion of color. An explosion of color is all he could think about. Different shades of grey long gone.

He held your hand for a little longer, not that you minded, his eyes still big and roaming your face as if he was trying to take everything in, before you gave him a small smile “Nice to finally meet you, Dean.” your slip up didn't earn a frown from him - why really? - but you explained nonetheless “I'm- I live in the building too and uhm I was outside while you had your conversation with that transporter a-and I didn't mean to, I swear, but I heard what you said a-and I might be able to help with your problem?”

“My-” he started, a small frown forming on his face before he finally blinked, as if being brough back to reality and he understood what you were trying to say “H-How?”

“I- I mean, I cannot be sure but I'm pretty certain. See, Crowley, the building administrator, likes to have control over nearly everything in this building to the point it gets annoying but it does help for great organising. It is true, it has been voted that he was authorized for things such as the mail but I assure you he's not some kind of creep that will look into it, so don't fear that.” you reassured him, walking behind the front desk that was always in the mail entrance of the building and grabbed a pair of keys from the lowest drawer “We have a spare room which is a bit like... his office I'd say? I usually say it's his throne room because he's the King of Hell, but don't tell him I told you that.”

You walked down a couple stairs, Dean following closely as he held the other box in his hands. His eyes were all the time glued to you, a half smile tugged at his lips “Why? Is he such a bad guy?”

“Oh no, of course not.” you laughed softly and he was damned already but he let himself grin because it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard “He's great actually... for when you're in the mood for a sarcastic banter, I guess? He's not bad though, for sure. It's just the vibe he gives, you'll see it too. He could definitely run Hell if he wanted to.” you said with a smirk, finally reaching a door which you used the key for “We all have access to the room, anyway. He usually brings the mail we miss here. Everybody knows but I guess since you're new here you haven't been informed yet. He'll get to do that soon, I'm sure. So if your box was indeed delivered to the building and he got it then it has to be-” you paused when your eyes fell on a small box on top of a desk “Here. Is that it?”

It was nearly impossible for Dean to look away from you but he forced himself to, not to look like the weird one when you seemed to be so relaxed and casual around him. Most people didn't make a fuss over finding their soulmate, not as much as others. It didn't mean not accepting it – although there were those people who did say they were better off without their other half – but it did mean treating this... bond and destiny just like every other normal relationship. He appreciated the fact that you were the latter – or hoped you were – because he on his own was nearly terrified and unable to know how to confront the whole issue. Everyone reacted differently to finding out, that much was true.

Take it slow. He had to remind himself to take it slow. It was something natural after all, something to be expected... even if Dean had been partially running away from it his whole life. A fear of his world bursting into colors after years of black and white was always present in his chest. A small part of him didn't even want to believe he had a soulmate, didn't feel like he deserved one, and yet-

“Dean?” you repeated his name, breaking his trail of thoughts “Is that your box?”

Oh how he could get lost in the color of your eyes. And the most funny thing of all was that he didn't even know what color that was. What was even the name of the color on your lips right now? He surely wanted to know that and even more to think about the color itself than the fact that he'd love to kiss them.

“I'll uh-” he tore his eyes away from you, finally noticing all the different colors that had seemed to burst around him a good few minutes ago but he was too busy looking at you to pay much attention to. He approached the box and looked over at it “Yes, that's it.”

~*~

“Thank you for uhm you know.” he could barely even believe he was feeling so flustered like a teenager, all his charisma with women vanished into thin air when he needed it the most, but even more than he could barely get a word out.

“Don't mention it.” another easy smile “What are neighbors for?” you put the key back in its respective place “In case you need anything the key is always at the bottom drawer but if it's not then Crowley always has a spare one. His apartment is the only one at the top floor. But you'll get the whole debriefing soon.”

“That sounds about good enough.” he nodded his head, hesitating for a split second but only finding some courage in the fact that you stuck around to finally part his lips and ask “And what about yo-”

“(Y/n)!” another female voice was heard and both you and Dean looked at the woman fast approaching you “Where were you? I thought you got- oh.” she stopped instantly when standing next to you and took notice of Dean, her eyebrows raising a bit “I didn't know you were busy.” she grinned and you knew that grin so well after all these years of friendship, especially at the tone in her voice when saying the last word. Oh that was the last thing you needed right now “Hello! I'm Raven, (Y/n)'s best friend. I haven't seen you before?”

“Hello, nice to meet you Raven. I'm Dean and I wish I could give you my hand but that's kind of impossible right now.” he said with a soft chuckle, her easiness in a way reminding him of his own friend, Charlie “I just moved in here a week ago, I suppose that's why.”

“Oh oh!” her eyes widened even more and her smile got even bigger, if possible, and a bit knowing? He couldn't read it all too well. He could almost swear he heard her whisper as she turned to you for a couple seconds “Hottie from 4B huh?” before she turned to smile back at him again “Well, welcome to our neighborhood then, Dean! I'm sure you're going to love it here! I live only a couple blocks down the street by the way.”

Before Dean could get a word out and say something along the lines of “Good to know.” you beat him at it and spoke “And yet every time we plan to go out for shopping she make me wait as if she lives on the other side of the city and coming here on foot. Which is why once more we're late and we're going to be late for dinner.” you shot your friend a look that by now she was very used to, but that was probably insanely adorable to Dean. He couldn't help the chuckle that left his lips at seeing you interact with your friend, studying you on and actually learning things about you as if he was learning things about a life he had lived. It was in a way his because being soulmates did mean being each other's halves. “...and so we'll end up running down the street like two weirdos, again.” he was sure you had said something before but he was being a weirdo too caught with admiring all the colors that defined you that and zoned out.

“It's ok, most friends end up doing that.” he shook his head with a smile “I think I should probably let you girls go I still have unpacking to do obviously and you have a busy day. I'lljust-” his eyes lingered on you, he couldn't stop it, sounding too nervous for his liking “See you around, hopefully?”

“Of course.” you said in a soft voice that made him relax even more “I still haven't welcomed you here properly. Prepare for me to invade your space with a huge homemade pie one of these days? That is, unless you don't like it?”

“I love it.” could you get any more perfect? Dean doubted it. “I'm going to hold you onto that promise.”

“Absolutely.” you nodded your head, smiling at how soft the words came from him, and with a couple quick goodbyes you and Raven were both making your way out of the building.

“Hot damn!” Raven nearly exclaimed when you were out “Your words seriously did the man no justice, (Y/n)! How do you even live on the same floor with the man and be so calm about it?”

“As opposed to what? Losing my mind over him or jumping his bones... or both?” you teased and she shrugged with a smirk “At some point in my life I might have, yeah, he's gorgeous. Plus has a stunning car and great taste in music but my life's different now. Things have changed and I-” you stopped when your phone started ringing. You took it out and looked at the ID, smiling at the photo of the man on your phone and adding “Love my soulmate more than anything. I would never betray my other half.”

Before you finally answered the call “Steve, hey baby. Goodmorning!”

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rosemaidenvixen · 5 years ago

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You are my Sunshine

Chapter 14: Fourteen

Ao3

Content warning for implications of child death and dissection.

Barbara swirled orange and pink together, creating the perfect rosy hue.

The balcony outside her hotel room gave her the perfect vantage point for painting the sunset against the Roman skyline. It was so gorgeous that it almost hurt to look at it. And now she was creating a perfect reproduction of this heartbreakingly beautiful scene on her own canvas. She swirled one final bit of color in with the rest, completing her painting.

Barbara gazed admiringly at the canvas, proud to have painted something so incredible.

Jim.

He should see this

Lifting her painting from its frame, Barbara went back into the hotel room.

James was here, lying stretched out on the large bed.

But their son was nowhere to be seen.

“Honey, where’s Jim?”

James gave her a blank look from his prone position “Don’t you remember? He’s at the playground,”

The playground, that’s right.

Barbara went up to the window and looked out. Sure enough there was Jim, navy blue skin a stark contrast to the sandbox he was sitting in. Laughing and playing without a care in the world.

She smiled.

Such a sweet little boy.

Barbara was so caught up in watching Jim that she didn’t notice.

Not until the woman came out of nowhere and snatched up Jim. His giggles stretched out into shrieks of terror as the stranger carried him off.

Barbara’s heart stopped.

No.

This couldn’t be happening.

Not Jim, not her baby.

They’d always been so careful, and now--

She frantically turned towards James “They’re trying to take Jim, we need to stop them!”

James just shrugged his shoulders, not moving from his spot on the bed “You wanted him, you go get him,”

Jim’s screams echoed from down the hall.

Wasting no more time, Barbara rushed out the door and dashed down the corridor, desperate to catch up to Jim’s abductor.

Despite running as fast as she could, the woman was steadily getting further away from her, Jim’s wails of distress growing faint.

Barbara ran with all her might, heart pounding, legs pumping; but she never seemed to get any closer.

Then the worst happened.

The woman ahead of her stepped through a door and vanished.

Jim’s cries abruptly cut off.

Blood rushing in her ears, Barbara sprinted down the hall as fast as she could, bursting through the door.

It was the anatomy lab, from school.

Fluorescent lights, black countertops, and all.

A group of lab coat clad figures were standing around one of the work tables, blocking the contents of the table from her view.

What was happening here? Why were they all just standing around? Didn’t they know what had happened?

“Where is he!” she shrieked “Where’s my son!?”

That got a reaction at least. The figures all looked up from whatever they were studying and turned toward her. But they didn’t look panicked or alarmed at all….

They looked like they were pitying her.

“Oh honey,” one of them spoke up “You really should have said something sooner,”

Barbara felt the bottom drop out of her world.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Not Jim, not her little boy.

But the truth was there and she couldn’t deny it.

Jim was dead.

Barbara dropped to her knees and let out a primal howl of anguish.

He was dead.

Her baby was dead.

She tore at her hair and screamed until her throat burned.

It was her fault. She should have protected him, but she didn’t, and now Jim was gone, gone forever.

Had he screamed, cried out for her. Had Jim spent the last moments of his short life begging for his mother.

A strangled sob forced its way out past her grief stricken wails as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

She failed him. She had promised Jim that she would always be there and protect him.

And she failed.

And now he was dead.

Dead and gone

Jim, her baby boy, was gone and never coming back.

Barbara jerked awake, eyes snapping open to reveal a dark, unfamiliar room.

Where was she? This wasn’t her bedroom? What had happened to Jim?

She scrambled upright, wildly glancing at her surroundings.

As the shadowy room came into focus, it all started coming back to her.

This was a rental cabin right outside Sequoia.

She and Jim were spending spring break here.

Her trip to Rome was over a decade ago and well before Jim’s time.

Barbara’s breath caught in her throat.

Jim.

He wasn’t gone. He was just fine

Her baby wasn’t a baby anymore. Fourteen years old, a teenager. Big and strong; doubly so when he was blue.

Not some defenseless toddler that could be carried off by anyone that was so inclined.

Hands only shaking ever so slightly now, Barbara picked up her glasses from the side table and pulled back the sheets.

Jim was alive and safe.

Logically she knew that. The idea that he wasn't had just been a product of the stirrings of her unconscious mind.

But she still wanted to make sure.

Just to shake off the last vestiges of the dream, that was all.

Barbara donned the flannel robe hanging off the of the bedpost and headed downstairs.

While doing multiple camping trips in a year was definitely doable within their budget; Barbara couldn't afford to put a significant amount of cash toward their lodgings. As such, the rental cabin was quite modest; it had four walls, running water, a generator, and not much else.

There was a main level with a bathroom, small kitchenette, and pull-out couch. And while the cabin lacked a proper second storey, there was an upper loft with a small bedroom area.

Jim had claimed the couch as his sleeping area, but while it had been extended and was set up with sheets and pillows, the couch was vacant of Jim.

Barbara’s heart gave a small flutter.

This wasn’t any cause for concern. Judging by the fact it was still dark out, Jim was probably still out frolicking in the woods somewhere. He was old enough by now that she trusted him to roam freely and come back at a reasonable time. These trips were the only time he wasn’t locked up at night, she couldn’t take away from that by trying to impose some kind of curfew.

Jim would return before sunrise, just like he always did on their camping trips, she had nothing to worry about.

A quick glance out the window revealed that while the sky was still pitch black, the eastern edge had started to lighten just a little bit.

Sunrise was still a ways off, so Jim might be gone for a good while longer it might be a while before Jim got back.

And there was no way Barbara was going to get any more sleep.

Not after that nightmare.

She found herself wandering into the kitchen. If sleep was off the table, maybe she could be productive instead.

Barbara nervously approached the small fridge. She’d be the first to admit that cooking was not her strong suit. In fact she was so monumentally bad at it that when Jim got old enough to use the stove without supervision he outright banned her from the kitchen.

Swallowing her doubts, Barbara grabbed an armful of containers from the fridge and set them on the counter.

She was an M.D. She had finished medical school with a baby and completed her residency and raised Jim with no help from her deadbeat ex-husband.

Barbara Lake could figure out how to make breakfast.

First things first, simpler was better. The fewer steps there were, the fewer ways something could go horribly wrong. That ruled out anything with a stove or oven, not with the memories of some of her more disastrous cooking attempts hanging over her head.

Barbara planted her elbows on the table and cupped her chin with both hands, staring dejectedly and the stack of supplies from the fridge and pantry.

How could she combine this mish-mosh of random foods into a meal without rendering them inedible in the process?

It took a solid ten minutes of brainstorming before she came up with a good idea. A personal favorite of hers for the rare occasions when Jim didn’t pack her lunch.

A parfait.

Just fruit, yogurt, and granola. Something so simple even she wouldn’t be able to mess it up.

Confidence surging, Barbara pulled out the cutting board and got to work.

She had a surgeon’s hands, slicing a banana and dicing an apple was nothing compared to fishing gallstones out of a bloated torso. So her chopping motions soon became more or less automatic, allowing her mind to wander.

Jim was growing up, no doubt about it. In fact just last month she saw him making eyes at Councilwoman Nuñez’s daughter at the hospital fundraiser.

Puberty had hit him like a freight train. He had shot up in height almost overnight, making him as gangly as a scarecrow. Although based on the fact that every time she saw him he was snacking on something, he would bulk up soon enough.

As with every teenager, Jim rode the hormonal highs and lows as best he could. Mercifully, his voice had finally stopped cracking, although his daily checks for facial hair had yet to reveal any results.

And at night when he was blue, Jim was easily big and strong enough that he could defend himself against a large sized adult man.

God forbid he ever have to.

Fruit all sliced and diced, Barbara got a mason jar out of the cabinet, that was hip, right? And began layering the fruit with yogurt and granola. The finished product was far from the picturesque parfaits found in cafe’s and grocery stores. But Barbara was proud to say it didn’t look half bad.

Barbara slid her finished product into the fridge. The parfait was all well and good, but she couldn’t help but feel Jim needed more protein. He was a growing boy after all.

One that needed whole rabbits and chickens from the farmers market to keep up with his growing.

Dark thoughts surged to the forefront of her mind, stirred up by the earlier nightmare.

Barbara swallowed deeply. Ham and eggs, those were breakfast things. She’d cut up the hard boiled eggs and ham they brought and mix them together. That sounded like a sort of breakfast dish.

Eager for the distraction, Barbara got to work.

When Jim was little, his blue form was more or less the same as his daytime self. Aside from being bigger, stony, and-- well, blue. The stubby horns and and abnormal eating habits were easy enough to overlook.

But everything changed once he started puberty.

Most days it was easier to not think about what exactly Jim’s blue form was. They never got any closer to concrete answers so there was no point in speculating. But no matter how much Barbara might prefer to, she couldn’t ignore a hard truth about Jim’s transformation that, if she was honest with herself, she had known for quite a while.

What he turned into at night wasn’t even remotely human.

The oozing sensation between her fingers told her that she had diced the egg into paste.

Barbara wasn’t afraid of Jim, she had meant it when she said that nothing about his metamorphosis could never make her think differently of him. Sure some features of his blue form took her by surprise on occasion, but he was her son, regardless of what he….was. She could never fear him.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid for him.

Ever since his nightly transformation started, Barbara’s nightmares had been full faceless boogeymen and uniformed thugs stealing Jim away to be taken god knows where and have who knows what done to him.

Those fears hadn’t gone away, probably never would, but Jim's increasingly inhuman physique, what some might call intimidating, added a new edge to her fear.

Oh, Barbara still had nightmares of Jim being kidnapped and taken away, but now they were mixed in with nightmares of him being killed on sight.

Jim wasn’t a monster, never had been never would be. But as much as she wanted to believe different, some people would see him that way.

A few months ago she had walked in on one of the overnight patients watching Beauty and the Beast, in particular the scene when Gaton rallied the townspeople to kill the beast.

It took every ounce of her self control to keep from breaking down right then and there.

Barbara was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the cabin door opening and shutting.

Quickly, she dumped the sliced ham and eggs into a bowl and went to see who came in.

Jim.

Of course, it wasn’t like it could be anyone else, their nearest neighbors were a mile away.

He was back, wiping his bare feet on the mat and shaking leaves out of his hair, carefree as always.

Barbara beamed and stepped forward, arms open in preparation for a hug “Welcome back sweetie,”

Jim looked surprised to see her, no doubt alarmed that she was awake at this hour, but nevertheless returned the hug.

She squeezed him as tight as she could.

Jim had come back, safe and sound.

Not that she had ever really doubted that he would, but it felt so so good to have her arms around him again.

“What are you doing up so early mom?” he said while glancing out at the brightening sky. Sunrise was only half an hour away, but it was still ridiculously early

“Oh, I just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,”

Taking a seat on the edge of the pull out couch, Barbara patted the area next to her and indicated for Jim to do the same.

“Now tell me all about your night,”

Jim shrugged and sat next to her “Not much to say; ran around, climbed in trees, saw some big horn sheep, regular stuff,”

Gingerly, Barbara reached up and plucked a clump of mud out of his hair while eyeing the rest of the mud caked in various patches around his body

Regular stuff indeed.

“Well it looks like you did quite a bit more than that,”

That got a sheepish grin out of him “I may or may not have fallen in the river...while trying to follow the sheep,”

Barbara tamped down the urge to check him over for signs of hypothermia. Jim’s blue form was resistant to temperature changes to the point where he would be perfectly comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt in forty degree weather.

As Jim kept babbled on about the bighorn sheep and his misadventures in following them, Barbara half listened while taking a good look at his blue form.

His nocturnal shape had grown almost exponentially; at this point it wasn’t a matter of if but when he would be taller than her.

More than bigger, he was furrier. While during the day Jim still couldn’t grow anything more than peach fuzz, at night his hair had started creeping around his jaw and down his neck. This lead into the new furry patch on his back that almost exactly outlined his trapezius muscle.

But by and large the most prominent change was his horns. After just a few years of rapid growth, they were now as thick around as fifty cent pieces and had grown sweeping back until they were right above his ears.

Barbara felt a tender smile spread across her face as she ignored Jim’s fussing and wiped another chunk of mud off his cheek.

No matter how big he got, Jim would always be her baby.

The first rays of sun peeking through the windows as Jim simultaneously melted down to his normal self. He shivered, now feeling to chill in the mountain air.

She let out a brief chuckle at Jim’s plight, earning a pout from him.

“How about you come into the kitchen, I made you some breakfast,”

Jim’s petulant face went blank.

“You what?”

“I made breakfast,” and did a fine job of it if she did say so herself.

Although judging by the growing apprehension on Jim’s face that he was desperately trying to mask, he wasn’t quite convinced of that.

Barbara swatted him good-naturedly on the shoulder “Oh just try it, I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised,”

“Ok….”

Jim pulled on a hoodie and walked over to sit at the table, nervously eyeing Barbara while she rooted through the fridge.

She set the mason jar and dish of diced eggs and ham down in front of him “Bon appetit,”

Jim was somewhat less enthusiastic.

Slowly, he dipped his spoon into the mason jar and raised it to his mouth.

Barbara held her breath, it would be fine, she’d done everything right, hadn’t she?

Jim put the spoon in his mouth and chewed, the look of apprehension on his face melted into one of shock and delight.

“Mom this is really good,”

"Really?"

"Yep," he replied before popping another spoonful in his mouth "It's delicious,"

Barbara practically glowed at his praise while Jim finished his meal.

A good review, from her son the budding chef, maybe she wasn’t such a bad cook after all.

Pausing, Jim glanced over to her side of the table "Where's your breakfast mom?"

Oh.

That's right, in her worry about getting Jim's breakfast right she had forgotten to make something for herself.

"Guess I forgot to make one for me, I'll just have a protein bar, "

"No you won't, " Jim stood up "I'm going to whip you up an omelet, "

"You don't have to do that honey, "

"I know,” he flashed her a grin “But I want to, "

Barbara smiled contentedly as Jim began cracking eggs into a skillet.

Their lives were hard, harder than most, and it didn’t look like things were going to get any easier.

But she wouldn’t trade having Jim in her life for anything.

Jim let out a shaky breath as he turned away from his mom to work on the eggs.

He had been caught off guard by seeing his mom up this early. So much so that he was barely able to force himself to act casual. The breakfast had been a pleasant surprise though, not the flavor combinations he would have gone with, but it was the thought that counted.

For a while he didn’t think she’d buy his story about falling in the river while looking at the sheep, but it looked like she believed him.

He really had seen sheep last night.

But he’d seen something else to.

Jim had just happened upon an unfamiliar scent during his nightly romp through the woods and followed it deeper into the forest on a whim. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting at the end of the scent trail, but what he’d found had shaken him to the core.

It was about the size of a cat, perched on a high tree branch.

Smooth green skin that reminded him of a frog, even though the creature he was looking at was nothing so benign. Long, spindly limbs way out of proportion with its round, fat body. Large, pointed ears and wide mouth with an underbite, too similar to his for comfort, and glowing red eyes.

Curiosity had won out over common sense and Jim had crept closer to get a good look at the creature, despite its agitated hissing. He was close enough that he could have reached out and touched it when he noticed.

Another pair of shining red eyes, staring down at him from up above.

And another.

Too many to count, extending up into the trees and deep into the dark forest.

All glinting with malice.

The one closest to him made a jumping, rasping sound.

It took him a few seconds to realize it was laughter.

Jim had turned and ran, not even slowing down when he fell in the river, not until the rental cabin was in sight.

His badly shaking hands made him almost drop the omelette before he quickly corrected himself. A quick glance at mom revealed she hadn’t noticed his slip up.

Jim didn’t know exactly what he had found in the woods, and quite frankly he was happier not knowing.

He plated the omelette and moved to place it in front of his mom, willing himself to calm down.

One thing was for sure, his days of wandering far and deep into the wilderness were over.

#rmvwrites #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #fanfic #you are my sunshine #jim lake jr #barbara lake

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tinkerstarberry · 5 years ago

Text

What a glorious feeling (?)

WHO ↪ Rachel Berry, Malia Fabray ( @maliafabray ), Aerolyn Pierce ( @aerolynswitchpierce ) & Scarlett St. James ( @scarlett-st-james )

WHERE ↪ Somewhere in the campus

WHEN ↪ 7/21, late at night

TRIGGERS ↪ Nothing at all.

NOTES ↪ The girls dance, then kiss on the rain, some fun and some angst happens

Aerolyn

The fact that three of her favorite people hadn't done something that she hadn't done was a pretty cool deal in her opinion. Not only that, but the fact that it was raining the same day that the Never Have I Ever game truly began was pretty lucky as well. She walked out into the rain and to the courtyard, blinking against the drops of rain. As the first one there, she crossed her arms across her chest and looked around with a smile. She was a big fan of rainy weather and actually surprised that this wasn't something that she had ever done before.

Rachel

Rachel walked behind Aerolyn with as many towels and blankets as her tiny body could manage. She did want to be more adventurous and spontaneous, and that was the perfect opportunity for that... but she still was quite new to it. The girl took her time, first protecting her cellphone under all the towels, then taking off her shoes, before following the other girl into the rain. A shy grin appeared on her lips as she realized she was actually going to do this, and she slowly started to feel more comfortable, any tension leaving her shoulders for the time being.

Malia

Naked dancing. And kissing. In the rain. It sounded like such a romcom, minus the naked, and Malia couldn't help but be stuck on that. She'd been in her head a lot lately, over-analyzing every second with Rachel, trying to work out what she wanted versus what she thought the other should want. The fact that it was with Aero and Scar eased her a little and so did the prospect of points. She glanced over at Scar as they followed Rachel and Aero, a few feet behind. "So. How do we feel 'bout this?" She left the question open purposefully, wanting to gauge where the girl was at.

Scarlett

Scar had never really thought about dancing in the rain naked, but as soon as she saw it written down, she knew she had to do it. And when Aero texted her- and Malia and Rachel, of course- she knew she was in, even if it might be a little awkward, since she’d been avoiding Aerolyn on the DL the last few days. Even so, she was entirely prepared to let loose, even if just for a few minutes. After all, all this frowning was giving her hella wrinkles. “Um, this is gonna be lit af. You, me, and two hot chicks? Soaked and kissing? You’d have to be an idiot to say no to that. And I’m dumb, but not that dumb,” She said, trying to hide the nerves that were building as she watched Aero walk into the rain.

Aerolyn

She glanced over at Rachel, shaking her head in amusement as the girl carried out blankets and towels. It was an adorable idea, but it was also slightly nonsensical considering the rain was pouring down around them. As the othe girls came close, she began to strip off her clothes. She was excited for this, but the rain was also a bit colder than she was expecting and she wanting to get moving before she froze to the bone. The last thing they needed was for Rachel to actually get sick. "Alright. What song are we thinking?"

Rachel

Rachel was already moving her body — though not exactly dancing — as she began to take off the rest of her clothes, starting with her sweater. She didn't allow herself a moment or two to reconsider, not when Malia was a few steps behind her. Rachel was a performer, after all, and she didn't want to let her audience down. She had already taken off most of her clothes when she stopped to think about Aerolyn's question; she didn't have much time, she just wanted to keep moving and keep herself warm under the rain, so she went with the first song that came to her mind, and started singing as well as she could in that situation, "Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want, so tell me what you want, what you really, really want..."

Malia

"Bet." Was all she said to Scar. The texts the quartet had shared were very much still stuck in Malia's head and she couldn't take her eyes off Rachel as Scar spoke, a million things per second running through her mind. Luckily, the sight of both Aero and Rachel getting naked was able to serve as a catalyst to push all those thoughts to the back of her head for the time being and she easily removed her top with one fluid motion and then her shorts with another, shivering lightly. And of course the next thing she knew, Rachel was singing. With a shake of her head, "Oh my god." The biggest grin lit up Malia's face as she started to sing along after a moment-- though it was more talking along than anything, and she began bopping her head but not quite dancing yet.

Scarlett

Scar was glad when Malia didn’t push, not quite ready to let the other girl in on what she was thinking- mostly because she still wasn’t sure herself. And as the other two quickly stripped down, she was more than happy to let any of the internal conflict in her mind fall quiet, instead focusing on getting lost in the moment with her friends. Slipping out of her own clothes, she felt a chill run down her spine as she felt the cold air against her bare skin, but she grit her teeth, stepping into the pouring rain, she cackled as she heard the song Rachel had chosen. “Awwww YASSSSS!” She yelled, spinning around, her arms spread wide. “So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!! I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha)!”

Aerolyn

Rachel's choice of song caused a laugh to fall from her lips, but she certainly wasn't going to complain. It was quite possibly the perfect song choice for the situation. Even if she didn't want to completely admit to that. She glanced over at Scar, noting the way her eyes never seemed to stay on her for long. It was confusing, but she didn't want to delve into that right now. Instead, be behind to sway her body and sang along with her friends. She was definitely glad that she had sent the group chat, because this entire this was hilarious and it was nice to share it with the three of them.

Rachel

Seeing the others girl joining in as she sang gave Rachel all the confidence she needed to sing even louder, and actually start to dance — thankfully she knew many choreographies and dance steps by heart so she wouldn't be making an complete fool of herself in front of her friends and crush, even if she knew they'd hardly care. At this point, she was already completely naked, and yet, more comfortable than ever; even the rain was almost out of her mind by that point, she was simply having some great, silly fun with people she cared about. As she continued to sing, she raised her brow at the direction of the other girls, daring them to match her in intensity and passion as she naturally took the lead.

Malia

The combined energy of the other three was so incredibly infectious, Malia couldn't stop herself at that point even if she wanted to. All the hesitance about how cliche the moment was, all the thoughts running through her mind-- it all slipped away and she gave into the goofiness entirely. And to say that she was being a little obnoxious with it was an understatement as she held an imaginary microphone and sang various phrases here and there offkey, swinging her short and choppy hair wildly-- probably flinging more droplets of water everywhere. It wasn't the best of dances and it wasn't the way she'd dance in a club or anything. But it was the way she'd dance with her close friends and she knew they wouldn't mind.

Scarlett

Scarlett wasn't one to hold back, although, in fairness, she wasn't really feeling herself lately, anyway. But this? This was just what she needed. Some time to just cut loose and have fun with the people she loved spending time with most, doing something as ridiculous as dancing in the rain scream singing over the sounds of laughter and splashing. And of course, she had to math the volume of the others- even if she couldn't come close to matching their skill. Feeling Malia’s hair splash against her- because she definitely knew it was Malia, downpour aside- she kicked some water at her with a cackle, before reaching her hand out and grabbing whoever was nearest to pull them into a silly spin.

Aerolyn

Aerolyn could feel any weirdness that she had felt slipping away. The entire situation was hilarious, but it was also fun. And exciting. And nothing short of a bonding moment, that was for sure. The fact that both Scar and Malia were singing offkey had Aerolyn laughing, but also trying to help Rachel keep it a bit on track. This really was the girl's element, performance that was; perhaps not usually in the pouring rain and in the nude, but nevertheless...she knew that she was doing. Her body swayed to the beat that she could hear in her mind, casually tapping her hands lightly against her thighs every once in a while.

Rachel

Had this been any other situation, Rachel would've stopped everything to give some notes to the others about their pitch and choreography, but not this time. For some reason, this worked. The mess, the chaos the others girls brought to the table to contrast with her rigidness was exactly what she needed. Still singing loudly and proudly, Rachel let herself be spun Scarlett, holding back the laughter that would surely ruin her performance, though she couldn't hide the sheer happiness on her face. Happiness that was even more apparent when she brought her focus to Malia, very much enjoying her crazy dance, if you could call it that, and resisting the very strong urge to tackle her to the ground.

Malia

The obnoxious laugh that left Malia's lips at Scar kicking some water at her rang through the court yard, joining the mess of sounds resulting from loud, albeit angelic, singing, the splashing of water all around, and the shower of droplets around them. And that joyous feeling kicked into overdrive as she watched Scar spin Rachel in a circle. It was quite possibly the goofiest, yet tamest thing Malia could remember being a part of while naked and it was everything. By the time their show of a song ended and tapered off, Malia was in a quiet fit of laughter, a hand covering her mouth-- they were naked, in the rain, and dancing to their own voices and some imaginary beat in the air. When she managed to quell her amusement to a normal amount, "So I guess we gotta, like, smooch in the rain n' stuff, huh?" Her gaze naturally sought out Rachel's.

Scarlett

Arms spread wide, face up to the sky, and cackling with her friends, Scar wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so free in her life. She had always felt comfortable in her own skin, but as they danced and sang, without any constraints. But as the song came to an end, and Malia spoke up, she couldn’t control how her heart raced, her eyes naturally drifting to Aerolyn. Despite the fact that they all looked incredibly bedraggled, somehow, the switch managed to look perfect to her. But as soon as their gazes met, she looked away. Searching through the rain, she realized Rachel was closest, zeroing on the opportunity to avoid the conflict she was feeling. “What about it, Star Girl? I don’t think I’ve gotten to kiss you, yet?”

Aerolyn

As the song came to an end, she laughed, glancing around the group. It had been a great time and she didn't regret it at all. Aerolyn nodded when Malia mentioned the kissing portion, being reminded of that aspect as well. Without much though she took a step toward the redhead, but she paused when Scar asked Rachel for the kiss, feeling something like lead settle in her gut. She swallowed harshly and looked away from the redhead, attempting to shrug it off; or at least look as though the idea didn't bother her. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit down on her bottom lip, waiting for Rachel to make a decision before she made her move.

Rachel

Rachel didn't want the song to end, and she was about to start singing yet another incredibly cliche song when the other girls talked in front of them. Even with the high she was feeling from the fun they were having, the brunette could feel some weird feelings in the air, which she didn't know exactly how to deal with — this was perhaps the one time Rachel didn't want to be in the spotlight. Her gaze moved from Malia to Scarlett, then Aerolyn, before going back to the first blonde. "I think we all should kiss one another, don't you?" It was the best she could come up with. "We're all doing this together, right? It only makes sense."

Malia

Malia's brows shot up. "Um--" The wave of emotions that passed through her basically gave her whiplash. Part of her found this incredibly sexy-- she'd slept with all of them at that point, more than once and they were all extremely beautiful girls. But the other part of her, the part that was focused solely on Rachel, started rearing it's head again. Jealousy passed through her and for a short moment it was evident on her face with the way she narrowed her eyes at the ground. The moment was brief and she was able to push it away when Rachel spoke again. This wouldn't do, not at all. This feeling was horrible and did she really have the right to be jealous? After everything? Probably not. "Yeah. It only make sense." She spoke as confidently as she could, swallowing thickly. She looked over at Aerolyn, "Right?"

Scarlett

Biting her lip, even Scar could feel the distinct shift in atmosphere between the four of them, but she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Obviously, there was tension because of her- and the feelings that she may or may not be harboring for a particular gorgeous blonde switch- but there was clearly something up with Rachel and Malia as well. And of course, that would be coming up at their next Tree Time Tea Time. But for now, she was just going to live in the moment. “I get to kiss three smokin’ hot girls? That's a damn dream come true!” She said, trying not to let on how her heart was already racing at the notion of kissing Aerolyn again.

Aerolyn

The blonde was definitely surprised when Rachel brought up the idea of kissing everyone, but she wasn't opposed. Far from it. Even if she was still unsure of Scar's reaction. She quirked an eyebrow slightly when Scar seemed to be all for the idea, letting her hands drop to her side again, because keeping them crossed wasn't very conducive for what they were about to do. "Right. It makes sense." Aerolyn said, giving Malia a bit of reassurance. "Alright...then we're all kissing." She said, winking at Rachel; as she was the only one that she hadn't kissed yet. "C'mere, Tough Girl." Aerolyn said, figuring she might as well make a move.

Rachel

It probably wouldn't be a surprise to anyone that the only girl Rachel was actually desperate to kiss was Malia, but now, for some reason, she'd put herself in that situation and she was going to go through with it. She shot one last longing look in the girl's direction before turning to Aerolyn with a soft smile in her lips, "Perfect, then," was all she said before cupping the girl's face, and placed a very gentle kiss on her lips, suddenly feeling very aware that they were both naked, in public, in the rain, and being watched by none other than the people they cared about the most.

Malia

If Malia were wearing clothes, her hands would have been stuffed into her pockets and her boots would have been scuffing against the ground. An unreadable expression was on her face and she looked over at Scar and then back over to the brief kiss shared by the other girls and then back to Scar. "Fuck it." She murmured before grabbing Scar and planting a firm kiss right on her lips, decidedly less chaste than what was going on between the other pair. Why she did it, she couldn't answer that. Impulse, perhaps. Spite, maybe.

Scarlett

There was a burn of jealousy that flared up as soon as Rachel stepped closer to Aero- one that she was not even a little prepared for. She was used to her emotions flipping from hot to cold all over the place, but the emotional whiplash she was experiencing was more than even she could handle. For as much as she loved games, this was one she was quickly finding she hated. So when Malia suddenly pulled her into a hard kiss she returned it with as much fire as she met. And when they pulled away, she looked at the other pair expectantly, for once keeping her mouth shut, not trusting herself to speak.

Aerolyn

Aerolyn was definitely expecting the soft kiss that she got from Rachel, letting her hands rest on her fellow Switch's waist as their lips pressed together. It was soft and it was short and Aerolyn pulled back with a playful wink to Rachel before kissing her cheek. She turned to glance at the submissives, chewing on the inside of her cheek when she saw the miss going on between them. Her stomach churned slightly and she moved toward Malia, pulling her into a kiss, her hands cupping the girl's cheeks. As much as she had wanted to kiss Scar, she now wanted the girl to be the last one that she kissed; not sure how it was going to go with Scar having tried to actively not kiss her.

Rachel

Aerolyn's kiss was more than satisfactory, but it would've been silly to compare it with the ones she shared with Malia — it simply lacked the fire. Fire that she definitely felt as she caught a glimpse of the other girls' kiss. She felt an urge to separate the two, push the blonde against the nearest wall and show her who she was supposed to be kissing, but she could hardly blame Malia considering she was the one who suggested this 'kissing foursome' as it were. As the others fell silent, it felt on Rachel the responsibility to take the lead yet again. She repeated the process, avoiding to make much eye contact with Malia as she stepped closer to Scarlett, placed both hands on her shoulders and softly pressed their lips together.

Malia

It felt like a slowmotion movie when Aerolyn walked up to her and gently kissed her. She didn't deepen it, just allowed herself to be kissed and when they parted and she looked over at Rachel and Scar, she felt her stomach drop and the jealousy flared up again, burrowing it's way into her chest and making it feel heavy. She recalled the one conversation Rachel and Scar had about her possibly submitting to her and then recalled the threesome she had with Scar and Aero. It wasn't fair for her to get so crazy about this. With a thick swallow, she forced her anger to dissipate. For now, anyway-- anything she ignored always came back up in some way. She glanced at Aero and glanced back at the kissing girls, clearing her throat at them. She had to force herself to not look so...tense. Whether or not she accomplished that was a different story.

Scarlett

The tension between the four was almost palpable, and there was a decided burn in her face as Malia stepped up to Aero, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. It was the kind of kiss you gave your grandmother- and nothing even close to what they got up to in the woods during the camping trip- but somehow it felt different all the same. She barely had a moment to process that surprising thought, when she felt herself being pulled into a kiss by Malia’s girl. It was nice, for a first kiss with her best friend’s flame, and she returned it with more sweetness than she knew herself capable, knowing that she was in dangerous waters as it was. The next moment was the one she’d been simultaneously looking forward to most, but also a little bit dreading, in a way. She was still confused, still anxious, still hesitant, but after avoiding Aero all weekend, she wanted to kiss her more than she would ever admit. “Alright, Bombshell. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done?”

Aerolyn

The kiss she shared with Malia was a far cry from anything they had done before, but surrounded by Scar and Rachel it felt different...she just couldn't make it any deeper. When Scar spoke to her, her heart jolted and she nodded. She still wasn't sure what the deal was, but she was finally going to get to kiss Scar and she wasn't going to stop to think about things too much. She moved away from Malia and let one hand grasp the redhead's waist as her other slipped into her hair and drew her into a kiss. An audible sigh was pulled from her lips, but she simply deepened the kiss in the hope of making it as something other that just pure relief.

Rachel

The kiss Rachel shared with Scarlett was as sweet as it was short, and before she knew it, there she was, standing in the rain, a few steps away from Malia and the other two girls shared their own moment. It wasn't perfect, the moment was awkward and forced and jealousy was very much in the air, but that still was the girl Rachel was in love with, and God, she looked beautiful. She stepped closer to the girl with a shy smile on her face and wrapped her arms around the girl's neck. "Saved the best for last," she spoke softly, bringing their lips together in a deep kiss.

Malia

"Yeah, I better be the fuckin' best." Malia grumbled into the kiss, brows slightly knitted together as she continued to struggle through the emotions Rachel had brought straight back out of her with that smile of hers. When their lips connected, Malia's hands automatically came up to rest on her hips, gripping the skin there softly, tugging closer. The kiss was different for the blonde. After kissing the others that night, as nice as they were, this felt like finally coming home after a really long roadtrip. A ridiculous notion, yes, but it was wholly true and the feeling settled in Malia's chest. She brought one of her hands up to rest against the back of Rachel's neck as the sick, familiar feeling of butterflies erupted in her belly. There was something about kissing Rachel , so deeply and passionately, in the rain whilst naked that was simultaneously making an absolute mess of Malia's emotions while also unearthing a lot of the deeper ones.

Scarlett

For all her avoiding and ignoring, Scar had missed Aerolyn a lot- not just her physical presence, but her personality, the connection between them that seemed to come naturally. It had been harder to stay away than she would admit, so when Aero stepped up, pressing their lips together for the first time in way too long, Scar felt all of her resolve melt away. Pulling her as close as she could, she let the blonde deepen the kiss, enjoying the sensations of her warmth and their closeness juxtaposed against the cool rain that still fell over them. It was almost like one of those cheesy movies her dads always cried during, but unlike the times before, she could finally understand why- even if she wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. And when the moment ended- far too soon, in her opinion- she couldn’t help the wide smile that settled on her face, “Damn, Bombshell, still living up to your name, aren’t ya?”

Aerolyn

Kissing Scar was always incredible. It felt like everything else faded away as their lips met; nothing else mattering in the slightest. Even as she pulled away from Scar's lips, she kept her fingers tangled in red hair. She had missed her and she was afraid that if she stepped away, Scar would run off. And she didn't want that to happen. "Gotta make sure you don't go giving the nickname to anyone else." Aerolyn mused, squeezing her waist gently. For a moment, she completely forgot that Malia and Rachel were there, so focused on the girl in front of her. She eventually snapped out of it and glanced over at the other pair. "I think we did more than enough for this to count for us all." She said with a chuckle, looking back at Scar and biting her bottom lip.

Rachel

Many times before Malia and herself had talked about being a part of a romantic comedy, but never that felt more true to Rachel than it did in that moment. The rain was perfect, the kiss was perfect, Malia was perfect. No matter how weird and difficult things got between them, that moment, that connection they shared was enough for her to know that things would be okay. Rachel heard the other girls talking once the kiss was broken, but not for a second she turned her attention from the blonde in front of her, smiling even wider now. "More than enough, absolutely," she spoke softly. "Can we please get out of the rain now? If I get sick because of you guys, I will steal your knives and use them on you."

Malia

Malia offered a small, content smile when they broke apart, though she didn't move away. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Queen, I might take ya up on it." She teased. The title slipped out easily and naturally but at that point, she didn't care if it gave Scar more teasing fodder to work with, in the event that she heard her. She stepped back a little and shook her hair out again before taking Rachel's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. Malia gave a quick glance at the other two, "But uhh, yeah, as dope as this was, we gotta get back inside." She glanced up at the dark sky and then back at Rachel. "C'mon, let's get you all cozy n' stuff before your immune system keels over, since it'll do that in the rain apparently." She mused, leading the brunette out from under the rain.

Scarlett

Scar would never tire of feeling Aero’s fingers threading through her hair, and she hummed in contentment, grinning at the switch’s quip. But as all encompassing as the little bubble they’d built for themselves had come, it was gone a moment later. Biting her lip, she took a step back, turning to look at their friends. “Yeah- fuck colds, man. Ain't nobody got time for that!” She knew her bravado lacked it’s usual luster, but warmth in her chest had become heavy and cold, and as much as she hated to, she stepped away from the blonde, running in under cover. Biting her lip, she held the towel open for Aero to step into, allowing herself to wrap it around the other girl, before offering a sad smile and a kiss on the cheek, before running back towards the sub building with a half wave and an overly chipper “later bitches”.

Aerolyn

Aerolyn watched Malia and Rachel walk off, shaking her head at her friends. They were adorable and absolutely great for each other. She just hoped Malia would allow herself to have something great. She hummed as the towel was wrapped around her, her eyebrows furrowing as Scar looked at her sadly. She went to speak but was cut off as lips pressed against her cheek and then rushed off. Something bitter settled in her stomach and she curled her arms around herself, eyes following the sub until she couldn't see her anymore. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and so she turned and rushed towards her suite, not wanting to run into anyone or be questioned.

#☆: f2f #f2f: malia #f2f: aerolyn #f2f: scarlett #gleedsmnhie

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waywarddaughterwrites · 7 years ago

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Rehab For An Angel, pt.7

A/N: Hey beauties! So, this is a bit longer of a chapter and a bit different as you’ll see. This Original Character is based upon, and the chapter is dedicated to, my wonderful real-life best friend and faithful beta reader, @kissofthebadwolf. I love them both dearly, and I’m sure you guys will too! As always, if you would like to be tagged in upcoming chapters, let me know! We have a few more until the end of our journey with our favorite golden-haired angel. Thank you all, again, for the outpouring of love and support for this story. My tiny little writing blog has gained over a hundred followers over the course of a week, which is mind-blowing to me. The fact that you all love my writing so much is so incredibly humbling and confidence-boosting. I love you all so much!! Much love and chocolates, dearies. <3

Read Me on AO3:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13687962/chapters/31591086

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

Tag List:

@kissofthebadwolf @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom @eurusholmmes @speight-is-great @the-writer-in-blue @ourloveisforthelovely @thewinterhunter @cipherwheeldecoder @the-kryomancer @total-fandom-imagines @creativelyquestioninglife @becausefeelsthatswhy @tardy-bee @spnimpalaimagines @nobodys-baby-now @sumara62 @universallyvoidcandy @li-ssu @sebastianstanslefteyebrow

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As the days passed, it seemed Gabriel was slowly, slowly, returning toward a version of himself he was before. He was still choosey with whom he spoke to and how much he said, but it was starting to come across as an active choice whether or not to speak, whether he felt like giving the time, versus whether or not he could. His eyes maintained a quiet, haunted look when his guard was down and he thought you weren't looking, but more often they were holding a shadow of the spark they once held of mischievousness. His pallor was back to normal and his complexion was clear of any remnants of his time in the cell. His wings had gotten most of their color back. They were still a muted version of the golden splendor they used to be, but they didn't hang lifelessly from his back any longer. He'd put on some more weight and was seen more and more often in the common rooms (if that's where you were, that is) and was even taking to snapping in small items, proving that his grace had almost completed its task of healing his vessel and was focused now on simply replenishing itself. In short, he was trying. Things were starting to look up, starting to edge the dial ever so closer to normal. Of course, that's naturally when life had to throw you a curve-ball.

Sam and Dean were in the library looking into lore about alternate universes and you were on the couch, strumming random snippets of chords and melodies on your guitar. Gabriel was on the couch beside you, your legs across his lap, a book he was reading resting upon them. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door to the bunker.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. In no time you and the brothers were on your feet, the boys unsheathing their guns from the backs of their jeans and you had pulled the small knife you kept strapped to your ankle out of its holster. Gabriel stood as you stood and watched you closely as you, closest to the stairs, made your way toward the door. Whomever it was knocked again before you reached the lock. Slowly, you unlocked the door and eased it open a crack.

"No fucking way."

You opened the door fully and a mane of strawberry blonde hair engulfed you, making you drop your knife. Chuckling, you hugged its owner before pushing them back, your hands on their shoulders.

"How in fuck did you find me here?"

You moved to the side as you spoke, revealing a small woman about your age with long strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a face full of freckles. Her eyes were lined to a sharp point and her lips were a bright, blood red. She was dressed in hunter gear, a leather jacket buttoned over a blue flannel and snug jeans with a holster strapped to her hip. She was a strange combination of the most innocent and unassuming woman with the blatant capability to be lethal. She had a spark in her eyes that showed off her spitfire potential and you knew she could kill a man with a paper clip and chewing gum if she so wished without a single hair falling out of place (you'd seen it). She was more than a hunter, she was an assassin.

"Y/N, you can try as hard as you wish, but I'll always find you," she replied, her voice laced with amusement. You knew her words could be a true threat if she wished for them to be.

"I'll keep trying, but I hope to always fail," you said with affection. This woman had been the closest thing to a best friend you'd had for the last few years, after you'd separated yourself from the brothers. Your paths crossed on a hunt and kept crossing until you eventually sought each other out on purpose. Occasional hunting partner became occasional bar buddy became late-night confidant and friend. You owed her your life, several times over. In all truth, though, she could say the same about you.

A throat cleared from below you, alerting you to your forgotten audience. You ushered your friend inside and turned toward the three men standing in the living area.

"Gentlemen, this is my dear friend, Kaylee. She's a badass and will snap you in half if you cross her so look out," you laughed. The men were looking at you, confusion evident on each of their faces. You amended, "she's a hunter, but she's also an assassin. I owe her my life, and she seems insistent on collecting because I can't escape her, evidently." She giggled beside you, looking ever the most unintimidating creature. You turned back to her, "seriously, though. How did you find me here?"

She rolled her eyes at you, "Y/N, come on. I've known you for almost a decade, have a little faith. Also the GPS on your phone is still turned on." She patted your shoulder and started down the stairs as you blushed.

"So this is the infamous Men of Letters bunker," she said as she looked around appraisingly.

You followed behind her and stopped beside her as she paused to survey the men in front of her. A contemplative look on her face, she chewed her lip for a second, before pointing at Dean.

"You have to be Dean. I've heard enough about you that I feel like I practically know you already." She turned to Sam, and her eyebrows shot up as she obviously checked him out, her eyes raking up and down his frame, making him shift a little uncomfortably. "You, gigantor, must be Sam. I've heard about you but I must say, Y/N here didn't quite do you justice." She winked at him, making him flush and visibly swallow. You laughed to yourself at your friend's brazenness, knowing she was teasing him just because she could. She turned to Gabriel and her brow cinched in slight confusion.

"You...I'm not sure who you are."

You stepped in before Gabriel could answer. You weren't sure if he would, anyway. "Uhm, Kaylee," you cleared your throat and she turned to you. "That's, uh, that's Gabriel."

Her playful smile dropped from her face and her eyes hardened in concern. "What?" She said sharply, turning to look at the named man. By her reaction, it was obvious to the three men that she knew who Gabriel was. She turned back to you, eyebrows raised in obvious demand for an explanation. You chewed your lip in anxiety before taking her arm and saying in a rush, "We have a lot of catching up to do--"

"You're damn right we do--"

"--so let me show you to my room and we can talk, okay?" You gave her a meaningful look. With another look toward the angel, she nodded and started to follow you out of the room.

"Wait," you heard Sam call to you both. You and Kaylee both stopped and turned toward him. Looking sheepish, he continued, "you said she's a hunter *and* an assassin?"

A wry grin spread across Kaylee's face as she replied, "the best, for a price. Not everyone wants to commit credit card fraud."

"So you kill people instead?" Dean replied.

Kaylee's expression took on an undertone of danger as she turned her eyes to him and replied, "hey, a girl's gotta eat. The people I kill have it coming. When you really look at it, the two professions aren't too different. Both are about killing monsters."

With that, she strode ahead of you down the hall, leaving you to shrug your shoulders in a 'what can you do?' sort of way before catching up to her.

"Seriously, Y/N, when was the last time you even touched a makeup brush, let alone a flat iron?"

You laughed at her pretend annoyance as she swept the rouge across your cheeks. One of the best things about "catching up" with Kaylee? They almost always turned into juvenile-like sleepovers with makeovers and gossip. Although, you couldn't remember any of your sleepovers in junior high including sharing newly learned assassin combat moves and ways to hide various weapons in your clothes that made them virtually unnoticeable.

She put the brush down and gestured to the mirror for you to look at yourself. Another plus to Kaylee sleepovers? Her makeup skills were incomparable. She had contoured your face with such precision you felt you could cut a man with your cheekbones or your eyeliner, one. You hadn't seen your face so done-up in ages. You hardly recognized yourself and couldn't stop yourself from turning your head side to side, admiring her work.

"Yeah? You're hot, bitch. Get used to it," she teased. Rolling your eyes you got up and walked to your dresser, pulling out tshirts and shorts for the both of you. You were a bit bigger of a person than her, taller and more broad-shouldered, which made your clothes make her look even tinier than she was. You tossed her the clothes as you pulled your choices on for yourself.

"Are you hungry?" You asked her.

"Starved," she replied as she began to change into the clothes you'd given her. You left the room and walked toward the kitchen, intent on bringing as much snack food as you could carry with you. Kaylee had tastefully not brought up the angel-in-the-room, waiting for you to do so yourself, which you appreciated. You knew you owed her an explanation, not only for that situation, but for disappearing out of the blue for two months without contact. You knew you'd worried her.

Your thoughts were so full of the conversation you were going to have soon with your friend, you didn't realize the kitchen wasn't empty when you entered. Gabriel was standing by the sink, having obviously just gotten himself a glass of water. You walked in and he turned at your entrance. Your eyes met and his mouth fell open slightly at your appearance, eyes widening slightly.

Shyly, you ran your hand through your newly coiffed hair before clearing your throat and greeting the angel who was not-so-subtly looking you over.

"Um, hey Gabriel." You noticed his eyes lingering on your front and you were tempted to make a "my eyes are up here" joke when he spoke.

"Is that...my shirt?"

Your eyes widened and you looked down to realize the oversized shirt you were wearing was, indeed, a shirt you'd stolen from him months before he'd died. It had become one of your favorites and was well-worn due to the last decade of sleeping in it. It was perhaps thinner now than it used to be, which you were suddenly acutely aware of. You swallowed nervously.

"Um, yeah, I think so. Did you...did you want it back?" You cringed in your head at your words, knowing how they must sound. The old Gabriel wouldn't have missed the opportunity to crack an innuendo joke, and as you met his eyes, you could tell this Gabriel was considering it. The next time he spoke, however, his voice was strangely hoarse.

"Um, no. No, that's okay. You...you can keep it. It uh, looks better on you anyway than it ever did on me." He cleared his throat once, twice. "Have um, a good night, Y/N," and with that, he strode from the room, as if desperate to get back to his own room, glass of water forgotten on the counter. You watched him go, eyes lingering on the doorway from the kitchen where he'd disappeared for a moment longer before turning away and remembering your quest for food.

You heard a small cough from behind you and you whipped around to see Kaylee leaning against the opening in the wall behind you, her eyebrow raised and her expression one of bemusement. "So he is *that* Gabriel, then. Interesting. Tell me, is it all just eye-fucking and slow-burn, or have you climbed into his pants yet?"

Your eyes widened and chin dropped in shock, "Kaylee!"

She laughed, "you know I'm teasing you. You're too easy, sometimes. I was beginning to wonder where the hell you were with the food, I'm rather glad I came to investigate."

"How much of that did you see?"

"Enough to know your angel buddy is probably off to either take an icy cold shower or rub one out at the image of you all dolled up and lounging around in his clothes." You blushed deeply and swatted at her, making her laugh again. "Seriously, though, you've gotta tell me how he's even alive to do it. He's the one who died and broke your heart, right? What, did he actually not-die?"

You sighed as you started loading her outstretched arms with chip bags and sodas. "I...don't have the answer to that. There's a lot we don't know. He hasn't spoken about it much and I'm not going to push it. I've been through shit barely a fraction as intense as he's been through and I hate talking about it, I can't imagine he would want to drag up those memories. If he ever does want to talk, he knows I'm here for him. He's come a long way over the past couple of months. You'd hardly recognize him, he barely looked at anyone, let alone spoke. He's opened up a lot and I'm not going to ask for more than he's willing to give, you know?"

You turned back to Kaylee, your own arms full with cookies you'd baked the day before and a tub of cheese puffs. She was watching you with a soft smile. You raised an eyebrow at her, questioning.

"You're still in love with him."

It wasn't a question. You glanced toward the hallway where he'd gone, hoping he had his angel ears focused elsewhere. You lowered your voice.

"It's...a bit more complicated than that. Apparently, and don't you breathe a word to him because he doesn't know, but according to Castiel, we're, um...soul mates."

"Soul mates? Like cheesy rom-com, destined to be together?"

"Um, kinda, but with less cheese and more divine influence."

"How do you know?" The two of you started back toward your room.

"Well, I didn't know until I made an offhand comment about his wings to Castiel. Apparently, being able to see them is not a common skill."

She stopped in her tracks. "Wait. You can see his wings? Like, big, flappy, birdy, angel wings?" You shrugged and nodded.

She let out a low whistle. "Girl, and I thought my love life was complicated. Speaking of, I don't mean to change the subject, but what is Goliath's deal? Hmm? 'Cause goddamn I'd climb that like a tree."

You laughed and followed her into your room. It was going to be a long night, but a good night.

#waywarddaughterwrites #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #gabriel supernatural #gabriel #gabriel fic #gabriel x reader #gabriel reader insert #reader insert #dean friendship #dean winchester #sam friendship #sam winchester #castiel frienship #wingfic #wing!fic #soulmates #original character

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velvetchen · 7 years ago

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Acatalepsy | oneshot

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Scenario: Soulmate AU Pairing: Kai/Reader Word Count: 10131 Rating: T (warning for angst. i’m not kidding, this is 10k words of pure heartbreak)

Summary: In a world where soulmates are banned and their soulmarks genetically destroyed, one shows up on your wrist on your thirteenth birthday.

The morning of your thirteenth birthday - a Saturday - you’d padded into the bathroom to wash up. Gone through the motions, like any other day. It was when you’d lifted your hands to splash water on your face that you’d seen it in the mirror - like a dark eye staring back at you.

A mark on your wrist. Not just any mark. A soulmark. A triangle with a vortex inscribed within - clean, dark lines that didn’t leave your skin, no matter how much you scrubbed at it with soap like it was plain ink. It remained, stubborn and strong, branded into your wrist in a cluster of melanin that stood in bright contrast to the rest of your hand.

Even back then, you knew what it was, why you shouldn’t have one. You knew your dads had often jokingly described themselves as ‘soulmates’ - but they didn’t have marks on their wrists. Your sister, who was head over heels with her boyfriend, who claimed that they were ‘meant to be’, didn’t have a mark on her wrist that tied them together.

So why did you have one?

Before you went down for breakfast, you covered it with the thick strap of a watch, and nobody asked any questions.

“I can get you an authorization code,” said Zane flatly, crossing his arms as he scrutinized you, eyes squinted nearly shut. “But you have to be willing to do what I want to get it.”

“I’ll do it,” you said. All you wanted was access to the archives, and you were so lost in the tumult of your new discovery that you just wanted to know. “Tell me what I have to do.”

He narrowed his eyes even more, hesitating, and for a minute you expected that he’d burst out laughing at you, at how scrawny you looked, at how you wouldn’t be able to do anything. But he nodded. “Okay. Meet me here tomorrow, same place, same time. Wear an oversized hoodie or something equally as thick.”

You waited there, the next day, a few minutes earlier than necessary. Zane showed up, dressed in his usual black, hood up, unsmiling. He got right down to business. “You see that store across the street?” He pointed, brow raised. You followed his hand and stared at the front of the electronics store. “You’re going to walk in...and walk out with this.” He handed you a pamphlet with a picture of a black box on it. “Model RFD-445. Nothing else. Don’t worry, you can fit it in your hoodie. I want you to slip it in your pocket, go to the bathroom, and take out the little white security tab on the inside of the box.” He gripped your shoulder tightly, shaking you once. “Got it?”

You nodded, still mostly confident.

“Good. It’ll be embedded in the cardboard so you need to take it out with something. You got fingernails?” You held up your hand. “Perfect. I’ll worry about the cameras. You have five minutes from the second you step inside. Understand?”

The second you stepped inside the store was the moment your certainty wavered. How am I going to go through with this? You followed Zane’s instruction. Third aisle from the far right, almost near the end, in a shelf that was nearly empty. You checked the pamphlet in your hands, your heart beating hard and fast in your chest. RFD-445. The box was right there. Hoping against hope that Zane had kept his promise and messed with the cameras - you took a deep breath, looked to make sure no one was watching, then put the hand-sized box in your hoodie pocket.

You scurried to the bathroom, locked yourself in a stall, and hunched over the box as you pried it open, felt around for the security tab. Your fingers glossed over something smooth and plastic and immediately, you dug your nails into the cardboard. Hands shaking, knees trembling. God, I’m just thirteen, I can’t go to jail. The plastic bit into the quick of your nails as you pulled it out, stinging and leaving little wells of blood on your fingertips.

Without another thought, you threw the tab in the toilet, flushed it down, and shoved the box under your shirt, into your waistband. Hands fisted inside your pockets, you walked through the store, at any minute expecting a yell of, ‘hey, kid’, or ‘thief’, or worst of all, ‘you there with the soulmate mark’. Your mark was still safely tucked beneath the watch, but you were aware of it every second.

You burst out of the store, then sprinted across the street back to the alley. He was waiting. You pulled the box out from under your hoodie and pressed it into his hands.

“Not bad. Only four minutes.” He dropped a tiny serrated pin in your palm in return. “Here’s your authorization key, kid.”

When you got home, you locked yourself in your room, booted up your computer. Logged in with the fake account you’d created the previous week. Then visited the archive website.

Plugged in the pin.

Crossed your fingers.

It blinked green, and you breathed a sigh of relief you’d been holding ever since you discovered your mark. Now you had access to the private archives, the ones where the banned literature and music and media went. All the information about soulmates was here, spread out in front of you like a new world.

You read legend after legend. Looked at fiction about lovers connected across dimensions, across eons, by the soulbond. Heard folk songs from centuries ago, singing about the wonders of love the soulmark gave them. Stories of an incredibly powerful connection that stretched between two people, transcending time and space. A feeling that was more than love and utter peace combined.

There was poetry; there were love letters from soulmates in an era long lost. Big ancient tomes about the science of the soulbond and why it was beyond comprehension, a facet of the universe that had imprinted itself upon humanity.

It was glorious. You looked down at the smudge on your wrist. It almost seemed to glow as it looked back at you, like a real eye.

You had been chosen as part of that forbidden world, and you had no idea why.

It was a few months later when you saw the story on the news. You’d been reading, content with doing your work, your dads talking quietly between themselves as the TV droned on.

“...found with a soulmate mark…”

Your attention had jolted up to the tv then, to the newscaster who had said the words you'd been trying to erase from your mind. Soulmark. It rang in your skull; you listened, rapt.

“...authorities have seized all questionable possessions. The man, James Carter Jr. and his alleged ‘soulmate’-” said with air quotes and all “-have been taken into custody by Soulmate Affairs for questioning.”

There was a clip, next. Blurry, but you could still make out what was happening. A man struggling against the hold of two enforcers in navy suits, both of them with blank faces, pushing him down as he tried again and again to reach the woman at the other end of the room. She wasn’t struggling at all, actually, and for a minute you thought she didn’t care, that she wasn’t actually his soulmate. But then the camera zoomed in, and though it got blurrier, you saw the absolute, desperate heartbreak on her face, the tears spilling off her chin in torrents and dripping onto her cuffed hands - and the mark on one, a blurry dark spot that you knew was what must have incriminated them.

The clip cut back to the newscaster, who quickly moved on to the next topic. You’d heard horror stories of what happened to the remaining soulpairs from your older friends at school, from your sister, from people online. Stories of soulmates being electrocuted to within an inch of their lives to sever the bond, leaving them empty shells of people with no memories of their partner - then lasering off the mark so they’d never know they’d had a soulmate in the first place.

You’d also seen the Soulmate Affairs pamphlet at hospitals and doctor clinics, the one that offered soulbond removal in utero so that people could live a ‘happy, fulfilling life, on their own terms’. If the removal somehow didn’t work - like in your case - if you turned yourself in to authorities, they would gladly remove it again.

Except, you’d read, without the soulbond, living wasn’t worth it.

You were fourteen when you saw it happen in real life. The girl in front of you in the hallway, walking to class normally as ever. She raised her arm to tuck her hair behind her ear, and her sleeve rode up to show the world the tattoo on her wrist - a simple circle with criscrossing lines inside.

Except you knew it wasn’t a tattoo. And so did the teacher who was also walking down the hallway, and when the girl was caught and dragged away crying in handcuffs, when she fell to her knees to pray, you did nothing. You said nothing. You knew there was no easy escape from this fate; that there might not be an escape at all.

Instead you turned away. Pushed through the crowd, feeling wetness on your cheeks. The minute there was space you started to run, and you didn’t stop until you were outside, away from the murmur and press of people. You looked down at your own wrist, the mark covered with concealer. Anyone who looked twice would see the shape of it.

Maybe you were just lucky. As lucky as an unlucky person could get.

That night you tried burning off the mark. You numbed the skin with too much numbing cream, then held a spoon to a flame until the bottom glowed red. Then, with a deep inhale, you pressed the metal to your skin -

-and screamed as an excruciating pain shot through your chest, like you were being ripped apart from the inside. You dropped the spoon, but the pain didn’t stop. It rent you like paper.

And then there was the strangest feeling. The pain was still there, but for a moment you felt like you weren’t the only one in your head. Or rather, that you were both yourself and someone else all at once. Two minds fused by this blinding white-hot burst of pain.

Then, abruptly, it stopped.

You collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily, and lifted your wrist to look at. What if you had managed to succeed? You hadn’t actually thought about what would happen.

There was nothing to fear, though. Under the reddish, raw, skin, the mark was as present as ever. If anything, it seemed to have gotten darker.

You dreamed of him, first, a few weeks later.

You were in an empty space, everything fuzzy and white and incorporeal except for yourself. And him, of course. You could make out the outline of his body, limned in white light, but his shape was blurred, like someone had smeared wet paint. Despite that you saw his fear, apprehension. You looked just as strange to him.

That knowledge relaxed you. “It’s okay,” you said, but there was no sound, only the shape your voice made, carrying through the air like a breeze. He heard you. Turned around. You saw him opening his mouth, saw the abstract of his face rearrange.

“Who are you?”

You were going to say your name, but of what use was your name to him? You looked down at your body, solid enough to you, but surely a mess of lines and colors to him. Who were you? “I don’t know,” you said, and this time your voice was there, and it echoed.

The shape of him changed again, becoming even more intangible. “Why did you hurt me?”

Again you felt his emotions like they were your own. The distrust, the fear - intensifying. From your feet a dark stain started to spread into the white. It crept out like ink in water, moving up around you until it obscured him from view. All the while his voice echoed, “Why did you hurt me?”

You woke up in your bed, sitting upright.

“There,” someone said, “she’s awake. The fever must have broken.”

“I told you a cold compress was the way to go. It’s okay, love,” a hand crept into your clammy one, “lie down again.”

You obliged, but you were still seeing white turning to black, black turning to white, a muddled mess of a boy pulled apart into strings.

The dreams continued well into your fifteenth year. They occurred in different places, sometimes random, sometimes not. There was the great oak of your childhood, but everything was warmer and the colors kept floating away. There was a room with two chairs, lush and opulent in its decoration. Throughout the dreams he still asked you that same question - why’d you hurt me?

In the second dream, you’d figured it out. The next time he’d asked you who you were, you answered, “I’m your soulmate.”

That hadn’t helped things. The dream had colored bitter yellow and swirled away at your feet like water draining away, and you didn’t see him again for nearly a month.

When he came back he’d been less afraid, less volatile. His emotions wrapped around you: a blanket of blue caution, the muddy stickiness of red acceptance.

A few months later, you reached out for his hand, only to have him disappear on you again.

The next time you tried it was a long while later, but the smears of your hands met and solidified into skin and bones. You held on tight, like he might disintegrate at any moment. His hand was soft, a warm honey color, his nails perfect half-moons against your skin.

You were the one who let go first.

The first time you saw his face you were nearly seventeen. Touching made you become real, you quickly realized, and soon you wanted to do anything to feel real. The world had gone paler and paler after the lurid wash of each dream, and by then you were seeing in black and white. You didn’t feel things. You tasted nothing. Music was like static in your ears.

But at nights, you felt alive.

He figured it out, too. And so every night you held each other and murmured things you weren’t even sure the other could understand. You looked down at yourselves and saw two real people entwined, not a smudge of color like it had been at first.

When you pressed your forehead to his, you saw what he looked like. Strong features, soft smile. Eyes that stared at you with all the awe you had been feeling. You wished every night that you would sleep forever and never wake up again, just so that you could stay with him.

I’m getting married,” your sister said, staring at her reflection in the full length mirror.

You couldn’t stop the exhilaration that rushed through you at the sight of her in her wedding dress. “Gosh, Fee. I’m so happy for you!”

“I know, I can’t believe this day is finally here.” There were tears misting in her eyes, and in yours too. You wiped them on the back on your hand. “Zip me up?”

You nodded and moved to adjust the fabric in the back, making sure everything was all okay before your hand reached for the zip. Then you saw it, on her hip - a rosette of bruises, soft blue black and fading into the rest of her skin. Worried, your gaze flicked up to her shoulder. There were more. Bruises between her shoulderblades, an old one ringing around her neck. “Fee, what’s this,” you whispered. “Who did this to you?”

Her eyes went huge. “Nothing,” she hissed at you. “It’s nothing. You know I’m clumsy.”

“Fee, was it Mark-”

“Mark had nothing to do with this,” she said, and her voice was dark. “Please, just - just do it. I have to go out there in two minutes.” A tear slipped out of her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.

Helpless, you zipped up the dress, hiding the marks for good.

It was your twenty-first birthday, and you were late to lunch.

You all but ran across the central square to the restaurant on the far end, bumping into people as you went. It was made harder by the fact that all you could see was a sea of monotonous black, grey, white. “Sorry!” you exclaimed. “Excuse me. Pardon me.” You almost couldn’t feel if your shoulders were hitting another’s, couldn’t feel the thud of your steps on the concrete underneath.

Clutching your bag tightly, you dashed forward again.

This time, when you bumped into someone, you felt it. You felt it like a push on your soul. Instantly, your world bloomed into color, everything so vivid and bright you felt like you were going blind. Shielding your eyes, you looked up.

There was no one there.

You spun around, looking everywhere, checking everyone. No one had stopped. The color was fading back to monochrome.

And then - you saw something - a figure, still saturated despite the lack of color, arms pulled tightly around himself. You were rooted to the spot. You reached out weakly with one arm, but the figure vanished, and so did everything else.

“Are you okay?” your friend asked as you pulled out the chair to sit down. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Might as well be. You shook your head, indicating you were all right. Everyone was already there - you were late to your own birthday luncheon.

You accepted everyone’s wishes with a plastered-on smile and rehearsed thanks. It was all empty. Your heart pointed in the direction of the past, your one devastating moment of feeling.

Now that you had tasted color again for the first time in forever, everything was duller than before. Blander than before. Bleached, somehow, like the stranger had siphoned away whatever you had left. You ate just for the sake of eating. Talked for the sake of talking, yet all the while you were watching out the window of the restaurant, hoping he would walk by again.

Three weeks later. You were alone as always, curled up in the shade of a tree as you looked out over the field beyond. A notepad lay open in your lap, a pencil held loosely in your fist.

You had taken to drawing him lately. You got the shapes right from what hazy memories you had, but no line was good enough, sharp enough. The drawings swam and rearranged into a mess in front of your eyes.

You shut the notebook and laid two fingers on your soulmark. It was hot to the touch, throbbing with two pulses. Yours and his. Forever joined.

Without moving your fingers away, you stood up, your things dropping to the ground, forgotten. The other pulse was racing, as if he felt you listening and was saying: can you hear me? Can you hear me?

It thumped faster and faster, and you followed it, down winding paths and in between throngs of people. You didn’t even need to touch the skin anymore. The beat thrummed in your blood, bringing every part of you to life.

He was here. He was here.

I’m here.

You all but collided with him, your hands on his shoulders steadying yourself, his hands grasping at your arms. When his skin brushed yours there were bursts of warmth; when you looked up at him the colors swirled bright and rich, seeping away at the edges of him into the blank greyness of the rest of the world.

You disentangled yourself from each other, standing still as stone in the flow of the crowd. “It’s you,” you breathed. “You’re real.”

“Of course I’m real,” he said, and he almost looked hurt. You remembered all the times he left you because he was scared of you in your dreams, and your reached out to take his hand on impulse. You weren’t letting him go, not now that you had found him. Hearing his voice, his real voice, not the disembodied echo you’d known - brought warmth to your insides. Suddenly, you could hear. You could see the world in all its bright vibrancy.

“Come with me,” you pleaded, tugging on his arm. Everything else forgotten. You wanted to stay with him every second now, like two magnets once separated by the vastness of space that had finally joined. He was weak to you, too, you could see it. He followed you as you led him away from the busy street and near a quieter part of town, where you found a place to sit, shielded from the world by a tree not unlike the one in your dreams.

You didn’t let go of him even for a second. “Tell me your name,” you asked earnestly.

“My name is Jongin,” he said, shyly, sweetly. The name resonated in your heart, a sound you already knew inside. You told him your name. You saw the revelation fall in his eyes, too, a brightening inside him.

On your wrist, your soulmark burned like a small sun. A good burn. A feeling that told you: you had found your purpose for living, your space in the universe, the only place that would ever welcome you home.

You happened to be soulmates, but you still barely knew anything about each other. He was as new to you as any stranger, the essence of your relationship like a spring bud in bloom. You had seen each other in dreams for years, yet he still ducked away, blushing, when you shot him a smile or placed your hand in his.

So you did what any two strangers did when they happened to like each other.

The first date was your idea, a trip to your favorite bookstore-slash-cafe. Jongin had told you he enjoyed reading, but your tastes were more varied than anything. You picked up thrillers, he liked literature. You learnt that he was shy and studious, learnt little endearing things about him like how he wore glasses to read and when he was lost in thought they slipped down his nose awkwardly.

“I have an idea,” you said. “You pick a book you’d want to read. I pick a book I’d want to read. Then we switch.”

He liked that. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

The book you chose for him was one you’d been meaning to read for a while now, a murder-mystery about a woman and the people of her small town, people who came together, were tied together forever because of a series of inexplicable events. It had that thread of fate that you had always been drawn to in stories, with people who were meant to find each other for the sake of something better. It was a trend you noticed in most of the things you enjoyed.

You weren’t sure if Jongin would like it. He hadn’t been opposed to the idea of soulmates, but you knew he didn’t find it as intriguing as you did.

The one he picked for you, you could see, was one that he’d obviously thought hard about. A story about a young girl raised away from civilisation and then whose freedom was taken away. ‘The Meaning of Everything’, it was called. You loved it the minute you set eyes on it.

As the day went on you settled yourselves in a secluded end of the cafe, behind a line of decorative plants and underneath a window rimmed with gauzy curtains. You started to read, but found yourself pausing often to peek up at him above the top of your book, watching the way his head tilted to the side, the way he drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he grew captivated. When he raised his head to look at you - much the same way you were watching him - you ducked your head back down, pretending you had been reading the whole time. You could feel his eyes on you for a minute before you blushed and met his gaze, shielding your cheeks with the book. “What?” you squeaked.

“Nothing,” he said, grinning, He nodded his head at the empty table in front of you. “Want to get something to drink?”

It wasn’t a place you’d normally go to yourself, so going with Jongin made it all the more special. The bird sanctuary was huge, acres and acres of forest laced with trails that visitors could traverse on rented bikes.

“I don’t know how to ride a bike,” Jongin had confessed. “My mom never had the time to teach me.”

You laughed, but not mockingly. “I’ll teach you,” you promised, and once you managed to make him complacent enough to sit and not fall out of apprehension, you took his hands to put them on the bars. “There,” you said. “Hold tight, but not too light.” His knuckles loosened a little. “Okay. Now, your right foot on the pedal.”

Your hands stayed on his, calming him. “I’ve got you.”

He shot a smile at you. “I know.”

You let go, slowly. “Okay, now, push.” Shaking slightly, he brought his foot down, the bike wobbling as his left foot looked for purchase. “You got it! Don’t let-”

“Ouch,” he said, spilling onto the ground. Then he started laughing.

Pouting, you hurried over to help him up. “Jongin,” you drew out his name in a whine, “come on, you didn’t even try.”

He just kept laughing. “You’re cute. Make that face again, the pouty one.”

Unobliged, you huffed, picking up the bike and rolling it over to the stand. “That’s it, we’re walking.” Then you started off down the trail, looking back only after you had gone a few steps ahead. He was still sprawled on the ground, propped up on his arms, staring at you like you’d plucked the sun out of the sky for him.

Blushing, you called out, “You coming or not?”

He stood, dusting off his pants, lightly jogging over to where you stood. He took your hand in his. “Let’s go.”

The trail you had chosen was devoid of other people, a fact you were thankful for. Even though you had nothing against being out in public with him, you wanted this day to belong to the two of you, alone in a place that felt like you were the last ones on earth.

“Tell me about your mother,” you said, glancing up at him. “What is she like?”

Jongin’s face clouded over, but his expression didn’t fall. “She was...she was an extraordinary woman.”

“Was? Oh,” you murmured. “I’m sorry.”

He swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I - She - I never got to spend a lot of time with her. I mean, she was there, but she was always so busy. My father left us when I was a baby, and it turned out he was in debt, so when he disappeared everything fell on my mother.” He looked up, up at the canopy of trees, as if he was searching for something. “She was always so hardworking. When I was in primary school she worked three jobs, she ran the house, she took care of me. She paid back the debts by the time I was twelve, but we weren’t well off, all we had was a one-room house that had power only half the day.

“On my thirteenth birthday, I...woke up with the soulmark. The first thing I did was tell her.”

You made a surprised noise. “Oh?”

He smiled, fondly. “She took it really well,” he said. “She was happy for me, and at the same time she warned me of the dangers of being who I was. I couldn’t let anyone see, or they’d take me away from her. I was always protected. Until,” he paused. “I was sixteen, and she died from breast cancer.”

You squeezed his hand, a wave of his emotion passing through you.

“They found my dad then. Without the debt, he’d actually done well for himself, so he had a pretty house in the suburbs, a new girlfriend, plenty of savings. He didn’t want me around to spoil the life he built for himself. He...used to hit us. Me, and his girlfriend. She left, and then it was just me and him, and he started to drink.

“So pretty soon all the savings were gone. He died two years later and left me the house. I haven’t been back, since.” He stopped walking, squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled once, deeply. Instinctively, your arms wound around him, holding tight - a promise. You felt the press of his face in your shoulder. The cloth wet with tears.

“Sorry,” he said, backing away. He wiped at his eyes with his hands. “I might have ruined your shirt.”

You scoffed. “Like my shirt is more important.” You took his arm, the corners of your mouth lifting. “You’re okay now,” you said, reaching up to kiss his wet cheek.

“I am,” he said. “I’m more than okay. I’m happy.”

A bird fluttered overhead, and you broke away, watching its iridescent plumage as it disappeared into the trees. “Wait,” you said, drawing away from him and digging excitedly in your bag for the little guidebook you’d picked up at the beginning. You browsed the pages, searching for the picture that must be there. “Anna’s Hummingbird.”

“Did you know,” Jongin mused, his fingers caressing your cheek. “Hummingbirds symbolize the miracle that is love?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Kim Jongin?”

“I am,” he said, leaning in so his next exhale brushed your ear. “I love you. My soul loves yours.”

And if there was a harmony in the universe, you thought, if anything was truly meant to be, it was that moment.

The six of you sat around the table, your meal finished. You, Jongin, your dads, your sister and her husband, and Jongin’s friend, Taemin. Your hand was clutched tightly in Jongin’s beneath the table, fingers squeezing yours in comfort.

You drew in a breath to make your announcement. “I asked Jongin to marry me,” you said, and looked up at your family - they were all your family in some way or the other - to await their reaction. Jongin squeezed your hand again.

There was a moment of silence. All of them stared at you. “Well?” your Dad said, raising his brows expectantly.

“If I remember correctly, we both asked each other at the same time,” Jongin said, shy. “So, yes. Yes.”

The silence erupted into a mess of congratulations and effervescence. “This calls for drinks!” Baba flagged down a waiter. “I want the fanciest champagne you have.”

Jongin’s arm wrapped around you, holding you tight to his side. Embarrassed, you tucked your face into his chest to hide it. Everything felt surreal in a way - the haze of the lights, your faces lit up from the inside. You drowned yourselves in the elation, and next, the champagne, the night passing on in a flurry of conversation and laughter. You were content to keep your spot in Jongin’s embrace, and he was content to hold you, his hands tracing patterns down your arm.

Weddings were for other people, anyway.

The only other one who was quiet was your sister, though. She laughed along with the others when she needed to, but you saw it didn’t reach her eyes. Something was wrong, and Mark hadn’t noticed either. You didn’t want her to feel left out. It was one of the best days in your life, anyway. “Hey, Fee.”

She looked up, and when her eyes met yours, she gave you a genuine smile.

Satisfied, you smiled back, relaxing into Jongin again.

The night sky spread out before you, vast and encompassing. Out here the city lights were far off and you could follow the wash of the Milky Way as it wandered across the universe.

Your hand lay complacently in his, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin. The heat of his touch like a warm breeze, his presence beside you like a fire.

“That one looks a bit like a bird,” he said, pointing up at a constellation halfway to the horizon. You leaned your face close to his so you could see it from where he was, your cheeks almost touching, your breath mingling in the cold night.

“You're right,” you said. “I think it is a bird.” Even after you looked, you didn't move away from him. The sound of his breathing matched with yours. “I’ve read stories, you know,” you told him. “There were people who used the stars to predict their lives and find their soulmates. People who believed the constellations were once beings on Earth, and experienced a form of love so pure that they ascended to the heavens.” Even though there wasn't anyone around for miles, you still spoke quietly, in almost a whisper.

“Tell me one of the stories,” Jongin said, squeezing your hand once, twice, gently.

You let out a half sigh and moved even closer to him. “Which one do you want to hear - the twin brothers who live forever together? The archer and her lady? The tale of two lovers, separated for eternity by time?”

“The third one.” He turned over onto his side so he could watch you, his eyes in the dark just as deep and endless in the sky.

You swallowed. “It was an ancient folktale,” you began, “of two star-gods in love, their relationship forbidden by their positions in the sky.” You paused as Jongin reached up to stroke your hair. “The empress of heaven cursed the man to a lonely mortal life on earth. Somehow the woman found him and they started a life together, away from the eyes of the gods.

“When the empress found out, she banished them to positions on opposite ends of the sky and created the Milky Way in between, as a line they would never be able to cross.”

“Then?”

“Then when she saw them so upset at being torn apart the empress relented, and made it so that they could see each other once a year.”

“That’s sad,” Jongin said. “If I only saw you once a year, I would have no other reason to exist than to wait.”

“Me neither,” you agreed. “But I thought a lot about it when I first read the story. They were soulmates, so their love would never die. They were immortal, so a year went past in the blink of an eye.”

“But they were apart from each other. How could they agree to separate again every time?” He looked more troubled than he sounded.

“Well, they knew they would meet again for sure.” You sighed. “It’s different for us. We have a short time. We burn out quickly.” Propping yourself up on your elbow, you looked down at him. Saw the warmth in his eyes, the complete trust. “If two souls are joined, I don’t think they realize that they are apart.”

Jongin pulled you to him, holding you tight as the wind carried overhead. “I’m lucky, then,” he said. “I’m lucky that you’ll always be with me.”

“Come in,” you smiled, opening the door to reveal your sister. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, how have you been?’

“I’ve been all right,” she replied, nonchalantly - something you knew was a lie. You could see it in her face. The dark circles, the sallow, almost jaundiced skin. The flesh on her arms thin and loose, like they were filled with water. She was heavier than when you’d last seen her, at your unofficial engagement to Jongin, her torso odd and round in comparison to her bony limbs. An addiction was never kind to the body.

She sat uncomfortably on the couch, watching you as you locked the door behind yourself and headed to the small kitchen. “Tea? I have peppermint and rose,” you said.

“I’ll take peppermint,” she said lightly.

You hummed absently as you worked, placing water on the boil and taking the tea out from the shelf. “It’s really good to see you again, Fee.” You used your childhood nickname for her, the one she always hated but grew to love, when she moved away and you talked on the phone. “I’ve been missing something, I think you brought it back.”

She didn’t say anything. Just smiled, a little emptily. It felt odd, but she’d been strange since she had the miscarriage, so you passed it off as a nervous tic of sorts.

“How’s Mark?” you asked lightly, hoping it was safe to tread. Mark, her childhood sweetheart. They’d been together since high school. He had gone a little awry since then, though. You’d known he hit her ever since you discovered those bruises on her wedding day, and you knew she wasn’t happy when every time you saw her she seemed to grow even more distant.

But then her face lit up - the way yours did when you saw Jongin. And you wondered - no, it couldn’t be. You had seen her wrists. You had seen Mark’s wrist. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Besides, soulmates didn’t break each other.

“He’s well,” she said. “We’re both improving. He’s just like he was, now, all romantic and everything. I feel like I have him almost back.” Then her face fell. “Almost,” she said sadly. “He still...drinks. He still spends too much on it. I’ve...I’ve seen him with other women, too. He treats them better than he does me.”

Then she was crying. Face ugly red and splotchy, tears running down her face and into her mouth. She reached her hand out to you and you took it, squeezing for comfort as she fell apart. “I feel so sorry for myself,” she choked into your shoulder. “I did this. Not him.”

She looked down, eyes unable to meet yours. You brushed her hair out of her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I want what you have,” she whispered. “What you and Jongin have. It’s pure, like how Baba and Daddy love each other. Meant to be. I thought, once, we - Mark and I - were like that. When he started treating me bad I cried into my pillow and told myself that was love.”

You didn’t say anything, just continued petting her hair as she talked. “I want something real, so bad. It hurts.”

And then you thought, maybe the soulbond never truly was removed. Maybe the whole world was just searching for that tiny piece of their soul. Sometimes they filled the hole with another person: a lover, a friend, a sibling. Sometimes they filled it with work. Sometimes they washed the pain away with drink. Humanity had tried to destroy the thing that bound them to fate, and so people were left reaching out, always, for something to get rid of the emptiness. Maybe that was why people did bad things.

“I understand,” you murmured into her hair. She smelled like sweat and something sickly sweet, like medicine.

“Do you really, though?” The bitterness in her voice startled you. She blinked her eyes open.

You felt her freeze in your arms. Then slowly, very slowly, she inhaled. “I have to go.” She pulled away from you like she had touched something hot. Gathered her purse. “I have to go.”

She fumbled with the lock on the door, pulled it open. “Fee-”

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly as she walked off. “I have to. I’ll see you soon.”

You watched the car as it pulled away, taking a piece of you with it.

It was dark when you heard the banging on the door. You roused yourself from where you lay, curled up against Jongin on the sofa as you watched the late-night programs on the TV.

“Who could it be?” you asked him, panicked, as you pulled your robe tighter around yourself.

“Go check, sweetheart,” he said reassuringly, but you saw and felt his unease too.

The banging continued. All you felt was sour, like something was about to go very wrong. Like every step you took towards the door was a mistake.

You reached for the door. Time froze. You saw Jongin get up and take a step toward you in your peripheral vision. Suddenly everything was sharp and in acute focus. The soft noise of the TV. The hum of crickets outside. The sound of Jongin’s footsteps as he came closer. “Babe?”

The door opened. Four men stood on your doorstep, dressed in navy jackets with a circle embossed on the breast pocket.

No.

“Take a step back, please, ma’am,” said the one in front. Then he reached for you, wrapping his arms painfully around your waist and holding you against the doorframe. The rest of them spilled forward to tackle Jongin. It happened so fast your head spun. “No!” you screamed, thrashing. “No!” The sound of your voice was shrill in the night. Across the street, a light flicked on.

He slammed your head into the doorframe. Your vision went black. “We would appreciate if you cooperated, ma’am.” You felt the tightness of bonds being wrapped around your arms behind your back. Somewhere far away, Jongin was crying your name. “Please!” You heard him yell, over and over. “Leave her alone! Leave her the fuck alone!”

“Stop,” you screamed. “Jongin-”

Your head slammed into the doorframe again. Stars burst across your vision. This time it stayed dark. You were shoved out the door harshly, the man holding your elbow in a way that made your shoulder scream in protest. You still couldn’t resist the urge to twist around and look at Jongin - the sheer pain in his eyes matched yours. He wasn’t tied yet, he was fighting, maybe he could do this, maybe you could both break free -

One of the men pulled out a Taser and shoved it into Jongin’s side. He fell to the ground, writhing. “No!” Your shout devolved into a mangled noise that came from deep inside of you. “No, Jongin-”

Then you felt the Taser against your skin, too. You jolted once, and fell.

You woke with a start in a hospital bed, the steady beeping of monitors surrounding you. A needle disappeared into the crook of your elbow, blood flowing into the tube and into a bag, already half full. You saw it and felt woozy.

For a minute you thought it was all a dream. That you had, perhaps, gotten into an accident of sorts and dreamed up the entire encounter.

Your free hand reached up to your head, and your fingers glossed over a lump of raw skin. The image of your head slamming into solid wood echoed in your mind. It had happened, after all.

The door swung open. A nurse - or someone who looked like a nurse - entered, her eyes betraying nothing. You tried to open your mouth, to shove out a question, but your throat was dry and raw. You gaped silently as she checked your monitor and then, without warning, pulled the needle from your arm. You winced, looking away as blood began to well up.

“Follow me,” she said curtly, and turned towards the door without waiting for you first. Unsteadily, you sat up. Swung your legs down to touch the floor, and, when you felt solid enough, stood up. Every part of you shook with the effort, but you made it to the door and out into the cold, austere hallway. You followed the nurse into an elevator, then down another hallway that turned too quickly for you to follow and remember.

She pushed open a door to reveal a dark room. As your eyes adjusted to the low light, you began to make out shapes: a low chair surrounded by machinery. The nurse prodded you forward and you sat down, feeling the cold metal flat against your legs and back. Burning. In front of you was a panel of dark glass.

“Close your eyes.” You did so, too weak, too terrified to struggle. There was the icy sensation of something being rubbed on the bare skin of your arms, then your forehead and neck. You felt the press of something sticky after that. Two things on either side of your soulmark, another on your forearm, three along your collarbone, a couple plastered on the back of your neck. Then a line of them, crossing your brow, and one on each temple. You peeked one eye open to see wires stemming from your arms.

It was every worst fear coming alive. They would tear the soulbond from your chest.

You heard the sounds of the nurse exiting the room and shutting the door, leaving you in pitch blackness. A low hum reached your ears, and the glass in front of you lightened enough that you could make out what was on the other side. The same chair, the same machine. The same body crawling with wires. A reflection. Except it was Jongin, not you.

You felt your heart cry out. You wanted to reach out to touch him, to break through the glass to his side and hold him. Something held you down, though, and you didn’t know whether it was a real force or not. A single tear cut down your face.

He still had his eyes closed. You weren’t sure whether he was drugged or asleep. His eyes didn’t open, not even when a dull voice spoke through hidden speakers. “Start.”

It was a buzz at first. An odd tingling that ran up and down your body like a wave of insects, that intensified to a seething, nearly-painful hum. You didn’t take your eyes off Jongin. You would get through this together. Your gaze stayed true, even as the hum escalated to a pulse that sent shocks shooting through all your nerves, hundreds of tiny stabbing pains that felt like you were being cut open from the inside out. Hands curling, muscles cramping painfully, eyes spasming. Still your stare didn’t wander. You watched him bucking in the chair like he was being thrown, and bit your lip so hard that you tasted blood.

You recognized the pain that came next, your mind flashing back to that one night of utter self-loathing that had made you try to burn off your soul mark. The feeling that was like a thousand knives pulling you open, holding you open, exposing everything you were for everything to see. And like before, you felt that mind-meld, the one that fused you and Jongin together until you were one being, one fury, one scream.

This time, you felt it shatter.

This time, you saw the connection break.

This time, you were lost to him forever.

“I’m going to say a name,” said the man, and looked over his clasped hands at you. “You are not going to react to it.”

You stared blankly ahead.

“Kim Jongin.”

Empty. Empty. Empty.

“Kim Jongin.”

Despite yourself, memories came to life in your head, your body filling with warmth. You flinched, trying to keep your expression from betraying you..

The shock in your wrist responded, and you choked out a scream, gasping for breath.

“Kim Jongin.”

You started to shake your head. Desperation gripped you, mingled with your absolute heartbreak, the fact that you loved him but could never be together again. The shock came back, stronger this time.

“Kim Jongin.”

Flinch. Zap.

“Kim Jongin.”

You couldn’t help your body from curling inward. Zap. Your eyeballs rolled back into your head. As everything faded to black, you heard him get up and stand over you.

“We’ll try this again some other time.”

You stared at the bandage on your wrist. Every time you pressed it, pain shot through your arm, even though when you had looked underneath the bandage all that faced you was smooth, spotless skin. It was almost time for you to go home. The nurse had said so when she’d brought in your meal, smiling cheerfully. You had smiled back, relieved. You’d been here for nearly a week now, and all you really wanted was to be back home, safe in your own place with your family.

You’d had an accident, they’d told you. You’d been mugged in an alley, the hit on your head resulting in a concussion that damaged your brain ever so slightly. “You’ll experience forgetfulness, dissociation, and you won’t have a very accurate perception of time,” your doctor had said. “You could also experience panic attacks and a revulsion towards certain things that you may have liked previously. I know it sounds serious, but you should be fine as long as you take it easy for a while.”

Then he’d put you on prescription medication, “something to help you focus a little better.” All you had to do was sign some papers, and you could be on your way.

When you made it down to the lobby, both your dads where there, worry evident on their faces, and relief, too. Your sister was nowhere to be found. Something in you twinged at the memory of your sister, of her last visit, shrouded in the haze that now accompanied most of your recent memories. Her, sick, pushing you away. You shook it off.

“My baby’s all right,” Baba said, pulling you to him tightly. You recognized the homecooked-food-and-old-cologne smell of him, and relaxed into his embrace. “I missed you,” he said, and then you were being pulled into a bear hug by your Dad. “My little girl. I’m so sorry.”

On the ride home they made small talk to keep you from drifting away.

“I’ll make hummus when we get home,” Baba said, “your favorite, with extra garlic. We’ll have a nice family reunion, the three of us. Movies and everything.”

“Sounds great, Baba,” you agreed, your gaze fixed out the window. You felt like you were missing something - though you were happy to see your dads again there was something gone. Was it the time apart, filled with worry, that was making them tread so carefully around you? Or something else - something you didn’t know?

You felt a headache coming on, so you popped open the bottle of pills, tipping one into your palm and swallowing it dry, and within a few minutes you felt the calm start to take over, bringing you back to that pleasant state of nothingness where you didn’t worry about anything or anyone at all.

You stood outside Books & Brimstone, staring up at the sign and the tall glass front like it would swallow you up at any moment. Your dads had suggested you stop wallowing around at home and visit this place again - apparently you had really enjoyed it before, but now you just felt a strange sense of apprehension that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried to bring back your happy - albeit blurry - memories of the place.

The aisles were more confusing than ever. You knew that you enjoyed thrillers and romance. But it was like knowing that things burnt if you heat them. Just a fact. Confused, you drifted listlessly, moving from one shelf to another, dragging your fingers along the spines of books, seeing if any of them jumped out at you. None did. The more you searched the more frustrated you became - what were you doing here? You didn’t remember why this place was so special to you, why your heart reached out to it even though your mind had set off warning bells in your head, telling you to leave. Tears rose in your eyes, unbidden, clouding your vision. You stumbled, catching yourself on something.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked, gently. You wiped your eyes and looked up. That face. With the sight came warmth and familiarity, feelings that were quashed with fear. Something was wrong, something was off about him.

You flinched away from him. “I’m okay. Sorry for bumping into you.”

“Hey, do I...do I know you from somewhere?” He closed the distance between you, reaching out but his hands never meeting with your skin. Confusion painted his features. “I’m Kim Jongin, if that helps.”

You did know him. But from where? From when? Why was your body resisting the memory, repressing it so much that you felt nauseous? “I - I don’t think so.” You crossed your arms tight over your chest, tilting your body away from him. “I have to go. Sorry.”

You turned and ran tail out of the bookstore, tears spilling down your cheeks again.

The last time you had seen your friends was before the accident, so long ago that you barely remembered the meeting. Your twenty-first birthday. After that you had drifted apart, moved to different corners of the city. Didn’t keep in touch. You were having another reunion, and at the same time you were nervous and excited. The first feelings you’d truly felt in a while.

You surveyed your appearance in the glass storefront before you pushed the door open. A new dress your sister and you had bought together. Simple jewelry, your best shoes. Makeup making you look like someone else. The skin on your forehead had healed into a flat scar. You looked fine - not at all like you’d been discharged from the hospital a few weeks prior.

That vacant look in your eyes couldn’t be helped, though. You had been taking your medication more and more frequently, the constant feelings of panic and uncertainty becoming too much to bear. Especially now that his face was imprinted in your mind. Him, through a haze of tears, looking just as confused as you felt. You knew that face, knew that voice, and yet couldn’t place it. So you doubled your dosage and spent your time in a daze where you couldn’t be bothered to think at all.

Entering the restaurant, you looked around and spied the large group gathered in the corner. “Hey, right on time,” your friend said as you pulled out your chair and sat down, smiling shyly around the table and ducking your gaze. “We heard about your accident, but your dads said you needed rest, so we couldn’t come to visit you. Are you all right now?”

“I’m fine,” you said quietly. “I’m recovered now.” You tried to smile wider, tried to convince them that you were back to normal.

Then your gaze flicked up and landed on him.

“Have you met Jongin?” said another of your friends. “He’s my co-worker. He knows a few of us already, so I invited him. Jongin, this is the friend I was telling you about. She had an accident around the same time you did.”

Your mind started reeling, but you put on a pleasant smile as you introduced yourself. You didn’t speak to him the whole time, pointedly ignoring his attempts to talk to you and only nodding politely when you and he happened to be included in the conversation. But here and there, you felt his eyes on you. Watching like he was trying to unravel you. It made you feel both wary and intrigued.

There was something about him.

He stopped you at the door as your group left. “You know, I was wondering if I might, uh, spend some more time with you?”

You tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear, watching worriedly as your friends got further away. “I’m not so sure,” you muttered.

“Give me a chance,” he pleaded. “I feel drawn to you, I don’t know why. I just want to figure it out.” When you didn’t reply, he pressed forward. “Just one date, please.”

As much as you felt apprehensive, you had to admit you wanted to figure out this mess, too. “Okay, one date. I’ll meet you at Riverside tomorrow night, eight o’clock, and we can talk.”

His face brightened, eyes crinkling as he smiled wide. “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

You made sure you were there first, waiting at a table that had a good view of the front of the restaurant. Riverside was a slightly posh diner, a preferred location for dates, impersonal yet still comfortingly classic.

He showed up a few minutes past 8, not looking in the least bothered. The second he walked in he spotted you, eyes lighting up, and wound through the tables to where you sat.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied, looking down at the table. He laughed, then, a short sound that still managed to stir a fluttering in your stomach.

You ordered dinner, something generic, not really thinking it over. He watched you carefully, a curious glint in his eyes, like he felt you might just get up and run away at any moment.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked when your plates arrived. You nodded, and he opened his mouth, pausing to think. “I think...something’s different about you. You’re like a magnet for me. I can’t stop thinking about you, about your face, about what it must be like to love you…” His face shifted and suddenly he was sad. “But...every time I think about you, my body rebels. It tells me you’re not good for me, that I should stay away. I don’t understand it at all.”

You kept your gaze on his hands where they rested on the tablecloth. “Please tell me you feel the same way. Please tell me I’m not alone, that I’m not going crazy.”

“You’re not,” you said quietly, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re not.”

“Do you feel like this too? Like nothing you know can possibly be right?”

Tears stung, threatening to spill down your cheeks. “I do,” you choked out. “It feels so wrong, yet so right at the same time. You’re a stranger to me, Jongin. I don’t know you. I’m scared of you.” You looked away, almost ashamed. “I’m scared of you, but my heart still wants you.”

He let out a long sigh. Then his fingers inched across the table so they met yours. “Maybe we can try,” he breathed. “Maybe we can love. Overcome whatever this is.”

Your heartbeat picked up, thumping until you could feel it in every inch of your veins. “Together,” you said.

“Together,” he agreed.

The explanation came, a few weeks later, in the letter from your sister. You had wondered why she hadn’t just told you in person, but as you read, and things fell into crystal clear focus, you realized that you had been torn from her long ago.

My dear sister,

I hope when you read this that you don’t hate me. Anything but that. I hope you can forgive me, because what I did was irredeemable, but I know you. I know you are good inside. I hope you can find it in you to forgive and forget me, even if I can never see you again.

It was selfish. You know how broken I was from the years of abuse and grief, from the sickness and the addiction. I wasn’t in my right mind. I saw what you had and I wanted it so bad that I couldn’t think straight. I was consumed with jealousy and it ate me up and turned me into someone I never thought I would become. Then I saw your soulmark, and I figured it out. I thought that if I couldn’t have that love, you didn’t deserve it either. So I took it away and I ruined you.

It was the vilest thing I could ever do and I am so so sorry. You don’t deserve to have someone as wretched as me in your life. You’re a good soul, one of the best I’ve known. You deserve every wonderful thing in the world. Including him. Especially him. I can’t believe I was so desperate that I would forget my love for you and take your life away, when all I have ever wanted was to protect you and make you happy.

So I hope you find love again. I hope when you make peace with things and that the universe rights itself again and you find him. I hope you live long and happy. Even if you can’t forgive me, I want you to enjoy your existence and never suffer again. I want you at peace.

Love, always and forever, your sister

995 notes · View notes

avaalons · 7 years ago

Text

Chris Evans Fic: Anticipation (NSFW)

So I’ve written this, in a struggle, during a horrid bout of writers’ block. Given the request, this should not have been so difficult to write and definitely shouldn’t have taken so long. It’s done now though so sorry for the delay and hopefully I’ve seen the back of pesky writers’ block!

Can you do a cute Chris Evans one of him inviting you over to his house for the first time and youre nervous because yall haven’t taken the relationship sexually yet? Thanks!

***

‘Gracie, help! This is a code red. I repeat: code red,’ you left the voicemail on your best friend’s number as you hurried through the city streets to your apartment, the heels you wore to work clacking against the pavement.

You finally, finally reached your building and fumbled with the three locks on the front door. You took the stairs two at a time - nothing short of a miracle in your office-appropriate pencil skirt - and had your key ready for the next three locks on your apartment door. You kicked your heels off as you rushed through to your bedroom, flinging your handbag down on your bed, tugging your blouse out of your skirt’s waistband and over your head, not even bothering to undo the buttons. You unzipped your skirt and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of it as you walked through to the master bath, switching the shower on just as you heard your phone ring.

You ran to answer it, responding without even so much as a hello.

‘Gracie, he’s invited me over. Tonight. This is it. I’m fucking shaking. I have nothing to wear, I need to shave my legs, deep condition my hair, exfoliate from head to toe, paint my toenails…’

‘Babe, slow down and breathe. What exactly is the problem?’

‘Tonight. I am going to Chris’ house. For sex.’

’…has he said that explicitly? I seriously hope he didn’t actually include sex in his invitation.’

'Well no, but this is the first time he’s invited me to his house. We’ve never been to each others’ places before. This means sex, right?’

'There’s a high possibility. What are you freaking out over? It’s not like you haven’t had sex before. You do want to sleep with him, right?’

'Grace, you’ve seen the guy! He looks like he was sculpted from marble. I still have to pinch myself when I’m on a date with him.’

'Hon, how many times do I need to tell you? You’re freaking hot and you’re amazing, the-

’-the whole package. Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve said. But he’s probably seen loads of actresses and famous women naked. Who are, like, Hollywood hot and not just normal person hot. Like, I know I’m not vomit-inducing or anything, but I don’t look photoshopped when I’m naked either.’

'Hollywood hot has a whole lot of ugly on the inside, in my experience. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t keep asking you out. Try and apply a bit of logic to this situation, dumb ass. Now get your pert backside in the shower, shave your legs and thank all the deities in existence that you had a bikini wax booked in this week. Moisturise everywhere and get that really hot Boux Avenue lingerie set out - the one you got when we were in London, remember?’

'Yep, got it now,’ you assured her as you dug through the top drawer in your dresser, laying your hands on the pretty dusky pink silk and lace strapless bra and panty set.

'And then just wear a really simple, understated but short dress over the top. You want to look like you’re not planning on wearing it for long.’

You rifled through your wardrobe, cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder as you weighed up your options.

'Satin cami dress?’

'Is it tight or swing cut? And what colour is it?’ Grace was in full outfit-planning mode now. You needed her cool calm in the face of your panicked energy.

'Swing cut and it’s like an aubergine colour.’

'Yes, that would be perfect. I love that whole nightwear-as-outerwear trend. Some black strappy heels, hair blown out, smokey eye and out the door. Are you going for dinner or anything first?’

'No, he’s cooking apparently. He’s coming to pick me up at eight.’

'Yeah, you’re definitely getting laid sweetheart! Oh, this is so exciting! He seems like the type to have a really huge dick but doesn’t brag about it.’

'Gracie!’ You pretended to be affronted but her humour was a calming influence on you.

'Listen to me right now. Don’t get anxious, don’t get stuck in your head. If he’s cooking and coming to pick you up, I think I’m probably right in guessing he’s going to want you to enjoy yourself above all else, so fucking enjoy it, okay? He’s lucky to have this chance with you.’

Grace was your best friend for many reasons, but one very high up on the list was that she always had your back.

'Thanks Gracie.’

'You better tell me all the good details tomorrow.’

You grinned, 'Just try and stop me.’

You said your goodbyes and hung up. Glancing at the time before you put your phone on charge, you had about two hours to primp and preen before Chris would be here, and you were going to make sure you were scrubbed and smooth and silky from top to toe.

***

It was seven forty five when you felt like you were finally ready. You headed to your kitchen on your heels, trying to steady your nerves. You needed to calm down, he was going to be here soon and you were going to end up a sweaty, flustered mess. You threw open the doors onto your Juliet balcony to let in some fresh air and headed back to the kitchen to dig out something that might steady your nerves. A shot of tequila should do it, right?

It burned but it warmed you just enough and you took a deep breath. You had this. You took another shot for luck and did one last check in your full length mirror just as the buzzer rang to let you know that Chris was downstairs. You dashed across the room to the console and buzzed him in, collecting your bag and reapplying your lipstick and perfume once more.

When the knock came at your door, you composed yourself and answered with a big smile. You were happy to see him after all, despite the stage fright rolling around in the pit of your stomach.

'Wow,’ was Chris’ first word upon seeing you. 'You look… breathtaking. I kind of wish I’d dressed up more!’

He had jeans and a Henley on: he looked hot, of course, but you wondered if you’d misjudged this whole evening.

'I… probably didn’t need to wear this, did I?’ A nervous smile passed over your face and you struggled to look him in the eye, feeling more awkward than ever now.

You saw him in your peripheral vision take a step towards you, in your apartment now and only inches from you and when he spoke, his voice had an unmistakable gravelly quality to it that hadn’t been there before.

'I’m glad you did.’

You looked up shyly from under your eyelashes, 'Oh.’

'Hmm, oh.’

You were frozen there by his heated gaze while you briefly contemplated slamming the door behind him and stripping yourself naked so he could do what he liked with you, but then his eye line flickered to something over your shoulder and his gaze narrowed.

'You started without me?’ He inclined his head towards something behind you and when you spun around to see what it was, you remembered you’d left your bottle of tequila on the kitchen table.

'I… um… had one. Or two. Just to… start the night right,’ you rolled your eyes at yourself, knowing that Chris was looking elsewhere. Could you sound any more pathetic? But then, anything was better than admitting the truth: that you were so nervous to have sex with him that you needed a couple of shots to take the edge off.

He fixed his eyes back on you, seemingly considering you for a moment. Then he dipped his head towards yours, capturing your lips with his in a long awaited greeting. His tongue swept your bottom lip and it suddenly dawned on you that he was tasting tequila.

The material of your dress bunched in his hands as he gripped your hips, slipping against your skin over the silky fabric and pulling you in close to his body, the two of you fitting together like jigsaw pieces. Your hands instinctively went to his head, your fingers threading themselves through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck as you deepened the kiss. You felt like you were making a promise for the night ahead.

Chris pulled back minutely, just enough to speak against your mouth, the vibrations from his deep voice delicious on your lips.

'Yeah, I think that tequila will be coming with us.’

***

You chatted as easily as you were able to in the car, trying to keep the jitteriness out of your voice, keep your dialogue light and breezy: all a perfect mask for the whirring thoughts and feelings just under the surface.

You felt stiff and not able to relax into your seat, your whole body on high alert. How you were supposed to eat later was anyone’s guess. The heady combination of excitement, anticipation and nerves had you feeling more than a little nauseated but you wanted desperately to appear cool and confident.

His house was incredible. A bachelor pad, yes, but incredible. It was all minimalist lines, smooth and sleek, with pale, calming colours contrasting the dark wood of his furniture. He led you through to an L shaped kitchen, breakfast room and living area where the whole of the back wall was just huge glass panels looking out over his garden. Despite the light colours, it wasn’t cold or clinical, but you still felt a little unsure of what to do or where to go. You were caught in a strange limbo, not wanting to appear to be too instantly comfortable in his home but also not wanting to be overly awkward about it all. Why you couldn’t just exude an effortless charm at all times was beyond you. It didn’t seem fair, how some people just had that gift and you were stuck second guessing every step you took.

He’d handed you a glass of chilled white wine and invited you to sit on one of the high rise padded chairs he had for the breakfast bar. It meant you could watch him cook and he’d could talk to you while he was working.

'Paella okay?’ he asked as he began collecting ingredients from his fridge and cupboards.

Now he’d said the words, you could actually feel a bit of hunger creeping up on you. Maybe you’d just started to calm down a bit, or maybe the wine was helping soothe the anxiety.

'Actually couldn’t think of anything I’d like better right at this moment?’

'Good,’ he’d grinned, 'It’s about the only thing I can make that is just fancy enough to be impressive. If I can get it right, of course. Otherwise we’re on mac n cheese from a box.’

You laughed, his need to please and impress you helping you feel a bit better about yourself, 'That would suit me just fine too, don’t worry. Shall I do something to help?’

'No way, you just sit there and let me try to prove what a great chef I am… at making paella and paella only.’

He set about chopping, crushing, sautéing, and boiling as he asked you questions about your week and as you watched him and he led the easy conversation, you did feel yourself relax, the tension ebbing out of your shoulders, the muscles around your spine finding a more comfortable position. It was nice watching him work his way around the kitchen. You could almost forget the whole Hollywood thing. He was just a normal guy, trying to impress a girl by making her a meal.

He’d noticed your wine glass was empty and pointed it out, 'I’m terrible host, would you like a top up?’

You immediately jumped up, fully aware that he was at a crucial stage in the preparation of the meal and said, 'I’ll get it, don’t worry.’

As you darted towards the fridge, so did he, the result being that you collided together, hands on the door handle.

You both laughed awkwardly and apologised before the tension simmering between you took over and he gazed down at you, bodies pressed against one another.

'You’re really hot, do you know that?’ you told him, the wine clearly having gotten rid of ninety nine point nine per cent of your inhibitions.

'Well, I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen, haven’t I?’ He retorted, just a hint of cheeky cockiness crossing his features, 'Body temperature is bound to have risen a little.’

'That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ you whispered, lost in his eyes.

'I know,’ he grinned back, bringing his head down just enough to whisper in your ear, 'I find you extremely hot too. Especially in this silky dress.’

You reached up for his neck exactly as his hands encased your ribs on either side and he spun you ninety degrees so your back was pressed against the fridge door, pinned there by his body. He stared at you intensely, eyes searching your face for something… what, exactly, you didn’t know but he dipped his head and kissed you tentatively, almost experimentally, before pulling back to look at you again. Time seemed to slow and you were all to aware of your laboured breathing and the cool, smooth surface of the refrigerator door at your back.

'Chris..?’ your voice was low and raspy.

'Yes?’ He whispered back.

'The paella’s about to burn,’ you told him, inclining your head towards the view you had of the stove.

He let go of you instantly with a curse and covered the short distance across his kitchen in no more than two strides, removing the pan from the heat immediately.

You took a steadying breath and pushed yourself off the fridge, just about able to trust your legs.

'I think I’ve saved it,’ Chris poked at the contents of the pan as you headed back to the breakfast bar.

'So, the mac n cheese will live to see another day,’ you replied jokingly, trying to dilute some of the crackling tension in the room.

'It will. It’s day will come however. We can be sure of that.’

He plated the food and slid the plates across the counter: one for you and one in the place where he would sit once he was on the right side of the breakfast bar.

'I never did get you that wine,’ he remembered and stopped at the fridge on his way past to pull the bottle from the shelf in the door.

'No, apparently we’re both very easily distracted.’

'I blame the dress,’ Chris decided as he sat down.

'Well, you know, the dress can go any time, if you find it so inconvenient. Just say the word.’ Wow, talk about Dutch courage.

He raised his eyebrow with a smirk as he considered you and murmured, 'Now there’s a thought. I’ll keep that in mind.’

Your face heated under his gaze and then the moment was broken as he poured a measure of wine into your glass.

'Now, apologies if this is actually barely edible but I gave it my best shot.’

'It looks and smells delicious, Chris. Thank you.’

'You’re welcome,’ he picked up his fork, flashed you a boyish smile and waited for you to do the same before tucking in.

***

Chris’ paella was fantastic and the decadent chocolate fondant he’d served up with vanilla ice cream was a surprise too. You’d tried to be as ladylike as possible with tiny little bites but Chris had given you a sidelong glance and smirked.

'Go on, just go for it, I know you’re desperate to.’

You’d laughed bashfully and started eating with more gusto. Inside, you were dancing. He’d remembered your favourite dessert.

Once you had cleared your plate, you leaned back in your chair with a satisfied sigh.

'Well, Chris, you’ve earned yourself some definite brownie points tonight.’

'Oh yeah?’ he smiled around his wine glass as he took a sip, 'And what will my prize be?’

'You tell me Evans. That’s what you brought me here for, after all, right?’ you told him in what you hoped was your most breathy, most seductive voice as you slid a brave hand up his thigh. This was better, you thought, if you were controlling the situation, it gave you something to focus on other than your frayed nerves.

But, there was a problem, that much was evident almost instantly. You could see his brow furrow in response and you were instantly on the defensive, snatching your hand back. Had you got this all wrong? Oh god. This was so humiliating. You watched him in horror, starting and ending sentence after sentence as he obviously tried to phrase his rejection of you in the most diplomatic way possible.

'I… didn’t,’ he stopped again, let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

You just wanted to put him out of his misery, call a cab and go home to curl up in a ball in the middle of your bed and die. You were never going out with a guy again, not if it always ended up with you reading signals wrong and embarrassed beyond belief.

'Look, Chris, sorry. I’ve obviously just read this whole thing wrong, so I’ll just call myself a cab and be out of the way…’

You heard him begin to speak but you were already up on your feet and hunting down your bag to find your phone. Maybe Grace would come and pick you up actually. That way you could cry all the way home without judgement.

You retrieved you bag from where you had left it next to his sofa and opened it up, only to feel a strong grip around your upper arm, a gentle pressure turning you to face what you knew would be a look of sheer pity.

'Hey, wait. What are you doing? This isn’t what I-’

’-look, I get it. I knew this was too good to be true. My friend will come get me, it’s fine,’ you began fumbling with your phone, refusing to look up at him, until a calm hand covered the screen and your own hand.

'Will you just stop for a second, please? If you really want to go home, I’ll take you myself but first, you need to listen to me. So please, just look up at me.’

You felt a finger under your chin, softly drawing your face up to meet his gaze. You tried to remember to breathe in and out. This was torture.

His expression was wary, but a smile appeared when your eyes met.

'Now, I’m sorry about my reaction just then. It kind of threw me, is all. You are wildly attractive, believe me, but I didn’t bring you here purposefully for sex. This isn’t a set up or a seduction. There wasn’t an endgame other than getting to know each other a little bit more. You’re here because I like spending time with you and I wanted to just have a more relaxed date with you, that’s all. There was no expectation.’

You processed this information, trying to take it all in. Slightly overwhelmed, you blew a breath out, the hair that had collected around your face flying backwards. You considered his words and decided it wasn’t exactly a rejection but there was still one thing you needed to get straight.

'So… do you want to have sex with me or not?’ There was nothing seductive or breathy about your voice this time. This was a question you needed answering honestly and quickly, for your own sanity more than anything.

In a not-too-encouraging response, he barked out a laugh before cupping your jaw in both his hands, edging forward so your bodies were even closer together.

The blue of his eyes was darker than usual, it seemed, and seemed to sparkle as he answered.

'Yes,’ he breathed out, 'Of course I do. Probably more than is gentlemanly. But, after this, I think I’m leaving the ball firmly in your court.’

You were entranced, unable to tear your eyes away from his, his palms holding your head fast.

'Me? I have to…’

He gave one definitive nod, 'You decide when and where.’

You were both silent for a moment, each considering the other, weighing up this new deal that had been made. In that moment, you realised you wanted him. Like right now. From the moment you left that voicemail with Grace, you knew that sex with Chris tonight was inevitable, and not because he’d invited you to his house, or cooked you a meal, or prepared your favourite dessert, but because he was fucking sexy as hell and was probably going to be incredible in bed. All you really wanted was him to show you a good time, and for him to be blown away by how amazing you looked in your lingerie. This required a ballsy move and a deep breath.

You had a new set in your face, reflecting the determination you felt at the core of your being, steeling yourself and letting yourself recall every single moment he’d let on just how sexy he found you. You wrapped your fingers around his wrists and tugged them down gently as you stepped back just once. Keeping your eyes unwaveringly on his, you slid your fingers under one cami strap, sliding it down your arm and freeing it. You raised an eyebrow at Chris, almost challenging him to stop you, before freeing your other arm from the dress and letting the whole garment plummet to the floor, the silky material flowing over your curves.

And there you stood, shameless and, you hoped, confident, in your dusky pink lacy lingerie set, strappy heels and nothing else. Chris swallowed hard, caught like a deer in headlights.

'I believe,’ you began, 'that if the ball was in my court, I’ve just sent you a pretty hard serve. Fancy a volley, Chris?’

He nodded slowly, unblinking, before launching into action, lurching forwards to snake his arms around around your waist and walking you backwards with his mouth pressed roughly to yours. He led you until your back was against a wall and he pressed his body into yours, forcing the breath from your lungs. You brought one leg up, bent at the knee and bracing your foot flat against the wall, cradling his body between your legs, rolling your hips against his.

He hissed, pulling his mouth from yours minutely.

'Fuck. Do you have any idea what you do to me?’

'Show me,’ you whispered.

'Not here. I’m doing this properly. Come on.’

Gripping your hand, he tugged you off the wall and led you down the hall, pulling you into a dark room. He switched a lamp on from somewhere and a warm glow filled the room. The momentary reprieve had made all those insecurities come flooding back to the surface and you stood, in what was clearly Chris’ bedroom with your arms wrapped awkwardly around your near-naked body.

'So this is where the magic happens,’ you tried to joke, the quiver evident in your voice.

He reached out an arm for you and pulled you into his embrace, back to his chest, praising your arms from around you and replacing them with his.

'Don’t try and hide yourself from me. You’re so beautiful, head to toe, inside and out.’

He planted soft, open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder and you leaned your head the opposite way to give him better access, eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. His hands smoothed over your stomach and hips, travelling down to cup your butt. A giggle escaped you at his touch and you spun around in his arms, steadying yourself by gripping his shoulders, realising just then that he was still fully clothed. You ran your hands down his chest, tugging at the hem of his Henley. Pulling it upwards, he manoeuvred to help you pull it over his head and throw it behind you.

Trying really hard not to focus on just how crazily sculpted he was in comparison to your own, incredibly normal and regular body, you let him capture your mouth again as you travelled south towards his belt and jeans.

'If this is… too fast, just say so,’ Chris breathed out even as you hastily fumbled with his buckle. 'You’ve seemed on edge all evening and I… don’t want to be the cause of that.’

'Chris, it’s not too fast. I just… you’re fucking sculpted from marble. Look at you. How I am supposed to… can we have the lights off?’ You pushed his jeans down to the floor, trying to distract him.

'Are you kidding me? Baby…’ he kicked his jeans out of the way, 'Come over here.’

He tugged you towards another door in the room, opening it out and revealing a full length mirror on the back.

'Just stand here,’ he pulled you in front of the mirror and stood behind you, 'Can’t you see what I see?’

His hands brushed your hair to one side so he could lay kisses against the sensitive place where your neck met your shoulder. His hands travelled your ribs, down and then back up, lazy and slow, before unclipping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. You looked at yourself as he worked your body, lips swollen and parted, eyes heavy lidded, lolling your head to one side to allow Chris to suck at and tease your skin.

One hand travelled down your stomach, toying with the edge of your lacy underwear, the dusky rose creamy and decadent against your colouring. He dipped his fingers under, just slightly, and you watched him in the mirror, arms encasing you, and you looked at yourself, wanton and writhing.

He kept going, dipping lower, teasing your clit and you watched his fingers moving under your lingerie as he ever so slowly circled and stroked through your heat and wetness. The sight alone was enough to make you whine, and the sensation was already causing a slight wobble in your knees.

He slowly circled you, never taking his hand away from you.

'We look pretty hot together right?’ He whispered in your ear, and all you could do was nod as you tried to grind against his fingers.

He sank to his knees in front of you and you immediately tried to edge away but he held you fast by your hips.

'Don’t take your eyes off us in the mirror,’ he directed you and you just about managed to breathe out an 'okay’.

You threaded your fingers in his hair and watched you both in the mirror. You could see yourself, with Chris on his knees in front of you, back to the mirror but you were able to see the intricate patterns of his muscles in his back, flexing as he moved his arms.

You could feel his fingers over your underwear, pressing the material into your wetness, letting the skimpy material soak it all up.

It wasn’t long before he hooked his fingers around the material and pulled the whole piece of lace down your legs, revealing you to him completely. He held your panties still while you stepped out of them, using his shoulder to help steady yourself. He placed gentle butterfly kisses against your thighs, travelling upwards a couple of inches before swapping to the other one, and, so deftly and expertly that you barely even noticed, he nudged your legs apart to provide himself with better access to one part of you he wanted to get to know very intimately indeed.

Chris continued his kisses, only pausing to ask, 'Are you still looking at us in the mirror?’

'Uh huh,’ was your only reply. You could feel his fingertips gliding over your skin getting ever closer to where all the heat in your body was currently radiating from and as you watched him in the mirror, you could see his hands working torturously slowly towards that spot. You tried not to grip him too hard but it was proving difficult as the anticipation grew and grew. The pressure was building within you and you knew that if you’d ever felt like this when you were alone, you’d already have two fingers inside yourself, pumping impatiently towards orgasm.

As it was, however, you had an incredibly sexy man on his knees in front of you and he was going at his own pace, teasing you, cranking you up notch by notch with every purposeful avoidance of your clit as his fingers and lips darted around your lower body, everywhere but right there.

'Chris…’ your voice was barely more than a breath, 'Please.’

He looked up at you sweetly, making you feel worshipped.

'Please what, baby?’

'Please just touch me. I can’t… I need…’ it was almost a sob.

'Okay, okay, I got you,’ his voice was calm, reassuring and you watched him in the mirror lean forward, the intricate pattern of muscles in his back flexing and locking with each minute shift. Then, you felt, rather than saw, one broad, thick stroke of his tongue over your clit and you couldn’t control the moan that tumbled from your lips.

His fingers took over what he couldn’t reach with his tongue in this position and before long you could feel one, then two digits sliding obscenely in and out of you. It was easy, barely any friction, wet as you were, but he moved and shifted and changed angle and explored you so that every touch was new, no part of you that he hadn’t felt out.

You watched yourself in the mirror, carding his hair with your fingers, lips parted, a pink blush over your entire body, your legs quivering under your weight. You could see his head bobbing, could see the muscles in his neck twitching as his jaw and tongue moved against you, could see his tricep pumping as his fingers slid in and out of you. Everything was so intense, all the sensations in your body plus being able to see the two of you together in the mirror, you were scared you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up if you came here and you could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening in that tell tale way. His ministrations were relentless, giving your body no reprieve, and your hands tightened in his hair.

He must have felt your weight beginning to collapse against him because all of a sudden he rose quickly, leaving you just on the cusp of an orgasm. Disappointment flooded you on instinct but when he started backing you up towards the bed, you were glad. He leaned forward to kiss you as you took careful steps backwards and you could taste yourself on his tongue. There you were, your mark all over him, and that thought only intensified the excitement in your body. You wanted him in you, over you, claiming you, right now. You pushed his boxers down as he walked and he stepped out of them as you wrapped one soft hand around his hard cock. You revelled in the hiss it brought forth from him as you ran your thumb over the tip, spreading the precum forming there.

The bed hit the back of your legs and you immediately sat down, looking up at him in awe, still working his dick in your hand. He leaned forward again, capturing your mouth with his, guiding you backwards until your back hit the sheets. His hand travelled the length of your body again, heading straight for your clit and circling it slowly, just enough the keep the sensitivity building but not enough to let your orgasm explode.

‘Chris… condom… now,’ you forced out breathlessly against his mouth and you felt, rather than saw, him shift one arm towards the night stand, rummaging around blindly, never taking his mouth from your lips, your jaw, you throat.

Your hips began to undulate in anticipation, searching out his dick, hungry to have him inside you, and finally you heard the tell tale sound of a package being ripped open and then a few moments of stillness. You propped yourself up on elbows, watching in fascination as he rolled the condom over his thick length, admired his dick standing proudly, jutting out, ready for you.

You spread your legs wider and he pulled you towards him by the hips. He was still standing, bracing his legs against the edge of the bed, and you knew this was going to be hard and fast. You giggled helplessly as your body was pulled across the sheets and you tried to catch your breath in readiness. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your butt hovering off the surface of the bed and he slid his cock through your heat a few times, letting you feel his hardness against your clit. He teased your entrance each time, never pressing in, just gliding over, and you were getting antsy.

He grinned down at you, knowing exactly the effect he was having.

‘You ready, baby girl?’

‘More than.’

He cupped your butt, holding you firm, and you watched as he lined himself up. Not able to look away, you watched him sink into you, his whole length disappearing into your body in one swift movement and you let out an obscene, wanton moan. It felt so, so good. He filled you exactly, just enough stretch and just deep enough to intensify the feeling he already been building tonight.

Then he moved. Increasing speed with each thrust, rocking against you, controlled but with an edge of wildness that betrayed his own pleasure. You could do nothing but be shunted against the sheets as he took complete control of your body. Your head fell back against the mattress, unable to support it anymore and you sobbed out into the night as each thrust drove you higher, pulling the orgasm from within you.

He kept it up, the relentless pace, and you could process nothing, feel nothing, be aware of nothing except him and all too soon you were on the edge and tumbling over, clamping around him hard and you felt him slump forward against you as his own orgasm hit. He found your mouth and kissed you long and deep, still rocking against you as he milked both your orgasms, and you linked your ankles behind his back, wanting to keep him there for as long as possible.

He leant up, brushing your hair from your face, planting kisses here, there and everywhere, stopping every so often just to gaze at you, still inside you.

‘That was intense,’ and there was an edge of apology to his voice, ‘I totally had his idea that I’d go all slow and sensual the first time, but I…’

‘Don’t you dare apologise. Literally never come so hard,’ you cut him off.

‘Really?’ He asked, pride in his voice.

‘Don’t go getting all big headed about it now.’

‘Promise not to,’ he insisted as he planted yet more kisses against your mouth, quickly turning into slow and lazy making out. ‘Is it bad that I just want to have sex with you all night now?’

You pretended to think about it, ‘Hmm, I could probably put up with that.’

You gasped as he slipped out of you, feeling the emptiness keenly and immediately wanting him back. He got up, removing the condom as he went, and headed for the bathroom.

He lay down next to you when he returned, rolling you on top of him and kissing you again, tongue in your mouth, hands running over your naked body.

You pulled up just to look at his face and smile at him in your post-orgasmic haze.

‘What?’ He asked in response to your gaze.

‘Nothing. Just excited for slow and sensual now.’

He grinned at you, ‘Give me thirty minutes and then I’ll show you slow and sensual so good you’ll barely be able to stand it.’

You giggled, gently nipping at his lips with pecking kisses.

‘Can’t wait,’ you told him honestly.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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fortrapsandfordaphne · 7 years ago

Text

Wolfstar Drabble...

The slender fingers in which my rather rough ones were captivated in were dragging me, as If I were some sort of dog on a leash. I was pulled further and further away from the Gryffindor common room- away from any noise but the exception of our unevenly paced footsteps. When I slowed down I felt the desperate tugging against the socket of my shoulder. It wasn’t hard but was just enough so that I got the memo that I needed to get a hurry on.

Before I got my bearings – despite being here 7 years prior, I noticed we were on the sixth floor, approaching the hardly used boy’s lavatory. I saw the light shimmer on my partner, peer, preferred person whom I spent my time with; Sirius Orion Black.

He was an arrogant son of a bitch – after all he created the rumour that’s what his own initials stood for. There honestly wasn’t one thing I didn’t love about him. I loved the shape of his hands and his slender fingers that got into every nook and cranny of my body that he wanted to visit. I loved his expressive eyebrows complimented by his grey eyes and high cheek bones. He was blessed with devious good looks from a family which spawned from hell. His shoulders were broad, his torso toned. His legs long and coated in hair and Quidditch scars. His body had tattoos decorating its outer layer. I loved his tattoo of the moon so that he’d always know which one it would be. I loved his hair and the way it danced while hovering above his shoulders, the way he’d let me braid it on the odd occasion and the threat that if I told James he wouldn’t grant me liberties. But he was my arrogant son of a bitch.

He checked to see if the coast was clear before pulling me inside acting as if he were a ninja. His lips met mine as soon as I stepped foot in that bathroom. He pulled away grinning like a complete fool. My fool. He seduced me, leading me to the end stool which we use the most for our mischievous antics. When the door to the stool banged shut I threw him against it, pulling his tie loose and his shirt buttons undone to expose his collarbone.

“You know we should just—uh Remus” he groaned at the physical touch he craved.

“I like it when you use my name. Only you” I muttered into his ear when my mouth wasn’t attached to some point of his flesh.

His head knocked backwards as I committed a slight nibble on his ear lobe; a string of flavourful curse words also accompanied his expressive choice of vocabulary. In the next moment Sirius took it upon himself to tug my shirt above my head disregarding it onto the rather dirty floor. He placed his addictive lips onto the sensitive scarred skin where my bite haunted my reflection. A dirty moan escaped my lips, perhaps a mention of a syllable or two of my lover’s name. His shirt had been removed during some of the intimate actions. His legs manoeuvred us to a lengthier wall away from the door before triggering some sort of springy flexibility making them able to wrap themselves around my waist on my rather tall height. My hands fumbled with the silver stained steel belt buckle as the broken door creaked open due to the constant rather light hits against the unsteady walls of the stall. Sirius lightly ground his crotch onto my own while wrapping his arms loosely around my scarred neck. He had this tendency to hum into his kisses making his lips vibrate which caused unexplainable sensations bolting throughout my lips. The door opened again, quicker, almost like it was forced.

“Remus door” Sirius complained, turning his head to face the stall door so I could show my affections with short kisses on his jawline. My hand waved in the air to reach the door which was out of my grasp. Suddenly Sirius’ movement and what seemed to be his breathing fell to a halt. I placed a final kiss onto the skin below his ear on his neck before turning to where he was looking.

“J-James” he barely stuttered.

His legs dropped and his grasp left my shoulders. In a way I felt like a piece of me left with it. He grabbed his shirt and tie which was pooled on the floor and put them on quickly, messing up on the buttons and he replaced his robe. I copied his actions and followed him as ran after his friend, who may never forgive we did this in secret.

“James!” he cried, drawing all attention onto his ragged and out-of-breath frame. He shouted it again, but James disappeared into the common room. We followed him, chirping the password - Fides amicitiae, roughly translating to Loyalty in Friendship.

The portrait swings open and we see James with Lily and her friends; Alice, Marline and Dorcas throwing us the death glare. I gulp, fearing what James ‘Big Gob’ Potter will do. Surely he wouldn’t, right?

I try to look at him in the eye but he tries to make my objective impossible; and succeeds. Sirius flees to the dormitory blocking everyone’s attempt at conversation. By the time I had moved through the dense crowd and reached the dorm, Sirius was asleep, with sodden pillows and tear stained cheeks. He was hurt. I knew what was going round in his mind. His chest was aching with heart break. His best friend, brother, didn’t want to know- to understand why. To say he was happy for his happiness. To say he accepted him. Because that was one thing Sirius never had from anyone but me, acceptance. That ginormous ego and the confident front is just a façade of hierarchy which is what the children of pureblood families were taught to produce. He hates himself for it but it’s in the severed roots of his personality. And it will never leave him.

James should know this. James should understand why he didn’t tell him. He was scared. I would have known why.

But not everyone is me.

Day After –

The following morning, like most, James awoke and left before the rest of us. Was he really that disgusted?

With the tip of my wand I tapped the rather old looking piece of complexly folded parchment.

“I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good.” I muttered almost silently. Peter and Sirius were asleep still, however Sirius looked pained and restless from the strained expression capturing his face.

The map tattooed itself with dark ink mapping out the grounds of Hogwarts, footsteps appeared everywhere. I scanned the map to find the boy I was looking for; James Potter. But before I thought of what action to take Sirius began to stir.

“Mornin’ moons” he croaked, his voice groggy from dehydration.

“Morning sweetheart” I replied, still focused on the map.

“Re, we need to talk, don’t we?” I nodded and sat on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t think James accepts us. I understand if you want to keep your friendship. We can end things and stay friends.”

“Shut up for a second moony, I’m in love with you and I can’t stop. It’s James he’ll get over it. He’s probably just pissed we got laid before he did.” He joked.

“I don’t ever want to stop seeing you. I love you- I love everything about you. Whether it be your secret stash of chocolate, absolutely everywhere. The way you can’t go to bed without a hot chocolate, the crinkles by your eyes when you smile and the amber glow of your eyes, the way your hand fits in mine like it was meant to be, every single one of your scars and the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine. That stupid smirk you do when I call you Remus, that muggle cologne you wear that makes me weak at the knees, your extensive knowledge about random topics and your shit-eating grin you get after we make love. I love the brand new sweater smell and the patched up old ones. I like your weird collection of socks, the way you thumbs stroke my cheek bones and you braid my hair. Because all of these things are just some of the reasons why I love you, they all add up to one incredible Remus John Lupin- there’s that god-damn smirk I was talking about. And fuck it’s like I’m declaring my love for you like I did prior to this but I’m so thankful you let me break you down because I wanted that so badly and now I love every single part of you. Because without you I’m half a man, it’s like I can only see half the sky like it’s kinda there but not quite right. Without you is like walking around with only one shoe, or half a bar of chocolate. Remus, I’m half a heart without you so I’m not letting you go. Not even for James.” He added.

“Jesus Christ Pads”

“Fuck”

“Fuck indeed”

He didn’t say much else until he was ready to head down to the great hall for breakfast. He interlocked his warm fingers with my cold ones.

“I’m not going to lie to you moony I thought we were pretty obvious.”

“I mean I can understand if he was a bit grossed out about the thought of his two best friends getting it on but surely he would have clocked on with the amount of time we spend in empty classrooms together.”

“However it is James Potter.” I nodded in full agreement of the fragment given forth.

“And it’s not like you’re my dirty little secret” he said after a brief pause as Marline and Lily both worked it out.

The closer we got to the great hall the denser the crowds of wizarding students got, my mouth was drooling at the thought of which combination of foods I could have for breakfast. Once we walked in nobody stared, everything was normal. We joined the girls; Lily, Dorcas, Marline and Alice.

They greeted us like they always do, we all ate in silence, which was until the ginger, and observant Gryffindor sparked the conversation.

“What’s up?” she asked, making me look up confused and Sirius choke on his pumpkin juice. We didn’t reply still in a state of slight bewilderment.

“What?” Sirius asked her after he had recovered his breath.

“Well, peter is looking over here like a sad puppy and you’re sat with us.”

“Oh- it’s just that you guys are more sensitive about the matter then James.”

“What did that arse do?”

“Uh- he knows. About us.” I reply, not wanting to relive the experience again.

“Oh- how?” she asked cautiously.

“6th floor boy’s lav.”

“Oh.” She said and gulped

“Jesus Christ when are you two not—“Marline retorted,

“Before Quidditch, moons, in the dorms.” I said quietly.

“There was that one time—“Sirius started but stopped himself when he realised who he’d be speaking about his sex life with.

“How far—for research purposes?”

“Sirius’ belt. So no actual nudity but it doesn’t take a genius.”

“Oh, well when we clocked on we said we’d look out for you guys and this is us following through. Just let us know when not to come knocking.” I nodded. Sirius grabbed Lily’s hand.

“Evans. Thank you. He hates me” Sirius cried without tears. She comforted him in a way I couldn’t.

It was a Saturday, which meant no classes and Sirius didn’t have any detention since he was trying to maximise his time spent with me. After we finished up at breakfast we followed Lily ‘the best advice giver’ Evans, Marline ‘ to cool for school’ McKinnon, Alice ‘the soulmate of frank Longbottom’ Fortescue and Dorcas ‘looks sweet on the outside but could kill you and make it look like an accident’ Meadows.

I liked when we hung out with the girls, Sirius really connected with Marline and Dorcas, and I on the other hand really got on well with Lily and Alice. The girls adored the fact that we were gay; it meant that we could give them guy advice, fashion advice – that one was Sirius’ expertise, and apparently we were hilarious and a rather cute couple.

The girls took us to a rather secluded spot by the lakeside. Lily whipped out her wand and perfectly whisked up a soft baby blue blanket on the grass for us to sit on. I sat against a rather old tree with Sirius sat in between my legs leaning against my torso.

“Who’s got dates?” Sirius asked, creating what would be an in-depth conversation about the upcoming ball. He grabbed my hand, just holding it. It’s something we do to be affectionate.

“James keeps pestering me. And well I don’t know what to do.”

“In his defence he has matured. I mean he isn’t tormenting Severus anymore.”

“Only because I asked him to Remus” I just shook my head.

“You know Lily, I’m not saying anything but we were in denial at one point.” Sirius added.

“Fine, if no one else asks me I’ll go with James. But if he tries anything I will not hesitate to punch him.”

“If you’re gonna punch that arrogant arse at least let us watch” Marline suggested and we all laughed at her idea.

“Some Hufflepuff guy, Michael- goes by Mikey.” Stated Marline.

“Frank asked me. He got so nervous bless him” replied Alice, tucking a few stray stands of hair behind her hair.

“Dorcas?” asked Sirius.

“A Ravenclaw asked me. Timothy Parks. He’s a new student here.” He nodded.

“I still can believe James walked in on you two.”

“Neither can I. did he not hear any noise and think I’ll go to another bathroom?”

“He probably thought someone was taking a tricky shit to be honest, he really is oblivious.”

“I think you two took his innocence.” We all laughed at Marline’s comment.

“How are you two enjoying magical beasts?”

“We switched to more useful classes after the accidental run in with James.”

“Uh—explain” Dorcas demanded changing to a more comfortable position.

“Peter and James were looking for James’ Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them textbook, while Remus and I were playing a muggle version of snap. And James asks where his book is and naturally—“

“Naturally” I said again for emphasis.

“-naturally I said in my bed. James then comes back with I’m not talking about your broom. Which is called beast – inside joke eh moony?” I nod in response to conform this. “And again, naturally I say I’m not talking about that beast. Then Remus dragged me out of room.” The girls doubled over in laughter. They couldn’t believe what happens in boy’s dormitory. To be honest it’s usually Sirius’ fault.

“I suppose we do some funny things. I always find it funny to think about the variation of pet names we have for each other. When Remus is in a good mood he tends to give me a cycle of the pet names: padfoot, pads, babe, my lil punk and Sirius. But when he’s in a bad mood it gets rather funny; commander hair gel, fleas, high maintenance and my all-time favourite piss-lord.” Sirius told them, a feeling of content bubbled up inside of me. He was happy with me to share those things with our friends.

“You talk about me too much babe.” I stated.

“Well that’s because you’re adorable.” he told me

“Fuck off, I’m not even gonna be subtle with the flirting now” I said quietly so only he could hear.

“Re, I never asked how the prettiest boy at Hogwarts is doing today.”

“I don’t know, how are you?” I replied, as he sat up for a brief moment putting his hair up in a messy bun being held together by putting his wand through it. He does this sometimes to turn me on – it works or just because it’s on his nerves, regardless, it turns me on.

He blushes, locking eye contact with me for a few moments, “Fine” he said, his voice cracking. He placed a light kiss onto my jaw.

“Don’t. You know what happens if you do that”

“Now we know how James felt” hollered Dorcas.

“Nah, there was also partial nudity and noises” Marline retorted.

“Oh for me it’s such an unfortunate series of events that there was only partial nudity.” Stated Sirius.

“Fucking hell Pads you’re bloody horny all the time.”

“Hey it’s not my fault, it’s what you do to me.” He said, smirking at what he thought was a witty reply.

“Let’s change the conversation for the girls’ sake.” I stated and everyone agreed.

“TRUTH OR DARE” Alice yells. We start to discuss rules, as everyone rather reluctantly.

Sirius volunteered to go first which meant I was next. “Truth or dare?” Alice asked him.

“Dare” he stated boldly.

“I’ll give you a choice; give Remus a lap dance, ask McGonagall to marry you, confess your love to Severus.”

“Ok, so my choices are to give my boyfriend a lap dance—“

“That’s not happening.” I interjected.

“I mean ladies, it would end up further then a lap dance and we don’t want you to see that” he said arrogantly.

“Third one is a no. So McGonagall it is.”

“Do it when you next see her. Remus, truth or dare?” said Lily Evans.

“Truth.”

“Ok, name one thing that turns you on.” I gulp and realised the sudden redness in my face, everyone including Sirius turned to face me.

“Uh- do I not get a choice” I stuttered.

“From that reaction- no.” said Alice stubbornly.

“Uh- well uh- I- it-uh.” I stammer, I stay quiet for a few moments in attempt to calm my erratic heart rate- and failing.

“Moons I’ll go first make it easier. Remus does this thing where he gets angry – it’s a weird thing, the last time he got that angry was when he punched Lucius. And his from was perfect and he just grew confident and a layer of sweat formed and after the breaths he took were so deep- fuck. It’s hard to explain it’s when he looks after me, and he looks bloody fit while doing it.”

Sirius said that and the girls absorbed every single word and made my cheeks go redder.

“when Sirius does his eyeliner under his eyes and has hair in a kinda bun thing with half of it up and half of it down with free strands framing his face, and bloody hell I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”

“so like this moony?” he said looking at me with the wand still holding the section of his hair up in a bun and the bottom half of his hair still dancing around his shoulders.

“Precisely” I whisper.

“Lots of things you do turn me on, but now isn’t the time for that list.” He whispered into my ear.

The following day-

Last night the dormitory was empty for a while so we had some fun, in a bed and not in a classroom or a bathroom stall! Before we slept in my bed I drew the curtains so James wouldn’t see. He still hadn’t spoken to us or kept eye contact. The following morning the curtains were slightly open and I saw James there, I nudged Sirius awake and he hid underneath the duvet.

“Moony, why didn’t you tell me?” James asks.

“It wasn’t just my secret to tell.”

“Bloody hell mate, I thought we were friends that you’d trust me enough to tell me.” James hissed and left the room in a brisk stroppy walk. Sirius wriggles his way from underneath the duvet. He slithers his way so his torso was pressed against my pale, scarred one. He kisses me lightly a few times, smiling brightly after each one.

“Do you think you saw me?” I shook my head, anxious-but excited for what was going to occur next.

He kisses me for a fourth time before murmuring, “love you but I gotta go see Reg”

I signed slightly disappointed but let him go. He walked butt-naked across the dorm, knowing, I was watching his every movement. He glanced at me one final time before disappearing behind the wooden door.

I get up, skip showering since I showered last night. Making my way down to the breakfast hall where my favourite ginger Gryffindor, Lily Evans. I fill my plate up with food and out of the corner of my eye I see the one and only James Potter scowling at me putting me off my fried eggs.

“James still being a tosser then?” asked Lily, taking my silence as a yes.

Shortly after starting breakfast Sirius walks in, with what seemed a terrifying facial expression, neutral. As soon as Sirius walked in James walked out with Peter following about ten strides behind him.

“Hey Pete” I stated hoping for a response.

“Hey guys” he said before following James out of the hall.

“What’s up Gryffinwhore?” asked Marline.

“That arrogant tosser potter” he said emotionless.

“Right that’s it, I’m not dealing with you moping about near me, ugh makes me feel sympathetic. Let’s go sort shit out girls.” Marline instructed, Lily, Dorcas and Alice followed behind promptly. Sirius chased them out the hall and I chased Sirius.

The girls headed to the common room where James would be, pouting by the fire. Our theory was correct he was sat playing wizard chess with Peter, winning probably.

As Sirius and I walked in everyone turned to look at James, fearful for what might come next.

“Right you bloody tosser what is your issue?” Sirius said starting with casual tone to yelling the further along the sentence he got.

“Is it not self-expletory?” James asked trying to keep calm.

“Well no not really” interjected Lily.

“You know what Evans, I don’t give a shit what he thinks. I’m a shitty person, with a shitty situation. Remus he accepts me, he loves me. Hell he’s the only one who will. Potter I’m gay. Really fucking gay. My family is pureblood and prejudice so I shouldn’t really be yelling that this loud but I don’t care anymore. I’m sorry you found out the way you did that’s not how we wanted to tell you. And I don’t care anymore what anyone thinks because I love you Remus and I love your kisses which feel like home, among other things.” He shouted at him, my cheeks turning red. He started to cry towards the end. Not out of sadness but anger.

I engulfed him in a hug so he could sob into my chest until he composed himself.

James was yet to say anything and people were waiting. Sirius just let down his confident façade to let James in and James did nothing to respond but stare at him.

“For fuck sake kiss him moony. Kiss him like there is no tomorrow. He needs you.�� James said out of no where

“He always needed you” he muttered before disappearing among the crowds.

And so I kissed him. Until tears turned into other things. He pulled me even closer and rested his hands on my arse. Creating a circular motion with his thumbs. I accidentally bit his lip – he groaned. People had stopped watching which meant we could get a quick get-away to the dorm upstairs. Once we hit the stairs we don’t detach from the lips but our hands are everywhere. He was untucking my shirt and pushing his hands further and further up my torso. He ran his thumbs over my nipples sending a shiver down my spine. His tongue danced around my mouth and his hand had started to slowly move lower making me feeling lots of emotions.

When we reached the door I fumbled with the handle while Sirius had already starting to remove some of my clothes.

“Moony fuck moony” he muttered in between kisses.

The dorm was empty, thankfully, and that meant we could finally let loose.

“Moony tie me up.” Sirius begged, that request kinda threw me.

“Now--?” I asked hesitantly, he nodded vigorously.

With a wave of my wand, Sirius was tied up and waiting for me on my bed. I pulled of the remainder of my clothing and pulled the curtains shut.

“Si- what’s the code word that you say when you want me to untie you instantly?”

“Remus.” I nodded and got to work.

I moved my tongue slowly across his skin, starting at his inner thigh I avoided his cock entirely, moving it across the bones of his pelvis. Slowly up the torso and quickly over the nipples, across his collar bone. I was now hovering above him, our cocks are touching- creating enough friction so that I could bust right here. Sirius began to grind against me making my movements shaky. I ran my tongue up his neck with coated his skin in Goosebumps and the air filled with his groans.

“Do it moony. God please just do it” he begged.

“As you wish” I growled into his ear tugging at his ear lobe with my teeth lightly afterwards.

Before he could compose himself I slammed in and quickly bottomed out. He pushed himself on me and my lips nipped on sensitive bits of skin. He spat out a few flavourful words. I continued to thrust in an out feeling the sweat coating us both. His legs weren’t tied up so they wrapped themselves around as tight as possible. It was over quicker than anticipated but Sirius’ legs were still wrapped around my frame.

“Untie me” he stated, and with a wave of my wand his wish was granted. He pulled me closer so our faces were almost touch. He legs were no longer wrapped around me but were still touching me keeping me in place. His pressed his lips against mine in a sweet and loving way.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

“Will everything be okay with James?”

“You really wanna talk about that now, given the situation.”

“The situation?” he asked, knowing full well what I was talking about.

“Given that my cock is still inside of you” I said in between kisses.

“Yeah, I like it.”

“I would bloody hope you do” he shifted slightly and my hands flew to his waist.

“You alright moony?” he asked playfully.

“Stop moving.” I hissed, which only made him move more.

The door creaked open so we both froze.

“Shit. Pete, don’t come in.” stated James.

“Hey if you’re still in here Sirius, can I talk to you?”

“Uh- right now?” he asked, his voice high.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I was getting at.”

“It’s not recommended” I pipe up.

“Shit. All I wanted was to say that I uh—“James said, Sirius started to rock back ever so slightly. I whimpered at the friction being created.

“You’re playing a dangerous game black” I hissed.

“I wanted to say sorry. I’ll uh- leave you to it.”

“Thanks James” he half panted- half stated calmly.

As soon as the door clicked shut I pulled out. I kissed him one more time.

“Mmmh you smell like sex. Don’t shower.”

“Okay moons”

The door clicked open one more time. “James Potter go talk to him properly or so god help you!” shouted Lily Evans.

“I don’t wanna go in there.” He said back. She wasn’t taking no for an answer so we could hear her pushing him forward. Sirius took it upon himself to pull the duvet from beneath us. He sat in between my legs and I stole the cover and wrapped it around us, he held it across us as I wrapped my arms around his torso.

The curtains were ripped open in the next moment and Lily Evans had realised why James didn’t want to come in.

“Are you guys still—“

“No” I answered putting her mind at rest. Sirius shifted backwards.

“But if you keep doing that we will be. Stop it” I hissed into his ear, he just gulped.

Fin

#Wolfstar #wolfstar smut #marauders #incorrect marauder quotes #remus lupin #Sirius black #pureblood #hp #harry potter #au #hc #ficlet #Wolfstar ficlet #hi #im sorry this is so bad

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taymini7 · 7 years ago

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Jealous (T)

Pairing: Markson (Mark x Jackson)

Genre: BL Fluff

Originally By: taymini7

A/N: *Welp this is my first time putting my own fanfic on tumblr. This one is from a lonnng time ago, I just wanted to get something out there cuz, ya know, gotta start somewhere. Pls don’t judge too harshly lmao :)*

The gif is not mine btw in case it wasn’t too obvious

“Wow, my hyungs almost look like a real couple!” Bambam cheered. Jackson's stomach tightened for the 7th time that day.

It was the middle of a hot summer night and the group, struck with incredible boredom, decided to do the first thing on Bambam's mind: watch their own ship videos. So far it had been simple 2Jae and Yugbam, then the guys had found an intense interest in Markson, teasing and poking fun at their “fan-service” for a good half an hour. Jackson didn't think his heart could handle this.

The members were sprawled out along the length of the L shaped couch, Jaebum hogging the remote as usual. Yugyeom had already fallen asleep in Bambam’s arms, a long leg thrown over his hyung’s small body. Youngjae went to use the bathroom and Jinyoung and Mark reclined with their feet up, enjoying a bag of chips from the array of snack foods on the table.

Popcorn and pretzel sticks flew across the room and shouts along with bursts of laughter could probably be heard from a mile away. Needless to say, the house was as lively as always.

Usually being the loudest member, Jackson, however, was perched on the long end of the couch silently, stealing glances at Mark when he could. This wasn’t like him, but he couldn’t help it. The GOT7 ships were a touchy topic for Jackson. Sure, he treated every member like a brother, but when it came to Mark...well, that was a different story.

He’d tried for months to balance the company fanservice with his real feelings and ended up overcompensating, making it seem like their skinship was no big deal, when in fact, every intimate moment he shared with Mark was real. JB paused the video and went to search for the next, stating, “Markjin, you're up next.”

“Oh, great. I think we'll be even cuter, hyung” Junior playfully shoved Mark’s shoulder and intertwined their fingers.

That was the last straw for Jackson.

He stood, a painful and angry feeling washing over him. Suddenly, he could imagine his fist connecting with Jinyoung’s beautiful face. What was this feeling? How could he be jealous when there was nothing going on between the two of them?

“Are you ok, hyung?” Bambam flipped his head over the couch (to not wake the sleeping maknae) and looked at Jackson.

Seeing this once again, Jackson marched past the TV and into the kitchen. Of course, this caught the attention of the other members. They all stared at him, concerned, Jinyoung and Mark still holding hands.

“Crap,” Jackson heard Mark sigh before he closed the door. He released Jinyoung’s hand and followed Jackson into the kitchen.

Jackson ran cold water over his hands and dried them with with a towel. He heard the door open behind him. His heart nearly leaped out his chest when he turned and found himself face to face with Mark.

“What's wrong, Kayee?” Mark asked.

Rarely did Jackson hear his real name, but when Mark used it he knew the matter was serious.

“Nothing, just…” he started, but hesitated. Did Mark really need to know?

“Just what?” Mark pressed on.

“Um… well y-you and Jinyoung… I-I don't-” mumbled Jackson. Mark had heard enough, though.

It being quiet in the other room, he took a step closer to the younger member and locked eyes with him. A nervous blush creeped onto Jackson's face and he looked down at the floor, hyper-aware of Mark’s presence, his body heating consequently.

He probably could have kept his composure if Mark hadn't found this a perfect time to reach over and lay a hand on Jackson's head gently.

Jackson's face was comparable to a fire truck. He pouted. At this point, Mark was smirking with his eyebrows raised incredulously. He knew exactly what was going on.

“You're…” Mark began in Cantonese. Don't even get Jackson started on how Mark's languages drove him crazy. “Jealous?”

Jackson pushed the hand off his head roughly. “Yah! So what if I am?” he replied in informal Korean.

“Yah!! You dare speak down to your hyung?! This kid~”

He raised his hand and Jackson flinched. Feeling somewhat guilty for the emotional torture, Dimsum did the very thing he wasn't expecting.

The warmth of Mark’s body enveloped his dongsaeng. Jackson’s body went stiff in surprise before melting into his warmth.

“I don’t wanna have feelings, hyung. I’m too handsome for this crap.” “I knew what I felt was real.”

Jackson pulled back, but Mark’s hands remained at his shoulders. “Real?? Pfft, I don’t know what you mean, bro” Jackson looked away, playing it off simply, but the nervous butterflies raging in his stomach whispered the truth in his heart, that he knew exactly what Mark meant and every embrace, every soft spoken word and every rumor of their love must be true.

Mark gently reached toward Jackson, pushing the light brown hair from his eyes.

As if instinctual, Jackson’s hands drifted to Mark’s waist, feeling the soft skin and hard muscle combine under his thin T-shirt. Blonde hair covering his forehead, Mark chuckled softly and his beautiful caramel brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Kayee,” a grin began to form over his mouth as he leaned even closer to Jackson’s. The buildup to this first real kiss with Mark was almost as intense as he believed the real thing would be. He could almost feel the softness of Mark’s lips on his. That was, until the near silence in the room was pierced by the sound of the living room TV being unpaused. The sheer volume of the EDM signaling the beginning of a compilation made the two of them jump back in surprise, the older rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, eyes trailed on Jackson. At the sight, Jackson had a new found confidence, needing to even cover the imminent laugh with one hand.

“We should...probably go back out there…”

“Well, now that they’re distracted, hyung, why don’t we just take this into the other room…?”

#got7 #jackson #mark #markson #boylove #not smut #this was my first fanfic I swear I don’t suck at this #oneshot #imagine #gay7

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malecsecretsanta · 7 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @nerdyfangirl57!

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year to you sweetheart, from your Secret Santa! So excited to see what you think of your gift and I really hope that, at the very least, it makes you smile over the holidays! Love & Hugs! XXXXXX

Read on AO3

*****

Santa's Little Helper

Turning the collars up on his purple military coat, Magnus was glad of the full-length barrier it would provide against the crisp night air outside, only wishing he’d brought his gloves too as he prepared to leave the warmth of the cinema foyer with his two small companions. Squatting down to tie Madzie’s scarf and adjust Max’s bobble hat, Magnus couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on their dimpled cheeks as he asked if they’d enjoyed the film.

Madzie nodded vigorously. ‘I want to eat marmalade sandwiches like just Paddington. Can we, Magnus? Please?’’

Max tugged on his arm in agreement, his eagerness pitching his young voice even higher than usual. ‘Yes! Yes! Me too, Papa!’

With a token huff, he nodded, ‘OK!’ Four surprisingly strong arms wrapped themselves around his legs in gratitude and Magnus hugged them back before grabbing their hands with a cheery, ‘Let’s go!’

Stepping out with a collective gasp into the early evening chill, the happy trio entertained themselves with festive songs as they made their way to the nearby Christmas fair, arms swinging in time to each tune. They were going to visit Madzie’s adopted mum, Catarina, who was manning the fundraising stall for the hospital where she worked, before heading home to the loft for an evening of cartoons and chaos.

Deciding to soothe their vocal chords with some hot chocolate as they went, Magnus stopped at the coffee shop on the corner, grabbing an extra one for his hard working friend before steering the children towards the busy plaza where throngs of busy shoppers were congregating in the hope of finding the perfect gifts. Magnus couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of excitement at the festive scene before him as they paused for a moment to appreciate it.

The lamp-lit square had been transformed into something akin to a Christmas card picture with only the snow missing from it. At the far end, a bandstand housed members of the local music college whose brass instruments were playing hymns and carols, as well as some crowd-pleasers for the hardy souls huddled together on the temporary seats that were dotted around, with vocal harmonies provided by schoolchildren who were being led by an enthusiastic teacher. On the remaining three sides of the large cobbled space stood rows of wooden cabins, each assigned to a local charitable cause, their gabled roofs adorned with holly and poinsettia, multicoloured lights framing the stable-door shutters thrown open in welcome so that potential buyers could see the wide variety of wares on offer. The scent of pine permeated the joyful atmosphere and mixed with the delicious smells of sweet and savoury treats, beckoning them to follow their noses to where all things cinnamon and spice were waiting. Taking pride of place at the centre of all this was a popular Santa’s Grotto that made the children squeal with delight as they bounced on their toes, begging to join the queue.

‘Papa, pleeeeeeeease!’ Max implored, big blue eyes the size of saucers melting Magnus’ heart like they always did, while Madzie’s impossibly wide smile had the same effect on his knees. How could any Papa or godfather resist?

‘Fine,’ he caved, as their combined shrieks split the air, ‘but first we have to deliver this fortifying brew to your poor mother before her joints seize up from being exposed to this wintry weather for the last few hours.’ Their disappointment was quickly replaced by grudging nods as they continued in haste.

With an excitable yelp, Madzie pointed to the middle stall directly opposite the band, and conveniently facing the grotto would you believe, sporting the hospital’s banner and began tugging him closer by his coat.

‘Patience, Sweetpea,’ he cautioned affectionately, knowing it would fall on deaf ears, instead concentrating on ensuring the hot beverage reached its intended recipient in one piece. Approaching the cozy looking shelter, well stocked with all manner of knitted goods, from Christmas stockings and scarves to tree decorations and cushion covers, Magnus chuckled to himself at how Cat’s hobby had certainly been put to good use. ‘For you, my dearest Catarina,’ he greeted her gallantly, receiving a blissful look of thanks before stepping back, allowing the youngsters to say hello and give her a detailed recount of the film they’d just seen.

Drinking his own chocolate as he swept a cursory gaze over the stalls on either side, Magnus paused mid-sip as his eyes landed on the incredibly hot vendor to the right of Cat, who was sitting down, engrossed in a heavy-duty cookery book, giving him the opportunity to take him all in. His grin was feral as he swallowed.

Wrapped up against the cool breeze in a black high-collared peacoat and fingerless gloves, his head was covered by a green and red striped hat any elf would be proud, the bell at its end actually jingling when he turned the pages and the words ‘Santa’s Little Helper’ emblazoned in red flashing lights across it. Oh, I do hope that’s not literal, Magnus thought, as he bit down on a giggle. Glancing briefly at his companions to check they were still oblivious to his diverted attention, he proceeded with his appraisal. The stranger’s eye colour couldn’t be determined beneath the long thick lashes that fanned his adorably rosy cheeks but he couldn’t wait to find out. They would be amazing, Magnus just knew it. The short, no-doubt-silky strands of black hair that could be seen poking out from under the funny headgear framed his features perfectly and his hands…. oh, those hands with the long, lean, capable fingers could probably consign him to a pleasurable death or deliver him unto heaven, he wouldn’t mind which. Could he get any better? Magnus wondered.

Then Santa’s Little Helper looked up.

And WOW! He’d been so right.

Luminous hazel eyes were unblinking as they slowly subjected Magnus to an equally intense eye-balling. Unconsciously squaring his shoulders, he returned the stare, confident he was worth looking at. A lopsided smile that fairly robbed him of breath was his reward.

Then Santa’s Little Helper spoke.

‘Can I tempt you with anything?’ came the deep sultry voice, leaving Magnus with an overwhelming urge to vault over the display of cookies and doughnuts and let his body answer in the affirmative.

But he didn’t, of course. Instead, he blurted, ‘That rather depends on what ‘anything’ is…’

Shit. Smooth, Bane. Real smooth.

With a rueful roll of his eyes, Magnus held up his hand in apology as he stepped nearer to make sure the children didn’t overhear. And maybe to get a closer look.

Trying, and failing, to ignore the blush that further coloured ‘Pretty Boy’s’ kissable cheeks, Magnus grinned, ‘Please excuse me, that was rude.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said the beautiful lips that had somehow pulled his focus, ‘You didn’t say no, right?’ And he winked!

Magnus couldn’t conceal his surprise. Well, well. This was clearly no angel he was talking to. Glossy lips puckered of their own accord. ‘I wouldn’t dream of saying no to you….?’

‘Alec,’ The Mouth replied, his toothy grin no less devastating than his lips.

‘I’m Magnus,’ he declared, extending a bejewelled hand which Alec took readily, and for much longer than was strictly necessary but he wasn’t complaining. Quite the contrary. He never wanted to let go. How odd.

Lost in a bubble (or should that be bauble?) of mutual admiration, they didn’t notice the impatient five year old who was desperate for their attention at first, only ‘coming to’ when Max stamped on Magnus’ foot, hard.

‘Ow!’ Reluctantly breaking contact, the only real pain Magnus felt was out of concern for the damage done to his Italian leather boots. ‘What was that for, blueberry?’ he demanded without a trace of heat, as he leant down to lift his unrepentant son onto his hip.

‘We want to know when we’re going home, Papa,’ Max asked, small palms playfully squishing his father’s cheeks, which only added to the embarrassment of having been caught in a ‘moment’ with a complete stranger. He gently lowered the hands.

‘Soon, Max. I was just wondering what we could be tempted to buy from Santa’s....’ Both Bane men turned in unison as Alec stood up off the stool, his hat nearly touching the roof. ‘...Not-So-Little Helper,’ Magnus finished breathily.

He did NOT gulp when Alec chuckled.

‘Maybe you could help Papa decide, Max?’ The Mouth wondered, eyes darting quickly to Magnus, as if aware how hearing him saying those names had triggered an almost primal reaction in his gut, which was ludicrous, but nonetheless true.

Max nodded solemnly, his restless hands, now fiddling with the epaulettes on Magnus’ coat, the only indication that he was a little nervous.

Alec folded his arms and leaned down on the counter to make himself appear less intimidating. ‘I made all these goodies to sell for my son’s school,’ there was that eye dart again, ‘and I kinda need your advice on what looks good enough to eat.’

Hell, Magnus thought as he wet his suddenly dry lips, this man wasn’t just less-than-angelic, he was the devil incarnate, teasing him like this. He let his heavy lidded eyes communicate his thoughts to Satan.

‘OK!’ his son agreed, eyes roving over the mouth-watering display of cakes and confectionaries that were decorated in sprinkles and icing of every description. It was lucky for him that he couldn’t see the way Papa’s eyes were devouring the man in front of him.

Or how Magnus was being mentally undressed by said man.

‘What goes with marmalade sandwiches?’ his innocent boy asked, chewing on his chubby lip in much the same way his father was, though for very different reasons.

Understanding dawned in those glorious hazel eyes. ‘Ah, someone’s seen Paddington, right?’ Max beamed his beautiful smile. ‘My boy, Rafe, isn’t much older than you and he loved that film too. We both did.’

‘It was funny!’ Max giggled, at ease now he’d found a fellow friend of his favourite bear.

‘It sure was,’ Alec agreed, as he tapped a finger to his chin in contemplation while pretending to think what choice would be the best to compliment the unusual sandwich. ‘How about the Gingerbread Man?’

‘Too crunchy.’

‘The Christmas Tree cupcakes?’

‘Too sweet.’

Alec glanced up through his lashes at Magnus, mirroring his amused grin. ‘Is your Papa as fussy as you, Max?’

Papa forgot to breathe, dreading what his son would say.

‘No, he just loves pretty things.’ Magnus exhaled. ‘Like you.’ Too soon.

Frozen in mortification, Magnus wished for the cobbles beneath his feet to swallow him whole…...but not before a last quick look at the handsome man who was….wait, was he laughing?

The colour of cranberry he may be, but the guy was definitely laughing, gaze averted as he bagged the silver stars made out of marzipan that Max had apparently finally settled on. Quickly depositing his mischievous kid on terra firma, Magnus handed over the money, struggling, and ultimately failing, to keep a straight face..

‘Is that true?’ Alec queried, amusement still evident in the smile he flashed his way.

Magnus composed himself long enough to return his gaze. ‘Yes, on both counts,’ he confirmed, for some reason unwilling to waste time with being coy.

Alec paused in the act of handing over Magnus’ change, his wide bashful smile crinkling those magnificent eyes, as Magnus gestured for him to keep the money.

Three separate coughs as subtle as sledgehammers broke the spell. A guilty glance toward the far too observant audience on his left, prompted Magnus to begin taking his leave. Well that, and the shit-eating grin on Cat’s face that told him he was in for a roasting later!

‘It was lovely to meet you, Alexander,’ he began, voice unusually raspy for some reason. ‘I wish you all the best with your fundraising efforts for Rafe’ school.’ He took a step back. ‘I’m sure he’s very proud of you.’

Although Alec gave a dubious shake of his head, his gratitude for the compliment shone through his smile, which Magnus couldn’t help but return.

Resolutely turning to take the hands of Max and Madzie, he gave Cat a pointed look that warned her not to say a word and with a saccharine sweet, ‘See you later, my dear,’ Magnus exited the festive square, not at all grappling with the idea of flinging himself at Alec’s feet, demanding he ask him out.

Walking briskly in the direction of the taxi rank, Magnus was busy trying to commit Alec’s gorgeous face to memory when Madzie reminded him that they’d forgotten to visit Santa’s Grotto. A quick look at his non-existent watch disguised an impish grin as he spun around, pulse skipping.

‘You know what, my darlings?’ he fairly sang, barely resisting the urge to break into a run as they began retracing their steps back to the Fair, ‘Christmas is but once a year and we ALL deserve the chance to get what we wish for! Am I right?’

The delighted squeals, he took for agreement.

#nerdyfangirl57 #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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