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softyoongiionly · 4 years ago

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Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Seventeen

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, College! Yoongi, Sub! Yoongi

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: Hi friends! Here is a new chapter for you. I know it’s been a super duper long time since I’ve updated this series but, I plan on wrapping up the current timeline (wink wink) within the first half of the year! Special shoutout to my amazing friend @bulletproofbirdy who I love so so much. Without her big genius brain, I would literally not be able to get through any of my wip. Another huge shoutout to @gldnrecs @kithtaehyung @yoonia and @randombtsprincessa for being my lil hype team. I love you! Also, thank you to everyone over at @bangtansorciere. I am so grateful to have met so many lovely new friends this year! okiii bye. I hope you like it!

NOTE: all bolded words indicate when characters are speaking Korean

Warnings for this Chapter: ok here we go…(TRIGGER WARNING)

moderate angst, drug use (marijuana), mentions of anxiety, brief allusions to physical abuse, very brief allusions to drug addiction, alcohol

Chapter Seventeen: Daegu and Dirty Laundry

No thoughts, head empty (and in Yoongi’s lap)

The two of you are in his living room, bags packed by the front door, awaiting the cab to take you to the airport.

In a few short hours, you were leaving on a plane to Daegu to visit Yoongi’s older brother and, you can tell by the way he’s shuffled around all morning that he’s anxious.

Thankfully, Hoseok and Namjoon woke up with him, knowing that emotions would be high and well- offered to get him high.

“This is a really good indica strain hyung,” Hoseok assures him as he hands over a zip-lock bag, “I rolled a joint with this last night and passed out in like 30 minutes.”

Yoongi, dressed in an all-black sweat outfit, accepts the bag into the palm of his hand, before grabbing the pipe that’s resting on the couch cushion beside him.

“Did you get it from that same guy?” Yoongi asks, his voice heavy beneath the obvious tension he’s feeling.

Despite his attempts to remain casual, you know him well enough to feel how nervous he is. He’s practically vibrating beneath you but, you know that pointing this out will only make it worse so instead, you merely rub the outside of his thigh whilst he packs his pipe.

“Yeah, Jin’s friend-” Hoseok responds before nodding to Namjoon, “He’s honestly killing it right now. Jin told me he’s made like 5 grand already.”

Namjoon raises his brows, “Really? Damn, that’s impressive, I’ve never heard of anyone taking off that fast.”

“Jin has a lot of contacts-” Yoongi offers, adjusting the bud once more before grabbing his lighter, “it probably helped him get started. Plus, I think a lot of people around here have been looking for a good plug. Whatever he’s doing is working though, the high from last night was pretty good.”

At Yoongi’s comment, Hoseok’s lip melt into a salacious smirk as he raises his brows and jerks his chin towards you, “Are you sure it had nothing to do with that one over there?” He teases, “Yah, what are you so quiet for? You haven’t given me shit all morning...”

His comment makes you giggle but Yoongi cuts in before you’re able to respond.

“She’s tired, leave her alone.” He scolds but his lips twitch at the sound of your laughter.

Hoseok snickers as you finally decide to sit up. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you even as he lifts the pipe to his mouth. Tucking yourself into the side of the couch, you finally decide to add to the conversation.

“Is the guy you pick up named Yugyeom by chance?” The sleepiness in your tone is more obvious than you were expecting and, it makes Yoongi smile to himself whilst he lights his pipe.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, it is. Do you know him?”

Yoongi’s attention is on you even as he inhales his first hit, the nerves in his body standing at attention, waiting to be soothed.

“He was in my human sexuality class.” You remember, with a grin on your lips, “That’s actually where I met Jin too. I just had a feeling that it was him because, he literally always came to class high. Plus, him and Jin were like inseparable.”

Namjoon winces, “Of all the people to get stuck learning about sex with. I’m sorry...”

This makes you laugh, as your mind journey’s back to all the days you spent trying not to make a scene as Jin made sexual puns in the middle of a serious lecture.

“It definitely kept things interesting...” You offer, “I’m glad to hear that Yugyeom is thriving on his own. He mentioned his dad wanted him to join the family business but, I could never picture that man in a suit.”

Hoseok chuckles before his face tightens with intrigue, “Oof that makes one of us. He would look fine as hell in a suit.”

Namjoon grins, nudging Hoseok with his foot, “You got a thing for him?”

For the first time, you see a hint of shyness overcoming Hoseok’s demeanor but he shrugs it off, trying to appear casual, “I mean- I don’t know about all that. I’m just saying that he would look good in a suit.”

“You’d both look good in suits- together...” You offer, grinning at him, “Maybe in a private venue somewhere...”

Hoseok rolls his eyes but the smile creeping onto his lips is unmistakable, “Shut up- you guys are fucking wild. All I said is that he was hot...”

Giggling, you shrug your shoulders before nodding over to Yoongi, “Yeah well that’s how it starts-” You warn, “Then the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the subway, simping over a selfie he sends you.”

Yoongi’s soft lips immediately turn up in a small smile, the shy boy in him peeking out. At first, he says nothing as he merely passes the pipe to Namjoon, who mirrors a similar expression.

Hoseok is back to his normal mischief, feeling relieved that the heat is off him for the time being.

“Are you saying you’d marry Yoongi then?”

He expects you to be flustered by this question but, the answer is simple.

“This man?” You raise your brows as you point to Yoongi, “You’re asking me if I would marry this man right here? Hoseok- I would wife this man up so quickly, it would give you whiplash.”

Your comment causes the three of them to laugh and, to add to the shifting vibe of the room, you feel Yoongi wrap his arm around you in an effort to pull you into his side.

“You can’t say shit like that right in front of them, they don’t need to see me soft...” He mumbles shyly in your ear before kissing your cheek, his heart singing with validation.

“Hyung, you act like we don’t already know who whipped you are for this girl.” Hoseok laughs, eagerly accepting the pipe from a coughing Namjoon.

Yoongi ignores him with his arm still around you, checking his phone with the other hand, “The cab should be here soon, do you need anything before we go?”

“Hyung, you’re gonna leave your piece here right? Cause we kinda need it-”

Namjoon eyes him suspiciously, “What happened to your bong?”

Hoseok cringes, “I may have accidentally dropped it off the rooftop...”

Namjoon’s eyes blow wide open, “What the fuck were you doing on the rooftop to begin with?”

“I wanted to vibe! The bud was good and, I wanted to listen to the J. Cole album and get in my feelings hyung, get off my dick-” He laughs, playfully defensive.

“Hey that’s J Cole song-” You point out giggling at the double meaning, the exhaustion from earlier finding you once again.

“Exactly, I’m glad you caught that-” Hoseok winks at you before Yoongi finally responds.

“I’m not going to take my pipe through international security. Pot isn’t legal in Korea so, I wouldn’t be smoking while we were there anyway.”

“Oh shit that’s right-” Namjoon remembers, “I really need to keep up with what’s been going on back home, I heard they were opening the discussion about it recently but, I haven’t kept up with it.”

Hoseok interjects, “What about your brother? He probably has connections.”

Yoongi shrugs, “He might but, I'm not going to worry about it.” He glances at his phone again before turning it towards you, “Our car is here, you ready to go?”

You offer him a small smile as you nod, your cheek tingling still as he places another kiss to it.

He stands up first before holding his hand out to you. Eagerly, you lace your fingers with his and, hoist yourself off the couch.

“Alright you two-” Namjoon stands too, brushing his hands over the front of his hoodie, “Try and send us updates when you can yeah?” He shoots a look towards Yoongi that is filled with an emotion that breaches casual concern.

Yoongi understands perfectly, offering Namjoon a solemn nod in return as he pats his shoulder, “Yeah I will. I’ll text you when we land...”

Moments later, the two of you are in the back of the cab. Yoongi takes the middle seat so he can be close to you, his fingers are interlaced tightly with your own despite the fact that his hand is already sweating.

He’s anxious.

You can feel it and, you’re faced with two options.

Address it

Distract him

It’s not an easy choice but, you figure this weekend will already be filled with heightened emotions so, you’re not sure if you should breach this topic so early. At the same time though, you don’t want to act like nothing’s wrong and dismiss what he’s clearly feeling.

So, you land somewhere in the middle.

Yoongi’s jaw is loaded with tension as you reach over and turn his face towards yours. He doesn’t register what you’re doing at first but he is in tune with your touch as always so, he doesn’t question it.

Leaning in, you tuck your lips between his own, whilst your free hand comes up to encase the side of his face. You feel him relax beneath your kiss, a sigh leaving his nose as he kisses you back slowly.

You pull away, pecking at his lips a few times, your thumb rubbing over his cheek.

“It’s going to be ok.” You murmur softly for the sake of his privacy, “We’re going to get through this.”

Yoongi’s eyes open just enough to show you the sheer amount of trust present in them.

He believes everything that comes out of your mouth and, despite the anxiety that’s raging inside of him, he knows you’re right.

Pressing his cheek against your hand, a soft smirk graces his lips as he resists the urge to pour his heart out to you for the millionth time.

“I wish it was socially acceptable for you to kiss me like that every time I feel like this...”

You giggle, pecking his lips again for good measure, “It would make our psych presentation really interesting that’s for sure.”

He chuckles, his face adorably smushed against your hand, “I keep forgetting that we have to do that. I don’t even remember the last time we worked on it...”

“Me neither.” You say at first before your eyes light up with realization, “Oh my god wait- the last time was when we watched that horrible spider movie at my apartment! Ugh no wonder I couldn’t remember, I’m pretty sure I've blocked those images from my mind as a coping mechanism.”

Yoongi’s face lights up along with you, “Oh shit, that’s right-” He laughs, “Did we even finish our lists?”

The two of you share another round of laughter, caught up in the ridiculous realization that you had lowkey abandoned your final project.

You lean over to pull your phone out of your purse, “Here let me check-” Scrolling through your notes app, you find the project tab before allowing your eyes to wander over it, “It looks like I still have deep water and you technically still have night clubs and horror movies. But I mean- you did perform in a night club recently so I feel like that should count.”

He nods thoughtfully before his face lights up with realization once more, “Oh yeah, I already wrote about that in the research journal, I forget to tell you. That was definitely more of a direct confrontation than I was planning.” He chuckles, “We did sit on the beach and read terrifying facts about the depth of the ocean for mine, would that be enough for you to write about?”

The two of you have maneuvered so that you’re tucked into Yoongi’s side again, his arm draping comfortably around your shoulders.

“You still have horror movies left though so, I feel like I should maybe confront one more directly too. Besides, I have a feeling that I’ll be able to distract myself in the water if you’re there-” You mumble suggestively, which causes him to smirk as he leans his head back against the seat.

“Oh yeah?” He jerks his head towards you “How so?”

Resting your face on his chest, you smile to yourself and think of a response that’s appropriate for a perfect stranger aka your cab driver, to hear.

“Cause if something touches my feet in the water, I could simply latch myself to your back for safety purposes.” You explain matter of factly.

“If something touched your foot while we were in the water, I’d swim away so fucking fast- I don’t think you’d have time to latch on.” He explains through his laughter

Scoffing, you smack your hand against his chest as you sit up fully, wiggling out of his grip, “So you’d just leave me to die???” You accuse, “Also, last time I checked- you weren’t an Olympic swimmer, what makes you think you’d just zoom out of there???”

Yoongi’s cackling at this point, his hand on his stomach, his previously tense features now smoothed out beneath his amusement, “I’m not saying I would leave you necessarily-”

“Necessarily!” You point out, laughter erupting from your lips as you pinch his side, “After everything we’ve been through, you’re really just gonna let a sea monster eat me!?”

His eyes widen, as his laughter increases, “A sea monster?! Who said anything about a sea monster? Where did they come in????”

“I said something touched my foot???? Obviously that means there is a sea monster, lurking in the depths, trying to eat me and you-” You poke his sternum, “You just said you would leave me to die!”

Yoongi’s face is reddened with the force of his own laughter, his hand subconsciously coming up to cover your own. With his eyes tearing up and his mouth parted to make way for his giggling, you can’t help but admire how beautiful he is.

Especially when he’s laughing...

He wipes his eyes with his free hand, still chuckling lightly to himself even as he brings your hand to his mouth, “Alright, alright- let's be clear- I would never leave you to die.” He promises, still smirking as he kisses the back of your hand, “Realistically, I’d probably panic and jump on YOUR back.”

With narrowed eyes, you wiggle the fingers he has pressed to his lips, “Well I don’t know how that would work out because, I’d probably you know- swim away so fucking fast that I don’t know if you’d have time to latch on...”

Yoongi snickers as you imitate his voice but, rather than retaliate he simply tugs you by the hand his currently holding and, kisses you.

It’s soft and sweet- lasting only for a few seconds until he’s pulling away.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He says suddenly, the volume of his voice decreasing significantly.

And as usual, you know that he wants to say way more than he does. But you’re perfectly fine with that.

Yoongi’s subtly is a specific brand and, you’ve grown to love how the little things he does allows him to pack so much emotion into a simple phrase.

You feel lucky to love such a special person.

“Of course.” You return his simplicity, pecking his lips once more before settling back in your original position.

The airport was a blur.

You’re thankful it passes quickly because, the process of getting through security makes you anxious.

Yoongi ushers you into your seat before taking both of your bags and, storing them in the overhead compartment. You can’t help but smile as he turns to help an older woman with her luggage as well.

He smiles ( :] ) at her, bowing his head slightly as she thanks him. Yoongi offers her a tiny wave and takes his seat beside you, not noticing the way you smile fondly at him.

When he takes his seat beside you, the two of you settle into a comfortable silence. Once the flight crew permits it, Yoongi takes his laptop out and begins toying around with one of his songs. You pull your headphones out as well and find one of your favorite playlists. Leaning back against the seat, your eyes eventually begin to droop until you can no longer keep them open.

The next thing you know, you’re being woken up by someone gently patting your thigh.

“Sleepy girl...” Yoongi croons in Korean, the sound of his voice alone making you smile, “We’re landing soon.”

Slightly disoriented, you blink your eyes a few times before you’re finally able to focus on your boyfriend’s face.

You slump against him, rubbing your cheek against the material of his hoodie. He chuckles softly, his arm sliding out from underneath you in order to drape across your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.” You mumble

He chuckles again, nodding with a false sense of consideration, “Ah yes, you missed so much. Two hours ago, the flight attendant came by and asked if we wanted anything to drink. It was a wild ride...”

Giggling sleepily, you shake your head at his sarcasm before pointing at his laptop.

“Were you working on your composition project?”

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, a bashful expression on his face “No, it was just a song I’ve been working on for a while now.”

He leaves it at that and, due to the signal from the flight crew, Yoongi begins putting his stuff away as the rest of the cabin prepares for landing.

“Are we taking the train?” You mumble, still fighting off the remnants of your nap.

Yoongi purses his lips, his eyes narrowed in concentration whilst he scrolls through his phone.

“No, I have a cab waiting for us.” He responds, “It says it’s already here. So, when you get out of customs, just meet me right outside. It should just be a straight shot from immigration.”

You nod and rest your head back against his shoulder, “Okay.”

He puts his phone away, allowing his hand to find yours. Intertwining your fingers, he takes a deep breath- his mind clearly elsewhere. You squeeze his hand to acknowledge this but, the two of you don’t comment on it.

There is no need.

With the tightening of your grip, so much has already been said.

Less than a half hour later, the two of you are once again seated in the back of the cab.

“It’s probably going to rain a lot while we’re here.” Yoongi explains, his voice low and slow, “This is Daegu’s rainy season. I’ve been checking the weather periodically and it looks like there might be a storm coming but, it doesn’t look too severe.”

You look at the window after his comment, noticing that the sky is overflowing with heavy clouds, swollen and gray with the promise of rain.

“We’re approaching monsoon season, we call it uh- jangma.” He tells you and his explanation makes you smile.

Despite the circumstances, you’re very honored and excited to be in Yoongi’s hometown. You know the memories he associates with this place are complex but, there is a shift in his tone now and, he sounds eager to teach you about this place: the place he called home for so long.

And you’d gladly listen for hours.

“Jangma-” You repeat, trying to get the pronunciation right, causing him to refocus his attention back on you. He smiles softly and nods,

“Good job.”

Your heart skips a beat at his approval as you return his smile, “Is there gonna be thunder?”

Yoongi chuckles, “Do you want there to be thunder?”

You nod eagerly, “I love storms. When I was little, I would just sit at the window and watch them go by. I’m pretty sure our neighbors thought I was crazy. But I don’t know- I've always had a thing for bad weather...”

He smirks, glancing out the window and then back at you, “That explains a lot.”

Giggling, you cock your head, “What do you mean?”

Yoongi gestures to himself, his now playful gaze looking at you expectantly. You laugh at his insinuation,

“I see the resemblance.” You concede, gently patting his cheek, “You’re not nearly as gloomy as you think you are though.”

“To you-” He retorts, “You always forget that...”

“Pleaaaase.” You disagree, “You’re soft for other people too, don’t lie. I’ve seen the way you deal with Namjoon and Hobi...”

He shakes his head, “Yeah but things are still different with you, I don’t think you realize that.”

You nudge yourself underneath his arm once more, cuddling up with him as best as you can in the back of a cab.

“I know you’re especially-” You emphasize the word, “soft for me. I’m just saying that you come across more approachable than you think you do.”

Yoongi smirks to himself, seemingly understanding something that you don’t.

“Soft is an understatement.” He retorts, turning to kiss the top of your head.

“Whateverrrr.” You tease him, your eyes trailing down to focus on his hands, “I’m still right.”

He chuckles, his figure shaking lightly beneath you, “You usually are.”

The cab pulls off of the highway, and it’s then that you begin to notice the way the scenery around you shifts from a middle class/ metropolitan vibe to something much much...fancier.

Through the winding streets, the cab begins taking the two of you up a pretty steep hill before turning onto a street full of ridiculously nice houses.

White marble, giant glass windows, and driveways filled to the brim with luxury vehicles zip by as the car turns down another street. Similar in theme but greater in size, the new street had much larger houses on more sizeable plots of land- likely designed to give the owners privacy amongst their neighbors.

You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you then and, you know very well that he’s observing your reaction.

He knows that even though he told you his brother was wealthy that, that phrase alone wouldn’t be enough to properly convey what that entailed.

“This neighborhood is really beautiful,” You observe softly, eyes still glued to the window, “The architecture is so different than anything I’ve ever seen.”

And of course, this makes Yoongi smile.

Because of course, you aren’t making a fuss about the degree of luxury before you. You’re finding the beauty in what otherwise is a very stressful situation.

Finally, the cab pulls into a driveway right behind a black Tesla before putting the car in park.

He and Yoongi exchange a few words in Korean as Yoongi hands him a small wad of money.

“Thank you.” You murmur to the cab driver with a slight bow of your head to which he responds with a tight smile and a similar bow.

You and Yoongi unload your bags from the trunk and as he is reaching for your hand, the front door of the house swings open.

A man a few inches taller than Yoongi steps out. His black hair is neatly arranged in a middle part and he’s dressed in a beige turtleneck and white slacks. As he comes closer, the resemblance between the two of them is staggering.

“Hello!” He calls with a warm smile, his voice bright, “Welcome! Come on in, the rain is supposed to pick back up soon.”

His expression only glows as he spots his younger brother. He looks excited to see him but, his movements are apprehensive.

The unspoken tension is already present and, you can feel Yoongi almost freeze up as he draws near. Subtly, you coax him along offering his brother a warm smile as the two of you approach the landing just in front of his door.

Normally, you don’t get nervous when meeting new people but, this situation is laced with so much complexity- you aren’t sure how to act.

Thankfully Yoongi finally speaks, “Good to see you hyung. Thank you for having us on such short notice.” His tone is almost unrecognizable as he gestures to you, “This is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N-” He gestures back to his brother, “This is my older brother Geum-jae hyung.”

Bowing your head slightly, you smile once more, “It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for having me.”

Geum-jae nods, eyeing you softly as his lips press into a tight line, “It’s so nice to meet you Y/N. I promise you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Yoongi motions for you to step in front of him so, you follow his lead and trail behind his brother through the doorway.

Geum-jae's home resembles a marble statue. It’s clean, beautiful and, elegant- but lifeless. Geum-jae has artwork of various styles all over his walls, crisp white couches, sleek granite countertops and, stainless-steel appliances however, there is not one bit of evidence that anyone even lives here. The house feels empty despite the amount of effort put into its appearance.

It makes you sad.

“You have a beautiful home.”

Your voice echoes off the dead weight of the walls, the paintings themselves seeming to arch a brow at your comment. Geum-jae however, smiles and nods graciously,

“Thank you. I just moved in not too long ago so, there is a lot I want to do. I definitely could have used this one’s expertise-” He nods to Yoongi, “He was always really good at that kind of stuff...”

Your boyfriend smirks, his eyes taking in his surroundings but failing to really focus on anything; he was too wound up, “You could have. I would have charged you though...”

Geum-jae chuckles and you see him glance at Yoongi fondly for a split second before he quickly reverts to his casual demeanor.

“I put you guys on the second floor facing the skyline-” He gestures to the ivory staircase, “I’m sure you want some time to freshen up and relax so, please take all the time you need. I’m having BBQ brought over tonight but, if you’re hungry- feel free to help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

Yoongi allows you to step in front of him whilst taking the suitcase from your hands. The two men follow behind you as Geum-jae continues laying out the plans for the evening,

“I have a few virtual meetings to attend that I wasn’t able to move around but, I will be free as of 7 this evening. Until then, please make yourselves at home. I am really-” He seems to take a deep breath for emphasis, “really happy to have you here.”

“Thank you hyung.” Yoongi smiles slightly once the three of you reach the outside of the guest room, “Good luck with your meetings. Let me know if you need help with dinner.”

Geum-jae responds with a tight nod, “Will do. I’ll be in my office so, feel free to explore.” As he pushes open the door for you, he allows his own pained expression to meet yours, “I’m honored to meet you Y/N. Thank you for coming all this way with my brother.”

“Well-” You squeeze Yoongi’s hand gently, “He’s lucky I like him so much...”

Cheeks flushed, Yoongi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but his lips are practically puckered against the smile he’s trying to stifle.

“That’s fair.” Geum-jae chuckles, “Let me know if you two need anything. I’ll just be downstairs...”

With that, Yoongi pushes open the door and allows you to step inside before following behind you.

“Wow.” You whisper to yourself as you take in the scene before you.

The walls are painted a soft gray and surrounding only three sides of the bedroom. The fourth wall is made entirely of glass and given that the house rests upon a hill, you’re able to make out the skyline of the inner city. A giant four poster bed sits in the middle of the room, covered completely in a white duvet and three rows of pillows. Dark gray curtains sit on either side of the massive window as various muted colors accent the room in the form of a dresser, two nightstands and, a set of couches at the end of the bed.

Yoongi is silent behind you as he sets the bags down at the entrance of the room. He pushes the door shut and allows his eyes to move over the space for a moment.

It's nice, he thinks, but he can’t find himself to be very impressed.

He knows where this money comes from and, even though his brother is out of the crime sector now, it still feels strange to acknowledge his wealth.

Noticing his silence, you turn towards him, eyes tracing over the features of his face to assess his mood.

With a slight and subconscious pout, he looks at you, his body seemingly full of a breath he wants to take.

“Do you want to lay down for a bit? I know you didn’t sleep on the plane.”

At your offer, he seems to deflate slightly, lips turning up at the corners, “I think I want to shower first...”

Immediately, you nod with an encouraging smile, “Yeah go shower babe, I’ll just-”

He interrupts you, sticking his hand out and flexing his fingers in a grabbing motion, “Come with me.”

His offer makes you giggle, “You want me to shower with you?”

Yoongi closes the distance between you, using his grabby hands to lock onto your hips, “No, I meant like come with me as in come watch me...yes I want you to shower with me.”

Your laughter heightens as you pinch his side, causing him to recoil before chuckling.

“You’re such a punk today...” You scold.

Yoongi simply chuckles warmly as he kisses the side of your head, the tone of his voice lowering significantly, “That usually means something to you doesn’t it?”

It does.

It usually means he’s having trouble vocalizing his needs and, he’s in need of attention. And the type of attention is usually a specific brand.

And it usually comes with a little bit of pain.

However, you don’t think it’s a good idea to indulge that side of Yoongi’s desires at the moment because, his emotions aren’t fully organized. You know the talk with his brother is causing him a lot of stress and, as much as you liked to wreck his body right now- you know it’s best to wait until later.

That doesn’t mean you can’t take care of him though...

“Come on-” You urge him, grabbing his hand and practically running towards the bathroom, “Let's get you clean, king.”

He laughs, stumbling into the bathroom which is just as nice and similarly colored as the room.

“I’m a king now?”

His question goes over your head as you notice the ridiculously oversized bathtub in the center of the room. Biting your lip, you turn towards him and point at it.

“Do you want to take a bath instead? The shower looks amazing and all but- this thing literally looks like a jacuzzi.”

Yoongi eyes it curiously, his teeth finding his bottom lip, looking a little apprehensive, “How would you want to sit in it though? I kinda uh- I kinda thought maybe we could stand under the water for a bit together, like last time...”

He wants you to hold him.

He’s not going to say it but, he needs it.

Like really bad.

You can see his nerves creeping into his posture so, you decide to act quickly before he somehow convinces himself that he’s being too needy.

Looking around the room, you spot a few things that could aid in his relaxation: candles, bubble bath, a neatly folded pile of fluffy gray towels...

“I’ll show you.” You assure him, “Close your eyes really quick- no peeking. I have a plan...”

Yoongi looks at you, suspicious all over his face, “I’m scared.”

Giggling, you raise your brows for emphasize, “Oh you should be-”

He can’t help but smirk at your tone despite the anticipation swimming in his gut. He trusts you though so, instead of arguing- he shuts his eyes.

Shuffling around the bathroom, you set things up in record time, turning the water on, pouring the rose scented bubble bath beneath the stream, and lighting a few candles along the ivory counter. Yoongi maintains his smirk the entire time, folding his arms across his chest, stifling his desire to make a snarky comment.

“Alright,” You sigh, dusting your hands off, “Ta daaaaa.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, blinking a few times before taking in the scene in front of him. It changes his smirk into a grin really quickly as his cat-like eyes flit over to you.

“Are you planning on sacrificing me?” He quips, nodding to the candles.

Snorting, you roll your eyes, “If you keep talking shit, I just might-” You threaten, laughter forming on the tail end of your sentence, “Get naked...”

Yoongi snickers, his face full of satisfaction as his finger tuck beneath his hoodie to tug it over his head. The two of you undress in a small bout of silence and attempt to sneak glances at one another’s naked form.

“I’m going to get in first and then you’re going to sit in front of me, between my legs...” You explain, trying not to shiver as the cool air of the bathroom begins to grow uncomfortable.

His brows raise, “Between your legs?” He confirms, “Say no more...”

Once again, your eyes are rolling but this time, there is a smile on your lips as you move to take your spot beneath the warmth of the water. Yoongi has to take a deep breath as he watches you, his emotions brewing dangerously beneath the surface at the sight of the woman he loves.

He still doesn’t fully understand it.

He is still meet with endless confusion when he starts to think about why you’ve chosen to be with him but, he knows better now than to question it.

You have your reasons, he thinks, and he has a million of his own.

Looking up from beneath the mountain of bubbles, you pat the top of them, looking at him expectantly, “Come here.”

He grabs the hand that you extend towards him, balancing himself on it whilst he steps into the tub. Modestly, he turns his body away from you for a second so he’s able to bend down before pivoting beneath the water and settling against your chest. The bathtub is big enough for the water to go past his shoulders and, he feels his entire body relax once he feels your body against his.

“Comfy?” You check, draping your arms across his chest.

Yoongi nods, his head leaning back and resting against your left shoulder. Once it lands there, you turn and kiss his temple which then prompts one of his hands to reach up rest on yours. Silently, you place a few more kisses against his hairline, allowing him to decompress however he wants to, not wanting to pressure him into talking about anything.

And he doesn’t, at least not for a while.

The only sounds between the two of you are the dribbling of water from the faucet and the low whisper of breathing. Every so often, you kiss his temple, just so he knows that he isn’t alone.

“Seeing my brother is really difficult.” He mumbles, eyes still closed, hand still on top of yours, “Even just seeing his face- it brings back a lot of memories.”

You nod, “I can imagine- especially since it’s been so long.”

Yoongi sighs, his eyes fluttering open and honing in on the ceiling, “I haven’t seen him since I was 18. He came to Sejin’s place just before I moved in with Namjoon. He tried to talk to me to let me know that he was leaving the business but, I barely said anything. I was too angry at him.”

Using your free hand, you rub softly at his chest under the water, silently encouraging him to continue.

“He never helped me when my father would-” He takes a deep breath through his nose, his throat bobbing as he swallows on the exhale, “the time I told you about, when my father hit me...that wasn’t the only time. It happened often towards the end.”

Your eyes shut momentarily, the pain of Yoongi being harmed stinging your heart like a shot.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing his temple again.

Yoongi’s face turns slightly into your lips, his hand squeezing over yours, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I held onto my disappointment in him for a while until I realized something: the only reason my father every laid his hands on me and not Geum-jae hyung was because, I stood up to him.”

“Geum-jae hyung never did and, I think he still carries that regret to this day. I can see it all over his face...” His voice is so low now that it barely makes it above a whisper, his eyes seemingly elsewhere. “Is it wrong that I feel like- like I didn’t just come here to save Sejin’s studio?”

You shake your head, “Not at all...”

He swallows again and takes another deep breath through his nose, “It’s hard you know- during winter break especially; everyone would leave campus and go home for the holidays...and I never knew where to go. For the first two years at school, I spent Christmas alone until Namjoon’s mom finally called me and told me that if I didn’t come back with him, that she was going to make him sleep outside.” He chuckles, smirking slightly at the memory.

Your heart fills with despair then. You didn’t piece it together that Yoongi would have stayed behind during the holiday season. There was so much to unpack from the tragedy that he’s endured; it didn’t even cross your mind.

“Namjoon’s mom was right to threaten you-” You affirm but then you shake your head, “I don’t think there could be a wrong reason to come here. You deserve to have whatever kind of closure or healing that you need.”

“I wish I knew what I needed...” He admits, licking his lips before turning towards you, his brown eyes holding all the emotions he can’t vocalize, “I wish everything was as easy as this.”

Following suit, you turn your head so that you’re facing him, “So do I. But I’ll always be here through all the not-so-easy stuff.”

Yoongi smiles then, soft and sweet, delivering a kiss to match. He relaxes into you, brushing his tongue along the inside of your lip just for a moment before pulling away.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Yoongi.”

Eventually, you both got out of the bathtub and into the shower so, that you were able to get clean properly. After a few hours of catching up on missed calls/texts and relaxing, Yoongi gets a text from his brother saying that dinner would be ready in 15 minutes.

Geum-jae had the finest BBQ in the city delivered and prepared right in his dining room. Banchan lined the center of the table, slabs of meat were grilled one right after the other until the three of you tapped out.

It passed easier than you thought it would. Yoongi and Geum-jae relaxed in the face of a meal, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them as if no time had passed. It was a touching sight to see and, you hoped that it meant their discussion would come out easier.

You take your leave after you help clean up, thanking Geum-jae for the incredible food and, letting Yoongi know that you’d be up in the room checking on something for school if he needed anything.

Which was a total lie but, you needed an excuse to leave them alone for a bit.

Yoongi feels his heartbeat pick up a bit as he watches you leave the room, the realization of what was coming finally hitting him.

“Hyung-” He wants to rip the band aid off. “Is it alright if we talk for a moment?”

Geum-jae raises his brows at the switch in languages and nods immediately, gesturing to the table, “Of course. Can we sit here? Or would you rather talk in the living room?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Here is fine.” He sits back down in his original seat and, rubs his palms against his jeans.

Geum-jae takes a seat across from him, gazing expectantly at his younger brother, “What did you want to talk about?”

Despite Yoongi’s anxiety, he understands that being to the point would be the most effective way to communicate. He wasn’t sure if any past issues would come up but, right now his concern was on Sejin.

“I know that I told you I needed your help with something but-” Yoongi begins, “It isn’t me who needs your help exactly...it’s Sejin.”

Geum-jae purses his lips, his hands coming out to clasp rest on the table, “Is he alright?”

“The landlord for the studio he runs is increasing his rent again and, he doesn’t have the money to keep it open...” Yoongi’s explanation gets a little rushed as he gets more and more nervous, “I have some money in savings to help out with rent for the next few months but, it’s not enough to keep it open long term and-”

Geum-jae cuts him off, “Tell Sejin to call me. I will send a team to his location to sort everything out. It wouldn’t be a bad building to purchase but if Sejin is willing- then maybe he can look at other properties and I’ll have the money wired over to him.”

Yoongi can’t hide the shock on his face, “Wait- are you serious?”

“Of course. Sejin is one of my dearest friends. I owe him a lot for what he’s done over the years.”

In this moment, regret washes over Geum-jae's face, his eyes reaching out to Yoongi’s in hopes that he understands what he’s alluding to.

And obviously, he does.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Geum-jae continues, tilting his head to get a better look at Yoongi’s expression, trying to read him, “I’ve always told you that if you ever needed anything-”

“I haven’t talked to you in 8 years hyung, I wasn’t just going to call and ask you for a favor.”

Geum-jae nods, his face tightening with solemnity, “I understand.” A brief moment of silence passes between the two of them before a sigh comes from Geum-jae, “There is so much I want to say to you Yoongi, I don’t even know where to begin...”

Yoongi stays quiet.

He doesn’t know either.

He just knows that the only way to get rid of the heaviness in his chest is to talk about it.

“I suppose I could start with an apology.” Geum-jae concludes, shaking his head as a light scoff leaves his lips, “I could never find the words to express how much regret and shame I feel inside. I could never explain how sorry I am for not protecting you, for not being a better example, for not having a backbone, for being selfish...I was blinded by greed. I couldn’t see what was in front of me.”

Yoongi swallows back his emotion, dreading the way his eyes begin to sting.

Geum-jae continues, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I just want to apologize and tell you that, even though I played no part in the man you’ve become, I am incredibly honored to call you my brother.”

It isn’t easy but, Yoongi manages to contain the tears that desperately want to fall from his eyes. His chest tightens as he hears his brother’s words. He wades through all the bitterness he feels towards him, allowing himself to feel the full force of his approval.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Yoongi swallows, avoiding direct eye contact with him, “I just wish I understood your actions. You were my hyung, I thought you would have protected me and-” Yoongi blinks away the tears as quickly as he can, “and I still haven’t been able to accept the fact that you didn’t...”

Geum-jae shakes his head, “I wanted to protect you. I just didn’t know how- I was scared of him too. You had more courage than I did. It doesn’t excuse my actions but, it’s the truth.”

Suddenly, he reaches out and places his hand overtop of Yoongi’s, a pleading expression on his face, “That’s why you got out. That’s why you have a life. You have friends, you’re about to graduate university and, you have Y/N...” Geum-jae's voice breaks at the end, “Because of your strength, you finally found happiness.”

Yoongi looks at his hand, observing the evidence of his life present on his skin. Scars, burns, callouses, needle marks...

“Are you saying that you haven’t?” He asks, still not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“I’m not even close.”

Finally, the two meet each other's gaze. For a moment, they just stare, glistening eyes to glistening eyes. Overcome with years of repressed emotions, fueled by the desperate need to try and break the cycle, they wordlessly convey an unspoken emptiness.

They have missed each other so much.

“I am here now.” Geum-jae promises, the first tear dangerously close to falling, “Hyung is here if you’ll have him. I want to be in your life but, I understand if you want nothing to do with me.”

Yoongi blinks now, and the tears land upon his cheeks, “You’re my hyung...” And it really is a desperate proclamation, “...you’ll always be my hyung...”

The chair screeches against the tile, causing Yoongi to jump in his seat until he realizes what his brother is doing. Rounding the table, stands to the side of Yoongi with open arms and his own tears atop his cheeks.

He eyes him for only a few seconds before standing up suddenly and accepting Geum-jae into his arms. The two of them seem to collapse against one another. Yoongi breaks down and sobs in the arms of his older brother.

Just as he would have when they were young.

When times were hard and he could take shelter behind the one person who made him feel safe, the first person who ever showed him love.

“I’m so sorry Yoongi-ah.”

His words cause Yoongi to squeeze his eyes shut as he nods against the expensive fabric of his brother’s dress shirt, “I know.” He sniffles and pats his back, “I know you are.”

Meanwhile...

You’ve been upstairs, straightening up the bedroom and trying to pass the time without worrying excessively about your boyfriend’s well-being.

Which turns out to be impossible...

Cleaning around the room/bathroom only takes you about 20 minutes before your flopping onto the massive bed and, pulling out your phone. Scrolling through Tik Tok, you hope for a substantial distraction and, lucky for you- one arrives.

But, it isn’t on Tik Tok...

Jungkook: So you know Jimin right...

The text from Jungkook confuses you as you’re pretty sure it's like the middle of the night back home and, it’s not like him to text you outside of the group chat.

You: I have heard of him yes

You: Isn’t he like your boyfriend or something?

Jungkook: ha ha

Jungkook: about that

Jungkook: what if he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore?

Your eyes widen and, you immediately sit up in bed and hover anxiously over your phone.

You: !!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN

Jungkook: shhhhhh don’t yell

Jungkook: my future fiance is sleeping...

You’re about ready to get on a flight back home to kick his ass before your vision focuses on the word he’s just sent.

You: excuse me

You: YOU’RE WHAT ???????????

Jungkook: …

Jungkook: What did I just tell you smh

You: *whispers* WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT JUNGKOOK

Jungkook: -____-

Jungkook: can I call

You: ?????? Obviously!!!!

Seconds later, Jungkook’s name illuminates your screen.

“Good evening,” He begins calmly, “I’m having a panic attack...”

You giggle, “What’s going on????”

“Well you see- I am in love with Park Jimin and I fear it may be terminal.”

“Terminal huh? Is that how you describe a lifelong partnership with your one true love?”

“...yes.”

“Jungkook,” You urge him through your laughter, “What is going on?”

You hear him sigh, “I think I’m going to ask Jimin to marry me.”

Squealing, you jump up on your knees, “Wait seriously?! Jungkook!”

“Yah! Don’t yell at me! This is all your fault!”

“My fault??? How is this my fault?”

“Well technically I guess- it's Yoongi’s fault because, he’s the one that convinced me to get in touch with my feelings or whatever- either way, I am STILL the victim. And now I want to be with him forever and it’s disgusting...”

You flop back against the pillows and laugh again, “If Jimin knew this was how you were telling people you were proposing, he would kill you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “He’s going to kill me either way Y/N...it’s bad- the other day, he sent me a selfie and, I had heart palpitations for like 15 minutes.”

“If your man doesn’t give you heart palpitations then, that isn’t your man.” You conclude.

“Y/N...” Jungkook whines now, sounding very much like the boy you met back in middle school.

“Jungkook...” You whine back causing him to finally chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’m scared...”

“I know but, you and Jimin are so perfect for each other, there is no way that this wouldn’t work out.”

“More perfect than you and Yoongi?” He teases, reverting back to being a little shit.

And his question makes you scoff, “Oh sweetheart- obviously not. But second place isn’t bad!”

He laughs now and it’s the full bellied sound that you love hearing.

“You really think we’re perfect together?”

Despite his inability to see you, you smile at his need for validation,

“Duh. You two are literally soulmates.”

Jungkook is quiet on the other line but when he speaks again, you can hear the giddiness in his voice, “Ok so...will you help me then???”

Back downstairs, Yoongi and Geum-jae are sat at the bar in front of the window that faces his backyard. As he predicted, the rain came back in full force and is now propelling itself against the clean glass. After their emotional encounter in the dining room, Geum-jae suggested that they have a drink together and relax for a moment.

He had poured each of them a glass of wine, ensuring not to fill his glass up too much.

“Your girlfriend is a wonderful woman; you made a good choice.”

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s lips twitch, his eyes watching the droplets of water chaotically race down the window, “Thank you. But, it was her who chose me, I’m still working out exactly why.”

Geum-jae chuckles, “I see you’re still selling yourself short ah? Did you two meet at school?”

Yoongi smirks, “Yeah, we met 6 months ago in my psychology class. She was my partner on our final project.”

“Ah.” He nods, “Things blossomed that way then?”

Yoongi’s heart throbs a bit as his brain begins its recollection of his time with you.

So much has happened during your relationship, he forgets that he hasn’t known you all his life.

It certainly feels like he has.

“Yeah.”

Geum-jae chuckles, “You’re so reserved about her.”

Yoongi knows what he means. In the Min family, you always say things as they are. You don’t sugarcoat your sentiments and you definitely don’t play coy.

“I can’t help it-” He admits, and he can feel the heat on his cheeks now, “I find it difficult to talk about her...”

His brother bites his bottom lip, unable to help how endeared he is, “Can I ask why?”

Yoongi leans his cheek against the palm of his hand, still focusing on the rain, “It’s overwhelming.”

Geum-jae seems to understand but he chuckles anyway, “Do you plan on marrying her?”

His question hangs in the air for a moment. Yoongi’s brain once again travels elsewhere, and he is bombarded with images of you walking down the aisle. He has to take a deep breath as he forces the thoughts out of his head; he’s cried enough this evening.

“I would marry her tomorrow.”

Geum-jae's laughter increases now but now it bubbles over his lips in an excited fashion.

“Yahhhh! Look at that eh?” He congratulates him, “It’s safe to say you’re off the market for good then? Because I have a few of my friends who have been asking about you.”

This finally makes Yoongi laugh as he turns towards him, “That’s flattering.” He means it too but, he speaks the next set of words with all of the conviction he can muster, “There is no one else for me though.”

Geum-jae grins proudly and with a raise to his brows, he lifts his glass, “Well, let’s drink to that then.”

The clinking of crystal signifies so much. For now though, Yoongi allows it to represent the future and, all of the possibilities it may bring.

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flooffybits · 4 years ago

Text

Sing Me Something

Idol: Lee Siyeon (Dreamcatcher)

Everyone knew that the members liked to learn how to play instruments. So imagine their surprise when one of them receives a present that Siyeon is more than happy to have around.

A/n: yes i am aware that this is not angst

☕buy me a coffee☕

People knew how much you loved to learn new things, more so when you showed them a completely new talent during one of your appearances in Fact In Star. They all knew you could speak two languages due to you being a foreigner, but imagine their surprise when you had spoken in a very different language they hadn’t known you already knew.

Yoohyeon explained at some point how you had picked up after her, learning a new language due to your desire to further interact with your international fans. So now, as you faced the camera and spoke with said fans, they wondered what you were still doing at the company at such a late hour, knowing full well that you should be tired due to the fact that your comeback was slowly approaching.

“Why am I not home?” You read outloud, eyes wide before you cocked your head to the side and then pointed to the instrument leaning against the wall behind you. “Everyone, there’s no guitar at the dorm, and I haven’t exactly decided on buying one yet.” You answer with a small sigh and lean against your seat.

Someone commented about Yoohyeon having one and you shake your head. “Yoohyeonnie is sleeping early now because we’re all getting ready. But I also don’t want to use hers because I’m scared that I might break it.” You say while pretending to cry.

It truly was lonely when none of your members were around to accompany you.

You read as the comments kept going up, smiling to a few. "I've been trying to learn for a while now. I've always been so interested ever since I was a kid." You grin before picking up the instrument and then pluck at the strings, the sound filling your ears when you try to play a few chords.

Looking back up, you find various requests and suggestions of songs to sing. "I'm not that good at it yet." You laugh bashfully but try to think of a song easy enough to play, using the suggestions of your fans as well. You try recalling a few chords and check the comments to see if you were doing alright.

When you finally settle for a song, you let your muscles relax before beginning to play the intro to Blackpink's Stay after seeing a few fans commenting on it and they all seemed to be enjoying it even when you keep your focus on your fingers on the fretboard. Though you do look back during the chorus, pretending to sing it for those who were watching.

At some point, you forget one of the chords and look up for help, laughing as you did. “Like this?” You ask when you place your forefinger on one of the strings, nose crinkling when you don’t follow right away. But with the help of your fans, you were able to get back on track.

You end it a little earlier than the people would hope, laughing before you checked your phone to see a text from one of your members. "Siyeon unnie just messaged me." You inform them while picking your phone up to check on the contents of her message. “Was she watching the live?” You wonder out loud.

y/n come hooome TT as much as i love hearing you sing, its late and i want to cuddle you

You giggle at the cute little message before sending her a reply about how you were busy talking with InSomnia. In response, your phone started to ring a few seconds after, making you laugh some more as you answered the older woman's call, putting it on speaker for people to hear.

"Unnie, what's wrong?" You ask before her whining reaches your ears. "I said come home." The already present smile on your face only grows as you gently set the guitar down. "But I told you that I'm talking to Somnia. I’m also practicing." You retorted playfully and fans are cooing as the two of you continue to converse.

"Everyone!" She calls out this time, knowing full well that you've put her on speaker after she had called and with the way you spoke. "Please say goodnight to our Y/n. She has to come back home and tend to her favorite unnie."

The comment has you giggling and you bring the phone closer to your lips just so you're sure she can hear you. "Dong unnie hasn't texted me though.” You tease before she’s making a sound. “Yah! Since when did you replace me?” She demanded and you had to stop yourself from laughing too much. “I didn’t replace you, Dong unnie and Jiu unnie are my favorite.”

“Ah, is that so?” She asks and you’re suddenly wary of the change in her tone. “Just wait until Sua unnie hears this.” There it was. You felt your throat dry up and you looked as though you had gone pale at the mention of the dancer, knowing full well that she will not stop bugging you for not choosing her.

And it looked like your fans had the same thought.

“Okay, maybe Sua unnie is my favorite, too.”

“Yah!” The vocalist protested and you just smiled before shaking your head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come home in a while and take care of you, unnie.” You finally relent after the continuous whining noises she’s given, chuckling as you can basically hear the pout in her voice. “Tell me I’m your favorite.” Her voice was so small and you didn’t have the heart to keep teasing her anymore.

“Siyeon unnie is my favorite. Don’t worry.” You assure her before she finally perks up. “You heard that, right everyone? Y/n is mine!” She boasts and you finally put her off speaker before pressing the device to your ear. “I’ll see you in a while, unnie.”

“Be quick.” She replies and you finally say goodbye before looking back to the live, grinning as you addressed your viewers. “Well, you heard unnie. I have to get home soon.” You explain to them, opting to read a bit more of the comments instead of leaving right away.

But you did find comments telling you that it was fine to leave and that you should tend to Siyeon. Even your ship name had been mentioned a lot after the little interaction.

“Unnie is really cute, right?” You laughed before standing so you could put the guitar back from where you first got it. “But, she’s right. It is pretty late and we still have practice tomorrow.” You pout, zipping the bag up and then safely putting it away before returning to the camera, only to see a few more of Siyeon’s messages.

You said you were coming home now :((( youre still doing the live

ynnnnn

why are you making me wait

“Siyeon unnie just texted again, everyone.” You say amusedly. “It looks like she is watching. Unnie, hold on, I’m just fixing up and saying goodnight to InSomnia.” You explain as you tie your hair up so it wasn’t falling on your face. “I’ll talk to you all next time, hopefully I can play the guitar well for you all by then.”

You smile at the encouraging words sent your way before deciding to finally end the live. “See you soon, goodnight. I love you!” Waving goodbye, you finally turn it off before gathering your things and finally leave the company, sending Siyeon a quick text that you were on your way home.

Siyeon waited for you as you finished getting your makeup done. She was happily admiring your outfit for this fanmeet, seeing how you seemed comfortable in it and that it wasn’t too much for you while keeping the theme of everyone wearing black. In fact, it looked like something you would wear during a casual hangout, yet it still looked stylish.

“Please make our Y/n extra pretty.” She had requested in a cute tone, making your stylist chuckle and you to smile. “Y/n is pretty already, so there’s not much for me to do.” She had replied as she made sure your hair was in place, clipping two parts at the back before leaving the rest of your hair down in waves of ash brown, and Siyeon all but bounced in her place when she saw that you were finally finished after your stylist applied a bit of hairspray.

Making sure that there was nothing else missed, your stylist nodded approvingly before gently nudging you towards the waiting woman. “Don’t mess her hair up, please.” Siyeon salutes playfully before encasing you in her arms, lightly pecking your cheek just so her lipstick doesn’t leave a mark.

“Our Y/n is so pretty. I could kiss you.” You crinkle your nose at her claim before poking her side. “Unnie just said not to mess my hair up.” You remind and she pouts. “Come on, just one kiss. It’s not even going to bother your hair.” She reasons, but your stylist pipes up behind you. “Don’t ruin her makeup either.”

You laugh at the face Siyeon makes, Minji doing the same when she catches what’s going on. “You’re both so cute! But unnie is right, Siyeon-ah. We’re starting in a while and you don’t want Y/n late because she has to redo her hair and makeup.” The leader warns and Siyeon lets out an exaggerated sigh before resting her head on your shoulder instead. “Fine.”

Siyeon’s pout would grow whenever your attention would flit away from her and to either Handong or Minji, recalling your past live where you had told her that the pair were your favorites, though you’ve already stated that you were only joking around. When Bora was there, however, the dancer made it her goal to wreak havoc when her sight zeroed in on you after Siyeon told her she wasn’t your favorite.

You remember running away from her the morning after, only for it to be in vain because she had you trapped in the practice room and the only way you could avoid her was when you used your members to shield yourself, yet the only ones who helped you out were your leader and Handong, fueling the little jealousy that Siyeon already felt after your admission.

Since then, Bora decided to bring it up whenever she could, though you know that she just wants your attention just as much as Siyeon does.

“Y/n, come here!” Siyeon groaned as Bora called you once more, tightening her arms around your waist as you looked over. “Why?” She asked for you, the pout already set on her face as Bora grabbed your hand. “She’s sitting next to me.” She stated with a smirk and you grimaced before trying to spot your manager.

“Don’t even try it. Let’s go!” Bora tugged at your arms and you reluctantly left Siyeon’s arms, despite her protest. “Why can’t she sit next to me?” The brunette whined and Gahyeon looked at Siyeon. “You spend the most time with Y/n unnie. We’re her members, too!” Handong chuckled at their squabbling. “I think Y/n spends a lot of time with all of us.”

“That’s because you’re also hogging her when Siyeon unnie isn’t around.” Yoohyeon pointed out with Bora nodding in agreement. “She comes to you often, especially when she wants to study Chinese.” Yubin added as she fixed her skirt and then dusted herself off. “Basically the unnies have taken Y/n away.” Minji chuckled amusedly when she reached to pinch your cheeks.

Siyeon huffed at that, crossing her arms as she watched Bora cuddling you already. “But Y/n is mine!” She complained and Yoohyeon leaned against her shoulder. “Y/n unnie is going to get tired with all of us if we don’t stop arguing and go. Our manager is also going to get angry, too.” She laughed when you all saw your managers waving you over.

“Come on, kids! Time to meet InSomnias!”

While you’ve done this numerous times, it never failed to bring a smile to all of your faces. As soon as the screaming of fans met your ears, you had all forgotten about the little argument you all had in the dressing room and greeted your fans with vigorous energy.

If you could, you might have already hopped out of your seat to hug them.

As everyone was happily interacting with the people that sat in front of them, thanking them for coming and accepting gifts, Siyeon smiled when she greeted one of your fansites. “You’re the person who always makes cute edits for Y/n.” She beamed and the fansite smiled shyly while nodding their head.

“There aren’t that many people who make them for Y/n unnie, so I try my best.” Siyeon’s smile widened at that before nodding her head while she signed the fan’s album, leaving a quick thank you message. “Y/n really appreciates it, so I hope you keep up the good work.” She encourages and the fansite nods happily. “Of course!”

When your fansite reaches you, Bora is telling her to make sure that your best edits are the ones with her in them, earning a laugh from you as you greet them. “Don’t mind unnie. She’s still upset with me.” You tell her, and your fansite giggles while nodding her head. “I figured as much since your live before the comeback.” She answers and you grin before opening their album to sign your name on it.

“How is your guitar practice going, unnie?” She had asked and you look up with a smile and she mimics it when she sees how your eyes sparkle at the mention of your little hobby. “I’m getting better! Of course, you all helped me last time. I should hire you guys.” You joked and she giggled with you before nodding her head. “Then that means I can give this to you.”

You were a little confused by what she meant, but when she moved to remove the strap of the guitar bag from her shoulder, your eyes widened when she brought it forward. “You said you don’t have a guitar yet, so I got you one! It’s a little similar to the one I have at home, but I had this one customized with your animal and favorite color.”

“You didn’t have to. This must have cost a lot!” You say worriedly, but she shook her head in reply. “It’s not much, please don’t worry. I also got this for you so you don’t have to be at the company so late.” She explained while lowering the case a bit. “Also this way, you can practice while you’re in the dorm and you don’t have to borrow Yoohyeon’s guitar.”

You were a bit overwhelmed with such a heartfelt gift and you quickly stood to bow at her, surprising your members who sat on either side of you, and fans who caught the interaction. “Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take care of it.” You told her when you sat back down as she blushed and waved her hands.

When it was time for her to move over to Yubin, you bid her goodbye with the biggest smile on your face before you asked your managers to handle the item with care as they came to put it in your box of gifts.

Once that was done and you were able to talk with all of your fans, the tables and chairs were cleared and all eight of you gathered on the stage to take pictures while also answering some questions, along with conversing with them in general.

Seeing how happy you were at the moment, your members watched you with fond smiles as you kept waving to everyone, posing for the camera like the rest of them were. They could also see how you were excited to see your new guitar, seeing as you haven’t really checked the inside of the bag to see the actual present.

“Unnie, do you want to open it?” Yoohyeon’s voice had caught your attention and you see Yubin already walking over to your box of things to carefully retrieve the guitar with the help of your managers. “Is that okay?” You ask confusedly when you walked closer, though it was clear that you were more than happy to see it.

Bora grinned before nodding her head. “Go ahead. I think everyone wants to see it, too.” She tells you before Yubin handed it over and you gently put it down, crouching as you unzipped the bag. Siyeon had come up next to you and crouched beside you, making sure that you were covered up.

She observes you when you take a look at the instrument and she aww’s at the expression on your face when you finally see what it looked like. The body was in your favorite color and a copy of your signature was on the upper part of it along with little doodles of your assigned animal. When you turn it to check the back, both you and Siyeon are pleasantly surprised to see words carved on the neck of the guitar.

We dream of you the way you dream of us

You let your fingers lightly trace each word, your smile not once faltering and Siyeon had to stop herself from tearing up as she stared at the message before you looked up, searching for the fansite who had given you the guitar before finally meeting her eyes.

Shooting her a smile, you borrowed Gahyeon’s microphone before speaking. “I love you, thank you.” Though you didn’t say much, everyone could feel the various emotions and feelings it held underneath, and there really was no need to further ask you about it as you stood to try it, Siyeon helping you with the strap - one that also had a few more characters you adored.

“Is everyone up for one more song?” You ask and your members had no complaints along with your managers since there was still a bit of time before you had to perform What.

“What are you singing for us, Y/n?” Handong asked as you tuned the guitar while Siyeon rested her head on Gahyeon’s shoulder as they watched you.

There was really only one song you could think of at that moment, so you didn’t waste time playing the chords to Full Moon, it being one of the first few songs you really wanted to know how to play.

The girls didn’t seem to catch on to it right away, but once you started singing, fans started cheering while your members beamed and sang along with you.

The moments when you and I were together

It is like I’m a star in the sky

It was easy for all seven of them to adjust to the slower tempo of the song since you often practiced with them around, and the girls would admit that they had heard you singing it at a slower pace.

When the fanmeet ends and you were all back at the dorm, Siyeon came bounding into your room, grinning when she saw you already on the Vapp and conversing with fans dispute having seen them earlier. She listened as you happily spoke about the event and how you wish you could have an event with InSomnia from all around the world in just one place together, and her heart melted just a little at how fondly you spoke about your fans.

“Unnie, I didn’t notice you coming in.” You were surprised when you finally noticed her in the room and she laughed lightly before shaking her head, keeping herself out of frame since she had already changed into her sleep wear and she didn’t feel like stealing your attention away from everyone so much.

“I just wanted to check in on you. How’s your guitar?” She asked, eyeing it as it rested beside your and Yubin’s desk. “I could hear you earlier, before I went to wash up.” She stated as she sat on your bed and then peeked at the camera, poking her head in just so it only showed her eyes and forehead. “Hello everyone. I can’t show my face right now, but please enjoy our Y/n.”

You giggle before looking back at the guitar then shift your gaze back to the older woman. “I really appreciate them a lot.” You say softly and Siyeon smiles as she reaches to run her fingers gently through your hair. “I’m sure they know that.” She nods to your phone that has various comments coming in, agreeing with her statement and you nod your head in reply, smiling and radiating pure happiness.

As you continued with your conversation, Siyeon decided to just lay down to listen to you, humming as you told her what fans were saying and just enjoying as she listened to you speak. She had always found your voice soothing to listen to and it was also endearing how much you showered your fans with affection, so it made her feel at ease.

When she turned her head, the vocalist suddenly noticed your guitar again before the words fell from her mouth when you paused to read the comments. “Sing me something, Y/n.” She shifted so that she was laying on her side and you hummed in response before looking at her.

“Sing me something. I like listening to you.” She said quietly and you smile before nodding your head. “I’m going to get my guitar so I can sing for you guys, okay?” You announce before quickly leaving the bed to fetch the instrument.

You’re quick to settle back though before looking at the other with a thoughtful look on your face, making her giggle as she lightly pinched your leg. “What?” She asked and you laughed in reply. “I was thinking of what to sing for you.” You reply, opting to come up with a song by yourself despite fans sending in requests.

It doesn’t take long though before Siyeon sees you setting the guitar on your lap and then start playing, singing right along. Though she doesn’t understand everything that you're saying since it was an english song, she did smile when she was able to catch parts of it.

They say that love is forever

Your forever is all that I need

Please stay as long as you need

Though your eyes often check if you were playing the right chords, you make sure to look at Siyeon as you sing, smiling at her as she does the same, listening to your gentle voice as you both seemingly forget that you had an audience.

When you finish, Siyeon is close to falling asleep and you can’t help but coo before placing your guitar away before leaning down to gently caress her cheek. “Unnie, you should go back to your room. You’re falling asleep.” You say with a giggle but she makes a small whining sound as she nuzzles against your hand.

“But your bed is comfy.” She murmurs, fighting back a yawn as you shake your head. “Please?” You try again and she huffs with a pout before weakly tugging at your wrist, an indication for you to come closer.

Your upper body is off camera when you do as she asks, leaving fans to only see you from the torso down, and her arms loop around your neck before she presses a light kiss against your lips.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” You ask quietly and she presses her head against your neck before nodding. “You have to let go first so I can say goodnight to everyone.” You giggle, recalling the live that you had forgotten due to your tired girlfriend.

There are questions coming in when you look back and you merely smile before glancing back as Siyeon’s eyes close. “It looks like it’s time for us to go to sleep. Unnie is literally falling asleep on my bed and she won’t go to her room unless I tuck her in.” You joke lightly while reaching for her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

“We’ll see you again. For now, have sweet dreams and I’ll see you then, okay?” There’s a meaningful smile on your face before you finally turn the app off and turn to your sleepy girlfriend.

Seeing how tuckered out she was, you didn’t have the heart to force her to get up, so instead, you adjust your positions before laying her head on one of your pillows before laying next to her. The action causes her to stir, and she’s a bit confused when she realizes that she’s still in your bed, but you’re already pulling her closer before she can question you.

“Goodnight. I love you.” You whispered, drawing a small yet sleepy smile to her face as she draped an arm across your abdomen. She didn’t have to tell you she loved you back.

You knew more than enough.

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher siyeon #siyeon dreamcatcher #lee siyeon #siyeon #siyeon scenarios #siyeon imagines #dreamcatcher x reader

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zukump3 · 4 years ago

Text

fixated ✰ s. aizawa

aizawa takes interest after you, but he doesn’t really know how to go about it.

genre: fluff, some smut in the second part! fem!reader

warnings: two parter!! aizawa has a CRUSHHHH, he pins after you heavily, counselor!reader. zawa used to have a thing with ms joke, black!reader

a/n: this idea was super cute so i had to write it. i hope you guys like it!!

requested: yes!!

part 2 (coming soon)

Aizawa has never been one for dating. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a relationship.

Back in high school, when he sat in the very desks his students sat in, he was often teased at by Mic about getting a partner. The hero tried to set him up on dates, give random people his number and all types of other methods, but Aizawa was just never interested. No one really caught his attention that way... until Fukukado came along.

She was everything he despised. She was loud, she talked too much, and she never took anything serious. But somehow she made her way into his cold heart and he indulged in her.

He enjoyed his time with her. Underneath all that goofiness she was a sweet woman who cared deeply for her job and her students. Aizawa felt emotions he had never felt with her, and was a bit peeved when they split. However, they remained friends. Since then, he hasn’t bothered dating with anyone.

“Have you seen the new counselor?!” Aizawa opened one eye to see Kaminari and Sero gushing as they entered the class. “She’s sooo hot. And she’s foreign!”

“Doesn’t she speak English and Japanese fluently though? She’s smart and attractive, jeez.” Sero huffed, and Aizawa furrowed his brow, zipping down his zipper on his yellow sleeping bag.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Miss L/N!” They both yelled, making Aizawa blink. “She’s our new counselor. She said parents were complaining that the students mental health wasn’t being cared about enough, so U.A hired her. She’s from America too.”

“America.” Aizawa groaned. He already had an image in his own eyes—a stereotypically one, but oh well. You probably had blonde hair and blue eyes. There was probably nothing special about you at all. His students weren’t as used to foreigners, so of course they would find you attractive.

Throughout the entire day he kept hearing his students chatter about you. About how kind you were, how pretty your voice sounded, how you looked so unique. He was getting peeved—why was everyone so hung up on you?

He carried the thought with him until the end of the day, when he headed down the hall to what seemed to be your room, just as you were leaving.

And—wow. He really understood why everyone was talking about you.

You weren’t blonde haired, blue eyed at all. Your hair was in a fluffy afro, like Mina’s but kinkier. You had the most supple brown skin and dark eyes that lit up when they caught his. His eyes widened a bit at just how radiating you seemed, your multi colored lips raising into a smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa! I’m L/N,” you spoke, your hand pushing out to shake his. He shook your hand silently, noting at how warm your palm was against his cold one. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your students!”

“You’ve met them?” he asked, voice deep with shock.

“Ahh, well, they kind of pranked me earlier,” you said sheepishly. “They came banging on my door and said there was a fire, and that I needed to leave as soon as I could. But then they said they were just joking when I was about to jump out my window,” you laughed, shaking your head. “They’re pretty goofy huh?”

Aizawa couldn’t help but note at how good your Japanese was. He knew English and Japanese were two different languages—you must’ve been pretty smart and hardworking to learn it.

“Well, I have to go do paperwork at my apartment-hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” you smiled once again. Aizawa only nodded and then you were off, with his eyes burning into your back.

His fists clenched. You were much more attractive than he originally imagined. But he wasn’t going to indulge—he knew that would only end badly.

Right?

The next day, Aizawa heard the same chatter about you. And the next. And the next. He didn’t see you again until about a week later, when he saw you chatting with Midnight and Mic in the lunch line. He cringed—the two were notorious for gossiping and he really hoped they weren’t telling you anything stupid.

“And then I—aye yo, Zawa! Good afternoon! Have you met L/N?!” Mic screamed, and Aizawa’s eyes went to meet yours ago. Your hair was styled differently to the point where he could see your eyes better, and it framed your face so nicely. You waved at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“We were just talking about our high school days~” Midnight’s voice rang out. “American high school is reaaaally different from Japanese high school, according to L/N.”

“The students here are really well behaved, especially in Aizawa’s class,” you smiled at him. “You’re doing a damn good job with them. They’re some of the most charming students I’ve seen! The ones in American high school can be really rude and nasty... I haven’t experienced any of that here. It’s nice.”

Aizawa breathed shakily. Thank god his students weren’t embarrassing him.

“L/N here’s got a degree in psychology and all that mental stuff!” Mic yelled once again as you all moved down the lunch line. “She understands da brain! We really needed someone like her here, with all the breakdowns our students have!”

Aizawa huffed. Teachers, too.

“I’m here for everyone,” you spoke. “Students, teachers, even the Recovery Girl if she’s got a lot on her mind. I’m just here to help everybody as much as I can.”

“Aizawa needs some of that help fo sure!” Mic yelled, smiling so hard all of his long, white teeth showed. “Motherheffa never talks to anyone about his feelings, keeps em balled up! That’s not healthy!”

Aizawa’s ears turned red. “No, I don’t need-“

“I’ll help ya!” you offered, moving so your body was right next to his. He couldn’t help but inhale your scent—it was strong and sweet, something he’d never smelled before. “Don’t worry—whatever we discuss in my room stays in my room. It’s something I pledged to do when I became a therapist.”

Aizawa laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I really don’t-“

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna have a session immediately, no worries,” you shrugged. “But I’m here whenever you need me. I have more work to do later, but I’ll see you guys later!”

And then you were off, with Aizawa’s eyes still on your back.

“You’re staring pretty hard Aizawa,” Midnight raised perfectly done eyebrows. “She’s pretty—I would stare too.”

“Be quiet.” He spluttered, his ears still red as he made his way back to his classroom to eat.

Another week had passed of Aizawa admiring you from afar. You always came into work with a smile on your face, greeting students with handshakes and hugs—the hugs threw him off a bit, but Kaminari told him it was an “American thing.” He didn’t know how much he would daydream about it until he started to long for hugs from you, thinking of how your arms would wrap around his middle before class.

He wasn’t obsessed with you, no, but rather infatuated. You were intelligent and easy to approach, and your appearance matched your personality. He was attracted to you but due to him not having a relationship in years and also not having the best social skills, he had no idea how to approach you. He didn’t even know much about you. His students knew you more than he did and you were his age! It made no sense.

Time after time during the third week of you being here he tried to talk to you. During lunch, when Midnight and Mic would force you all to sit together, he would want to open his mouth but he couldn’t. He’d come by your room to start conversations after school but the most he’d say was “have a good evening, L/N.” and leave you alone. He even found your social media and took a quick look through your pictures—leaving your page when he saw you in a bikini, his cheeks red.

By the time the fourth week came around, his students and his work buddies were noticing his changes in behavior. He was getting distracted much more than before and whenever someone would mention your name he’d go scarily silent and look deep in thought. It wasn’t until Mina chatted with the rest of the Bakusquad that his students actually began to do something about it.

“Miss L/N!” you heard Jirou’s voice rang out from your doorway, with some other students from Class 1-A coming in behind you. “Good evening~”

“Good evening Jirou! Hey everyone,” you smiled warmly at the students that were entering your classroom, confused as how many of them were coming in. “What’s up...?”

You had formed a pretty close relationship with the class of 1-A during your short time here. You had sessions with most of them and got to know their personalities and feelings pretty well—even Bakugo, who was closed up and rude at first, but eventually shed a few tears in your room.

“Mr. Aizawa said he needed your help with planning lessons today—he said he’s asked everyone else and they’re all busy,” Mina told you, and your brows furrowed in confusion. Aizawa needs help from... you? That was odd. “He needs you to come by as soon as possible!”

“Oh! Well, alright,” you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stood up and grabbed your phone. “Thanks for telling me—you all get to your dorms and don’t cause too much noise okay?”

You heard rings of “yes, miss l/n’s” as everyone left your room and you locked it behind you. You started to make your way to Aizawa’s classroom, your palms a little sweaty against your notebook. You hadn’t talked to Aizawa in a while and it was weird that he had requested your help, but you didn’t mind getting closer to him. Truthfully, he had been on your mind a lot the past few days—you found him pretty attractive despite his quiet demeanor. Although, you were a new teacher, and didn’t want to be involved with anyone too early in your school year.

Aizawa jumps a bit when he hears sudden loud knocks on your door, and sees your face come into view. “Good evening, Aizawa. You needed my help?”

“Huh?” Aizawa asked, his face twisted in confusion.

“Jirou and Mina came by and said you needed my help with lesson planning—I’m not the best with planning stuff to teach but I don’t mind offering my assistance,” you offered him your normal, gentle smile. “So where do we start?”

Mina and Jirou? Ugh. Of course they would tell you that.

“Um-um-well,” he stuttered, his face already starting to heat up. “I just need a new quirk training game... yeah. That’s why I need help with.” Fuck. He hoped that sounded believable.

“Okay!” you nodded, suddenly taking a seat that was in the corner of the room and sitting right. Next. To. Him. He had to clench his fists to keep his cool, not used to such an attractive woman being so close to him at all. “Where should we start?”

He spent two hours with you discussing new games to play with his students that would also train their quirks, and those were some of the best two hours of his life.

He so enjoyed the time he spent with you. You were so easygoing and natural to talk to—he didn’t feel awkward or nervous talking to you which is what he feared he would feel in the first place. He cracked more smiles with you in the span of two hours than he did the whole week.

“You can’t just make them play dodgeball with their quirks! They’ll get hurt!”

“We have a Recovery Girl for a reason.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, smirking at the glare he got from you.

“Still! You know some of them—Bakugo—are going to take out their anger on other students,” you huffed.

“But it’ll be fun to watch?”

You were quiet for a moment, but inevitably started smirking along with him. “...you’re right. It will be.”

Together, the both of you planned for Class 1-A dodgeball, with you and Aizawa as the referees. You two even planned to go by the outfits together—and now he was out at a sporting store with you, looking for a fucking black and white striped shirt. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’ve never worn one of these before—you think I’ll look cute in it?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows repeatedly and he couldn’t help but chuckle gently at your antics. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you will F/N,” he told you, not even noticing his slip up until a few moments later. “I—I meant-“

“So we’re on second base huhhhh? Don’t worry, I’ve accidentally called you Shota a few times to Mic and Midnight. I’m not used to calling people by their last names, we don’t do that in America.”

“You talk about me?” Aizawa couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the fact.

“What?! Of course not, no.” you quickly shook your head, and he grinned at the flustered look on your face. “The only thing I tell them about is how you need more sleep. Your brain doesn’t function correctly on a small amount of sleep.”

“My brain doesn’t function correctly at all.”

“Wrong. You’re pretty smart, Aizawa. Pretty understanding too,” you hummed, you two walking through the aisles so you could get whistles. “Your students are always telling me how much you care about them, even though you don’t show it. They really appreciate you you know?”

He was expressionless, but his heart did warm a little bit at your words. “I know.”

You two bought the items and soon enough you were back at the school. You got out of his car, sending him a wave and a quick goodbye before heading to your own car, and Aizawa let out the longest sigh of his life.

“Shit.”

#bnha x poc!reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fic #bnha fic #aizawa #shoto aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa x black!reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fic #aizawa fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #aizawa fluff

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jpegjade · 4 years ago

Text

Smile for the Camera - Spencer

it’s 2 days late but i havE A NEW FIC! i don’t really know what else to say this time so yeah here you go!

gender: not mentioned/neutral

type: fluff

warnings: none

______

You hoped you weren’t going to be late. There was an accident on the highway when you were on your way over to Rossi’s house and you kept praying to whatever was out there for you to make it on time.

Pulling up to the driveway, you saw lights on in the house but the blinds were closed. so you couldn't tell if anything was happening. You heaved a big sigh and grabbed your camera bag.

“Here we go.” You said to yourself.

It was always a big production to go to weddings, no matter how small they are. Weddings were draining in the best ways. You loved seeing people in love but it was hard with how little was going in your life sometimes.

You got a text from Will that read, ’Just walk straight to the backyard when you get here. That’s where we will do the ceremony.’

You quietly walked to the back gate and gasped. The decorations were simple but beautiful. String lights, candles, lightly decorated chairs. You felt the urge to cry coming on but you held back. You had a job to do while everyone was gone at the end of the night, then you could cry out of happiness.

Click. One picture down. Click click. More photos loaded as you got shots in. This was the most calming moment, when there was no one around and you got to be by yourself and get your jitters out. The sound of the camera shutter was so loud in your head but so quiet when you worked.

“Well look who it is!” A southern New Orleans accent drawled from behind you as you wrapped up shooting.

“Wil!” You turned, opening your arms to hug your best friend’s fiance.

You and Will had always been reasonably close because of your bonds with JJ. You didn’t meet the people in her life often but you heard stories and when Will officially came into the picture, you were in love with his chemistry with JJ. You knew this day would happen, especially after Henry, it was only a matter of time.

“Are you ready, big guy?” You asked, taking in his dapper appearance.

He looked so nice that you knew JJ was going to cry when she saw him. Hell, you were going to cry when you see her and you get to see her before everyone else. Let’s face it… You were just going to cry over everything. Everything was cry-worthy because you knew it was all done in love. Everything here was about love.

“No. I mean yes, I get to call her my wife but I have been practicing my vows for an hour and I still don’t know what to say.” Will chucked as you smiled with him.

“I think you’ve got it.” You comforted him.

You were about to say something when someone yelled about JJ pulling up in the driveway. This was Will’s cue to greet JJ at the door with Henry. They arrived in separate cars so Will could get the surprise together but the ruse was that Will was picking up a specific wine as a gift to Rossi since it was his party and you always bring the party host wine. It was a ruse because in reality, Will got to Rossi’s place early to make sure that everything was up and running as smoothly as possible.

Suddenly, a group of people came walking out of the backdoor. You started taking photos of them coming out as if they were the bridal party, the bridesmaids and groomsmen who stand on the altar with the couple, but you knew they were the guests.

The first guy out of the door winked at you, causing you to feel your face get hot. Whenever people gave themselves attention through the camera, you felt like it was attention towards you because you were the person behind the camera. You often had to remind yourself that it’s all for the camera, not you.

“Hey, y/n!” Emily called as she grew closer to you. She was right behind the guy so you didn’t see her until she was standing right in front of you.

“You look really nice.” You said, taking a picture of Emily. She looked slightly bashful at the sight of the camera on her but she went with it anyway.

You met Emily before at a dinner party that JJ invited you to. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sat around JJ’s kitchen table drinking wine and JJ invited you over because she knew you could use the break to chit chat and be with people without being under pressure to mingle and make business connections like at weddings. You always thought she was a bit brash but you also appreciated how straight-forward Emily always was.

“Thank you. Are you going to photograph the wedding?” Emily asked as you walked to the middle of the aisle together. Emily was on her way to talk to someone else in the yard and you were waiting for JJ, Will and Henry to come out the back door.

“Yeah. Will asked me to do it. “ You smiled.

“I know you’ll do great. You always do.” Emily was genuinely complimenting you and it was your turn to be bashful.

Being a friend of JJ, she always had you take their family photos so she could post them to Facebook and frame them. Emily obviously saw your photos, along with JJ’s many friends and family, so she kept up with you.

Emily walked to her seat while you noticed Rossi and JJ’s mother walking to the back door. You followed at a distance, your longest distance lens ready to capture JJ’s face. All you could see was mouths moving but you kept the camera going until it hit her. click click click clickˆ. There was the recognition on JJ’s face about what was happening.

“Y/n!” JJ noticed you behind Rossi, who you knew as the rich older guy whose house hosted many dinner nights that you were often invited to but you were too busy with weddings and other events on the weekends to go. It was nice to actually attend for once.

“JJ!” You said, a big smile spreading on your face.

You can JJ hugged before her mom ushered the two of you off to a room.

“You knew?” JJ asked as you got pictures of her and her mom getting her dressed in that gorgeous gown.

It fit her so nicely that it was almost like it was made for JJ… Little did she know that you had a hand in making sure it was fitted to her perfectly leading up to the wedding. It was a challenge but you were able to figure out her measurements through compiling a series of images, some of her clothes, and a special 3D rendering program that Penelope helped program. It sounds easy but it was incredibly difficult to put together in a short amount of time to ensure that the dress was going to be a perfect fit.

“Kinda. It was a last minute thing, which gave me no time to spoil it.” You weren’t the best at secrets but you were by far better than Penelope. You learned that pretty soon after you met her for the first time.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to be here without you.” JJ said, her mom zipping her up finally.

You gave the two of them time alone while you went and looked for a good place to set up. You could feel the tears coming on as you closed the door to the bedroom but you took a deep breath. It was a happy day and you were just feeling overwhelmed. Weddings could be stressful and a lot to handle a lot of the time but they made you happy at the end of the day.

As you stood in the front row, waiting for JJ to walk down the aisle, you noticed a boy out of the corner of your eye, just talking to Emily. He glanced over at you for a moment, fixing his hair, before focusing on Emily again. You wondered if he worked with JJ…

The ceremony came and went. From JJ’s gorgeous dress under the stars to Henry and WIll looking nice and the photos of the first kiss, you couldn’t stop crying between shots. It was hard to see but thank the lord for autofocus because you wouldn’t be able to nail the manual focus through your tears. You had never seen her so happy, other than when you saw her in the hospital holding Henry for the first time, so this was an amazing occasion. You missed being a guest for a special moment like this but you would be sobbing if you weren’t doing a job.

As JJ, Will and Henry walked inside for a little bit for a private moment after the ceremony, you were left outside by yourself as everyone started to mingle. Out of sheer anxiety, you flipped through your preview screen with all of your shots on your camera. With JJ inside, Penelope at the snack table, and Emily dancing with a tall, commanding man with dark hair, you were left not knowing anyone.

You decided to go sit down at a table and take a break when you heard Henry’s laugh. Looking up, you noticed the cute guy doing magic tricks with Henry over by the table. You couldn’t help but stare at the two of them, a pang in your heart.

With all of your friends getting married or engaged, you found yourself getting lonlier. They were all pairing off and getting on with their lives while you were committed to your job. That was perfectly fine but your photos couldn’t talk back to you when you were alone at night, needing an emotional connection.

Click. Click. Click. You took more shots of Henry smiling from afar, pausing to look at the previews, before you went inside to get something to drink. If anyone needed a shot right now, it was you.

Two shots in, you heard a door closing behind you.

“You should say hi to him.” JJ said, smiling.

Instinctively, she was playing with her wedding ring. It was a foreign object on her hand so of course she would play with it between her fingers.

“I should not do that. I’m here to work.” You smiled back.

The smile was a little bit forced because you had this conversation with JJ before. You see a cute person and JJ encourages you to go for it. You shoot her down and tell her all the reasons it wouldn’t work out. The two of you laugh about it and move on.

“Spence is a nice guy.” JJ chuckled, looking out to the backyard.

“His name is Spence?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Spencer Reid is his name.” JJ corrected. “But I’ve always called him Spence when no one would give him a nickname when he first got to the BAU.”

“Oh, that’s cute.” You said, distractedly.

Looking over at Spencer, he was still playing with Henry. Another magic trick that piqued your interest as you tried to see how he did it. He was just too smooth because you couldn’t see the switcheroo moment.

“Go, talk to him! Take a break for a little bit. You’ve been working this entire time and I know the shots aren’t going to cure the lonely feeling.” JJ said, a soft smile on her face.

You thought about it for a second, slowly feeling the effects of the shots flowing to your head. It wasn’t enough to knock you off balance but enough to loosen you up a little bit.

“I just might.” You said, your resolve hitting you.

JJ smiled at you as you went outside to where Spencer sat. One. Two. One. Two. You counted your steps, looking down at your feet as you felt the nerves threatening to come back up. Where was the confidence you felt a minute ago? You could do this.

Just when you were about to open your mouth, Henry spotted you and came running up to hold your leg.

“Y/N!” He yelled, looking up at you.

In the second you paused to gain your balance and look down at Henry, you looked back up to see Spencer talking to the guy that winked at your camera in the beginning of the wedding. They seemed to be talking about something serious so you gave up and decided to dance with Henry.

“Hey buddy, will you dance with me?” You asked Henry, who was still clinging to your leg. You took your camera from it’s resting place on your chest and placed it in your shoulder bag.

Henry nodded his head and the two of you went out to the dance floor, him holding onto your hands and swaying off tempo. You were looking at Henry, who occasionally let go of your hand to push the hair out of his face, and sneaking glances at Spencer, who was starting to look deflated in his conversation. You wondered what he was talking about that made him deflate at a wedding.

“Mind if I cut in?” Will’s voice shook you out of your wandering thoughts about Spencer.

“Of course. I’m sure you guys should have a family dance.” You said, stepping away.

“I wanted to dance with you, not him.” Will chuckled.

Henry ran over to his mom, who was at the snack table with Spencer, while you and will had a dance. You didn’t even notice Spencer get up and move.

“This is beautiful.” You said, looking around. You noticed the air get a little chilly but you were still moving so it didn’t bother you.

“It really came together in time.” Will chuckled, knowing how much of a hassle it was to pull everything together.

“No thanks to you, of course.” You smiled.

Over Will’s shoulder, you could see JJ and Spencer still talking. They looked so light and fun. You wondered what they were talking about. You couldn’t see JJ’s face but Spencer was looking up at the stars until he wasn’t. Suddenly, he was making eye contact with you.

You felt your face grow hot as you looked away, Will’s voice calling you back from your thoughts.

“You should go talk to him. You’ll enjoy his… Quirks.” Will chuckled, continuing to sway with you.

“Quirks, huh? He’s that bad? Maybe I shouldn’t go for it…” You said, thinking about how your previous experiences with guys with quirks landed you more single than an amoeba.

“I think you would like him. He knows a lot about… Well everything.” He said as the song came to an end.

“Well, I’ll see. I want to get more shots of you, JJ and Henry dancing together.” You said, grabbing your camera out of your shoulder bag and taking a few steps back to capture Will smiling.

Click. Click.

You checked the images and were satisfied enough to move on… Almost.

“Can I borrow that?” Will asked, pointing to your camera.

“For what?” You asked, genuinely curious what he could use it for at his own wedding when he literally paid you to take care of photos.

“I want to show JJ how I see her, with the help of your camera.” Will said, dreamily as the two of you stared at JJ and Henry dancing together.

“Okay… I don’t know what I’ll do now, though.” You nervously chuckled.

It was a little bit deflating to give up your camera. You really wanted a reason to talk to Spencer and you typically used taking pictures of someone as an excuse to actually talk to them. Without your camera, how are you supposed to do that?

“Here, I’ll be your wingman.” Will nudged you before you could realize that Spencer was walking toward the two of you.

Before you had time to react, Will put the camera up to his face and started taking pictures.

“This is harder than I expected…” Will muttered, watching you smile.

“What’s hard?” Spencer asked, standing arms length away from you.

The three of you stood in a triangle, staring at each other for a moment. You felt naked and defenseless against the situation without your camera. Will was trying to understand it before he went over to JJ.

“You know, the first photo of a person was an accident. So by taking pictures of me, you’re doing more than the first technical portrait photographer was doing, in terms of effort and intention. The art of photography really is a numbers game, if you think about it. Along the x and y-axis, you’re attempting to capture a moment of time on a plane of existence that is completely irrelevant to the numbers related to the…”

“Spence.” JJ said, seemingly coming out of nowhere. She smiled and shook her head as if the two of them went through that routine normally.

“Related to the plane of imagery.” You mumbled, knowing you heard that from somewhere but not sure where.

Will, JJ, and Spencer all heard you finish Spencer’s sentence, although it was natural.

“You listened to my ted talk.” Spencer said, smiling.

“That was you?” You asked, meeting Spencer’s eyes. They looked so pretty up close, when the light hit them a certain way.

“Yes! It was supposed to be a regular lecture but they were trying a new format and wanted to know if I would be willing to do it that way. I didn’t mind but it was hard to…” Spencer trailed off when he looked over at JJ.

“Will, I think we should let them work out the logistics of...cameras… While you and I hang out with Henry. The night seems to be winding down. I think there’s one song left before Rossi kicks us out.” JJ chuckled.

Spencer shifted on his feet as JJ, Will, and your camera went to the dance floor, where Henry was talking to Emily.

“Your name is Spencer, right?” You asked, rocking on the heels of your shoes.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” He said, looking at you with a small smile.

“Oh. You’re a doctor…” You said, trying to figure out how old he was.

“I’m not that old, no. I was accelerated in my learning as a child so I finished everything earlier than expected.” He said, seemingly reading into what you were thinking.

There was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you. You wanted to fill it so badly but you didn’t want to actually think about what to fill it with. You spent yet another night pining over a boy who wasn’t going to have any interest in you, just like every other wedding you go to.

“So… How about those stars…” You chuckled.

“Do you think… Maybe... Would you be interested in dancing with me?” Spencer was stumbling over his words as the last song of the night came on through the speakers. One of your favorite songs…

“Finally.” You breathed out before realizing what you said. “I mean yes, I would love to dance with you.”

Leading you out to the empty makeshift dance floor, the music played softly in the background as Spencer slipped his hand around your waist.

“Garcia said you would be someone nice to know.” Spencer said, swaying with you.

“I beg to differ but I guess I shouldn’t say those things to cute boys.”

It was different from dancing with Will. Dancing with Will was wasting time, just doing something to do it. Dancing with Spencer had a little purpose. The last song of the night wasn’t even slow but you and Spencer were the last ones on the dancefloor, just swaying in tune with one another. It was relaxing, if not excessively calming.

“You think I’m cute?” Spencer asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You don’t?” You followed up, genuinely confused at how he didn’t see it.

“Well the term ‘cute’ cannot be scientifically described although the golden ratio is believed to…” Spencer squinted at something past your head, causing you to turn around.

Behind the glassdoor of the house was the BAU, watching you and Spencer dance. As soon as they realized you were turning around, they all pretended to be talking to one another. It was a pretty bad attempt.

“Do they always watch you do stuff like this?” You turned back to Spencer and he solemnly nodded.

“That’s weird.” You said, glancing over your shoulder again.

Half of the team was giving Spencer a thumbs up, including JJ.

“What if we got out of here?” Spencer said, looking down at you.

“Hmm?” You asked, looking at his eyes. You noticed they were warm and inviting, soft even.

“You and I could get out of here. Get coffee, maybe?” He smiled slightly. It looked a little forced but that could be because he was nervous.

“RIght now?” You asked, lifting your arm as he slowly spun you around.

“RIght now. If that’s okay with you. If not, that’s fine. I get it. It’s like…” Spencer was still going when you cut him off.

“Let’s get out of here.” You said, “I don’t want the night to end with a last dance like this.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

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54. I’m not sure what you think I said, but you start calling me an asshole and whip a ruler at me and somehow, we both end up in detention

Indruck, sfw, please?

Here you go! Content note: spiders appear at one point.

I based some of this AU--namely the concept of the Crucible and how magic is channeled--on the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell. And Duck is trans in this, because any good wizarding school is inclusive.

After three years at Amnesty Academy, Duck is used to the objects being magically propelled through the air. But a ruler zipping through the air and smacking the back of his head is a new, unpleasant experience.

He tracks it to two chairs to his left, the new third year with the silver hair. He hasn’t even been here a day, what the fuck the is his problem?

“Hey, what the hell man?”

“You know very well what.”

“Uh, no I don’t, and I don’t appreciate bein hit with a fuckin ruler!”

“The maybe think before you insult someone next time!”

“I didn’t fuckin insult you! I don’t even know your name!”

“Ahem.” Ned, their Charms professor, looks down at them reproachfully, “gentlemen, while I know the review of Zone of Truth is rather dull, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t entertain yourselves with mindless conflict.”

“Sorry, Ned.” Duck mumbles, sending his pencil shooting below desk level to whack the other guy in the leg at the exact same moment he whips his pen at Duck’s hand.

“OW!”

Ned sighs, “I hate to do this, but-”

------------------------------------------------

“Detention! Lovely, my first day here and I’m in trouble. Thank you so much, Duck Newton, for landing us here.”

“You started it!” He growls as they take their seats. God, he hopes this isn’t one of Woodbridge’s days.

“Huh, only two.” Mama wipes her boots on the mat, closes the door behind her, “Afternoon, Duck. And…”

“Indrid.” Says his nemesis, “It is nice to meet you Professor C-” he cocks his head, “you really prefer I call you ‘Mama?’”

“Yep. Never could get behind that more formal stuff. Let some of the first years call me ‘Ms. Mama’ if they really need to feel like they’re showin some deference.”

Mama is deputy Headmistress of Amnesty. The only reason she’s not fully in charge is that she’s not a witch and some families object to that. So The Quell technically runs the school while Mama does most of the actual day to day work. She also teaches a course of non-magic practical skills because, “some things you can’t magic your way out of. Like taxes.”

Duck loves her class and, while he doesn’t understand why someone would opt into this weirdness, he admires the guts it takes as a fifteen year old human to walk into a wizarding school and declare that there was plenty you could learn there even though you couldn’t so much as send a spark from your fingers.

As he and Indrid watch the clock tick down, Mama pulls a bag from her satchel. The contents are cookies, which she offers to each of them.

“Barclay tryin’ out new recipes?”

“Course he is. Kid is gonna be the best damn kitchen witch in the country by the time he graduates. Guess he’s plannin to spend the summer drivin around and learnin the food magic of different regions.” She smiles, “bet you’ll never guess who’s goin’ with him.”

“Joe?”

“Bingo. Apparently he wants to study niche cultural magic.”

Duck’s pretty sure there’s another motive; sharing a van bed with Barclay. It sounds fun, roving the country, discovering new places with someone handsome by your side.

All that’s by his side is a glower hiding behind red glasses.

“Mama? I, ah, would it be possible for me to leave five minutes early? I’m supposed to get my pairing from the Crucible tonight.”

The older woman looks between the two of them, “Better tell me how you landed here first. Ned just said it was an argument.”

“He threw a ruler at me outta nowhere.”

“It was not, you know what you said.”

“The last thing I said before you hit me was ‘“nah, man’ when Billy offered me a pizza roll from his lunch.”

Indrid goes still, “Oh. I, ah, I misheard you. I thought you said 'mothman.' I apologize. I ought to have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

He seems so suddenly downtrodden that Duck shrugs, “Yeah, you should have. But it ain’t the worst thing that’s happened to me here. Not by a long shot.”

“No kiddin” Mama leans back on the desk, “Two of you can go at five til.”

His evening turns uneventful after that; dinner, hanging out with Juno and Aubrey, half doing homework and half fucking around on his phone in his room (the agreement between the school and the government is that a long as the students don’t post vidoes of themselves doing sick stunts with magic, the government will ignore any explosions and/monsters in the vicinity of the school).

He’s never had a roommate; when the Crucible spat out his name in fire on his first day, there was no other name with it. Almost everyone else rooms in pairs or trios. So his belongings are strewn about the tiny cabin that makes up his home away from home. Which is why, when the door creaks open at ten p.m, he sits up and prepares to fire off a spell.

Indrid stands in the doorway, one bag over his shoulder and another in his hand. He looks tired.

“Hello, Duck. Ah, I guess that one is my bed, then.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

The class schedules for Amnesty are generated by the heart of the school itself. Indrid isn’t entirely sure what that means, but the heart must not be terribly creative. It stuck him in divination class. He’s been seeing the future since he was five, managing it with his drawings since he was eight. Even the professor has no idea what to do with him, since the images come in like a garbled T.V signal when he uses a crystal ball and the cup shattered when he tried to read tea leaves.

At least Barclay gave him a conciliatory caramel while they swept up the shards. It made him feel a bit better, though whether that’s due to enchantment or Barclay being exceedingly good at cooking is hard to say.

And now he has to go to “Magical Weaponry.” Magical Defense he understands; there are still lots of malicious forces out there, or even just everyday evils that it’s good to be able to ward against. Plus, Vincent is a good professor, enthusiastic and understanding.

Professor Minerva is just as enthusiastic but twice as loud. This is their first day in the actual gym, as opposed to at a blackboard, and his visions suggest it’s going to go poorly for him. As it should; he’s not a fighter, he’s a disaster.

At Amnesty, magic is channeled through objects. Most people use wands or their hands but some, like Aubrey, use jewelry (a necklace from her mother) or another accessory.

Duck Newton uses a sword. Or he’s trying to. The sword seems to be winning.

“Exert your will on him, Duck Newton, he answers to you!”

“I answeeer to only the capable.”

“Shut up, Beacon.” Duck adjusts his grasp, but nothing happens until he drops the sword and sends a spell through his fingers. The target explodes. Indrid suddenly feels a bit better about his own probable performance.

Duck notices him, indicates the practice area next to him is clear. While they started off poorly, his roommate is doing his best to demonstrate southern hospitality. He invites Indrid to eat with him, helps him when his visions offer no help in navigating the grounds, and even lent him a blue and green shirt (Amnesty's colors) for his first Spirit Day. Duck is the best thing to happen to him in his first month here.

By the time class is over, they have six broken targets, a shredded mat, and a knife that is now a very confused frog between them. They manage to laugh about it, even as Duck scoops up the amphibian and tucks him into his shirt pocket.

It’s then that Indrid realizes he has a crush.

--------------------------------------------------

“You comin to the game tonight?” Juno measures her sapling.

“Assumin nothin comes up and nobody’s tryin to kill me, you know I’ll be there.” He loves cheering Juno on during her soccer games (hey, not everything has to be magic based, even at a wizarding school).

“Drat.”

The hissed frustration draws his attention to the far end of the work table. Indrid is trying to coax his Venus Flytraps to perk up, but they remain brown and limp.

“Need some help?”

“Please, as you clearly know what you’re doing.” Indrid tilts his head towards the sapling pine tree Duck is working on. If he does his growing spells right, he’ll be able to take it home as a Christmas Tree during winter break.

“You tend to picture words or, uh,pictures when you do your spells?”

“Images work best. The trouble is that the futures sometimes make it difficult for me to picture a spell clearly.”

“What if I try describing how I’d see it and you picture what I say?”

“It’s worth a try.” Indrid closes his eyes.

“Okay. Think about the roots drawin water up from the soil, about the traps absorbin nutrients from prey. That brown is goin green as they do, they’re stems are growin stronger…” he grins as the plant turns bright green, it’s mouths open, “hey, ‘Drid, look”

“Oh!” Indrid flaps his hands, “it worked! Now I can keep them healthy and big andohno, nono not again.”

The table cracks and collapses as the plant turns gigantic, blocking out the light from the greenhouse roof.

“Holy fuck, that’s great!”

“Language, sport, but I agree.” Thacker, the head of the magical Horticulture classes, whistles as he looks the plant up and down, “this is mighty impressive Indrid. Wonder if we could use it on some pumpkins come fall…”

“I don’t recommend it, unless you want them to chase people.” Indrid points to one of the heads, which is swaying in the air and lowering closer to him. It snaps and he leaps back, falling to a pile of potting soil. Thacker raises his walking stick and the flytrap returns to its proper size.

Duck helps Indrid up, but his friend stays quiet through the end of class and on the walk back to their room.

“You know it ain’t anythin to be ashamed of, right?” Duck flips on the light, “we all fuck up spells now and then. Hell, Aubrey is on track to be the best spellcaster this school’s ever seen and she still has trouble.”

“But mine go haywire constantly” Indrid flops, dejected, onto his bed, “forget mastering my powers, I’ll be lucky if I graduate able to keep them in check. If I graduate at all.” His hand searches the bed blindly; Duck sets the weighted, plush bat into so Indrid can set it on his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never lasted more than a year at a magical school. Or a non-magical one. I started at Mt Vernon when I was fifteen. Tried Deep Hollow and Shasta the year after that. I’m powerful but I can’t seem to channel it well, and three different schools decided I was more trouble than I was worth.”

“Bullshit.” Duck rests a hand on Indrid’s knee, “you’re strugglin with somethin; that means you need more help, not less. And if anyone gets it into their heads to kick you outta Amnesty, I’ll raise a goddamn ruckus.”

Indrid chuckles, quiet and disbelieving.

“I’m serious. You know Aubrey and them would side with me, and Joe knows school policy well enough he could probably find a reason why them tryin to get rid of you was against the rule.”

“Thank you.” Indrid’s smile is a rare flower, fragile and stunning.

“You want one of those calm-down caramels Barclay made?”

“Please.”

Duck grabs the box from the cabinet of their little kitchenette, then snags a Coke and a pineapple soda from the fridge. Indrid is no longer horizontal, is instead sitting with his back to the wall so Duck has space to join him.

Under the fizz of fresh bubbles, his friend murmurs, ‘“Have people really tried to kill you?”

“Yep. Someone sent an assassin after me my first year, and there was a Dire wolf on the grounds last winter that was clearly locked on to my scent. Perk of bein a Chosen One.” He grumbles as he swigs his drink.

“...Who on earth sends an assassin after a fifteen year old?”

“Right?! Fuck if I know, they never got any information out of the guy. Fuckin prophecy I swear, I didn’t even want these powers, let alone to be some kind of hero.”

“I sympathize.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “there are prophecies around my birth as well.”

Duck clunks their bottles together, “To bein’ fucked over by stuff we can’t control.”

Indrid drains his soda, then perks up, “Oh! Oh dear, you should go if you want to be there for Juno’s match.”

“Come with me?” Duck can’t get the image of the two of them sharing a giant pretzel while smushed thigh to thigh on the bleachers out of his head.

His friend grins, “Of course.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Duck hoped, after his not-great time in middle school, that a magic academy would be asshole free. But no, there are assholes everywhere, and these ones have even more tools for tormenting their targets. He’s never been one, nor have any of his friends. The one time someone tried to bully Barclay, Dani sicked three spectral hummingbirds on them until they apologized.

Indrid, odd and new, is an easy target, though he seems to hold his own just fine (and his proximity to the most powerful witch in school does scare off many potential antagonists). But three guys in their Magical Defense class have zeroed in on him.

They’re standing in line to practice against an evil eye when Indrid’s glasses, the ones he doesn’t take off even when he sleeps, hit the floor by Duck’s feet. Duck scrambles to grab them before they get stepped on, wondering why everyone is making such a fuss. Then he turns and backs up in alarm.

An eight foot tall moth creature is where Indrid should be, red eyes wide and claws clicking together anxious.

“Who let that thing in here?” Someone yells from behind him.

Indrid’s antenna flatten.

“Fuck, wasn’t expecting him to be that big a freak” one of the bullies scoffs.

Black wings twitch.

“Newton, give him the glasses back so we don’t have to look at him!”

Indrid trills, upset, and leaps into the air at the same moment Aubrey yells, “that’s enough” and Vincent shouts a reminder about no flames in enclosed spaces and also detention for you three. Duck is to busy climbing out the window Indrid flew through to pick up the details.

One two-story fall later, he’s chasing a dark shape into the Monongahela forest. While the parts of the woods near his hometown of Kepler are non-enchanted, this chunk is magic down to the moss (he plans to write his final year project on how those halves of forest mesh on an ecological level). One of the worst aspects of the enchanted portions is their tendency to re-shape around travelers. His usual way around this is to have an unwavering sense of where he’s going and pretend the woods are giving him an unchanging path to get there. But that trick does fuck-all when he doesn’t know his destination.

After two hours of searching he’s no closer to finding Indrid, it’s getting dark, and he’s debating heading back to the school for help. He hasn’t been this deep in the woods since he fled the Dire Wolf, and he knows the deeper you go into the trees, the wilder the magic becomes. Bad news for him, even worse for his friend who's out there somewhere, upset and alone.

Eight gigantic eyes glitter at him from the dirt, and he quickly rearranges who has it worse right now.

Throwing a burst of light into the trapdoor spiders eyes buys him enough time to bolt to a tree and climb. As soon as it crawls free of its burrow he freezes; if he’s remembering right, they use vibrations to locate prey.

Fuck, that thing is the size of a VW Beatle. Why is that even a thing? No spider needs to be this big!

In spite of his stillness, it spies him and sets its forelimbs on the tree-trunk. There’s nothing else for it; he draws Beacon, pictures the spider shrinking, and casts his spell.

A soft crunch of leaves signals it hitting the ground, now an unremarkable size for an arachnid. Just as he steps down a branch, a second trap door opens and an enraged spider bursts out, looking for it’s friend. When it can’t find it, it turns and snaps its mandibles at Duck. This time, Beacon does nothing, no matter how Duck commands and curses as his eight-legged doom gets closer.

A crackle of electricity and then this spider disappears as well. On the other side of the trunk, red eyes regard him with worry, “are you hurt?”

“Nah, all in one piece thanks to you.” He holds out his hand, “you wanna head back?”

“Yes, please.” Indrid flaps to the ground, Duck following him on foot and then turning them towards campus, “you did not need to come look for me.”

“Course I did, not gonna let my friend get swallowed up by the forest. Oh, here” he holds out the red glasses, “you want these back?”

“Not just yet. That is, if this form is not too alarming to you.”

Duck takes in the glossy feathers, the charming ruff, the way the face is still obviously Indrid yet excitingly new, “I’m good.”

Light flickers from black claws, stars and flowers spinning out with ease, “It’s so much easier when I’m like this. I never foresaw my disguise charm being an issue, but the older I’ve gotten the more it seems to influence my ability to control my spells. But, well, you saw how people reacted. Even you were startled.”

“In my defense, I thought you’d been eaten by, well, you.” Duck casts the same spell, vines of light chasing the red flowers, “I’m still sorry, though. You ain’t horrible like this, ‘Drid; you’re fuckin stunnin. Never seen anyone as incredible as you.”

Indrid stops, looking down at him, “Do you truly mean that?”

Duck rises on his toes, pecking his cheek, “Yeah, I do.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The Halloween Formal is the most elaborate event at Amnesty. Indrid feels that if there’s any day he’s within his rights to be in his true form, it’s when everyone else is dressed as monsters.

He doesn’t have a date. He thought Duck was in the same predicament. Then his friend left before he was half-done grooming his feathers, saying he needed to get flowers for his hot date.

Ah well. At least Indrid will get to see him there and spend some time with his friends.

He checks his reflection in the gleaming black walls, orange and purple lights glowing and jack’o lanterns floating above his head. He adjusts his robes, the nice red ones his father sent him, and prepares to enter the ballroom.

“Hold up.”

When he turns, Duck is standing there in his black dress shirt and green tie, looking for all the world like he’s alone.

“You got one more thing to put on” He holds out a bracelet of flowers, sized to slip perfectly over Indrid’s hand. There are matching flowers pinned to one side of Duck’s hair.

“Oh. Oh my. You really-”

Duck uses a small spell to bend Indrid into a kiss; it’s a bit messy, since their mouths aren’t meant to fit together, but Indrid would not trade it for all the magic in the world.

“Yeah, ‘Drid, I really do.” With that, Duck offers his elbow and they walk arm in arm into the great hall.

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugly #wizard au

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nonagesimus · 4 years ago

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(Fic) if you think it’s love (it is) - Sastiel ~2.5k

(AO3 Link)

Sam decides it’s time Cas finally gets that date. Happy Valentine’s Day, sastielers!

It was three days after the grace-extracting experiment. They had been quiet. Researching, looking for cases. Sam had calmed after the spell failed - for about a day. Since then Castiel had caught him staring in quiet moments, hovering over books with his gaze in middle distance instead of on the pages, chewing his fingernails. When he’d asked was was bothering him, Sam had said nothing. So, he waited. If Sam wanted to tell him something, he would. Eventually. Apparently three days was that eventually.

“I- I’m sorry if this is weird,” was an auspicious start, as he stepped into the library, but Castiel just waited for him to continue. “Dean told me - just mentioned, really - that while you were human you had kind of a… date that wasn’t.”

Which, yes, it probably was a little weird. Castiel was still unsure of what social cues he’d missed or ignored in that particular situation. But none of that was Sam’s fault. “I did,” he confirmed, neutrally.

“So, did you ever get a date?” Sam seemed to be very focused on carefully placing his coffee mug on the table without spilling anything. “A real one?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I think I’m ok without one, though.”

“No!” Sam’s voice came out a little strangled. “No, you- let me take you out.”

Castiel took his attention completely off the book he’d been scanning to fix his gaze to Sam, who at least had looked up at him now. Wide-eyed and a little paler than normal. “You want to take me on a date?”

That made Sam’s gaze skitter back to the table. “I just feel like you should have one.”

Castiel’s instinct was to push. Past the nerves, and the averted eyes, and the skip he could hear in Sam’s heartbeat. If he pushed, he thought, that might make Sam back off. “Ok,” he said, instead.

“Ok?” The word seemed like it rushed out of Sam’s chest involuntarily, breathy and relieved. “Ok. Great. Would- uh. How about the day after tomorrow?”

It wasn’t like Castiel had plans.

If he had, he would’ve cancelled them.

“How do I know you know what you’re talking about?” he asked Sam the next day, while he was watching him eat breakfast. “What’s the best date you’ve ever been on?”

Sam, to his surprise, flushed a little. “Ok, uh. There was this date I went on at Stanford. And- so you gotta understand it’s like a six hour drive from Palo Alto to LA,” he said, smile already curling the corners of his lips. “And Jess said she wanted to make a trip down, and I wasn’t sure. Twelve hours in a car is a long time, unless we wanted to get a motel or somewhere down there, but she was really into the idea, so… We go. We’d been together, like. Six months? I think.” His eyes had softened, looking into his memories. “Turns out she wanted to drag me to this bookstore she’d gone to with her family. They’d visited her Freshman year, taken a trip down to see the sights and…” He trailed off.

“And?” Castiel prompted.

“It’s called The Last Bookstore,” Sam said, focusing in on Castiel again. “It’s this huge place downtown. Bottoms floor is new books, top floor is all secondhand. Themed rooms, art features, the lot.”

“Sounds like your kind of place,” Castiel said.

“It was,” Sam said. His smile went distant again. “It took me an hour to realise that Jess liked it, sure, she thought it was a great bookstore. But it wasn’t six-hour-drive worth it to her. She just knew it would be to me.”

Castiel nodded, considering it. “That does sound nice.”

“We were so tired driving back I almost crashed the car,” Sam said. “But yeah.”

The next day, to Castiel’s surprise, they started early. Sam drove, did not tell Castiel where they were going. He’d packed a backpack, and didn’t protest when Castiel inspected it - it contained food. sandwiches, fruit, and carrot sticks, a thermos of coffee. Enough for Sam for the day.

“I’m guessing we’ll be out for a while,” he said, zipping it back up.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Unless- if you’re not having a good time just tell me. We can always go back.”

“You’re the one who wanted to take me out, Sam,” Castiel said, calmly. “I’m trusting you to do it.”

But Sam was nervous. Clear in the tension of his hands on the steering wheel, the set of his jaw. That, more than anything else, contributed to a quiet drive. Not uncomfortably - Sam had spent enough of his life on long car rides, and Castiel had certainly learned to bear them since he lost his wings. Sam took occasional sips from the thermos, they listened to local radio stations fade in and out, and watched the Kansas greenery go by. Until, a little before ten in the morning, Sam guided him into a small museum surrounded by short hiking trails.

And it was guided - Sam kept opening doors for him, kept hovering his hand near Castiel’s lower back, watching him out of the corner of his eye. They made it through three rooms - full of life-size dioramas, and informative placards, and really big rocks - before they spoke.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting. A level of information the hovered in-between the levels that Castiel did know - the macro of heaven and the extreme micro of the world he now lived in with the Winchesters. As well as the displays, he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. He had wondered if he’d linger close the whole time, that hand near the small of his back, a steady presence at his side. But, no, Sam orbits. Sometimes looking at the same displays as Castiel, sometimes across the room. Always aware of him, it seemed.

“So,” Castiel said the next time they felt themselves side by side, looking at a series of miniature log cabins, each in different stages of completion. “If this is supposed to be a bookshop moment, like Jess gave you, why here?”

Sam worried at his lip, cheeks a little flushed. “I don’t know if this is that special, but - and do correct me if I’m wrong, but I hope I’m not - you’ve experienced so much of history from the outside. Just through heaven’s point of view. And then you came down, and you fought with us, and you stayed with us. It made me think you might be a little interested in seeing more things from our perspective.”

“Oh.” Because of course models and dioramas were not just models and dioramas.

“Besides,” Sam said, with a little more confidence. “After the whole molecules discussion it was pretty obvious dinner was a bad idea.” He flashed a quick grin.

Castiel wished he’d brought a flower, like he had when he’d been wrong about it. For some reason it felt like it might’ve jinxed it. Was that a holdover from being human or just from spending so much time with the humans he was with? The same result either way.

Two hours had gone by, spent in equal contemplation of the exhibits and the man who had brought him to see them, when Sam suggested they head back to the car.

“The museum is open until five,” Castiel pointed out.

“We’ve got a location two,” Sam said, “And they close at five as well. We leave now we’ll have a couple of hours once we get there.”

Another three-ish hour drive then. “Using all your ideas on one day?” Castiel asked, moving with Sam towards the exit regardless. “There’s time.”

Sam laughed. “When have you known us to have this many days off in a row?”

It was true. Not just in the always-an-impending-catastrophe way, either. Castiel had been able to tell there was energy building up in Sam when they were in the bunker. That he was healing, but that also meant that a growing part of him was yearning to work again. Maybe planning this had partially been a way to burn off some of that.

Sam pulled open the passenger side door for him.

The set out again. Sam ate some of the food he’d packed for himself one handed - Castiel busied himself helping open and close containers, pouring from the thermos. Watching Sam drive. A shorter drive, but only slightly.

“This is,” Sam said, guiding Castiel towards the entrance, “The Cosmosphere.”

This one - this one Castiel liked better. There was something endearing, something comforting, something familiar about how hard humans strived for flight. And he understood, now, the lack of it. This was something that was too often missed, in heaven. They’d watched humanity grow, obviously, but they ignored how much of it had been under their own power. That the ‘hairless apes’ had taken stone, and steel, and fire, and built themselves wings.

He was staring up an a model of Saturn V when he noticed how closely Sam was watching him.

There was anxiety in his eyes, but also a fondness. A warmth.

Castiel’s chest was warm, too.

They lingered right up until closing time, walking so close as they left that it was easy for Castiel to brush their shoulders together, watch Sam duck his head and smile.

And he’d known. He’d known, as soon as he heard the way Sam’s heart skipped when he’d asked if he could take him out, at every door he’d opened, how he’d been watching Castiel closer than any of the exhibits. Sam opened the door of the car for him again, and Castiel stopped to grip his arm, feel it solid and warm under his palm.

“Thank you for this, Sam,” he said.

Sam’s answering smile was bright, and open, and felt a little like sunshine. “There’s, uh. There’s one more thing. If you want to do it.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Suns gonna be down in about an hour,” Sam said. “I thought… If you wanted to I thought we could stop and stargaze for a while.”

It sounded romantic.

It was cold, in the December air, but Sam had managed to stow blankets in the car without Castiel noticing. He draped one over the hood, and piled the others on top of them. He didn’t feel the cold, not like Sam did, but the blankets were an excuse to sit closer that completely necessary. Shoulders pressed in together. One ankle thrown over one of Sam’s. They talked, a little. Mostly they stared up at the sky. Sam finished the lukewarm coffee left in the thermos. Castiel listened to him breath, to the beat of his heart.

After a long time, Sam made a slightly apologetic noise, sliding off the hood of the car. “This isn’t great date talk, he said, “but we should get going, and I really need to take a leak before we drive home.” Then he tramped off into the undergrowth off the side of the road.

There weren’t any roses nearby, but Castiel could smell wildflowers still somehow hanging on in the cold. Quietly, he made his way into the dark to pick one, carefully selecting a bloom that had no crushed petals, wasn’t too close to wilting. A brief thought to Dean’s advice, and he removed his tie, opened an extra button on his shirt.

It felt a little ridiculous but when they got inside the car, and the interior light turned on, Sam’s eyes flickered down to the newly exposed skin.

Castiel held out the flower towards him.

Sam took it, hand soft and reverant, grin blooming on his face. “What’s this?”

“For you,” Castiel said. “You took me out, the least I could do is get flowers.”

Sam flushed, gently tucked the flower into one of the buttonholes in his shirt. “Thanks,” he said, so soft it was almost whispered.

They drove.

Sam was clearly exhausted by the time they got back to the bunker, yawning so wide his jaw cracked and then looking shame-faced. “Sorry,” he said.

“Hm,” Castiel said. “Maybe next time it could be one trip out per date, not a marathon.”

He cracked a grin at that. And, after all this time, it was nice to see an exhaustion that felt pleased. Satisfied, not just harrowed. “I’ll keep that in mind, Cas.”

“So.” Castiel paused at the corridor that lead towards the bedrooms, turned to face Sam. Wondered if he should be pushing this far. “There’s a proper way to end a good date, correct?”

Sam’s eyes flickered instantly to Castiel’s lips, which made him feel unaccountably pleased. “That’s ok, Cas,” he said, instead of leaning in. “That’s- that’s more for proper dates, not. This.”

So there was the line. Driving a total of nine hours across Kansas, carefully selected locations that he’d thought Cas would like, sitting shoulders pressed together on the hood of the car. Standing right up against it, but Sam had drawn a line, and this was it.

“This meant something to you,” Castiel said, stepping one foot over. “More than just doing something nice for me.”

“Cas,” Sam said, shaking his head, gaze down, self-deprecating smile. “You don’t have to-“

“I would like it,” Castiel interrupted, stepping closer, second foot over the line, and taking Sam’s hand, “If you let it mean something to me too.”

Sam’s eyes met his, expression disbelieving, almost scared. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t shift as Cas leaned closer. Not all the way. He was sure, he was so sure but- but if he was wrong.

He wasn’t wrong. Sam, breath unsteady, hand tightening around Castiel’s, closed the last of the distance. As kisses went it was gentle. Chaste. All too brief. As Sam drew back a noise of protest slipped out of Castiel’s throat involuntarily; he shifted with him. Sam’s free hand moved to his jaw, guided him into a second kiss, slower and deeper, and that, that was what Castiel wanted. He let his hand splay at Sam’s lower back, drew him in closer, opened his mouth so they could taste each other.

They broke apart eventually, Sam’s thumb stroking up and down the side of Castiel’s hand.

“So,” Castiel said, “Next time, I’m taking you out. Give me some time to plan it.”

Sam ducked his head, but not far enough Castiel couldn’t see his smile. “Ok.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “If that’s alright.”

Sam’s smile brightened, and leaned in to meet him.

#supernatual #sastiel #samcas #sam winchester #castiel #sastiel fic #samcas fic #my fic

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Caroline Mulford

(My ugly gif)(Requested by @foulobjectdelusion )

- Caroline is the most popular girl in school who’s dating the most popular boy in school, everyone knows who she is, you included. But you’re practically invisible to people like her. You aren’t popular, you aren’t in their circle, the most you’ll get is a friendly wave/nod or an obligatory partnering for a project.

- That doesn’t stop you from having a crush on her ...like practically everyone else in the school. Yeah, you’ve been pining for the pretty blonde since your freshman year, but it isn’t really your fault is it? You could hardly even have a conversation with her, let alone admit you have a Sapphic crush on her. All you can do is pine.

- That all changes after one very special summer. You’d gone on a trip, gotten a bit more fashionable clothing, learned how to properly do your makeup and changed your hair; you’d even had a short fling and felt what it was like to be in a relationship. You were a new woman and it didn’t take long for people to notice.

- One of the popular boys invited you to join him and his friend group at their usual hangout spot, and you, feeling like you were in some sort of teen movie, obviously agreed. That was where she approached you.

- That's right: She approached you. Granted, she didn’t know who you were and actually started your conversation with a “You must be new! I’m Caroline.” as if you’d transferred schools but you didn’t correct her and more or less kept up the façade. You supposed you’d be a new woman in more ways than one.

- Though you did keep just about every other aspect of your life the same, you just let them think you hadn’t attended the school until now. Hey, if they didn’t recognize you that was their fault, right?

- Caroline liked you almost immediately though it was purely platonic. You were surprised to see just how sweet she was, even though you’d heard rumors and seen it for yourself on occasion. The two of you became friends that afternoon and you found yourself thrust into a life of popularity. One you only could have dreamed of until now.

- Now you’re being invited to parties and sitting at the popular table and going to the mall with Caroline; who you’re still practically obsessed with, and your life is practically perfect. You feel like you’re at the top of the world ...but then, you see her kiss Jake and you can feel yourself falling.

- You’d never realized how draining it would be to be up close. It was almost better to be far away from her, at least then you couldn’t be able to see the love shining in her eyes when she looked at him.

- Hell, you now babysat her brother while she went on dates with the boy.

- It was almost humorous, the duality of your popularity; everything could be so good and yet so bad at the same time.

- Finally, everything changed after one of Jakes; or rather her, parties. She’d gotten absolutely plastered; as per usual, and you were the only one sober enough to make sure she didn’t die during the night.

- So there you were, trying to pull drinks out of her hand and guiding her to a couch as she pawed all over you and her surroundings, giggling and stumbling the entire way there.

- Pretty much everyone had left the boys house, leaving a mess in their wake. All except you, who’d been waiting to see if Jake was going to deal with the girl before you drove yourself home.

- As the two of you sat, she sighed and laid her head in your lap, gushing about how much she cared about and loved you. You sighed and told her you cared about her too, brushing the hair from your face exasperatedly.

“No, not like that. I love, love, loveeee you.” She insisted.

- You thought nothing of it, giving her a “yep, yeah I know.” before you felt her hands on your face. Before you knew it, she’d pulled your face down and pressed her lips to yours, causing you to freeze in place.

- You quickly pulled away and shifted her out of your lap, telling her that you needed to get her home and that she was drunk. Fuck Jake. You’d deal with her this time whether he liked it or not.

- So you heaved her up and got her in your car, getting ready to drive her home before she nearly made you crash said car and insisted that you pull over. She was lucid for all of five minutes before she wound up passed out in your backseat with you. You soon followed suit and fell asleep clutching your keys and jacket.

- When you woke up in the morning, the two of you had a nice, awkward talk about what happened and she admitted that she had feelings for you and you for her. You told her that if anything was gonna happen, she’d have to break up with Jake which she agreed to.

- The two of you had your first date later that day. You went to a nice Waffle House to help with her wicked hangover and when you got back inside your car, she leaned over and gave you a real kiss to make up for the one she’d drunkenly stolen the night prior.

- And just like that, things were messily made perfect.

- Most people just think that you’re close friends so the two of you can get away with some pda; though you obviously aren’t really able to kiss in public. Regardless, even if she can’t show people that you’re a couple, she’s going to make it obvious; in one way or another, that you’re off limits.

- Long hugs.

- Handholding or your arm around her shoulders and her arm around your waist; or vice versa depending on your height.

- Corner of the mouth kisses.

- Deep, soft kisses.

- Slow makeouts.

- Hair petting. It’s a habit of hers.

- There’s quite a bit of snuggling in your relationship. She likes laying her head on your shoulder or chest whenever you do, tracing patterns on your shirt while you wrap your arms around her.

- As we all know, Caroline's little brother is deaf so one can assume that she’s a bit attention starved at home. So, on that note, she always wants to be the center of your attention. God forbid you have homework to do; she’ll bother you until you take a break and give her what she wants.

- She usually just calls you some cutesy form of your given name or honey, maybe hun or babe when you’re out in public since girls can call their friends those.

- Her parents don’t seem to be uptight in the slightest so you’re usually allowed to stay out for a long time and pretty much do whatever you want.

- Going to parties.

- Taking care of her at parties.

- Staying up until the early morning and watching the sunrise, usually while you’re both a little tipsy.

- Picnics.

- Beach dates.

- Almost always walking to class together. You’ll usually end up carrying her books because she’s a bit of a princess.

- Copying each others school and homework. If you can’t cheat off your partner, are you even dating?

- Taking photos together and of each other. She’ll take offense if you don’t have a picture of her framed on your nightstand.

- Please give her gifts; she loves them so much. You’ll never see her smile wider.

- Her asking you to get her things. She’s the girlfriend who calls you over just to ask you to go and grab her something from somewhere; usually with a cutesy little smile and a please.

- She wouldn’t be caught dead riding the bus and she sort of hates to drive so you usually end up driving her wherever she wants; or at least to and from school.

- Honestly talking about which movie stars you think are hot and would be obligated to marry if they asked.

- Going to the mall. It’s her favorite place.

- Helping her zip herself into dresses or pick things out when the two of you go shopping. She always asks you a million questions before she actually buys something.

- Popularity is pretty important to her so she’ll want the two of you to look your best when you’re out together. If you’re less stylish than her, she’s gonna wanna make you over.

- Doing each other’s nails.

- Laughing and cursing at each other as you do beauty rituals. You always have a lot of fun when you’re putting on face masks or cutting each other’s hair, etc.

- She pretty much lives at your house at this point. She comes over nearly everyday and spends more time in your room than her own.

- She becomes a part of your family whether or not your parents know that the two of you are dating. They either accept her as your girlfriend or just assume that you’re really close friends. The same goes for her family.

- I feel like she has the type of family that packs everyone up and takes them camping at least once a year so ...wanna go camping with her?

- Festive holidays. Her family probably goes skiing every winter and are really into the holidays and you; being her best friend tm, are always invited to join them.

- Staying over while she babysits her little brother. The little dude likes you a lot.

- It’s pretty funny to watch her go from her popular, cutesy teenage girl self to a mature, protective woman when she’s with her little brother. She’ll be batting her eyelashes at you one minute and doing sign language and/or watching her little brother like a hawk the next.

- She’s sort of oblivious when you’re upset and not the most considerate of your feelings but she’s trying to be better.

- That being said, she’s able to be reassuring and comforting when she realizes that she needs to be. She’s even sweeter and smarter than everyone in your school anticipated.

- She’s a bit paranoid when it comes to you and other girls so she’s definitely a pretty jealous person. She’ll usually sit in your lap; when she can, to make it clear that you’re a couple, plastering on a fake smile and greeting the other person like she hadn’t seen them there.

- She’ll later; bluntly, confront you about it, and will take your word for it but she’ll occasionally threaten the fact that she can easily find someone else.

- You’re the one who has to be protective, considering the fact that she tries to kill herself every other weekend.

- The two of you have quite a few short arguments but they’re rarely ever serious. You tend to settle them fairly quickly so you rarely ever have a “we’re in a fight” moment with your mutual friends.

- She usually tries to use cuteness to win you over; if you’re really fighting, or just concedes mid argument and accepts what you’ve said after a bit of convincing. She’ll give a real apology if her cute face doesn’t work but she’d prefer not having to do so.

- She tells you that she loves you fairly often; particularly when she’s drunk.

- She’s pretty fond of talking about the future. She makes it very obvious that’s she’s planning on staying with you for the rest of her life and it always warms your heart to hear it.

#caroline mulford imagine #caroline mulford headcanons #caroline mulford imagines #caroline mulford headcanon #sixteen candles imagine #sixteen candles headcanons #sixteen candles imagines #sixteen candles headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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roman-writing · 4 years ago

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no great revelation (2/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,223

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day's work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

II.

—

Jamie laughed.

It wasn’t the best reaction, but it was an honest reaction. Sometimes in life you just had to laugh. With deep incredulity.

“I have a hard time believing you -” she gestured towards Dani, blonde-haired, pastel-silked, wide-eyed damsel in distress Dani, “- killed a Jedi.”

“I told you,” Dani insisted with a scowl which spoke volumes regarding how she felt about Jamie’s reaction. “It was an accident.”

“Even as an accident. No,” Jamie corrected, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Especially as an accident. Do you know how hard it is to kill a Jedi?”

“Well, I -”

“Don’t answer that. Because you’re wrong. Because you don’t know.”

Jamie pushed herself to her feet and crossed over to her bedroom. She shook her head and muttered to herself as she pulled out two pairs of pajamas from the drawers built into the wall. “Killed a Jedi. And I bet Telos has a moon now, too. Fuck’s sake.”

She began to strip down to change. Never mind that there was no wall to protect whatever virtue she had left. That had all gone out the window long ago. The Temple wasn’t exactly a place that left one with their dignity intact. Not when she’d spent her years crammed, tip to tail, in every other padawan’s space. One quickly learned to grow accustomed to the notion that ‘personal space’ was non-existent.

“Can’t you go into the bathroom to do that?” she heard Dani ask from the couch, sounding exasperated.

“Too late,” said Jamie, tugging the baggy shirt over her head and adjusting the soft elastic band of the pants around her waist. “Already done.”

She tossed the small mining laser onto a table without any care if it actually landed there or not. She smacked another panel on the wall, and her dirty boilersuit got shoved down the laundry shaft that flipped open. She closed it with her knee, then scooped up the other pair of pajamas on her way back to the couch.

“Here.” Jamie tossed the pajamas onto Dani’s lap. “We’re roughly the same height. Should fit you fine.”

Dani started slightly when the folded up fabric hit her legs. She stared down at the pajamas — the shirt dark-washed and splashed with a loopy neon print for Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes — and her fingers slowly curled around the cloth, gripping it tight. She was so quiet that Jamie frowned.

“Hey. You all right?”

“I know,” Dani whispered, almost too soft to hear.

“What?”

“I know how - how hard it is to kill a Jedi.”

Jamie opened her mouth to reply, but the words died in her throat. Dani’s hands and shoulders were shaking.

“He just - He grabbed me in the transport, and then I - I don’t know what happened but he was suddenly on the other side of the cabin and -” Dani continued, her voice ragged and raw. “He drew his lightsabre and started yelling, and he kept looking at me like he was terrified and I didn’t - I was so tired and my head hurt - my head hurt so much. I couldn’t - I didn’t mean to - to -”

A broken note escaped Dani then, and Jamie just stood there, feeling like an asshole while a pretty woman started crying on her couch. And not the nice cute kind of crying, either. Soon Dani was pressing her face into the pajamas and trying to muffle great hitching sobs into the fabric, her whole body trembling.

“Okay,” said Jamie and she hesitantly reached out to pat the top of Dani’s head in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. One of Dani’s hands clutched at the hem of Jamie’s shirt like it was a lifeline, and she pressed her head into Jamie’s stomach so that Jamie could only stand there awkwardly while a stranger cried her eyes out and made a mess of it, too.

"I'm so tired,” Dani mumbled again, when the sobs had faded away into sniffles. “I’m so tired."

At some point Jamie had placed a hand on Dani’s shoulder, and her other hand had begun to absently stroke through her golden hair. "Okay. All right. Let's get you to bed.”

It took a bit of gentle convincing to get Dani to her feet. Jamie prodded her towards the bathroom to change and wash up. By the time Dani emerged, Jamie had already dug around in the closet for a spare blanket, which she was now tossing over her legs while she made herself comfortable on the couch.

Dani’s eyes were still red-rimmed, but the blotchiness had gone from her cheeks. She filled out Jamie’s pajamas better than Jamie ever did, and she blinked at Jamie from the doorway of the bathroom.

“You don’t have to -” she started to say.

“Just take the bed,” Jamie sighed. She lifted her hand and waved it for the motion sensor, and the holo feed turned off. “Be warned. I wake up early for work.”

Dani nodded and made her way uneasily towards the thin mattress, pulling back the sheets. “Do you -? I mean - Am I supposed to stay here while you -?”

Jamie spoke through a yawn and burrowed down into the lumpy couch cushions. “Dunno. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Another wave and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. With no light pollution bleeding through the barred windows, the little apartment was a mass of shadow and shapes looming in a jungle through the night. Jamie could have manoeuvred through it all with her eyes closed — and had many times before — but she heard Dani shuffling around before the mattress finally creaked.

Jamie shut her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it was a night like any other night. She tried to pretend that it was a day off tomorrow, and she had indulged in too much drink downstairs at Ho’kyn’s, that she had only managed to stumble to the couch, half dressed, before falling asleep to the dull sound of the holo feed. Except the presence of another person in the room was too unfamiliar to ignore. Dani tossed and turned. Every time Jamie thought she had managed to slip away into sleep, another shuffle of the blankets would jolt her awake once more. And worse, Dani started crying again at some point. Quietly. But not as quietly as she probably thought.

Jamie groaned. She scrunched up her face and pressed a spare pillow over her head in an attempt to block out the noise.

It was going to be a long night.

—

There was a dip in the cushions, as if someone had just pressed their weight against the couch. It was the first thing she noticed apart from the cold. Shivering, Jamie blinked awake blearily, her back sore, her hair a mess, her brow furrowed in confusion. Even through the blanket and the warm spring night, she could feel an icy edge cut near to the bone. It took her a moment to register where exactly she was. That she had fallen asleep on the couch. And that there was someone kneeling over her, holding a lightsabre to her throat.

That certainly got her attention. She was definitely awake now.

A kickstart of adrenaline sent her heart hammering into overdrive. Every breath plumed from Jamie’s mouth and nose in little bursts of white steam that clung to the cold. Jamie had to quell the urge to flinch, to move in any kind of way that might end with her neck a gaping cauterised wound. The lightsabre hummed gently. She could feel the heat of it against her skin, and she winced when she swallowed reflexively.

The blade was the only source of light in the apartment. It drenched the air with a deep crimson haze. Dani was crouched atop her, hands holding the lightsabre steady. Her face was illuminated in a wash of red light, and her eyes — both her eyes — gleamed an eerie unblinking gold through the night.

And with a smile that never touched her eyes, Dani slashed the blade down in a single fluid motion.

Jamie jerked awake with a gasp. She flailed against the blanket that had tangled around her legs in the night, and in an attempt to clutch at her throat, she nearly toppled right off the couch and onto the floor. Managing to catch herself before she collapsed in a graceless snarl of limbs and blanket, Jamie scrambled to her feet, fists up, ready to punch the absolute living shite out of some air molecules. When it was clear there was no present danger, she kicked the blanket away and reached up to feel at her neck.

Her unblemished, completely lightsabre-free neck.

Still breathing heavily, Jamie looked around. Sure enough, Dani was sound asleep in her bed, curled up beneath the sheets in a tiny ball, her mop of blonde hair barely visible.

Jamie closed her eyes and tilted her head back to breathe towards the ceiling in relief. Just a dream, she told herself. Just a really vivid fucked up dream. Running a hand through her dark unruly curls, she trudged off towards the bathroom. She didn’t bother being overly quiet while she took a shower and pulled on a fresh set of clothes for the day — a supposedly sweat-resistant pair of leggings and undershirt to go under a Corps issued boilersuit — and yet when she emerged from the bathroom Dani had not stirred in the slightest.

Jamie twisted her damp hair into a messy half bun at the back of her head; it wasn’t long enough for anything else. Then she zipped up the boilersuit to midway up her chest. Grabbing her work boots, Jamie sat on the other edge of the bed and stomped her feet into them one at a time.

“Hey,” she said, not unkindly but not softly either.

Behind her Dani stirred somewhat, the sheets shifting as she rolled over with a wordless grumble.

Jamie bent over to tie up the laces of her boots. “I’m going to work. There’s food in the fridge. Don’t leave the apartment unless you want to be spotted.”

No response.

Sitting up straight, Jamie leaned over and gently poked Dani’s shoulder. “I need an affirmative. Or I’m going to keep annoying you.”

That earned her a sullen noise. “Yeah. Okay,” Dani mumbled as she pulled the sheets completely over her head and burrowed further into the pillows.

With a shake of her head, Jamie rose to her feet. She had the front door open before she patted at her leg. She turned back around to grab the mining laser from where it had rolled onto the floor at some point during the night, and strapped it to her thigh before strolling out into the grey pre-dawn of Telos IV.

By all accounts, it was a day like any other day. Anybody watching her would have noticed nothing different about Jamie’s routine. She caught the railspeeder a few blocks down and rode it from Thani all the way to the forests just past the grasslands in quadrant two. Chodo Habat Parkway was empty at this time of morning, but in just a few hours it would be a bustle of activity. The railspeeder flew over the Parkway and Jamie watched it from the window with barely registered interest. The only other person on the train that she could see was a Rodian dead asleep on the other side of the cabin, his antennae drooping.

By the time Jamie made it to the edge of quadrant two, the sun had risen over the horizon and washed the planet in muted green and gold light. Far below the railspeeder, the grasslands rippled in a breeze. She eyed it with a touch more interest than for the Parkway. The previous generation of AgriCorps members had managed to get the grasslands to take, but only two species. It had taken Jamie and her team four years to introduce a handful of other grass species robust enough to cling to life in this dirt. She sat up a little straighter in her seat and tracked the varieties she could spot from this distance.

Turned out that even after three hundred years, an orbital barrage rendering an entire planet ground zero could still have an adverse effect on soil leaching.

God damn fucking Saul Karath and the damn Sith.

It was another half hour until she reached the drop off point. When the railspeeder slowed to a halt, Jamie dragged herself upright and hopped off. A few people passed by to get onto the railspeeder for the next stop, but the outdoor station on the forest outskirts of quadrant two was largely full of people coming to work, not leaving. She paid a few credits for a dietary supplement being sold by a dented droid vendor behind a small stall with a leaning canopy.

“You should eat actual meals sometimes, Jamie,” the droid admonished even as it deposited the tablet-sized supplement into her outstretched palm.

“I’ve tasted your swill before, C-87,” said Jamie. “I’ll take my chances with the supplement, thanks.”

C-87 gave an affronted sniff, but handed her a compostable cup that was filled with steaming stimcaf. “On the house.”

She took the cup and washed down the supplement with a heady swig. “You’re a legend, mate.”

“I am not at all well known outside of Thani,” C-87 said in obvious confusion.

She shook her head with a smile. “It’s just an expression.”

“Oh. Right. I will add it to my database with the others.”

Jamie continued down a ramp to the broad dirt path that served as a crossroads for the area. A turbo-tractor dragged piles of gear down the track, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. A ruddy-skinned Ithorian was directing teams in shifts for the day, handing out new jobs and gathering feedback on the screen between his hands. Jamie walked towards him just as a small group departed with waves, their expressions tired but not unfriendly.

“Morning, Murr,” Jamie greeted.

Murr’s only reply was a deep reverberation of hello. It sounded more like the shifting of tectonic plates than actual language.

“I saw some patchy sections over the grassland outskirts of quadrant one,” Jamie said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the railspeeder behind her. “Can we get the scrubs to take a look this afternoon?”

Murr was already tapping away at his screen. The translator device at the top of Murr’s long neck blinked, and through his rumbling subvocalisations a robotic voice said, “I will send a team to check the clay capping has not been permeated.”

“And make sure they don’t forget to test the aquifer this time,” Jamie insisted.

Murr’s throat sack expanded and he made a low booming sound that she had come to learn was a sort of derisive snort for his species. The robotic voice said, “You have little faith. You should consider revisiting your Temple.”

“Sounds almost as boring as one of your jungle Herd meets.”

He waved her away, but she saw him make an extra note on his screen nevertheless.

“Cheers.” She gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder before striding off towards the treeline.

From one of the pockets of her boilersuit, Jamie fished out a key. She hopped onto a rusting old swoop bike and turned it on with a twist of the key. As she sped off into the forest, she chucked the now empty cup of stimcaf over her shoulder, where it would dissolve into the nitrogen rich soil with the next scheduled rainfall.

Work was dull, repetitive, yet fulfilling. Technically Jamie supervised a team of new AgriCorps entries, most of them young idealists who’d chosen this Service out of a sense of obligation to the Restoration, as though it were some kind of symbol against the tide of red creeping across the galactic map with every passing day. They hadn’t been parcelled out to the other branches like loose change that never quite added up to a whole number. They found her dry pessimism inharmonious with their convictions, and so they only ever came to her for direction as a last resort.

And honestly it was the best for everyone involved. As far as Jamie was concerned, she was the last person who should be teaching anyone. Especially starry-eyed kids who looked like they’d only just graduated from being younglings at the Temple.

Even out in the far-reaching forests of Telos, Jamie felt like she was being watched, like someone would know exactly who she was hiding in her apartment. She kept a sharp eye on the treeline as she worked. At one point she nearly gave herself a second degree burn with the mining laser when a new entry snuck up on her with a question. Jamie sent them scurrying off with a gruff answer — ‘No, don’t plant them beneath the allelopaths, you prat’ — and returned to her careful pruning with a scowl.

By the end of the day, she was exhausted and paranoid and she still had a two and a half hour rail ride back home. To really spice things up, a huddle of officers shuffled into her rail car at one of the station stops. They went around questioning passengers about whether or not anyone had seen a woman of familiar description — blonde, pretty, mismatched eyes. When they reached Jamie, she shook her head. They glanced at the AgriCorps logo on her boilersuit, thanked her for her service and dedication, and went on their merry way.

She was bouncing her leg up and down when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station. She tried not to look like she was fleeing, but the officers had congregated at the far end of the rail car to chat amongst themselves, and the last thing she needed was to be pulled over for a candid discussion about the latest Restoration Project updates.

Telosians. Nosy fuckers. The lot of them.

The sun slanted towards the horizon as she walked home, her steps brisk, her shoulders hunched, her hands jammed into her pockets. Her boots rattled against the metal staircase leading up to her apartment. She held her breath while she punched in the passcode to open the door, half expecting the place to be empty, or to be a complete wreck. Dani gone. Dani taken. Dani just another strange memory to add to a list of strange memories.

Dani was, in fact, still there. Indeed, Dani was wearing a spare set of Jamie’s clothes and an apron, and she was puttering around the kitchenette. Her hair had been tied back in a braid and she was unpacking a few bags of groceries. Jamie recognised the logo stamped on the recyclable bags as belonging to a little market stall a few blocks down.

Jamie shut the front door behind her and locked it. “I thought I told you not to go outside. How did you even get back in without me?”

“I saw you enter the passcode last night,” Dani answered without looking up from what she was doing. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a pan that Jamie couldn’t even remember buying. It must have come with the apartment. “And you didn’t have any food.”

“There’s food in the fridge,” Jamie said.

In answer Dani opened said fridge, which was nearly barren. She gestured towards its bare shelves and said, “I’d hardly call dietary supplements and alcohol ‘food.’”

“Do you want to get caught? Because this is how you get caught.”

“Just -” Dani shut the fridge again and turned back to her previous task with a sigh. “Let me cook dinner. And then you can teach me some lightsabre forms afterwards.”

Jamie was in the process of tugging off her work boots, and she nearly fell over hearing that. “I’m sorry - I can do what?”

Turning on the electric stovetop, Dani pulled out some pre-packaged protein and sauce. “If I’m going to have it, then I at least want to know how to use it.”

“First of all,” Jamie finished taking off her shoes and left them by the door. Then she crossed the room so she could lean against the counter to talk to Dani. “Nobody just starts off with a lightsabre, all right? That’s not how it works. You need to do all sorts of inner peace bantha-shit before they even let you harvest kyber to make your own lightsabre. There’s a whole right of passage.” She gestured to herself emphatically, tapping her own chest. “I never got to make a lightsabre.”

There was a very attractive, very distracting curve to Dani’s smile when she replied, “Failed the inner peace part, huh?”

“Very funny,” said Jamie, not laughing. Dani moved to start cooking in earnest, but Jamie reached out to grasp her wrist. “Hey. Is this really what you want?”

Dani went still. There was no leap of electricity between them, not like that first night down at Ho’kyn’s. Still both of them hesitated, waiting for it to happen again.

When it didn’t, Dani’s jaw squared bullishly. “I want to be able to defend myself. Against -” she waved at Jamie with her free hand. “- you know.”

“Force sensitives.”

“Yeah.”

Jamie tapped her finger in a thoughtful manner; it took her a moment to realise that this meant she was tapping at Dani’s wrist while Dani watched her in confusion. Snatching her hand away, Jamie said, “Fine. C’mon.”

Pausing to rummage through one of the grocery bags for a bread bun, Jamie walked to the middle of the room and motioned for Dani to join her.

Dani blinked. “Wait - right now?”

“Are you gonna wait until I change my mind after dinner?”

Immediately, Dani switched the stove off and removed the apron. Come to think of it, Jamie couldn’t remember buying an apron either. Before she could dwell on that thought too hard, Dani had rushed over to the bedside table to scoop up the lightsabre, and was now standing before Jamie in the middle of her living room/kitchen/spare bedroom. She bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, lightsabre hilt held unsheathed in one hand, awaiting instruction.

Fuck, but Jamie was bad at the whole teacher thing. Six months in the EduCorps had been enough to remind her — and everyone in her close vicinity — that she was Not Great at patience and bookishness. In fact, moving from the EduCorps had been her first Reassignment, and the Council had never put her back there. A decision which was met with universal relief. Especially from Jamie.

“Ground rules,” Jamie started.

Dani nodded to show she was listening.

“If I tell you to sheathe the blade, you sheathe it. If either you or I feel uncomfortable or in danger or — whatever — you sheathe it. If you hit something you shouldn’t, you sheathe it. If you drop it -” Jamie paused, then grimaced. “Don’t. Just don’t do that.”

Dani nodded again. “Okay.”

“Be careful,” Jamie warned. “Usually they start you off with a practice sabre. That -” she pointed to the hilt in Dani’s grasp, “- is the real deal. One wrong move, and you will kill someone. Probably yourself. Or me. Honestly I would prefer if it wasn’t me.”

“Okay,” Dani repeated, sounding exasperated this time.

Taking a step back so she was well clear of any sweep radius, Jamie bit into the bread bun and mumbled around a mouthful, “Go ahead.”

“What? Just -?” Dani gave the unlit hilt a little wave.

“Yeah,” said Jamie, chewing. “Go on.”

Dani’s thumb hovered over the silver activation button, and then she pressed down. The blade extended from the hilt, a deep and brilliant blue, blue as a Tythonian sky on a cold winter’s day, blue as an evening star. For a long moment Dani simply held it outright, the blue light washing out her face. Then she gave it an experimental slash through the air, the sound of the plasma blade like nothing else.

“It’s -” Dani said in surprise, “- heavy.”

Jamie hummed around another mouthful. She took the time to finish chewing before she answered, “You haven’t connected with it yet.”

Dani scrunched up her nose. “It’s just a fancy sword.”

“If that’s what you believe, then we should just go back to making dinner. Maybe you can use it to cook those steaks you bought.”

Dani pursed her lips. She lowered the blade, holding it loosely at her side so that the tip was pointed towards the ground. “No. Teach me.”

Studying the determination on Dani’s face, Jamie leaned back against the wall. She propped her foot back, crossed her arms, and said, “Lower your stance. We’re going to go through the forms, now.”

If nothing else, Dani was a quick learner. At least, that must have been the reason why this was going so well. It certainly couldn’t have been because Jamie was a decent teacher, because everyone from the Outer Rim to Tython knew that wasn’t true. Yet Dani, after an hour spent barefoot and wearing pajamas in Jamie’s living room, already looked more at home with a lightsabre in her hands than Jamie ever had after years of training in the Temple.

At one point, Jamie tore off a chunk of bread and threw it at the floor near Dani’s legs. Dani leapt back a step unsteadily and pressed the deactivation button so that the blade slid back up into the hilt.

“What was that for?” Dani asked.

Jamie jerked her chin towards her. “Pay attention to your feet. Look how narrow they are. Your opponent can put you off balance, take ground from you, force you to retreat.”

“You can just tell me that. You don’t need to throw food at me.” Dani knelt down to pick up the piece of bread and toss it into the sink.

Now that Jamie was actually looking at the floor more closely, she asked, “Did you vacuum today?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when did I own a vacuum?”

“It was in the supply closet behind your pantry.”

“I have a pantry?”

Dani walked over towards the kitchen side of the room and hit a panel on the wall that Jamie had never cared to fiddle with in the past. A whole section of the wall jutted out then slid sideways to reveal a whole host of kitchen items and cleaning supplies that Jamie had never even knew existed.

“Well, shit,” Jamie muttered, scratching at the back of her head. “I have a pantry.”

Hitting the panel again to make the wall shut, Dani took her place back in the centre of the floor. “Can we keep going?” she asked, and she already pressed the activation button to unsheathe the lightsabre once more.

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. By now she had crouched down against the wall, one leg outstretched as she idly fidgeted with the zipper of her boilersuit. “Start from the top. One. Two. Three -”

Eventually Jamie didn’t even have to mime the movements for Dani to follow along, and Dani — looking utterly pleased with herself, her smile radiant — finished a whole set without a single discernible flaw.

"This isn't so hard," Dani said. She gave the lightsabre a bold flourish as she turned on the spot.

Which of course meant that the blade cut right through Jamie's couch.

Dani scrambled to hit the deactivation button, nearly dropping the lightsabre in the process, but the damage was already done. The couch was cut cleanly in half. Slowly it buckled as they watched, slumping to the floor in the centre where it was no longer self supported. The cut through it smoked gently and smelled of burning hair.

Jamie glared.

Clutching the now unlit sabre hilt, Dani winced. "Sorry."

Jamie pushed herself upright, dusting off her hands. "I think that's enough lightsabre training for one evening,” she growled.

The worst part was how Dani kept apologising all through dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Dani said, hovering at Jamie’s elbow while Jamie loaded dishes into the automatic wash machine. "I can buy you a new couch.”

"Save your credits for the trip to Tython."

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t -” Jamie cut herself off. She shut the front-loading machine a little more firmly than was perhaps strictly necessary, then turned to face Dani, whose expression was positively doleful. “Don’t be sorry. Be better. Don’t get cocky just because you got through one set of the most basic lightsabre form there is.”

“Sor -” Dani started to say, then changed course. “I won’t.”

The lightsabre itself was propped atop the counter on the far side of the room, where Dani had hastily put it down moments after the incident.

Reaching for a dish towel, Jamie shook her head and started to wipe down the kitchen countertop. “You need proper training. Not whatever rubbish I can offer you.”

“I don’t want to go to the Temple. I don’t want to learn about -” Dani’s mouth snapped shut and she frowned down at her own feet.

“Being Force sensitive isn’t just something you can run away from, you know,” Jamie said. She ran water over the dish towel and rung it out before continuing where she’d left off.

“I told you,” Dani grumbled. “I’m not Force sensitive.”

“Fuck’s sake. This again?”

“You don’t need to teach me about the Force. You can just teach me the basics of a lightsabre.”

At that, Jamie laughed. She stopped mopping up the counter and turned to face Dani. “Fuckin’ hilarious that you think those two things are different somehow.”

With a huff, Dani turned aside. She crossed her arms and glowered at the maimed couch.

When it was clear she wasn’t going to speak, Jamie tossed down the towel. “Nothing you say will change the fact that you’re -”

“Stop,” Dani said through grit teeth. “Just - stop it.”

Jamie didn’t stop it. Because if there was one thing Jamie knew about herself, it’s that she didn’t have a lick of good sense. “What do you think will happen if you try to run from it, anyway? Do you think nobody will notice? Forever? Because even I noticed, and I’m about as Force sensitive as a tree stump.”

While Jamie spoke, Dani’s jaw clenched. “You think I want some Council to dictate my whole life? You think I want -?” she asked with a broad sweep of her hand towards Jamie’s apartment without finishing her sentence.

Jamie narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.” Jamie took a step forward, and it was gratifying that Dani didn’t back down, that she held her ground. “If the Jedi don’t find you, the Sith will. You think my life is bad? What are you gonna do? Run forever? Why are you -?”

“Because! Because this will get worse!” Dani burst out, and there was a ragged edge to her voice that gave Jamie pause. “Because if I use it — if I do that then I’ll -!”

She stopped abruptly, hand flying to her head with a wince of pain. Concerned, Jamie reached out, but the moment she touched her, it was like being struck by lightning. Like a chorus of song branching out in all directions. Dani staggered away from her with a gasp, breaking the connection, and her eyes were squeezed shut, arms raised as though to ward off an incoming blow.

“I’m - I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to -! I didn’t -!” Dani was saying, apologising over and over, and all but cowering.

Jamie stared at her, hand still outstretched. Slowly she rubbed her fingertips together, half expecting a flicker of sparks to leap between them. The thrill of it still echoed around her ribcage and the roof of her mouth.

This time when Jamie reached out she was careful not to touch her. “Dani,” she said softly. “Nothing happened. It’s all right. Hey. You’re all right.”

Hesitant, Dani opened her eyes, peering around the room as if surprised that everything was still intact. She worried at her lower lip, her hands clenched at her sides. Finally she looked up at Jamie, and the fear was painted openly across her face, pleading and alone; it gleamed in her eyes.

"The Force isn't what you think," Jamie murmured. "You can't run from yourself."

Dani opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. She dropped her gaze and sniffed. For a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cry again, but then Dani simply nodded. If anything her expression was a mixture between miserable and embarrassed. Jamie patted her upper arms, and for a brief second Dani tensed, only to relax when nothing happened.

“Now,” said Jamie. “Let me finish washing up. I’m afraid that if you help, you’ll cut my kitchen in half, too.”

Dani let out a watery laugh.

Jamie grinned in return. “I’m serious. My kitchen’s small enough as it is. Don’t need it drawn and quartered as well.”

Dani was biting back a smile when she looked up at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a jerk?”

Jamie pretended to look thoughtful and shook her head, but what she said was, “All the time.”

That earned her another snort of laughter. Dani wiped at her cheeks with both hands.

Picking up the dish towel once more, Jamie snapped it feebly in Dani’s direction. “Go on, now. Get.”

Dani lifted her hands in mock surrender and moved away, leaving Jamie to finish up in the kitchen alone. Jamie didn’t pay much attention to the sounds of rummaging in the apartment behind her. At one point the bathroom door shut, then she heard the hiss of water in the shower. She took the opportunity of Dani’s absence to strip down and get into pajamas without making her guest blush scarlet. As tempting a proposition as that was.

When Dani finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, pinning a towel to her chest with her fingers, Jamie was bored and flipping through the holo feed from the bed because the couch was — well, the couch still smelled like burning hair for starters. Bit unpleasant, that. Jamie wouldn’t be rid of the stench for weeks.

Getting to her feet, Jamie squeezed past Dani for her turn in the bathroom with a murmured, “‘Scuse me,” while Dani shied away from her, still looking guilty, like she was expecting Jamie to throw her out at any moment. Which, honestly, was a bit rude, to be honest. Jamie was an excellent host. Minus the whole ‘no food’ thing.

When Jamie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, scrubbed and tired and ready to sleep, she stopped dead in her tracks. On the ground beside the bed, Dani was fluffing up some of the couch pillows in a makeshift mattress. She had changed into the same spare set of Jamie’s pajamas, and was now settling herself atop the cushions.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I thought -" Dani started to say, but she trailed off, her hands curling in the blanket she had drawn up her legs.

"Just -" Jamie sighed and went over to her usual side of the bed, where she pulled back the sheets. "Get in."

While Dani sat on the floor trying to make up her mind, Jamie waved off the holo feed and the lights. With a groan, Jamie clambered into bed, listening to the pop of her joints. She wasn’t exactly ancient, but maybe she was getting a little old to be scaling canopies hundreds of feet in the air for hours at a time. She might start training some of the new recruits in mass pruning tomorrow. Provided they didn’t display an alarming propensity for loss of limb when wielding a thermal saw.

Beside her, Jamie felt the mattress dip beneath a new weight. Dani slipped beneath the sheets and curled as close to the edge as she possibly could, far away from Jamie. Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. She wasn’t too keen on a cuddle, either. Grabbing a spare pillow, Jamie hooked it beneath her arm and rolled over. She wriggled deeper into the mattress and settled in for a kip.

Until the bed trembled slightly, that was.

Without opening her eyes, Jamie frowned. There was shuffling behind her, sounding like Dani was trying to wind herself into as tight a ball as possible. She was, Jamie realised, shivering. Jamie sighed. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A quick trek across the apartment, and she returned with a spare blanket, which she threw over Dani without saying anything. Dani’s form went very still, and Jamie crawled back into her own side of the bed, punching her pillow into shape before resting her head upon it.

After a long moment of silence she could hear Dani’s soft voice through the night. “Thank you.”

—

She didn’t have the same dream again. Though she didn’t sleep well either. She wasn’t used to having another person in her bed. Especially when said person kept fidgeting and sighing and rolling over, unable to fall asleep.

And when Jamie did eventually sleep, the dreams were fragmented and red. They were shards of glass and metal in a clenched fist.

—

When Jamie stepped off the railspeeder the next morning, bright and early, she approached C-87 for her usual dietary supplement and stimcaf combo. The droid perked right up when it saw her coming.

“Jamie -”

“Mornin’,” Jamie said around a long yawn. “Don’t suppose you could make it a double shot today?”

“Jamie,” the droid said again in as serious a tone as it could muster.

“Yeah, that’s my name. What about it?”

In answer, C-87 swivelled its head around. With a frown she followed its gaze, and then she felt the blood drain from her face.

There at the end of the ramp stood Pillock One and Pillock Two. She didn’t need to see the Czerka logos on their kit to recognise them. Their backs were towards her and they were talking to Murr. Ithorians didn’t typically have what she would call expressive faces, but Murr’s large brown eyes were wide and he had retracted his neck like a turtle trying to hide in its shell.

“Shit,” Jamie swore and she ducked down behind C-87’s stall. Without question the droid reached up to adjust the canopy so that it hid her better. “Did they talk to you?”

“Negative,” C-87 replied. “They were questioning a few other AgriCorps members, and then they started speaking with Murr. I took the liberty of moving your swoop bike so that it was more easily accessible, should you require it.”

Shuffling around on her hands and knees, Jamie dared to peek around the edge of the stall. Sure enough, her swoop bike was within easy reach. Murr spotted her, his throat sack swelling up in surprise as he drew in a deep breath. Pillock One started to turn, but Murr pointed towards the treeline, where her swoop bike would’ve been parked had C-87 not moved it.

Pillock Two made a rude gesture towards Murr before setting off in the direction he had indicated. Pillock One followed after him, unholstering the very large blaster rifle slung across his back. When they’d gotten far enough away, Murr gestured sharply at Jamie in what was very clearly a shooing motion.

C-87’s head popped around the corner so abruptly that Jamie jumped with a curse. “I think you should take the next railspeeder back to Thani as soon as possible. Alternatively, you should drive your swoop bike,” the droid told her.

“Yeah, you think?”

“I have been thinking that for several minutes, in fact.”

“It’s just an expression,” Jamie sighed. “We’ll work on your sarcasm module some more next time, all right?”

“Very well, Jamie.”

She didn’t wait to see if Pillock One and Pillock Two were heading further into the forest. She jumped on the back of her swoop bike, started it up, and sped off towards the next railspeeder station. There was no way a short-distance bike like this could make it all the way back to Thani in good time. She had to wait at the next station along the grid, anxiously tugging at her boilersuit zipper, wishing she had a hood or something to hide herself even a little bit. The swoop bike she simply abandoned at the station, jumping onto the next rail service with the sort of pent up jitters that had her half vibrating out of her skin.

It was perhaps the longest two hours or so of her life. In recent memory, anyway. She spent the whole time folded up in a back seat in the rail car, trying to make herself seem inconspicuous. When a random ticket officer droid trundled by, requesting to see her ticket credentials, she fumbled with the laminated pass so badly that she nearly dropped it. And when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station, she bolted out as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.

Back at the apartment, Jamie burst through the front door. Dani, who had been flicking through the holo feed from the bed, started with a yelp.

“You scared me,” Dani gasped, hand over her still heaving chest.

“Change of plans,” Jamie said. She rushed across the apartment, grabbed a rucksack from beneath her bed and started to shove clothes into it at random. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

For all the confusion on her face, Dani jumped to her feet and began gathering what little items she’d brought with her. “What happened?”

“Czerka.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she dropped her nanosilk cloak to the ground. “They know where I am?” she asked, swooping down to snatch up the cloak.

“Yes,” said Jamie. Then, “No. Maybe. They know where I am now, anyway. Showed up at work, and — Look. We have history, all right?”

“What kind of history?”

Jamie darted into the bathroom to gather up a few necessary toiletries for the trip. Dani followed, watching her from the doorway.

“Jamie,” said Dani, voice sounding both stern and worried all at once. “What kind of history?”

“I know their leader. Peter fucking Quint. I may have -” Jamie opened the mirror cabinet and just pushed a few rows of stuff into the open bag in her hand. “- gotten his arm chopped off at one point.”

“You what?”

“It was his own fucking fault!” Jamie hissed. “I just helped! A little! And he’s still, y’know -” She zipped up the bag and shrugged. “- sore about it. Some people just hold a grudge.”

“Oh, sure. Can’t imagine why he’d do that,” Dani said, and Jamie didn’t have to look at her to hear the roll of her eyes.

Jamie turned around and stomped past her from the bathroom. “At least he’s still alive. Which is a hell of a lot better than what you’ve accomplished.”

Dani glowered at her, still leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Do you want to wait around until Czerka finds us?” Jamie asked, pointing towards the front door. “Because they’re on their way.”

With a huff, Dani relented. She grabbed up her small bag and clipped the lightsaber to the belt at her waist. “No. I don’t.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

#the haunting of bly manor #thobm #star wars #dani clayton/jamie #damie #no great revelation #I know too much star wars shit don't @ me #roman writes

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years ago

Text

F Like a Pornstar

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel finds out a little secret about you.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: My rewatch of Mayans helped me come up with this idea.

Lightly edited, so sorry for any mistakes

Too caught up running after your sister, you didn’t pay attention to the motorcycles in front of the house. Kyle stormed into the house, yelled her husband’s name, and ran up the stairs.

“Y/N.” You heard a familiar voice call you, halting your journey. Turning around you saw your boyfriend crooking his finger telling you to come here.

“Baby!” Your whole demeanor changed when you saw Angel. As you made a beeline to him you greeted the other Mayans. Looked like the whole crew was here.

Right when you were in arm’s reach, Angel hugged you and kissed your shoulder, that earned him a bunch of joking ‘awwws’ from his brothers.

Angel flipped them all off. He didn’t care what they think as long as he has you. “What are you doing here?” He asked, confused at how you ended up at a whore house.

You explained to him how you and Kyle were out for drinks when she decided she wanted to see where her no-good husband was. The Find My app led you to Vicki’s and now you were pretty sure that Kyle’s husband was about be murdered.

“Damn, Vic, you gonna let her kill her husband?” Coco asked, turning his attention away from the girl in his lap.

Vicki assured everyone that Kyle wasn’t gonna kill him. Apparently, this happens all the time and its good entertainment for Vicki and the girls. Plus, she just charged your douchebag brother-in-law extra.

Someone else called your name, but this time it was a woman. In her black kimono and matching black lingerie came Mimi running towards you. “Y/N!!! OMG, girl you look good.” She juggled your boobs.

Angel took in your outfit in its totality and he agreed with Mimi. You looked good, a little too good for his taste. You wore a burnt orange top that crossed in the front, which showed off a generous amount of cleavage, light washed ripped blue jeans hugging your ass, brown heels showing off those pretty white toes Angel wanted to suck, and Fenty Gloss Bomb and Body Lava to top it off. He can’t believe you went out like that without him.

“She’s right, mi dulce. You look fucking sexy, wait til we get home.” Angel smacked your ass and nibbled on your ear.

An unimpressed grunt was heard across the room. “I doubt she can pleasure him.” A short blonde told another girl.

This wasn’t unusual. Angel being a Mayan and extremely attractive made other girls jealous of you and disrespectful. Early on you used to jack them up, but eventually you learned to ignore them especially since Angel proved he only had eyes for you.

“Don’t do my friend like that! Remember Vegas, Y/N?” Mimi came to your defense.

As you remembered that weekend, a smile crept on your face. That was one wild ass weekend.

“What happened in Vegas,” EZ asked, noticing your smile.

“Old same old same old,” Mimi answered. “Partying, drinking, gambling. But then we got invited to this sex club and Ms. Thang over there had sex with a pornstar.”

All the men in the room were interested now. It was no secret that you were wild child, but they didn’t expect that.

“Who was she?” Eagerness laced Angel’s voice.

You were about to lie. Angel didn’t need to know all the sordid details, but Mimi had to open her big mouth. “She?! No, she got to fuck the Manuel Ferrera.”

Desperately, you tried to get Mimi to shut up, but she wouldn’t. “Remember he said you were the best he ever had? Didn’t he get your number?” You confirmed her guess with a slight nod. “My girl got the shit that yanks!” Mimi bragged as if she was talking about herself.

At this point you could’ve burst into flames by how hot your face was. You could feel Angel staring holes in your head and the bemused faces on the other Mayans didn’t help.

“He was aight. Nothing to write home about.” You tried to calm the storm brewing in Angel, but once again Hurricane Mimi blew in.

“Just okay?! Girl, you couldn’t shut up about the dick the whole way home! Best dick of your life! Didn’t you cal-” Mimi was about to go on, but she finally caught the look on your face. “Um, I think I heard a customer,” Mimi pointed to the stairs. “Imma catch you later.”

“Best dick of your life, huh?” Coco took a drag of his cigarette and smirked. He loved giving you shit.

Angel looked at you expectantly, but you kept your mouth shut. This was a discussion better for home.

“Okay, then.” Angel spoke to himself then threw you over his shoulder. “Let’s see if he’s still the best.”

An inhuman screech came out your mouth as you called Angel’s name. “You can’t do this here! Vicki has money to make, she can’t be wasting it on us!”

Gilly pulled out his wallet and gave Vicki a couple of hundreds, for which Angel thanked him and promised to pay him back.

“Fuck you, Gilly!” You double flipped off said man as Angel went up the stairs.

Gilly toasted his beer to you. “Looks like Angel already about to beat me to the punch!”

An eruption of laughter broke out as Angel continued up the stairs. On the first try, he found an empty bedroom and threw you on the bed.

“Aw c’mon Angel, you can’t be that upset about a guy I messed around with before you. Anyway, I’m the one who should be upset. You’re the one at a brothel!”

“We’re checking on Creep.” Angel began undressing himself. He knew your brain always short-circuits when he takes off his clothes.

“Well, he uh he looks fine to me. Let’s finish this at home.” Angel pulled you off the bed and stood behind you. You could feel his hardened length against your back.

His fingers expertly unbuttoned your jeans and he went straight for your clit, rubbing small circles. “Angel,” you cried out in ecstasy.

Licking your hand, you reached behind you and started stroking Angel. “Fuck, querida.” Angel groaned, leaning his head back. “See, you don’t wanna stop, sweetheart. I think you wanna show that little puta down there that you can more than enough please your man.”

“5 minutes.”

“I knew your ego couldn’t handle being challenged.” Angel undressed you and pushed you back to the bed. “Would you have even agreed if she didn’t run her mouth?”

“I’ll never tell.” You pretended to zip up your mouth and throw away the key, but Angel knew exactly how to get you to open your mouth. Without warning he slid into you and the both of you moaned.

Angel leaned in closer to you. “Shit, Y/N, it may be less than five minutes by the way you’re gripping me.” His pace started off slow, but he couldn’t help to pick it up. When y’all got home, Angel planned to take his time, explore your body, tease you, and slowly make love to you, but right now wasn’t the time. He had a point to prove. You had a point to prove.

“Whose pretty pussy is this?” Angel slipped his hand between the two of you and rubbed on your clit.

“Yours,” you whimpered against Angel’s lips.

“Mmm, that wasn’t loud enough. Try again.” Angel pushed your legs back until your ankles were by your ears.

His dick went deeper than before, so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. “It’s yours,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, your nails marking up his back.

“Damn right, mi dulce! I better not hear about that man ever again; do you understand me?”

You brought your lips up to Angel. “Yes, now make me cum!” You ordered against his ears.

Angel smiled against your cheek and gave you a sweet kiss. “Yes ma’am.” But that kiss was completely different by the way he was pounding into you. Angel’s thrusts were becoming erratic, letting you know he would be coming right along with you.

Soon, the both of you were yelling out each other’s name in euphoria with a string of curse words followed by some heavy panting and a little laughter at the current situation you were in.

Finally dressed, you checked yourself in the mirror to make sure that nothing was out of place. “Angel, I swear if you sweated out my blowout, you’re paying for the next one.” You tried your best to slick down some of your fly-aways.

Angel buckled up his belt as he came to stand behind you. “I told you not to get it, but no you just had to. I should let your little spoiled ass look crazy.”

Facing him with a mega-watt smile you slid your arms around his waist. “So, that means you’ll get it?”

Rolling his eyes, Angel to agree to paying for the next blowout. “Spoiled ass,” he mumbled when y’all exited the room.

Another door opened as soon as y’alls did, revealing an old white guy with thinning hair and beer belly. “How much for her?” He asked, his eyes unashamedly raking over your body. In no time, Angel pulled out his gun and told the disgusting man that you weren’t for sell, making the dude scurry back into his room.

As the two you were laughing down the stairs, you heard Kyle tell Lance she wanted a divorce. “What? What do you mean you want a divorce? Just because you heard your sister get fucked like the biker whore she is, you want to leave me? Me? Pathetic.” Venom was dripping from Lance’s tongue and you were about to knock him out like you did the first time you found out he cheated on Kyle, but Angel stopped you.

All of the Mayans perked up and immediately were on the defense. “Watch your mouth before we have to do something about it.” Bishop ordered the prick. Lance may be oblivious and unappreciative, but he wasn’t a total idiot. In a hurry, he left Vicki’s before he got his ass beat.

It was quiet for a little bit after Lance left in a rush until you spoke up. “So, all I had to do was let you listen to me have sex and that’s what would’ve got you to leave his lame ass?! Bitch I would’ve done that a long time ago!”

Kyle waved off your silliness even if it was true. Albeit repulsive to hear her baby sister to get her back broke, it awakened something in her. Never in her entire ten years with Lance had she known pleasure like that. And then to see Angel doting on you just after it sounded like y’all have the nastiest sex made her want more.

“First order of business: get you some new dick! Gilly? EZ? Coco?” You were arranging the men like a buffet table. EZ was mortified, Gilly had the sense to pretend to, and Coco looked like he was up for game.

“Y/N,” she sighed at your fast attempt to get her a rebound. “Not now. Anyway, can I drive your car back home? I planned on riding back with Lance, but that’s obviously not happening.”

Angel dug in your back pocket and threw the keys to Kyle. “Here you go. I’ll get her home safely.” You gave Kyle a hug goodbye and you promised to bust Lance’s kneecaps if he tried to do any fuck shit.

For a couple of more minutes you and Angel stay behind to check on Creep and say your goodbyes. When you hugged Mimi, the snooty blonde was near her and she still seemed pissed off that you managed to bag Angel. “Next time,” you fluffed her hair ad if you were friends. “Try another bitch because I’m not the one, two, or three.” You patted her shoulders and gave her ‘I’ll kill you bitch’ smile.

Angel started to guide you towards the door before you can do any damage to the girl. Once you got to the front door threshold you stopped and turned to the girl. “Oh, if what you heard earlier wasn’t proof that my shit yanks, maybe I’ll invite you to watch and you may get some pointers.” You stuck out your tongue and twerked on Angel to the music in your head.

Mimi pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you and screamed, “HELL MOTHERFUCKIN’ YEAH! MY GIRL SHIT YANKS!” Everyone either shook their head at your antics or broke out in laughter, except stanky ass attitude girl.

Now Angel needed to get you home asap. He smacked your ass to push you out the door. “Yo, you into that exhibitionism shit?” By the way he asked and the look on his face, you knew he was hoping for a yes.

“Only if you also allow another man to watch.”

“Fuck no!” Angel strapped in your helmet a little too tight due to his little outburst of jealous. You cackled as you hopped on the back of bike. Bet, he won’t ask another stupid question like that again.

Tagging: @marvelmaree @titty-teetee @thickemadame @cocooned-butterfly @ladydragonpurplefire @mrsamaroevans @sparklemichele @briannab1234

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x plus sized!reader #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fanfiction #mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #mayans mc fandom #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fanfiction #frizzlewrites

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hxbbit · 4 years ago

Text

Playing With Fire (Rafael Casal x Reader)

Words: ~6.4k

Warnings: Pure, unadulterated filth. bdsm themes (dom!rafa), swearing, alcohol

Summary: While attending a wedding, you decided to tease Rafael a little too much. And he decides you need to be punished because of it.

I don’t know what happened, and how it happened, but it’s here. And I’m so excited and I hope you like it, too. Special thanks to @braidedchallah for making me write this and hyping me up lmao

“Can you zip me up?” You asked as you walked towards the bathroom, holding up your dress with your hands. Rafael was standing in front of the mirror, perfecting his hair.

“Sure,” he said and you turned your back towards him and he quickly pulled up the zipper. He leaned down to place a kiss on your shoulder and then turned you back around to look at him.

Fuck, you only thought. Obviously Rafa looked good in everything he wore, but today he looked especially hot. He wore that suit with the black and white patterned jacket and the solid black lapels and black dress pants. He added his thick gold chain under the collar of his white shirt, so it mostly just peaked out in the middle as well as wearing gold rings on both his pinky fingers. The hair that had grown out a bit was carefully styled back in a pretty sleek look and his beard was trimmed to perfection.

“Like what you’re seeing?” He asked cockily with a grin, obviously noticing your staring.

“Definitely, my boyfriend is hot as hell,” you said, stepping closer and running your hand over his chest.

“Yeah? Well, my girlfriend is pretty hot, too,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you slowly, his hands moving to squeeze your ass.

“I want you to fuck me tonight while you’re wearing that suit,” you whispered against his lips and then kissed him again.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged,” he whispered back, pinching your butt cheek, making you jump with a squeak and then you let out a giggle.

“We have to leave now, though or otherwise we’ll be late for the ceremony.” Rafa ushered you out of the bathroom and you both got ready to leave.

The uber was already waiting outside when you stepped out of Rafael’s place. You would both be drinking tonight, so you decided not to drive yourselves.

You both got into the car, making sure you had the gift and everything else you needed with you and then you were being driven to the location of Anthony and Jasmine’s wedding.

There was already a big crowd of people when you arrived, a lot of them you knew, since you had a lot of mutual friends, but some were family or friends of theirs you weren’t familiar with. You looked around, everything was decorated so beautifully with white flowers and great attention to detail. At the front there was an arch where the bride and groom would stand when the ceremony was held and then countless rows of chairs in the grass for all the guests.

Almost immediately you also spotted Daveed, chatting to some people. You knew that Emmy was a bridesmaid, so she was probably off helping Jaz get ready.

You dropped off the present on the table with all the others and then Rafa and you made a beeline towards Daveed.

Diggs wore a dark purple checkered suit, it was relatively tame compared to what he usually wore, probably not wanting to draw too much attention, but still enough to stand out between the other simple black suits.

“Yo, Diggs,” Rafael shouted at him before he reached him, a big boyish grin on his face, making him turn around and then they hugged each other. You knew that they hadn’t seen one other in a while, Daveed having been off filming the second season of Snowpiercer, so they had a lot of catching up to do.

“Hey, Y/N! How’s it going,” Daveed then turned to you, hugging you tightly as well.

“It’s going well,” you smiled brightly at him. “How’s shooting going?”

“We’re a little behind, but it’s gonna be good.”

You were about to say something else when a woman at the front by the arch asked all of the guests to please take a seat.

The ceremony was absolutely beautiful and made you tear up a bit and when Rafa saw that you had tears in your eyes, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close to his side, kissing the top of your head.

And once it was over, the celebration began. And oh, what a party it was. The people were only really seated when the food was served, otherwise they were dancing and drinking, celebrating the newlyweds.

You also had a couple of glasses of champagne. You wanted to dance but Rafa was busy talking to Daveed. You talked to some other people and danced with some of the girls you knew, but you wanted to dance with Rafa. Craving attention, you were sitting down next to him as he was still chatting to Daveed and you couldn’t help but place your hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb back and forth slightly. But he didn’t react to that in the slightest, used to your casual affection, so instead you slid your hand further up his thigh, straddling the line of indecent hand placement, yet still no reaction. You went up a tiny bit further. That’s when his hand suddenly, yet subtly, grabbed your hand, holding it in place as he kept on talking to Diggs as if nothing was happening.

A few minutes later, Diggs excused himself, Emmy wanting to dance with him, when Rafa turned towards you. A dangerous glint in his eye.

“Behave,” he only said and that single word alone stirred something inside of you.

“Dance with me,” you then whined and he finally indulged you, pulling you up and dragging you to the dance floor where he spun your around for a few songs.

After a couple of dances, a slow song was played and Rafa pulled you close against his chest. You had a smile on your face as you swayed back and forth together and having him so close to you in that moment made all sorts of thoughts run through your head. You moved so your lips were right against his ear.

“I want you so bad right now,” you whispered quietly, so no one would hear you.

“How about we find a secluded little corner and you can make good on your promise a little early? I mean, why wait until we’re back at home again?” You said with a mischievous grin on your lips. You could hear a soft groan come from Rafael and you could swear that you already felt his semi-hard cock press against you, the thought of ravaging you in public turning him on.

“They’re about to do the speeches,” he replied, not giving you the answer you wanted.

“So what?” You asked back, now pressing a kiss to his neck, right underneath his ear and then also nibbling on it a little, Rafa letting out a heavy breath.

“So you know I have to be here because Jaz asked me to say a few words.”

You obviously knew that Rafa had prepared to say something, but that didn’t mean that you were going to make it easy on him.

“If that’s the case, then I’d better find myself someone else to entertain me during all of the boring speeches,” you moved back a bit so Rafa could look at you as you said that, seeing the teasing and provocative look in your eyes as you raised one brow at him.

“If you’d rather be ‘entertained’ by someone than be satisfied by me then go right ahead, baby. But we both know that no one else can give you what I give you,” he said with a cocky tone to his voice and while you knew that he was right, you were still up for the challenge.

The game was on. You got a special kind of satisfaction from teasing Rafael, trying to push his buttons, because you knew that what came after, was always mind blowing - for both of you. You both also knew that it was all in good fun and you weren’t actually trying to make him jealous for nefarious reasons.

So once the dance was over and you were sitting back down at the table with all the others, because the speeches were about to start, you let your eyes wander over the crowd, looking for a potential candidate to get close to. You saw an objectively attractive guy sit at one of the tables that was mostly just old friends of Anthony’s that you didn’t know. Which was perfect. That way he didn’t know you or Rafa or that you were together.

You waited until the speeches were over, obviously you wanted to hear what Rafa had written and how he made the crowd laugh, but afterwards you got up and moved through the room. Rafa spotted you and you only gave him a wink, before you made your way over to the guy that you had set your eyes on perviously. And once you reached him, you didn’t hesitate chatting him up, starting a friendly and flirty conversation. You felt a little sorry for him, only being a pawn in yours and Rafa’s game, but you didn’t feel quite sorry enough to stop.

Ben, you learned, was and old college friend of Anthony’s and on top of that quite receptive to your advances.

You went to the bar together, got some drinks and then chatted. You glanced over to where Rafa was standing and talking to some people but you saw that his eyes were on you. You made sure to touch Ben a little, only a hand on his arm or chest, nothing too much. But when he then got a little more comfortable and put one hand on your waist, moving closer towards you, Rafael was suddenly next to you.

“Hey, baby, there you are,” he said and Ben immediately retracted his hand from your body, stepping back and Rafa didn’t even look at him, instead he leaned down to kiss you, pulling you close to him, making sure that the other guy knew that you were his.

And oh, possessive Rafa always turned you on.

“I should get back to the others,” Ben then spoke quietly and quickly disappeared, obviously having understood the very obvious hint.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said, kissing you again.

“I know, but don’t pretend like you’re not loving it,” you said in return, pecking him on the lips once more.

The rest of the night was spent dancing, laughing and drinking and eventually you and Rafa both decided to head home. You said your goodbyes to everyone. By now you had taken off your high heels, feet aching, carrying them in your hands to the uber you had ordered, holding Rafa’s hand in the other. And when you got into the car, you leaned your head against his shoulder, still holding his hand until you arrived back at home.

Mia was not at home, you had placed her in the loving care of a friend for the night so she wouldn’t be alone while you were out all day and night, so there was no one to greet you when you came home.

You were barely through the door of your apartment, dropping your shoes by the door, when Rafa turned around, looking at you while he undid the top button of his dress shirt.

“Take off that dress and get on your knees,” he said in a voice that you knew all too well. It was the voice he used when he didn’t want any talk-back or arguments. The voice he used when he wanted you to say ‘Yes, Sir’, ‘Please, Sir’ and ‘Whatever you want, Sir’. And it was the voice that made you immediately wet whenever he used it on you.

While it took you a little by surprise, excitement still rushed through your body as you reached around to your back to undo the zipper of the dress - thank God it was easier to open than zipping it up - before you then proceeded to take it off completely, letting it pool around your ankles on the floor. You took one step forward, one step closer towards him, and then sank down on your knees, only in your matching bra and thong now. Clasping your hands together in your lap, you looked up at him through your lashes with faked innocence, trying to hide your excitement.

But as you looked up Rafa’s body, you could definitely see his excitement, straining against his black slacks. It made your mouth water.

He took two steps, so he was directly in front of you now, you had to lean your head back into your neck to look up at him. The tension in the room and between Rafa and you was electrifying, not knowing what he had planned for you, but knowing that you were going to love it either way.

Rafa placed one of his hands on your cheek, gentle and soft, thumb rubbing over your skin.

“Did you have fun today?” He asked and at first you were a little taken aback by that question. But it was a nice day and you had a lot of fun, the wedding was beautiful and being with all your friends and Rafa made you very happy.

“Yes, Sir,” you then replied with a little nod.

“Well, I hope it was worth it, because I’m gonna have to punish you now.” Rafa moved his hand slightly so it was under your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“See, I was going to take you home tonight and fuck you nice and well, just like you asked me to, make you cum at least three times until you screamed out my name… But you had to be an impatient little brat. Teasing me, trying to make me jealous. You know I need to punish your for that,” he said and he almost looked sympathetic, as if he didn’t really want to punish you, but you both knew that that was not the case. Rafa was going to enjoy punishing you very, very much.

Rafa’s thumb was still on your lip and you couldn’t help but dart your tongue out to give the pad of it a little lick, wanting to taste him.

“Oh, that’s how you wanna play it?” He asked with a scoff, pushing his thumb past your lips and pressing down on your tongue slightly. You immediately started sucking on it, hollowing your cheeks and letting your tongue swirl around his digit.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut.” He let you continue to suck on his thumb like that as if it were his cock.

“I was only going to spank your ass until it’s red and raw, but now I’m thinking I’m going to have to fuck that pretty little mouth first, make you gag on my cock and have you swallow all of my cum,” Rafa mused and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, the prospect of having him fuck your face made heat spread throughout all of your body.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and then opened the button and zipper of his pants as you watched him intently and once he had freed his member from his boxer briefs, you licked your lips almost unintentionally. He held his hard and thick cock in his hand and guided it towards your mouth, rubbing the head over your spit-slick lips that also still had remnants of your lipstick on it. You raised your hands to reach for it, wanting to wrap your fingers around him, when Rafa suddenly pulled back a little.

“No hands. I get to decide how hard and deep I fuck your mouth. Disobedient little brats like you don’t get to have a say in that,” he said before he put his tip back to your lips. “Now open that mouth for me.”

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and letting him slide in, loving the taste of him and the feel of the velvety skin on your tongue. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, gathering your hair, holding you steady for now as he slowly started thrusting into you. He started out slow at first, letting you move your tongue around his cock just as you had done minutes ago to his thumb. Then he pushed in deep once, agonizingly slow, making you feel every inch of him as he slid down your throat. It almost made you gag, but you managed to relax your throat and take him deeper, swallowing him down until he was completely inside of you, the tip of your nose touching his pelvis.

“Just like that,” he breathed out, suppressing a moan as he pushed you down just a little bit further. “Put your whore mouth to good use for once.”

You tried pushing your luck a little by moaning around him, it was obviously stifled by his cock, but you knew that he would feel the vibrations of it. And the moan he let out in return told you that he definitely did. He pulled his cock out, letting you breathe again, but only for a second before he slammed back in and this time he set a bruising pace.

The grip in your hair tightened and he grabbed your chin with the other hand and pulled your head against him every time he thrusted into you, making you take him deep with every move and making you stay in place. At this point you couldn’t even really wrap your lips around him anymore as he was just fucking your throat sloppily, gagging, spit starting to drool down your chin and tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Your hands were balled into fists, but still resting on your thighs, wanting so badly to touch him, but wanting to be good for him and obey his orders.

By now, the tears were rolling over your cheeks freely, not only from the way he fucked your face but also from the frustration of wanting to touch him, letting out a whine as he kept on thrusting into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he panted between heavy breaths and moans.

“I want you to swallow every drop of my cum,” he said, stilling for a second as he was deep inside you, so you could hum your agreement.

“Gonna put my cock so far down your throat and make you swallow it, if you want to or not,” he continued, as he kept on moving again, a slower pace, but each thrust deep and forceful, making you gag around him some more. You wanted him to cum so bad, wanted to taste it, wanted to feel him cum down your throat, wanting to give him that sweet release.

Rafa thrusted into you once, twice and a third time before he came with a low groan. And just like he promised, he pushed his cock down deep, you took him down as far as you could once more, his hand moving down your throat to feel himself inside of you and then he released his load, hot ropes of salty cum spurting down your throat, swallowing it all down and starting to feel a little light headed from the lack of oxygen, when he finally pulled back and out of your mouth completely, leaving you breathing heavily.

You finally unclenched your fists and raised one hand to wipe away the spit from your chin, you looked up at Rafa, his chest was heaving and he was looking down at you with a satisfied smile on his lips. His hands found your cheeks and wiped away the tears.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he said, voice soothing and it made you smile, to know that he was happy with you, that you pleased him.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied, voice a little hoarse.

He tucked himself back into his pants and then helped you up and only in that moment did you realize how bad your knees hurt from kneeling on the hard floor. He leaned in to place a kiss on your lips, you tried to deepen it, but Rafa moved back, always leaving you wanting more. Instead he slid one hand between your legs, pushing your panties to the side and letting one probing finger move through your slit, feeling the obvious wetness that had gathered there. You already let out a moan at that, even though he barely even touched you.

“Oh, baby, it’s not a punishment if it turns you on this much.” He almost sounded scolding, with the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. He obviously enjoyed it and liked how you got off on being used by him like that.

“You know I’m still going to have to spank you, right?” He asked with a sadistic smile on his face, you only nodded.

“And if you’re a good little slut, I might even let you cum.”

Rafa pulled his hand from between your legs.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he then said, taking your hand and leading you towards it.

Rafa took off the suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, then sitting down at the edge of the bed. You watched as he did all that, and then stood in front of him.

“How many spanks do you think you deserve for the shit you pulled tonight?” He asked, head tilted to the side as his eyes were wandering over your body, taking in your form.

You thought for a second.

“Twenty?” You asked, unsure.

“Twenty?” Rafael scoffed a little. “I was thinking more like thirty. I think that’s more in line of what you deserve,” he explained to you and you only nodded wide eyed, swallowing hard.

“Get on my lap then,” he said and you moved to lay across his lap, the rest of your body resting on the bed. Rafa immediately put a hand on your ass, moving it across your skin, softly.

“What’s your safe word, baby?” He asked, he obviously knew it, but he wanted to make sure that you remembered it and that you would actually use it if you needed to.

“Red,” you replied with a smile, craning your neck to look back at him.

“I want you to thank me for each hit. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” you said and that earned you your first spank on your right ass cheek, taking you by surprise and making you jump a little.

“Yes, what?” He asked with a sharpness.

“Yes, Sir.” You said. “And thank you, Sir,” you immediately added.

“I think you need reminding who you belong to. The way you pranced around tonight, like a whore, offering yourself up…” He said before delivering another slap that stung, surely already leaving a red print of his hand on your ass.

“Thank you, Sir,” you quickly said.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked with another slap.

“Thank you. I belong to you, Sir. Only to you,” you whined out desperately from the pain but also from the pleasure. Rafa claiming you as his and you declaring yourself to belong to him always did something to you. It made your heart swell and your insides tighten in the best way possible, making wetness pool between your legs and you were sure you were practically dripping by now.

“That’s right. You’re mine.” Another slap.

Again you thanked him and then he proceeded to spank each cheek multiple times, alternating between them, not adhering to a pattern to keep you on your toes, until the flesh was burning and sensitive and probably glowing bright red. Your hands were fisting the blankets by now, clenching them tightly, needing to hold on to something, something you could focus your pain on.

You didn’t count, having lost track in your lust and pain-riddled haze quite quickly, so when he stopped to spread your legs a little more and his fingers found your dripping core, you assumed that that must have been it, letting out a quiet breath of relief. But then he removed his fingers again and instead brought his flat hand down again in another slap right to your clitoris, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your clit was swollen and sensitive from arousal and while you wanted to be touched there, it was too much, way too much and way too sudden. Tears started prickling in your eyes, overwhelmed with the sensation and you barely managed to remember to thank him.

“Only three more, baby, you can do it,” he then said, seemingly sensing you teeter on the edge of your limit.

It took all your willpower to keep your legs spread for him. The urge to just clench them closely together to deny him access was strong. But you so desperately wanted to be good for him, wanted to take the punishment you deserved.

And he delivered those last three slaps one after another, with no break to let you catch your breath and it made you cry out and the tears fell from your eyes.

Still you managed to mutter your thanks on a shaky breath.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you sniffled quietly, trying to hold back sobs.

That’s when Rafa pulled you up and against him, making you straddle his lap, holding you close.

“It’s over. It’s over, baby, you were so good, so perfect for me,” he whispered soothingly into your ear. His hands moved down to your butt to rub over the reddened, burning skin most gently with his hands.

“I love you,” Rafa muttered, placing a kiss into your hair.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, voice still a little shaky, but becoming more steady again. You pulled back from him slightly to look at him and he had a look of pure adoration on his face. You gave him a little smile and then kissed him and Rafa almost immediately licked into your mouth, deepening the kiss, entangling his tongue with yours.

He slowly slid one of his hands from your ass over your hip and down to the front between your legs where he found you still completely soaking wet, pushing your panties to the side once more, he then finally gave you the attention you needed, circling your clit with his fingertips. You were so sensitive, not just from the arousal, but also from his punishment. And right now, his fingers felt like heaven and it had you moaning into his mouth right away.

But you also needed more, wanting to be filled up by him.

“Please, need you inside me,” you said, your lips so close to his they were touching as you spoke. Rafa didn’t hesitate and decided to indulge you by pushing two fingers inside of you, making you sigh out, eyes fluttering shut, giving yourself to the pleasure.

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you, but you needed more and couldn’t sit still and started grinding your hips down on him. You had your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers,” he said, making you open your eyes again.

“You’re such a little slut.”

“I’m your little slut,” you said with a wicked grin, which pulled a smile from him as well.

He pushed another finger into you and the slight stretch was exactly what you needed, he then also started massaging your clit with his thumb. Those combined sensations made heat build up low in your stomach and a knot of pure pleasure forming.

Your nails started to dig into his crisp white shirt and the skin underneath it, starting to breathe heavier. Rafa used his other hand to pull your bra down to expose your breasts, attaching his mouth to your hard nipples, first one, then other, but giving them the same treatment of biting and pulling and sucking.

“You can cum when I tell you to,” Rafa then said, knowing that you were nearing your climax. He didn’t make it easy on you, though, curling his fingers now so they hit that spot inside of you precisely and perfectly, making your breath hitch.

“Fuck,” you breathed out quietly, knitting your eyebrows together and squeezing your eyes shut as the pleasure grew, trying desperately to hold it back and hold out until Rafa allowed it.

“Look at me, baby,” he said and you opened your eyes again, looking at him.

“I want you to look at me when you cum.”

“Please,” you whined. “Wanna cum. Need to cum,” you begged breathlessly.

“Just a little longer,” he replied with a smirk. He enjoyed this a little too much, seeing you squirm and beg for release. You bit your bottom lip, still riding his fingers though, keeping yourself achingly close to the edge.

“Okay, baby, let go. Cum for me,” he finally gave you permission and you were so grateful because you wouldn’t have been able to hold off any longer. Your orgasm crashing through you, your entire body tensing up as the pleasure moved through your body in waves, toes curling, before you then felt weak and like you were close to falling apart. Your walls clenching around his fingers.

But Rafa didn’t let off, he kept the same pace, fucking you with his fingers and still rubbing your now overly sensitive clit.

“Too much,” you breathed out, but you weren’t quite sure that was true, because while it felt like too much on the surface, below you could feel another orgasm already building, dangerously close to breaking through.

“I promised you at least three orgasms and I intend to keep that promise,” he said, sounding very confident. And he had every right to be confident, because he knew your body, better than yourself sometimes, and he knew that you had some more orgasms in you that he was fully intending to coax out.

“Come on,” he said. “I know you can do it.”

Rafa started peppering your neck with kisses, from your jaw down, leaving the occasional dark purple mark by nipping and sucking, and once he reached the junction of where your neck met your shoulder, he suddenly bit into the soft flesh hard. And that pain took you by surprise, triggering your orgasm unexpectedly. Making you gasp out and moan while he kept on fingering you, until that second orgasm slowly subsided, too.

His movements slowed down and then he pulled his fingers out of you, making you feel very empty, but also feeling relieved at the short break that gave you time to catch your breath.

You watched him lift the fingers that were just inside you to his mouth and lick them clean, moaning at the taste of you.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he told you once his fingers were clean of your juices.

You leaned in to kiss Rafa, you could taste yourself faintly on his lips and while you kissed, he reached behind your back and opened your bra, making you take it off completely.

You wanted more of him now, too, so your fingers found the little buttons of his shirt and started unbuttoning them and once it was completely open, you pushed it off his shoulders and then let your hands roam over his chest, which was only adorned by his gold necklace now. You broke the kiss to look at his tattoo, fingertips trailing over the letters on his left pectoral. Rafael knew that you had a thing for his tattoos, tracing them with your fingers or your lips any chance you got and this time was no different, placing a kiss on the capital letter I.

“Need to fuck you, babe,” Rafa then whispered and you looked back up at him.

“How do you want me?” You asked, biting your lip. Taking a quick glance between your bodies to see that he was obviously already hard again.

“On all fours.”

You got up from his lap, legs still feeling a little weak from the orgasms, and then you first got rid of your panties before getting onto the bed, positioning yourself in the middle of it, just how Rafa had ordered. He had gotten up from the bed, too and rid himself of the rest of his clothes. You felt the mattress dip when he kneeled on the bed behind of you, his hands finding your ass and smoothing them over the still slightly red and sensitive skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like that. On all fours, ass red, waiting for me to fuck you,” he said as his fingers found your pussy once more.

And when he then replaced his fingers with the tip of his thick cock at your entrance, you were more than ready for him, needing his hard cock inside of you. You wanted to move your hips back, trying to get him to enter you, to get him deeper, but you decided to hold still, even if the anticipation was almost killing you. You knew that Rafa would appreciate it, you behaving.

“Tell me how badly you want my cock?” He said, wanting to hear you beg for it.

“So badly, want you inside me. Want you to fill me up and have you deep inside of me. I want you to fuck me hard, Sir. Please,” you then said, desperation lacing your voice. Having Rafa inside you felt like nothing else. You were addicted to the feeling and right now you were craving your next fix.

“Now, how can I say no to that?”

You didn’t turn around, but you could vividly imagine the smirk that Rafa probably had on his face right now.

Slowly, achingly slow, Rafa sank his hard member inside of you, stretching you slightly, making you sigh out in pleasure. Once he was completely sheathed inside of you, he stopped, before pulling out again almost entirely in the same pace, torturing you with it, teasing you. You just wanted him to fuck you, to pound hard into you, and he knew that.

“Rafa, please,” you whined out, needing more, but suddenly he stilled his movement completely.

“What did you just call me?”

“Sir, sorry! I’m sorry! I just- I just want you to fuck me, please,” you all but begged now.

“Oh, you want to be fucked like the whore you are?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, please,” you replied.

Suddenly you felt his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down forcefully against the mattress and then he leaned over you, taking your hands and gathering your wrists together behind your back. That way your cheek and your chest were pressed flush against the bed, no way to hold yourself up anymore.

Rafa liked restraining you like that. Sure he enjoyed tying you up a lot, too, but there was something about holding your hands like that with his own that he especially liked. Having that physical power over you, being the actual thing that holds you down instead of ropes or his belt.

“Act like a whore, get fucked like a whore,” he said as he entered you again with a hard thrust, making you gasp. “But then again, you like that, don’t you?”

“Love it,” you moaned out as he repeated the action.

And then, Rafa just started fucking you. Just how you wanted him to, how you needed him to.

Hard and fast, making you moan and breathe heavily in an instant.

Rafael knew exactly how to fuck you to make you cum from penetration alone and he was doing just that, keeping his rhythm steady and deep and at just the right angle to hit your g-spot on every thrust. It had you on edge in no time, but you knew that you needed to wait, hold on a little longer. And Rafa made you wait, made you bite back and hold back your orgasm as he kept on rutting into you, grip still tight and borderline painful on your wrists.

“I’m close,” he then finally said between heavy breaths.

“Me too,” you said, but you were sure he already knew by the way you tightened around him and how your body tensed up.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock,” he then finally pressed out as he thrusted into you one last time and released himself inside of you. And you came too, when you felt his warm cum deep inside your pussy, as you were clenching around him until you had milked him of every drop, while moans of pure pleasure spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, baby.” Rafa was breathing heavily, letting go of your wrists. You pulled your arms to the front, alleviating the ache in your shoulders from the position he had held you in.

He then also slowly pulled out of you.

“Stay like that, gonna clean you up,” he said, getting up off the bed and walking towards the bathroom. You couldn’t stay like that, though, no energy left to hold yourself up. Instead you moved so you were laying flat on your belly, needing to relax your body.

You could feel the cum slowly dripping out of your pussy, but Rafa was already back again with a wet wash cloth to clean you up. You flinched a little when he moved it through your folds because you were so sensitive, which made him chuckle in return. And once he was done with that, he took out some lotion from the nightstand and rubbed it on your butt, cooling and soothing the skin.

“Thank you,” you mumbled against the bed, a dopey, satisfied smile on your face.

“No, thank you. You were fucking perfect tonight,” he said, laying down next to you and pulling you into him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking one of your wrists into his hands and massaging it slightly.

“So good.” You couldn’t think properly, mind still in a haze from the multiple orgasms, your body limp. All you knew was that you felt good.

“Want me to run you a bath?”

You shook your head at that. It was late. You didn’t know how late exactly, but all you wanted to do now was cuddle and then sleep, so you told him that, snuggling closer into him as he pulled the covers over you both.

“Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky to be with you,” he said softly, before he moved so he could kiss you.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” you replied, connecting your lips to his once more before you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

#rafael casal #rafael casal x reader #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal/reader #daveed diggs #blindspotting #hamilton #rafael casal smut #daveed diggs x reader

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Blame Me - Chapter 5

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 12K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader,

TW: Canon typical violence, canon divergence, gore, murder, mention of past child death, mention of major character death (OC), Daryl and Aaron bonding time, Daryl and y/n bonding time, major character death

Genre: Horror ig?

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, this is probably my least favourite chapter, but I can’t wait to write the next chapters. Chapter 6 and 7 are gonna be painful y’all so good luck. Enjoy!

Daryl was quiet, Beth noticed. He was always quiet, but not like this. He hadn't been like this since after he'd lost his girl. Not that anyone knew that except for his asshole older brother. Beth was worried, about everyone, but right now, she was worried for Daryl most of all. Any time he did open his mouth, something sarcastic, cold or cynical came out. It wasn't like him. Maybe in the early days, but definitely not now. He couldn't stop thinking about everyone they'd lost. Not just at the prison, everyone they'd lost along the way. Even who he'd lost before. He didn't have much to lose before, but the people he had, were everything. She was everything. But she was gone. Probably dead. He was just holding out hope on another pipe dream. But even despite that, he couldn't bring himself to remove his ring. The cool metal almost burnt his skin whenever he thought about her, or anyone else he'd lost. Like a reminder of his failure. Since the prison had fallen, every day with Beth felt like a blur.

He shouldn't dwell on it, he knew that, but he couldn't help but wonder how many people died. How many people got out. If anyone other than him and Beth did. Part of him thought that it didn't matter. Hershel was dead because he didn't kill the Governor when he had the chance. He owed it to the vet to protect his daughter. And somehow, that had ended up with them in some old shed, something similar to what he and Merle would have lived in once upon a time, in the middle of the woods. Somehow, he'd ended up playing a dumb game, like some damn teenagers. At least Beth wasn't too far off. He took a sip of the moonshine as she started explaining, clearly slightly tipsy from her first-ever drink.

"So first, I say something I've never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch. You really don't know this game?" Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise, not deterred by his so-called "intimidating" stare. Daryl moved the hand that was in front of his face, shifting his position slightly.

"I never needed a game to get lit before."

"Wait, are we startin'?" She asked, and while her face stayed the same, Daryl picked up on the teasing lilt in her voice, eyes shining slightly.

"How do you know this game?" He questioned, using his pinky to point at her

"My friends played. I watched," She shifted slightly before lightly shaking her head "Okay, I'll start. I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

Daryl reached forward to the glass of water and lifted it to his mouth, looking just as unamused as before "Ain't much of a game."

"That was a warm-up. Now you go," Beth insisted but Daryl just stared back at her for a second, shrugging.

"I don't know."

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head," She shot back with a small smile. Plenty of things popped into his head, but they were too personal to share with Beth. Too much about his girl. He didn't know if he was ready to tell her yet. Daryl knew Beth wouldn't care, not really, but just thinking about her made his brain and chest hurt. An aching he couldn't get rid of.

"I've never been out of Georgia," Was the answer he settled on. He was gonna leave Georgia, right after his hunting trip. Leave early, fly to South Carolina and surprise (Y/N) and her ma. But it never happened. Dead made sure of that. Beth's eyebrows rose slightly. He was an outdoorsy guy, a hunter. She thought he'd have been all over.

"Really? Okay, good one. I've never... been drunk and did somethin' I regretted," She stated after taking a sip of her drink. Beth knew she was starting to push the line slightly. Knew his fuse was slightly shorter after the prison. But he didn't bat an eye, just reached forward and had a drink.

"I've done a lot of things," He replied, keeping his gaze on the table. Yeah, like leave his girl behind. Didn't even go looking. What kind of husband didn't even try to find his wife when the world ended? "I never been on vacation."

"What about campin'?" Beth questioned but Daryl shook his head immediately.

"No, that was just something I had to learn to hunt," Because, his family were shitty people, and didn't even think to go looking when he went missing as a kid. Not that he added that.

"Your dad teach you?" She asked, and she knew that the line was getting toed here. She'd never asked about his dad, but from interactions she'd overheard with Daryl and Rick, sometimes Carol or even Carl, their relationship hadn't been pretty. Daryl released a hum of agreement.

"Alright... never have I ever been in love," Beth said, and she saw Daryl's eyes flicker down to the ring she still wore from when she was still with Jimmy. She didn't really expect much, but it was the only thing that came to mind. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, bristling at the implication behind her words, and he found himself spinning his own ring with his thumb, absentmindedly.

"The hell ya implyin'" He snapped, eyes narrowing slightly, and Beth looked slightly alarmed by how defensive he got and how quickly. She'd seen his explosive temper before but she'd never been at the brunt of it. But Daryl didn't back down, even as she showed him her scared eyes. The damn girl had no right prying. He'd played her stupid ass game, given her some stupid ass answers. But then, he swore he saw (Y/N) in the corner, giving him that disapproving look that made him swallow any anger he'd had right up, and he looked to the floor, taking a second to breathe.

"Ya ain't ever been in love?" It was clear Daryl was asking about Jimmy and Zach. His brain wandered to Zach, asking him every day without fail about what he did before the apocalypse; getting bitten on the way out of that store; getting crushed by the helicopter. Having to deliver the news to beth, who didn't even react.

"I loved Jimmy sure, but I wasn't in love with him. Zach neither. Meant a lot to me, both of 'em but, never loved 'em like that. I only married Jimmy because I thought we were the last ones left," Beth explained, and to anyone else, it would have sounded cold. But Daryl understood. This world did weird shit to your brain, and it didn't surprise him that she'd latched to Zach and Jimmy. While he was thinking, Beth watched his expression. She noticed the look of despair that crossed his face quickly, and how it hardened a second after. And finally, after over a year of them being in the group together, she saw his ring, as he brought his arm to rest on his knee so his other hand could twirl it. He hadn't even noticed he'd done it. He bit his lip, deep in thought, before he looked up and saw Beth's expectant eyes.

"Did you have to kill her?" If that didn't get under his skin he didn't know what would. No disapproving look from his not-there wife could stop the rage bubbling in his chest. It boiled up his neck, to his face and he just knew he'd gone slightly red. Almost immediately, he saw regret on Beth's as he stood up.

"I'm going to take a piss," Daryl snarled, picking up one of the empty jars on the table and smashing it as he made his way over to the corner of the room. He heard Beth's breath hitch in a suppressed gasp of surprise.

"You have to be quiet!" Beth hissed, and that only pissed him off more. He knew there were walkers outside, knew he was being stupid, but she'd started prying. Drunk or not, she'd gone too far and he'd had enough.

"Can't hear ya! 'M taking a piss!" He yelled back, to which Beth shot back some response about being quiet, as he unzipped and started doing his business "What, are ya ma chaperone now?"

Daryl zipped himself back up but didn't bother to do his belt up, and it clanked against his button. He knew this would be a good place to drop it since she had gone silent, but she'd taken a dig at him. One way too personal. One that involved his family. One she had no business in. So he whirled around, voice much louder than it should have been.

"Oh, wait. It's my turn, right? I've never-never eaten frozen yoghurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothin' from Santa Claus," He slammed his hand against the cluttered table he stood next to, as the emotions that had built up over the past few days finally poured out. Beth looked scared, but there was anger dwelling behind her eyes too "Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything."

Daryl had started pacing, and he narrowed in on the blonde, tone sharp and cold. He knew he was lying at that point. True, he'd never relied on anyone for protection. But he'd relied on his girl for so much that he didn't even know where that list started or ended. She just swam in his head, and she could see those disapproving eyes again. Normally they were directed at Merle, but now they were directed to him, real or not, it stung being at the end of her contempt. And that only pushed him over the edge. Beth tried to stop him with a call of his name, but now he'd begun there was little that would stop him.

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everythin' was fun. Like everything was a big game. Never got to say goodbye to ma wife. Never got to know if she was alive, dead, turned, murdered. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention," Beth didn't flinch when he brought up her failed suicide attempt. But when he mentioned (Y/N), that sad look was there again, and the anger in her eyes faded.

Daryl hadn't meant to say it, but he was so furious, so sad, so frustrated, so mad at the world, that it had slipped out, in a rare moment of vulnerability. He sprung the walls back up as soon as he'd let them down.

A crashing at the door and the growling of walkers made his head snap to the door, so fast he swore it should have snapped. And he couldn't stop. The seething, burning feeling was eating him up.

"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call his buddies," He tripped over the pans and pots and various other shit on the floor, making way too much noise. If he wasn't so angry, he would be cursing himself out now. He was sure he'd do that later.

"Daryl, just shut up," Beth begged through gritted teeth, but Daryl just turned around and pointing, a sharp smile playing on his lips. If Merle were here, he'd tell him he looked just like their Daddy. And he did, as much as he hated it. If his girl were here, she would be screaming at him. by now. She would have stopped him by now. But they were both gone. Just like everyone else.

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I'm gonna teach you right now. Come on," Before he'd fully processed what he was doing, Daryl had grabbed Beth's arm, dragging her to the door and kicking it open. "It's gonna be fun."

"We should stay inside! Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!" She protested, screaming out as she tried to fight out of her grip but he wouldn't let her go.

"Dumbass. Come here, dumbass," Daryl whistled and the walker stumbled over, before he put a bolt in its shoulder, pinning it to the tree behind it. "You wanna shoot?"

"Daryl, I don't know how!" She exclaimed, fighting as Daryl pulled her in front of him, holding her in place with one hand as he got ready to shoot with the other.

"Oh, it's easier. Right corner," A bolt landed in the walker's leg and Beth finally broke free, turning around to face the redneck as he stepped away slightly, so he could pull the string back into place.

"C'mon it's fun," He was being fueled by unbridled rage and adrenaline now. A tiny voice in the back of his mind, that sounded suspiciously like Rick told him he'd regret this later but he pushed it away. Instead, he pulled Beth back into the previous position and shot the walker right where it's dead, rotting heart was.

"Kill it!" Daryl let go again as he stormed ahead to the walker.

"Come here, Greene. Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practice," Beth had decided that was enough, and with an annoyed huff, she sped ahead of Daryl to plant her knife into the walker's forehead "What the hell you do that for? We was having fun."

"No! You were being a jackass! If someone found your wife-" She growled back, and Daryl's glare burned into her but it didn't deter her, even as he got right into her face.

"Don't. That ain't remotely the same," Daryl shot back, rage burning through every vein, every organ, every muscle. But Beth knew she'd gotten to him, even if it was just a little bit.

"Killin' them ain't supposed to be fun!" She said, her own eyebrows coming into a glare and Daryl stepped even closer.

"What do ya want from me, girl?"

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anythin'! Like nothin', we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anythin' to you. It's bullshit!" Beth finally yelled back, frustration making tears build behind her eyes but that only seemed to rile Daryl up more, even if it had been toned down. Didn't give a shit? She really thought he didn't care? He'd damn near died for his people. He'd killed for his people and she thought he didn't give a shit?

"Is that what you think? Huh?" The only thing he could think as he heard himself were the words he'd said to his brother years ago, that was coming back to bite him in the ass. You really are our Daddy's son.

"That's what I know," Her words were instant, and Daryl could tell from her tone that they'd been building up for a while. But his mouth moved before his brain could fully process the thought.

"You don't know nothin'," He hissed, looking away for a second, as his voice wavered slightly.

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid," Hell, if that didn't make him stop. His chest heaved as she spoke, his body taking a moment to recover from the anger that had made him shake. Been a while since he'd been that pissed off. But those final words, made his eyes narrow again, just as they'd softened.

"I ain't afraid of nothin'," Daryl stated, leaning in again. Beth had a look in her eye, telling him she didn't believe him. And she was right. He was scared every damn day. Every single damn time he thinks he's the most scared he'll ever be, some new herd, some new asshole, some new loss takes its place.

"I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me," Daryl couldn't meet her eyes. He had been like her once. When he left for a hunting trip he never came back from. Then, he got stuck with his piece of shit older brother and became that asshole again. Then his brother was gone, and he had a new family. He wasn't who he had been with (Y/N), didn't know if he ever would be like that again, but it had been a start. Until the governor took that from him too "And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

Every time someone got close, they died. Or put at great risk, or went missing, or got bit.

"Too close, huh? Ya know all about that. Ya lost two boyfriends, ya can't even shed a tear. Yer whole family's gone, all ya can do is just go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch," It was a low blow, but he was so drunk, so angry, he was struggling to get his words out like they were getting stuck in his throat.

"And your wife is gone and you don't say shit! Your brother died and you closed off! At least I talk about the ones I've lost instead of pretendin' like nothin' happened or like they didn't exist!" She snapped back, and the second the words left her mouth, she looked like she wanted to take them right back. Daryl stopped right there, frozen like a deer in headlights before turning around. Beth tried to reach for him but he shrugged out of her touch.

"Y'ain't got the right," He huffed out, the last of his anger dissipating, and he felt that void opening up again. The one that haunted him anytime he thought about his wife for too long. His shoulders deflated, and his gaze fixed on the back of the shed they'd found. Beth was hovering behind him, he could feel it. "The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl-" Beth tried again, sympathy lacing her voice but he just shook her off once more. She watched as his shoulders tensed, and she prepared for him to rip into her again but instead, they started shaking lightly. Everything was crashing down on him all at once and he couldn't shake the thought of his girl alone, trying to survive on her own. Or his girl, eyes milky white and lifeless, feet dragging and body acting like dead weight as her pale, rotting skin peeled off.

"And ma girl? Maybe I could've done somethin'. Maybe I could've helped her," His voice cracked, the emotions finally crashing over him in a wave, and this time he didn't stop Beth as she wrapped her arms around his middle, head pressed against his back. He didn't stop the tears or the sobs that escaped him.

"I get why my dad stopped drinking," Beth's voice broke the peaceful silence that had fallen between them. Crickets and the wind brustling the trees were the only sounds as Daryl looked over to her, sat on the porch in the pale moonlight.

"Ya feel sick?" He asked, twirling his knife on the wooden panels beside him, glancing over dark eyelashes.

"Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time. That's bad," She responded. Her hands were playing with the loose threads on her jeans, and she had this happy look in her eye. Too happy, but he didn't say anything. Not this time.

"Yer lucky yer a happy drunk," Daryl felt that stab of guilt again, as he thought back to the argument earlier. The one he could've dropped, but instead he blew it out of proportion and turned into Merle. Into his daddy.

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink," Beth gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised slightly, but there was a small smile on her face.

"Yeah, 'm a dick when 'm drunk," He stabbed his knife into the wood and he let out a small huff before reluctantly opening his mouth again "Merle had these biker friends. Real buff, stern assholes. Didn't give a shit 'bout nobody but themselves. One day, he dragged me along with 'em to this back alley bar. Real dodgy place. Was barely 10 and we were all wasted. Merle was high. There was this girl with her friend and the guys wouldn't stop runnin' their mouths. Especially Merle. Never knew when to quit. Turns out, girl had heard everythin' they'd been sayin' 'bout her and her friend. She comes stormin' over, face red, lookin' pissed as all hell and starts gettin' in this guys face. Merle decides it's a good idea to grab her ass, and she goes for him, punches him right in the eye. Gave him one hell of a shiner."

Beth let out a small giggle as she took a sip of her moonshine and Daryl's lips quirked up slightly. His fingers worked to spin his ring around again and again and she watched it with a glimmer of shock that still hadn't faded away.

"I tried gettin' between and she shoved me away. But one of Merle's buddies, he don't like that. So, he pulls out his gun and raises it over ma shoulder to her face, right here," He points to the gap between his eyebrows, watching as Beth's own eyebrows rose "And this bar goes dead silent. C'aint hear a damn thang, but she just glares back. His buddy starts threatenin' her, sayin' how he's gonna do all these things to her and she don't say anythin'. Just looks back at him. All that because she stood up for herself," Daryl couldn't help but smile at the memory, despite how much it had freaked him out at the time. Only time he didn't get pissed at someone for hitting his brother. Fool deserve it.

"How'd she get out?" Beth asked, leaning forward slightly like she was on the edge of her seat.

"Managed to get between 'em. Guy punched me in the gut. I puked. They all started laughin' and started patting her on the back. 'Balls of steel', Merle said to her. She thanked me for gettin' between them and asked how I was. Walked her and her friend back to her car. And I don't know if she was tipsy or what, but she asked ma name. Asked if we could have a new introduction 'nother day or somethin. You want to know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle... doing whatever he said we were gonna be doin' that day. I was nobody. Nothin'. Some redneck asshole and an even bigger asshole for a brother. Got better when I met her. (Y/N) made us better," Daryl's eyes flittered down to his ring this time, looking at the grime and dirt that accumulated and pulled it off to wipe it on his shirt.

"You miss him, don't you? I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoyin' and overprotective. And my dad. I thought- I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved. That's how unbelievably stupid I am," Tears had formed in Beth's eyes, but she laughed through them. But she couldn't shake that image of her Dad, the governor stood behind him.

"That's how it was supposed to be," He grumbled. Beth was naive, but she wasn't blind. She could tell he wasn't talking just about her dad. He was talking about the life he had with his wife, a life he could have had. The life he deserved to have. Subconsciously, she couldn't help but be slightly jealous that she never had something like that.

"I wish I could just... change," Beth responded after a pause, and Daryl's eyebrow raised, slightly confused.

"Ya did."

"Not enough. Not like you. It's like you were made for how things are now. Sounds like ya girl was too."

He didn't say anything, biting his cheek lightly as he slid his ring back on. It was his comfort, she was his comfort. Maybe she was still out there. Maybe.

Maybe she was dead in a ditch.

It still felt like a dream. He was still sure that if he gave himself a hard pinch she'd disappear right from his grasp. Everyone had dispersed thanks to Aaron and Carol's shepherding, but Daryl didn't miss the way (Y/N) watched after Carl and Judith, like she was scared something would happen. She didn't let go of him, not for another few minutes, that felt like seconds to him, and he would never complain. It didn't feel real.

There would be questions later, enough to bombard them back into hiding. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. She was here.

Eventually, Daryl managed to clear his head enough to pull her into the house his family had now evacuated out of. It felt alien, holding her again. Seeing her. Actually seeing her, not imagining her in some drunk or fear-induced frenzy. They were huddled together, in the corner Daryl had taken the night before. He couldn't let go, not now. There was something different about her. She'd changed. The apocalypse did that to you, he supposed but, this was different. There was guilt like she was hiding something from him. She'd done something, and he wanted to find out what it was.

"How the hell'd ya get here?" He asked, voice low and a grin rose on her face, which made his eyebrows furrow in confusion "What?"

"Ain't nothing. Just didn't think I'd hear your voice again," (Y/N) responded, her grin widening when he took her hand and started playing with her ring. "I was with mom when it started. Started travelling down to Georgia to find you and Merle. Met some people along the way."

She suddenly went quiet, her smile falling, and Daryl knew that look. Seen it on everyone's faces after camp; saw it on Carol, Beth, Maggie and Hershel's faces after the barn, Glenn and Maggie after the governor, Beth's after the prison; Rick, Carl and Michonne's the night with the claimers; everyone's after Terminus; Sasha and Gabriel after Bob and Tyreese. His, Maggie's and Glenn's after Beth.

"What happened?" If anyone else had walked in, they'd probably have never believed it was his voice. He didn't believe it. Merle would be giving him hell for it. Her eyes darted to his, and her grip on his hand tightened.

"There were this married couple, Andrew and Oliver, and their kid, Anna. Real sweet, curious. Never wanted to leave me and the other leader Kai alone. Some twins, Danica and Ben. Danica and Andrew were hotheads, reminded me of Merle, just less bigotted," They shared a chuckle at that. Daryl didn't need to say anything to her for her to know her brother-in-law was gone. She'd seen it on his face when she mentioned him earlier. After all this time, she could still read him like a book. "Kai was my best friend. Felt like a sibling. They were military, stopped me and mom from going into the city. We were gonna keep looking for you but Anna got sick. Really sick. For three weeks, we went out looking for medicine and she'd go through it in days."

Hell, he'd almost forgot about the disease that spread through the prison. Nearly killed Glenn. Awful as it seemed, it didn't that important anymore. Pretty much everyone that was sick died to the governor anyway. Didn't matter. Not really

"When she didn't get better, her dad's asked me to put her down. I was going to do it in the evening, in case she passed, but I decided to wait until morning. Died in her sleep. Turned quickly. We lost Andrew and Danica," Daryl squeezed her hand but she didn't respond. Her eyes were unfocused, but he saw the sadness flickering in them. The shame and guilt. That's why she was watching Carl and Judith earlier. "We were in the woods for a while. Me, mom, Andrew, Kai and Ben, lived that old Dixon lifestyle," She teased, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood. But he saw past it. She was holding something back to stop him from worrying.

"Then what?" She just shook her head, and Daryl pulled her in, tucking her head under his chin again. Not yet. He'd wait as long as she needed. They didn't need words for him to understand. (Y/N) let out a small sigh of contentment and Daryl resisted a smile. He'd lost hope in finding her. Thought he'd never get to hold her like this again. And before he knew it, he was telling her everything. But when he got to Terminus, she froze and pulled back.

"You were at Terminus?" (Y/N)'s voice was laced with concern and confusion, and it took Daryl half a second to connect the dots. His eyebrows rose into his hairline, which made (Y/N) laugh slightly."I was there for three days. Fuckers tried to kill me but I put up a fight. That freak Gareth locked me in a room so I didn't 'scare the newcomers'. An explosion and some walker's guts got me out."

"Ya gotta be shittin' me, right?" Daryl laughed, genuinely laughed, and he swore he'd never seen so much elation on his girl's face. "Carol set off that explosion, got us out."

(Y/N) leant her forehead on his shoulder, smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. The whole time, he thought she was so far away, or that she was gone, or dead, or bitten but she was right fucking there at Terminus. If he'd paid more attention, maybe he could've found her. Fucking idiot.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Daryl asked, catching (Y/N)'s arm as she started to climb out of the sleeping bag they'd been sharing. It'd taken a while for Daryl to convince the group to let her stay with them. They didn't trust her, and he couldn't blame them, but he wasn't going to be separated from any of his family. Neither her nor them. Eventually, Rick had nodded, despite Sasha and Abraham (mostly - Rosita and Carl hadn't exactly been happy about it either).

"Aiden and Nicholas want to take Glenn, Tara and Noah on a dry run, I gotta go with them to make sure they don't do something dumb," (Y/N) replied, pulling on her jumper but Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Careful, (L/N), that's ma family yer talkin' 'bout," He shot back, sharper than he wanted. However, she was taking a dig at his family when she barely knew shit about them. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes, coming closer to press a kiss on his forehead.

"Not your family, dummy. Nicolas and Aiden. They both hate me because I called them careless. Among other things. And they are. They don't know anything about life out there. If these walls hadn't come up when they had, those boys would have died long ago. Almost everyone here would have," She replied. He watched her carefully, giving her a look that she couldn't recognise. He was still getting used to this new version of her. Trying to get to know her again. She wasn't that different, not really, but she was slightly colder towards others and seemed to have a shorter fuse where unbreakable patience used to be. Well, unbreakable unless you were Merle. Some undying rage never left her eyes. She was still her old self, but she'd changed. It made him wonder what she'd been through. What she wouldn't tell him the day before.

"Why'd ya stay if this place ain't secure?" Daryl asked, pulling her slightly closer. Then he saw it. That look flashed across her face. It was gone almost as soon as it came, but he'd caught it. Guilt was ripping through her, despite how much she hid it. Why was she guilty? What was she hiding?

"Why'd you?" (Y/N) responded quickly, and even with this new version of her, he still knew her well enough to know she was changing the topic. And she did too, as evident from her heavy sigh. "I had a promise to keep."

There was more to it than that, Daryl could see it so clearly it was practically slapping him in the face. But he knew pushing wouldn't get them anywhere.

"People here are weak. Carol and the kid think it too. Hell, I do. Glad yer goin' with 'em," He gave her a quick kiss, running his thumb over her ring. "Keep an eye on 'em for me."

"Of course," (Y/N) smiled back, and from the surprise on Deanna's face when she walked in to check on them, not that he'd cared enough to notice at first, it wasn't something that had happened often while she was here.

"And you keep yourself safe, ya hear?" Daryl demanded, and while it was firm, (Y/N) saw the glimmer of fear in his eye. Can't lose her again. The words went unspoken but she heard them. A hard squeeze of his hand and a kiss on the cheek, and she'd wandered out the door, Glenn, Tara and Noah trailing close behind.

Time seemed to drag out while they were gone. It'd been around an hour, and he knew it shouldn't be too much longer before they returned. It was only a dry run. He'd finally showered, if only for his girl's sake than anyone else's, and he couldn't stop pacing. Carol had tried to employ his help, but he shut her down. With no news on a job from Deanna, Daryl couldn't stop himself from getting lost in his thoughts and drowning in his worries. His girl had said that the boys were careless. What if that cost her? What if him asking her to protect his friend meant she did something stupid? What if she didn't come back? What if he lost her again? For good, this time?

His worries were cut in half when the creaking and scratching of the gate broke through the air and he immediately jogged from his place on the porch to the gates, seeing the group come back in. They all looked pissed, and none of them more than (Y/N). She was walking in front of Glenn almost protectively, and he just knew something had gone wrong.

"You three need new gigs, you're not ready for runs yet," Aiden snapped from behind, making the four turn on their heels. Daryl felt himself moving forward when Aiden got close to (Y/N) and started pointing "And I'm gonna talk to my mom about getting you a new job."

"Yeah, pretty sure you got that backwards," Glenn shot back and (Y/N) gave him a grateful look. They set off again but were pulled back by Aiden grabbing both her and Glenn's arms.

"Hey, we've got a way of doing things around here," Aiden tried, making a poor attempt of establishing his authority, which deflated when she scoffed.

"Yeah, ones you don't tell me about apparently," She grumbled. There it was. That short fuse. That undying rage. Daryl slowed to a stop as more people started to gather at the noise. She looked over to him, telling him with a glance that he might have to step in if it got too far.

"You tied up walkers," Glenn shot back, and that set Aiden off. Nicolas bounced between each foot awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"It killed our friend!"Aiden shouted "Look, I'm not having this conversation. You obey my orders out there."

"Not when they put our people in danger," (Y/N) stepped closer, almost chest to chest with Aiden, and Daryl smirked slightly. That was his girl.

"If that's the case, we're just as screwed as your last run crew," Glenn agreed, putting a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder to get her to back off. They shared a look, and she reluctantly took a step back. Glenn was trying to keep it peaceful, but he wasn't Aiden get away with this shit. Neither was (Y/N), except Daryl wasn't so sure about the peaceful part. Aiden shifted at Glenn's words, and Nicolas narrowed his eyes. Daryl took a step closer, shooting the latter man a warning glare.

"Say that again," Aiden stated, lightly shoving Glenn's chest. He brushed off the warning words of Noah and Tara, and both Glenn and Daryl could see that (Y/N) was barely holding her rage back. Glenn squeezed her shoulder lightly, clearly seeing it too. She was waiting for the right moment, but she was going to break any second. "C'mon tough guy."

Glenn just stared back at him, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, and the expression pissed Aiden off even more. (Y/N) had to bite back a laugh. "No one's impressed, man. Walk away."

Someone had clearly alerted Deanna to the situation because she came running out, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes slightly at the woman. It was pretty damn clear she didn't like her. However, her expression softened slightly, and some of her anger dissipated when she saw Enid join the newly formed crowd, with Carl not far behind her.

"Aiden, what's going on?" Deanna asked, running over. Daryl saw Rick slowly making his way over with Michonne, and they were both observing too. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut and it felt stifling.

"These two have got a problem with the way we do things. Why did you let these people in? Why didn't you kick her out?" Daryl's eyes furrowed, and his glare settled. This asshole was really trying to get them thrown out? After the shit he'd just heard?

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn immediately answered and he barely had time to dodge as Aiden swung for him, while Deanna shouted his name. However, (Y/N) immediately shot into action. The fury she'd been suppressing exploded out all at once, and she didn't hesitate to land a punch ride to Aiden's nose. She'd hit him with enough force to cause his nose to bleed, and Daryl felt a twisted sense of pride in his stomach.

"(Y/N)!" Enid yelled, and (Y/N) looked over to her in panic, scared someone had lunged for her. But while she was distracted, Nicolas had managed to get a hit in on her side, making her fall backwards slightly. Her eyes darkened and she went to attack him, but two arms latched around her waist and yanked her away from the fight. At some point, Aaron had come running towards the commotion and had snuck up behind her. He was trying to talk to her, to calm her down but she only saw red.

However, while the people had been distracted with (Y/N), apparently well-acquainted with her outbursts, no one had thought to stop Daryl. The second, Aiden lunged for Glenn, he was running at them, anger boiling inside of him, but then Nicolas dared to lay a hand on his girl and he felt like that day in the woods with Beth. When he couldn't stop his anger. It just flowed through him, and soon Nicolas had been pinned to the floor with Daryl's arm to his neck. Rick sprinted to them, shouting at him, but Daryl had tuned him out, eyes focusing on the son of a bitch below him. He felt arms yanking him away and he growled something (he couldn't even remember what he was so damn pissed) to, who he assumed was, Rick. Aiden stood up and went to walk towards (Y/N), which made her struggle slightly in Aaron's hold, until Michonne stepped in front, pushing him back.

"Back the fuck up, asshole," (Y/n) shouted, pulling in Aaron's arms, and Michonne narrowed her eyes at Aiden.

"You want to end up on your ass again?"She warned, staring him down until he backed up. After another minute, Rick finally made Daryl let up and Rick pushed him away slightly just for good measure. He was practically vibrating with anger, but he backed away, picking up his crossbow before walking to his girl. Aaron let her go hesitantly, and Daryl wrapped an arm around her waist, both to ground himself and to prevent her from going anywhere. He could feel the heat radiating over, and how pissed off she still was as she and Aiden glared at each other. Deanna stared at her for a minute, a look filled with scorn that nearly set Daryl off again. Aiden had taken the shot first, she couldn't blame his girl for shit.

"I want everyone to hear me, okay? Rick and his people are part of this community now and always as equals. Understood?"She shot a pointed look to her son, who looked away in shame as he wiped his nose, getting blood on the back of his hand. Daryl hid a smirk, despite the anger still stirring in his stomach. "Everyone turn in your weapons. Then you two come talk to me."

Deanna pulled Rick and Michonne to one side, and the pair watched for a second, as Glenn walked off with Maggie. Then, Daryl turned his girl to look at him, inspecting every inch of her to make sure she wasn't badly injured.

"Y'alrigh'?" Daryl questioned softly, placing one hand on her cheeks, which she leant into affectionately. It made his stomach do flips, and he was sure he was blushing but if he was, she didn't say anything. Made him feel like a damn teenager again. She placed her hand over his, touching his ring with a small reassuring smile.

"I'm all good, Dixon. Might have a bruise on my ribs, but I'll live," She replied and Daryl turned to look at Nicolas with a dark look. They were so caught up in themselves that they didn't notice Aaron watching them with a curious look. He was smiling softly. He hadn't been able to get much out of his friend when talking about her husband. She'd let a little slip when she, him and Eric got drunk during her first week, but she'd never told them his name, or anything deep. If she had, maybe he would've been able to reunite them sooner.

Everyone dispersed, with Aiden and Nicolas following Deanna back to her house. (Y/N) watched after them, glaring holes into the back of their heads.

"(Y/N, I know you're pissed off, but you have to quit the fighting. Deanna's going to kick you out if you aren't careful," Aaron warned, folding his arms over his chest, and Daryl's head snapped over furiously. However, (Y/N) turned to him with a face that told him she'd heard this a million times before.

"Fucker went for Glenn first. She just defended him," Daryl murmured and Aaron let out a deep sigh. Guess it wasn't just (Y/N) he had to watch out for now.

The next day, Daryl and (Y/N) had been moved into their own house, and while she was hesitant to leave Eric and Aaron, neither she nor Daryl could deny how nice it was to have their own privacy. It almost felt like life before the apocalypse. Well, besides the fact that this house was worth more than they ever could have afforded before the world went to shit. And they were missing a certain loud-mouthed idiot. Enid also technically lived there, but she was always in and out. One thing both he and his girl knew, was that he was suffocating in here. He hated not being out there. So when she suggested he go hunting, he was out of the door quicker than she could blink. He felt guilty leaving her behind, but she could manage her own, and she had her own jobs to do. Besides, Enid could keep her company. She'd be fine.

The bushes rustling made his crossbow shoot up. Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to pick out if it was a person, walker or animal, but he quickly realised it was a human and his guard went up tenfold.

"Come out! Now!"He snarled, placing his finger on the trigger as the person began to emerge. Aaron. Son a bitch scared the shit out of him. Not that he'd admit it. He lowered his crossbow with a huff upon seeing the recruiters alarmed face. "Ain't ya supposed to be in Alexandria with Eric?"

"(Y/N)'s watching over him. You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?" Daryl just grunted in response and Aaron studied him, as he checked the string of the crossbow. He wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He could see it in the way he acted with (Y/N) alone, and that wasn't even beginning on the rest of his family "Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an expert at that."

"There ain't much of a difference no more," Daryl snapped back. What was with this guy? Didn't he know when to stop prying? Wasn't none of his business. Aaron didn't miss the way he squinted at him, or how his shoulders squared defensively.

"That how you feel about your people? About (Y/N)?" Aaron questioned. Daryl tensed slightly before continuing forward into the woods.

"Why ya following me?" Daryl snapped. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've been shouting by now. But Aaron was (Y/N)'s friend. He could talk about her like that. He meant no ill will. Others don't get the right. They didn't know her. They just expected the worst because he was some redneck. Expected her to be the same.

She was so much more.

"You ride horses?"Aaron asked, trying to lighten the situation. He'd really hoped he could save that horse. The kids had been asking him for weeks. At least he wasn't suffering anymore.

"I ride bikes," Daryl responded shortly. Aaron was kind, and he could see how his girl was friends with him. Why she trusted him. They'd taken care of her. Seen that pretty clearly yesterday with Aiden and Nicolas and stopping her from killing them. But everything felt too much still. He wasn't used to being somewhere like this. Even before everything. Even with his girl starting to bring him to the right path. Everything was just overwhelming. He knew Aaron was trying to help, to get to know him, but whether that was out of kindness or to stay on the good side of his girl, he still hadn't figured it out.

"I take it you don't mean 10-speeds," When Daryl didn't say anything, Aaron let out a small sigh. "I know you're feeling like an outsider. (Y/N) does too, even if she tries to deny it. It's not your fault, you know. Eric and I, we're still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We've heard our fair share of well-meaning, but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women. And you should hear how they talk about (Y/N) sometimes. People are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain. They're scared of you and me for different reasons. They're less scared of me because they know me. It's less and less every day. So let them get to know you. You should go to Deanna's party tonight."

By that point, they'd both stopped. Daryl looked back at Aaron with disbelieving eyes. Like hell was he going to some dumb as shit party. People'd stare, whisper, ask questions. They did little else when he was around, normally.

" I got nothing to prove. I met a lot of bad people out here doing a lot of bad shit. They weren't afraid of nothin'," His eyes flashed back to Terminus. Glenn's terrified eyes. The rage in Rick's eyes. Carl's trembling in the storage container. His girl, who'd been so damn close that if he'd stopped for a second, he would have found her.

"Yeah, they were," Aaron replied, smiling at him slightly before walking past him.

"Yer goin'?" Daryl raised his eyebrows, and (Y/N) turned to smile at him. She didn't look herself. Actually no, she looked exactly like herself. But the old her. This wasn't the new, hardened, mildly terrifying new (Y/N). It felt alien. Almost wrong. But hell if she didn't look good, even if she was dressed up for a dumb ass party.

"I want to get to know your family. Besides, I need to prove a point to Deanna and her shithead sons. You sure you won't come?" She trailed over to him and admired him in the last rays of the sunset. He didn't want her to go. Didn't want her near Aiden, Nicolas or Deanna's other son, who he had the pleasure of not yet meeting. He'd only just gotten her back, and everyone wanted a piece of her. It was starting to piss him off.

Daryl just shook his head, moving some stray pieces of hair out of his eyes at the same time. "Naw. Maybe later."

(Y/N) nodded, before taking his hand, using the other to reach up and play with the ends of his hair. He squeezed her hand, a silent demand of her to stay.

"Never thought I'd see you with long hair, Dixon," She said absentmindedly and he snorted quietly. Sometimes it slipped his mind that the last time she'd seen him, he'd looked almost completely different.

"Watch yourself, (L/N)," He shot back, but there was no venom. Just a tender look in his eyes that was reserved for only her. She let out a quiet laugh and brought their joint hands up to kiss the back of his hand before letting go. Merle was right, the asshole. She did make him soft.

He watched the party from a distance, glancing through the window. Trying to get a look, trying to find the courage to go in. His girl or not, the idea of going in there made his skin crawl. Daryl wasn't a people person, it was pretty damn clear. He wished she'd stayed at home with him, but it did make his heart ache slightly knowing she was only going to try and connect with his family. She didn't get pissy about the fact he called them family, didn't judge, didn't expect them to trust her just because they were married. Just tried to connect with them

He let out a heavy sigh, cursing under his breath and turned around, beginning to head back home. Hell, he'd started calling it home now. Maybe it was being with her again, made him feel at home. Maybe he was getting used to this place. Not damn likely. As he was walking past Aaron and Eric's house, (Y/N)'s old home, the light on the porch switched on, and Aaron walked outside

"Daryl. Hey," Aaron greeted, and Daryl resisted a sigh. Sure, he was nice but it was becoming clearer and clearer that this was about him trying to get to know him for (Y/N). But thinking about it, that was exactly what his girl was doing with his family. Goddamn it.

"Thought you were going to that party over there," Daryl responded, leaning against the fence.

"Oh, I was never going to go 'cause of Eric's ankle, thank God," Aaron smiled, looking relieved and Daryl furrowed his eyebrows

"Why the hell did you tell me to go, then?"He snapped, feeling a little guilty by the outburst until he saw the amused (but oddly proud?) look the other man was giving him.

"I said try. You did. It's a thought that counts thing," How long had this guy spent with (Y/N)? Starting to sound just like her.

"All right," Daryl mumbled, pushing off from the fence to walk away until Aaron's voice stopped him again.

"Hey, come in. Have some dinner. Come on, man. It's some pretty serious spaghetti," Aaron offered. Daryl turned to face him, sure he'd see a teasing look on his face. Expecting it to be a joke. But there was a hopeful look on Aaron's face along with a small grin. Yeah, he was starting to see why (Y/N) liked him so much. He hesitated, biting his lip nervously for a second, before walking back to the house. Aaron's grin widened, but Daryl pretended like he hadn't seen anything.

Apart from a greeting from Eric, the three men mostly sat in silence, digging into the spaghetti. Daryl knew he should probably be more aware of how he was eating, he was slurping and he probably looked like a pig (if (Y/N) was there she'd be giving him hell for it), but he'd stopped caring. And while Aaron and Eric shared an occasional muffled laugh, they didn't seem too bothered. Daryl couldn't help but notice the empty two settings on the remaining chairs, and apparently, Eric had followed his gaze.

"We're still getting used to (Y/N) being gone. Enid too. She didn't live with us, but she stayed here a lot because of (Y/N). Guess we still haven't gotten out of the habit of setting their seats," Eric joked lightly, and Daryl made a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Mmm, when you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something," Eric seemed oblivious to the pointed looks Aaron was giving him, and the confused one that Daryl seemed to have etched onto his face. Eric was more bubbly than Aaron, more talkative, but still sweet. He didn't expect responses from Daryl, happy to just talk away. Maybe (Y/N)'s friends weren't too bad " I really think she just wants something to talk about, so... if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to..."

Finally, Eric looked over to his husband, seeing him shaking his head and his words died on his tongue. Looking awkwardly between Daryl and Aaron before settling on his pasta, a small apologetic smile on his face

"I thought it was done. You didn't ask him already?" As if she'd heard Eric's silent plea to be rescued from the mild embarrassment of the situation, the sound of the door opening made Aaron and Daryl shoot up until they heard (Y/N)'s voice following.

"Aaron? Eric? You home?" She called, sounding tired, and Aaron let out a relieved sigh, before calling her into their dining room. Daryl couldn't help but smile as she walked in. It still felt like she wasn't real. Like she'd disappear any day and he'd wake up in that barn, or on the road, starving and dehydrated. She grinned back at him, but she didn't miss the teasing wink Eric gave her. "Hey, Dixon. What're you doing here?"

"We invited him for the infamous killer spaghetti," Eric grinned at her, nudging her hip with his shoulder as she walked to stand between his seat and Daryl. Instinctively, Daryl took her hand, and she bit back a child-like grin. Aaron gave her a look, one he couldn't recognise but she clearly did as she glared back at him playfully.

"You told him yet?" She asked, turning slightly to look at Aaron properly, nodding her head towards Daryl slightly. Daryl's confusion only furthered. Why did everyone seem to know what was going on except him? Hell, he was willing to bet if Enid was here too then she'd probably know.

"Was just about to, but someone nearly let the cat out of the bag," Eric looked away guiltily, but it was obvious he was forcing back a chuckle.

"Tell me what?" Daryl finally spoke up, and he didn't miss the way her hand tightened around his. Her grin turned slightly mischievous as Aaron started leading them towards their garage. Aaron opened the door and (Y/N) squeezed Daryl's hand again (and if she saw his cheeks starting to go pink, she didn't say anything) while her friend flicked the light on.

The garage was stuffed with spare parts and something that looked suspiciously like a motorbike beneath a piece of huge sheet. (Y/N) let go of his hand, opting instead to lean in the doorway, smiling softly at the excitement that flickered in her husband's eyes, even if his face stayed stoic. It'd been so damn long since he'd seen something like this, and while it reminded him a little too much of Merle's biker buddies, this also felt like home. He felt like a kid in a candy store. Aaron and (Y/N) shared a knowing look behind Daryl's back

"When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts and equipment. Whoever lived here built them," Aaron explained, as Daryl started picking up pieces, admiring them and putting them down again.

"It's a lot of parts for one bike," Daryl stated, trying to hide how happy he was, and he could practically hear (Y/N) rolling her eyes

"Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. (Y/N) tried to figure it out, but it wasn't her area of expertise," There was a teasing tone in his voice at the last sentence and Daryl heard his girl mumble something along the lines of 'shut up. "I always thought I'd learn how to do it, but I get the feeling you already know what to do with it. And the thing is, you're going to need a bike."

"Why?"Daryl pulled back the sheet and saw the skeleton of a bike, with a box of tools next to it.

"I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you. I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore," Aaron replied. Daryl understood that, probably better than most people in this community. (Y/N) let out a hum of agreement, and Daryl looked over as she turned to glance back into the house. She was protective of her loved ones. Always had been, and he was really starting to realise just how much Aaron and Eric meant to her.

"You want me risking mine, right?"Daryl questioned, sounding sharper than he wanted, but Aaron could tell he meant no harm by it.

"Yeah, because you know what you're doing. You're good out there. But you don't belong out there. I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you. And I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person, "Hell, he really had spent too much time with his girl. Daryl bit his lip in thought, but he already knew his mind was made up. Being in here all the time was killing him. Even with his girl here, he knew he couldn't stay here for long without getting antsy.

"I got nothing else to do. Thanks. I'll get you some rabbits," Aaron let out a loud laugh at that, patting Daryl's shoulder as he stepped past him, back to his girl in the doorway. She was smiling, asking him silently how he was feeling. He just gave her a tiny smile, and clearly, that was enough for her, as she wrapped her arm around his side.

Daryl couldn't help but notice how close (Y/N) had suddenly gotten with Glenn, Rick, Tara and Maggie. He noticed the way the rest of his family seemed a little more at ease with her, not exactly trusting her yet, but clearly getting on that track. Carl still wasn't sure about her, but Daryl didn't miss how he'd come and actually started conversations with her a few times, instead of avoiding her completely. Part of him was suspicious that it had something to do with his obvious crush on Enid. And while it made his heart warm that she was starting to become integrated with his family, there was always someone whisking her away now. He just wanted to spend some damn time with his wife, but he had to go out with Aaron, and she was going on another run.

And every damn thing that could have gone wrong absolutely did. It'd been a god damn trap, and now he was trapped in a car, surrounded by fuck knows how many walkers with his wife best friend. And the walkers just kept coming, pouring out of the trucks, banging on the window. How fucking long until that glass shattered and they were made into walker meat? But despite the hell going on around him, he couldn't stop a chuckle escaping his lips. It was fucking ironic. Aaron gave him a bewildered look.

"I came out here to not feel all closed up back there. Even now, this feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?" Daryl explained, looking over at Aaron, who still had that look, but had a small, almost sad, smile on his lips.

"You were trying," Aaron said, and Daryl shook his head lightly. Wasn't exactly a choice. There were the kids, his friends, his family. Then (Y/N) got added into the mix, and that was it.

"I had to," He shot back, eyes watching the walkers that were gnashing their teeth outside the window.

"No, you didn't. Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you went off on your own to the barn. Storm hit and you lead your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring you people back," Aaron had this gentle look, and he went quiet, thinking for a second. When he spoke again his voice was thick "You were right. We should have kept looking for that guy in the poncho. I shouldn't have given up. You didn't."

Daryl went silent, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. He'd given up. On his girl. Given up on her, lost hope started thinking she was dead. And look at what happened.

"I didn't, because I gave up before," It didn't take a genius to figure out what, or rather who he was talking about "Hadn't seen her in two years. Thought she was dead. Found 'er. Ain't givin' up this time. I'll go. I'll lead 'em out. You make a break for the fence."

God, she was going to kill him for this.

Aaron's head snapped over, the beginning of tears in his eyes quickly disappearing as he processed Daryl's words. "No, no, no. This was my fault."

"Wasn't a question. And this ain't yer decision. It ain't nobody's fault. Just let me finish my smoke first. Promise you'll look after ma girl, 'right?" Daryl brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking a draw. He ignored Aaron' stare, his leg bouncing lightly. This'd destroy her. But, she had people to look after. And people would look after her for him. His family would be there, Aaron, Eric, Enid. She'd forget about him after a while.

"No," Aaron said sternly, and Daryl was almost taken back by the tone. Never heard him talk like that. "You don't draw them away. We fight. We go for the fence. We do it together, alright? Whether we make it or not. We do it together. We have to."

Daryl fell back into that silence, biting his lip in thought. (Y/N) would probably never forgive him if he let Aaron die. But she'd never forgive Aaron if he did. Fuck. Shit.

"Alright. You ready?" Daryl took one last drag before extinguishing the cigarette and picking up his knife instead. Hell, he couldn't believe he was agreeing to this. Sorry (L/N) "We'll go on three. One, two-"

But three never came as one of the walkers outside's guts spilt on Aaron's window, making them both freeze and exchange a puzzled look. There was no gunshot. The dead didn't kill their own. His door was suddenly yanked open, making Aaron scuttle back and lean on Daryl slightly, before he saw a guy standing there, holding a badass staff. He climbed out, followed immediately by Daryl. Everything was a blur of guts, blood and aching muscles until they got back to the gate and closed it. He was pretty sure he was just running on adrenaline at this point

"Hey, Daryl?" Aaron said breathlessly and Daryl looked over to see him smiling "Take care of her your damn self."

They got back just in time to see all hell had broken loose. The sound of shouting and screaming greeted them as Spencer let them through the gate, and Aaron had gone sprinting ahead, followed soon by Daryl and Morgan. Daryl's heart was pounding, worried (Y/N) was in the middle of it. Shit, shit, shit, shit. (Y/N) and Abraham were holding Pete down as he squirmed and glared up at them. And there on the floor, Deanna was crying, begging while she pressed against the slice on Reg's neck. Alexandrian's watched in terror, and horror as he choked on his own blood, and Daryl didn't miss the look in (Y/N)'s eyes, beneath all the fear and rage. A look he knew too well. She was reliving something. He only wished he knew what. It was then Daryl noticed Michonne's bloody katana on the floor, where Michonne herself looked at it with disgust. Rick was stood beside Abraham and (Y/N), watching Deanna with pity, but waiting for her instruction as Reg ultimately stopped moving. The air was silent, still, and he could see Aaron bouncing slightly from foot to foot, desperate to check up on his husband as Morgan watched with disdain.

One bullet, and it was done, blood splattered on (Y/N) and Abraham's faces. But she didn't even flinch. Just stared blankly. When they got back to their house, Enid, who'd allegedly been told to stay in the house but snuck out (in Enid like fashion) was wrapped under (Y/N)'s arm. She looked scared still, and Daryl had tried to comfort her, even if it hadn't been much, until (Y/N) had been relieved from the situation and took over. She was like a mini carbon copy of his girl, with the addition of teen angst, but she was easy to talk to (even when she was traumatised). His girl still had that blank look, had it since Rick pulled that trigger, and somehow that scared him more. She ushered Enid to her room, and Daryl knew she would either leave within a few minutes, or she wouldn't move until morning. But Enid didn't protest, just gave (Y/N) a quick hug and rushed upstairs.

His girl was still silent, as they reached their room, as they started changing into their pyjamas, as she went off to brush her teeth and wash the blood off her face, as they climbed into bed. It wasn't until Daryl reached out to touch her and she flinched back, did he attempt to break the silence.

"(Y/N)," He mumbled, and she raised her eyebrows to show she was listening but didn't meet his eyes. His stomach was in a knot, worry, nerves and interest as he watched her. "Hey, look at me."

It took her a minute, but reluctantly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his and he saw it. Guilt, anxiety and trauma all wrapped in one.

"Talk to me," Was all he said, and that was all it took. It was spilling out of her before she could stop it, and her hand found him desperately.

"After Anna, Ben, Andrew, Kai, Mom and I were chased out. Moved camp every day. Didn't know where we were going, just kept moving. One night, we were distracted. Ben was talking about smoke or something, and Kai started sayin' how we should go towards Washington. Said it was one of the few places that might have civilisation. We let out guard down," (Y/N) hesitated again, and Daryl squeezed her hand tightly, prompting her to continue. Every word she spoke, the sadder her eyes grew. The guilt kept building and building, and Daryl felt his own pit of dread in his stomach. She was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. "Some assholes come out of the woods, demand our supplies. I said no and they... they shot Kai. Then Ben and Andrew. Started going through our stuff, held me back as they murdered my family. Then they grabbed mom and-"

Daryl didn't hesitate in pulling her in when her voice hitched and she stopped again. He held her so tight, he was almost certain it was hurting, but she didn't voice any complaints. She just curled into him before continuing.

"Those bastards slit her throat. I had to put her down when she turned. Left me in the middle of the woods. When Reg... I just saw mom. It was like I was back there, reliving again and again on repeat. And I can't help but think that if I'd stepped forward, maybe Reg would be alive," She whispered, fingers clutching onto the sleep shirt he wore. He shook his head, placing a kiss on her hair.

"And you'd be dead. Ain't yer fault. None of it. Not yer ma and yer family. Not Reg. Weren't nothin' you coulda done. Ya cain't blame yerself for it," Daryl said, and while his tone was gentle, the words were firm but they seemed to do nothing to ease her, she just held on tighter. "I know that ain't everythin'. What happened?"

"We lost Noah. He was right there. We had him, and then he was just gone. Glenn and I, we held onto him so hard, but the walkers they- they got him. Pushed him against the glass. We had to watch-" It was then Daryl felt her pull back and she adjusted so her arms were wrapped around him, tucked under his chin again when he pulled her close.

"I'm sorry," He didn't know what else to say. Noah was gone. That kid was something else, annoying sometimes, sure, but he brought this hopeful light to the group, even when they were damn near dying on the road. He found his brain starting to ache and a weird feeling in his chest. Daryl was well acquainted with loss, everyone was now, but it never got any easier. Not when the losses kept coming, and to the people who deserved them the least. He couldn't imagine how terrifying it must have been to watch. What it was like for her. He didn't want to. The thought alone was enough to give him nightmares. So he just held her tightly, even as he felt a wet patch seeping through his sleep shirt. Even as she shook. Even as she drifted off, exhausted and hurting, and he laid awake for hours after. He couldn't make it okay, even if he wanted to. And hell he really did. He couldn't bring Noah back, couldn't wipe the memory from her or Glenn's mind.

The only thing he could do was be there for her, comfort her, help her out of that place whenever she went there. However, the only thing he could do, right at that moment, was hold her and not let go.

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @graniairish @fuseburner @gloomystorm @bxxbxy @browneyes528 @hoemadegrace @reichelhache

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

Photo

Schwarzenegger Holiday

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word Count: 11,874

Includes the following prompts:

snowed in

making latkes together

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend the holidays alone, did you?”

Summary: When MJ’s granted a sudden visit to the safehouse where Peter’s been hidden for six months, she’s... nervous. What if he doesn’t want her to come? What if he doesn’t like her that way anymore? She has 24 hours to figure out what they are to each other and make peace with it. That’s the plan. Until they get snowed in.

MJ’s leg is jumping in the backseat of the SUV, the bop of her foot barely audible over the thickly-packed snow grinding under the tires. Anywhere else, this large, white vehicle would be conspicuous, but she supposes it’s fading in pretty well against this wintery backdrop. Probably less visible from above too; she quits bouncing her foot long enough to unbuckle her seatbelt and slide over to glance up at the sky, until the driver brusquely reminds her to keep her face away from the windows.

She’s dying to snark back and ask what the darkly tinted windows are for if they aren’t good enough to conceal the face of the vehicle’s occupants, but this guy kinda scares her. He’s something more secret than the Secret Service. If Nick Fury (the real Nick Fury this time, apparently—she has a whole backlog of questions and complaints that there wasn’t time to bring up during the handoff) hadn’t done an extra security check on the driver before sending MJ off with him, she’d be really worried right about now. Her suitcase is in the trunk and she’s clutching the box May gave her to her hip, wondering how she’ll be able to use its contents for self-defence if the need arises. Tear open the bag of flour and throw it in the guy’s eyes maybe?

Her strategy with the flour is sturdy, but there’s something else in this box for which she has no plan. There wasn’t time for her and May to discuss it, like there wasn’t time for MJ to interrogate Fury on where exactly he was while Peter was grappling with Quentin Beck all over Europe. Time, time, time. It’s been months, actually, since any of them seemed to have enough of it. She’s curious to know how the summer, fall, and now early winter have passed for Peter. He doesn’t even know she’s on her way. Nervous, MJ bites at the skin around her thumb nail. She hopes he’s happy to see her.

When Jameson totally fucked up her first date (and her new boyfriend’s whole life), Peter fled. He had to. Luckily, he’s being protected—so MJ’s been told—though the trade-off for safety is isolation. If it were her, she’s not sure she’d mind being handed an extended stretch of time to catch up on her reading, but she knows Peter’s different. Peter needs people. (She needs Peter.)

MJ knows that May Parker misses her nephew desperately. That’s why she tried to get the woman to go in her place, but everything with these Super-Secret Service assholes has a reason and a rhyme, even when the Scrabble tiles for Peter’s situation clearly spell ORANGE. May visited him for his birthday. Ned spent the weekend over Thanksgiving. Taking time away from work and school qualifies as a ‘noticeable absence’ and those need to be minimized. In the plainer terms May used when she explained the circumstances (at the same time that she proposed MJ take a trip to see Spidey the Desperado), none of the people formerly known to be close to Peter Parker can draw attention to themselves. They’ve been watched on the street, questioned by reporters, photographed by tabloids, and otherwise surveyed by who knows what methods operated by who knows whom. The last is MJ’s assumption; she isn’t stupid.

Apparently, becoming Peter’s girlfriend right before his identity was leaked to the world bumped her up to the third most important person in his life. She’s yet to learn whether Peter views her that way. The people protecting him do not have a schedule coordinated with him, so this trip wasn’t his call. Windows of opportunity open and close, schemes are adjusted, and girlfriends get left on doorsteps hugging boxes with the ingredients for latkes, crossing their fingers for a warm reception. MJ hasn’t figured out what she’s going to say to him after six months of nothing.

Then again, that’s basically how their friendship in high school went until her crush on him stopped crushing her enough to allow her to get the occasional insult out.

If he’s gotten over his feelings for her or just isn’t in the right headspace to entertain her, this is going to be awkward. At least it’s only until tomorrow. The same driver (for security reasons, blah blah) is picking her up before noon. One night of struggling to transition from dating back to just friends would, ultimately, be bearable for her, if that’s what Peter needs. She’d be able to talk it out with him without pining for their quick first kisses on Tower Bridge. Or their sloppy make-out session in the airplane bathroom when they woke up from their nap with half the ocean still to cross and the sudden feeling of relief that they were both alive. Yeah. MJ could definitely put that stuff behind her. In fact, maybe it’s better not to think of it at all and go into this visit assuming Peter’s feelings have cooled in light of other priorities. That way, this can be a night away from home hanging out with a friend, and not being left undisturbed with Peter ‘Where’d Those Abs Come From?’ Parker in the middle of nowhere.

She upends the mixing bowl in the box over that other item May included.

After so much doubling back and zigzagging down what have to be the most deserted roads in Upstate New York, the driver rolls to a stop in the shadow of a cabin-like house. It’s too house-like to attract the attention of wandering hipsters thirsty for cottagecore, but too cabin-y to suggest anything beyond temporary residence. MJ judges it to be a convincing safehouse. She climbs out, hefting May’s box, and accepting her suitcase from the driver. He moves much more swiftly, evidently uninterested in assessing the dwelling’s façade. Probably not his job. Even with her arms full, MJ steps precisely in the man’s footprints in the snow, just to see if her overexaggerated precaution will get under his skin. He ignores her. By the time she reaches the porch, he’s already completed whatever secret handshake or password exchange or retinal scan he had to do with Peter and is brushing past her, back to the milk-white SUV. She turns and stares after him, her last tie to civilization (until tomorrow), squinting against the light glinting off the snow.

Eventually, when the vehicle is gone and everything’s quiet, MJ accepts that she’s stalling. Eyes lowered, she faces the open door.

She starts at his feet. Red socks, the wool bobbled, the toe of the left twisted slightly like he put it on wrong and didn’t fix it. Her throat’s thick as she scans up his legs, in sweatpants, and remembers them encased in the Spider-Man suit as he crouched on the streetlight and watched Jameson blow his life apart onscreen. Hovering by his thighs are his hands. Oh, his hands. Though MJ’s gripping the box and suitcase with all her might, she’s recalling the gentle way he fit his fingers between hers. With a shaky breath, she can’t wait any longer and her gaze darts up to his face. Peter’s wearing this look she’s seen in videos of soldiers being reunited with their dogs—specifically, she’s seen it in the eyes of those dogs. The look is mushy and wet-eyed and begging for an eyeroll, possibly some verbal ridiculing, and instead, her heart reacts by flopping around unfamiliarly inside her chest. Him, is the sound of its thumping as it stumbles into her ribs. Him, him, him.

“Hi,” she says, voice coming out high. “Don’t hug me. The porch is wet and I’m holding a box.”

“I see that.”

He speaks. MJ’s mouth twitches into a relieved, silly smile. She’s missed the sound of his dork speaking so much that three words have her tripping over the threshold, almost slipping as her snow-slicked boots hit wood floor.

“The box is from May,” she explains, putting her back to Peter in order to set it down and to collect herself all over again. She’s here. He’s here, right where he’s supposed to be and where she was expecting him, but looking at her like that and with a jawline erupting in a faint scruff. It feels like a million years since she saw him last. It feels like a day.

“Can I hug you now?”

The suitcase she just drops.

MJ whirls to throw herself into Peter’s arms, hiccupping a relieved breath when he squeezes her close. Before she shuts her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of him solidly in her grasp after so long apart, she gets a glimpse of the living area beyond, the unlit fireplace. It’s homey and she isn’t sure if that makes her sadder, knowing he’s been living here alone. His hands slide over her back and she realizes she’s been hugging him a long time.

With a tight, uncertain smile, she draws back, cupping his shoulders, then dropping her hands to swing at her sides.

“Are you surprised to see me?” MJ asks. She already knows he should be, but she has to do something besides just stare at him.

“Yeah.” Peter laughs. “Take off your boots and stuff, come sit down.”

He’s smiling at her even as she’s fumbling to untie her laces.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “I’m not trying to stare. I’m just not used to—”

“People?”

“Well, I see some people. I get supplies. But not super often and not people I… know.”

She saw how his face went pink before settling on that final word.

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend the holidays alone, did you?” MJ teases, now shrugging out of her coat. She didn’t notice that she forgot to zip it up when she got out of the SUV. She stuffs her gloves down the sleeve and passes it to Peter to hang on a hook by the door.

“I didn’t really think that was anybody’s call,” he admits.

His tone is joyfully unconcerned, but she frowns a little, experiencing second-hand frustration at the way Peter’s life isn’t so much being lived right now as run.

“I didn’t either.” She shrugs. “But your Avengers handlers, or whatever their job titles are, contacted me through May, so I figured I might as well come out. Not that I didn’t want to see you. I did. I really wanted to see you.”

God, now she’s probably come on too strong, overcorrecting after worrying she sounded like she could take or leave being reunited with her boyfriend.

“I really wanted to see you too,” Peter assures her. His expression softens. “We didn’t get a lot of time, before.”

“I’m only here until tomorrow,” MJ warns.

“Oh, no, that’s perfect. That’s great. I wasn’t expecting you at all, so this is incredible.”

He goes to grab the box, but she shouts, “No!” Peter stares at her. “Uh,” she says, “can you take my suitcase instead? I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sure.”

She follows him into the living room in her sock feet, wishing she packed slippers.

“The floor can be cold,” he says before she can voice her regret. “I have slippers around here somewhere that you can wear, and it’s warmer when there’s a fire. We can light one tonight, if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” MJ agrees.

“You can put that down in the kitchen.” He points her through a door. “I’ll just take your bag to the bedroom. The, uh, second bedroom. There are two bedrooms. I wasn’t gonna put it in my room. I don’t want you to think—”

“Peter, it’s fine.”

He nods jerkily and walks, glancing back once. She spies the promised slippers and shoves her feet into them before racing into the kitchen. Instead of systematically emptying the box and laying out each item, MJ rifles desperately through to the bottom and grabs the thing she avoided the whole way here. What was May thinking, including condoms in the care package? Well, logically, she can guess. Peter, mostly alone, opening the door to discover his girlfriend, arrived for an overnight stay. Yes, she can see exactly why May wanted to take precautions on their behalf because MJ definitely didn’t think of that and she doubts whoever brings Peter his updates and frozen pizzas has thought to equip him with prophylactics. They’re mostly concerned with keeping him alive and out of the hands of the authorities, not getting him laid.

Knowing Peter will return any moment, MJ looks frantically around the kitchen. She thinks she hears his footsteps. Shit. She yanks a pullout drawer open and chucks the box of condoms in next to the Cheerios, hitting the drawer shut with her hip as Peter walks in and grins at her. She plasters an anxious smile on in response.

He joins her at the counter and they begin to unload the box.

“Wait,” he says, partway through, “is this the stuff for latkes?”

“Mhmm. May told me she didn’t want you to miss out on any of your regular holiday traditions, even if she couldn’t be… Peter?”

MJ observes him, sympathy wringing her heart like a wet washcloth. He turns away from her and raises a hand to his face. She hears a sniff and assumes he’s wiping at his eyes and cheeks. She reaches out, hesitates, overcomes, lays her hand on his shoulder.

“I told her it should’ve been her coming instead of me,” she mumbles.

“No, no,” Peter assures her, still facing away, “I’m so happy to see you, MJ, seriously. I just miss her.”

“She misses you too.”

When he turns to face her, eyes still shining, MJ rewards his vulnerability by taking his hand.

“It’s not fair,” she tells him.

“It’s what’s gotta be done,” Peter says with a resigned shrug. “What I want isn’t as important as fixing this mess so I can go back to being Spider-Man. People need me.”

“You’re people too. There are people you need. That’s part of your humanity.” She’s ramping up now, arguing on his behalf with no one there to argue against. “Without that humanity, you wouldn’t be a good Spider-Man. You wouldn’t be a good guy. Protecting you shouldn’t just be about sticking you somewhere and watching you by satellite or whatever! Exposing your identity is a psychological attack and Nick Fury and the rest of them should be doing everything to ensure you can weather this storm psychologically, including keeping you connected to your family and your friends and—"

“My girlfriend.”

MJ exhales.

“Maybe not her,” she jokes. “She might just come in here and rant at you about reducing your stress, which is kinda counterproductive.”

“If I could listen to you rant every day, I’d be happy.”

She flushes and busies herself with putting May’s gifts away, probably all in the wrong spots, but Peter never corrects her, just works quietly alongside her until there’s nothing left in the box. Because she wasn’t permitted to bring her phone, MJ checks the time on her watch. It’s early afternoon.

“What do you do all day?”

Peter’s face lights up.

“You wanna see the room?”

“I recognize that look. This has something to do with Ned, doesn’t it?”

Her hypothesis is proven right when he leads her down the hall and opens a door to reveal a room housing a dozen Lego models. Everything’s probably Star Wars related, but she’s lost beyond the Death Star.

“Ned,” she says.

“Ned. He brought them when he came. I’ve done them all… well, a few times each.”

“I know I should be delicate with you because you’re a genius hermit, but, Parker, that’s so lame.”

Peter laughs out loud.

“That’s not all I do. Come on.”

He takes her hand (it doesn’t seem like he’s thought for a second about scrapping their relationship) and they walk back to the living room. On one of the couches, he has his Spidey suit laid out. But it’s freaky, like a skinned animal, with the innards of its tech exposed and skinny screwdrivers scattered on the floor nearby. He’s been tinkering. Because they have nothing else on the agenda, he explains the maintenance he’s done, more features he’s discovered. The list of protocols and capabilities seems almost endless. Watching him speak so enthusiastically, she wonders if maybe this is Peter’s version of holing up with a tall stack of books.

“No tracker in the suit?” she asks when they sit down at opposite ends of the remaining couch, legs stretched out and resting against each other.

“Nah. All that stuff’s turned off.” He lays his arm along the back of the couch and tips his cheek against it. “Where do your parents think you are right now?”

“At Betty’s.”

Her family knows she pines for Peter, but they don’t know she’s been granted this opportunity to see him. She doesn’t know what they’d say. Like the majority of New Yorkers, they like Spider-Man and don’t believe that he murdered Quentin Beck. That doesn’t mean they’d want her as involved as she is—though involved feels like a strong word when she hasn’t seen him since the day he was exposed and had to ride the first leg of this journey with a blindfold on. Seemed pretty antiquated. Her parents just want her to be safe, like how May wants Peter to be safe. MJ recalls the condoms. Ok, not quite the same.

“They think we’re in some kind of study lockdown, prepping for a decathlon thing in January, phones off,” she continues. “Betty doesn’t know I’m here, but Ned told her enough that she’ll lie for me if my parents call her. I’m thinking of promoting her.”

“How’s the team doing this year?”

MJ studies him. I spend every practice thinking about you even more than Flash talks about you, she thinks. I went home and cried the day Mr. Harrington told me I’d have to fill your spot. Nobody’s as smart as you. I’m bored without you. Sometimes I worry that I’m not a good captain and I just want to talk to you because I know it’d make me feel better, but you’re not there.

She pokes her toes into his thigh.

“Decent,” she says. “Flash wanted our name changed to the Midtown Spider-Men, but Mr. Harrington said no.”

When Peter groans and tucks his face into his arm in embarrassment, MJ does what she’s been too shy to do yet: she moves down to his end of the couch and kisses him as he turns his head to look at her. He holds her securely around the waist as she darts back in for a second kiss, a slower one. There’s no one around to spy, no one to interrupt. Everything in her zings upward like a hurled snowball and the kiss gains momentum. It’s not as hasty as the one on the flight home—it’s deeper, more grownup somehow. The prick of his facial hair enhances that adultness. For her, this is a kiss that says she’s been surviving without him, but now that they’re together, she prefers catching up this way rather than with words. They kiss like they can’t be stopped. MJ cups the back of Peter’s head, then his face, as their mouths nudge and coax, their tongues tracing each other’s lips before retreating. They separate to breathe and she presses her face to his neck, letting him hold her as she sits, still twisted with her feet on the floor, wearing his slippers.

“That’s one of the toughest things to do without,” he tells her. “I forgot it felt that good.”

“Too good,” she says wryly, lifting her head.

“Hey, based on what you were saying about my psychological needs, I’m due something ‘too good.’”

Really, it just isn’t possible not to think about the condoms as she smiles at him and chews the inside of her lip. Having sex with Peter is something she’s contemplated. She contemplated it when she watched him play trombone with the marching band during football games, and when he smiled as he walked down the hall at school with Ned. She contemplated it when she silently observed his late entrances to decathlon practices, and when she muffled her moans in bed at night, fantasizing about him. They kissed in London and sleeping together went from a daydream to an inevitability; they separated in New York and it went back to a dream. But now…

She’s only here for one night though. It’s too soon. When MJ kisses Peter, she knows she wants to keep going, but she doesn’t want to do anything impulsive and hurt them both more when she has to leave tomorrow. They need to think about this together. She should probably tell him about the condoms, so they have all their metaphorical cards on the table. And yet, she’s not able to jump from a single reunion kiss to asking if he wants to have sex on one of her future visits (if there are future visits). It’s not organic. It feels like working out their romantic plans on somebody else’s schedule. That makes her feel gross, cheated even.

MJ sags back from Peter and asks him to give her a tour of the rest of the house.

—

She’s rubbing the skin off an onion when, pausing in the grating of a potato, he turns to her and suggests something that proves he has gone a little screwy living alone: he wants to cook the latkes in the fireplace.

“You have a stove,” she points out.

“Yeah,” he agrees, now grating vigorously.

“We cook these in oil, right? You want to put a pan full of oil on an open flame?”

“We don’t fill the pan to the top or anything.”

“Ok, right, but still,” MJ persists. “Oil. Fire. A house you kinda need to stay standing because, one, it’s your secret hideout, and two, the sun’s gone down and it’s freezing outside and we’ll be cold without shelter.”

“How could we be cold if we had a burning house to stand next to? Kidding.” Peter grins at her. “It’ll work, MJ. I’ll be careful.”

“You will? No way am I letting you do this alone.”

“Aww.” He leans towards her and kisses her cheek.

“I didn’t say that to be romantic. I’m genuinely worried that you’ll set the place on fire.”

“I know.”

They continue preparing the batter and, after pouring oil into the heavy pan May packed for this, MJ warily hands it off to Peter. He carries it into the living room, where he lit a fire half an hour earlier. Setting the pan down away from the fire, he retrieves his nanotech suit and tugs his sweatshirt off to put it on, extoling its temperature-control virtues. He’s sure it can withstand a little heat. After all, it handled the cold of space no problem. MJ watches him nervously.

At least the fire’s died down some, so when he grasps the handle of the pan to hold the base over the heat, there aren’t any flames licking up his arm. Once the oil’s sizzling, Peter withdraws the pan so that MJ won’t have to reach into the firebox to distribute the batter. She spreads each glob out quickly to avoid melting the spatula. And, after standing way back because the oil pops from the pan to splatter Peter’s metal sleeve, it doesn’t go terribly. Though some of the latkes seem overcooked to her, he assures her he likes them better crispy. The way he says it has her touching the lump her black dahlia necklace makes beneath her sweater.

They return their latke paraphernalia to the kitchen, then settle on the couch again to eat.

“Good?” MJ asks. She likes them, but she’s never eaten a potato pancake before, so she has no frame of reference.

“Best ever.”

She smiles at Peter, watching him chew for a minute.

“You’ll miss this house’s fireplace when you’re back home.”

“This is my favourite meal in a long time and it has nothing to do with the fireplace,” he says. Her heart genuinely skips a beat. With quiet pleasure, she goes back to eating.

At home, she has her phone and her books and the TV—so many reasons to postpone loading the dishwasher. Here, there is no dishwasher and MJ realizes it’s really nice to dry while Peter washes the dishes by hand. Until he somehow cuts himself on the grater, bleeds in the water, and they have to leave the remaining dishes in the sink for a rewash while she forces Peter to the paltry selection of first aid equipment in the bathroom. Thankfully, the nick in his finger is small enough to cover with a single band-aid. She glares at him the whole time.

“I don’t even need this!” he says. “It’ll be healed up by the time I go to bed.”

“Keeping it clean until then won’t hurt you. Just take care of yourself, please?”

MJ isn’t aware that she’s pleading until she glances from his bandaged finger to his face and takes in his expression. He’s looking at her like he’s starting to get that she cares. Really cares. Cares more than it would take to come all the way out here just because someone else arranged it for her and provided the ride.

“Ok,” Peter gently agrees.

Without the usual evening distractions of a night at home (and after MJ refuses to construct a Lego Star Destroyer, whatever the hell that is), Peter pulls out the checkers he found on day two of his stay. Apparently, he was stir-crazy enough by then to raid ever nook and cranny of the house in search of entertainment for his overactive mind. They sprawl out in front of the fire. Neither of them know the rules, so he stacks his checkers into towers while she lays down patterns and skips them across the board. That devolves into deciding to create a single high stack, which devolves further into attempting to flip the checkers of the collapsed tower into the air with their thumbs, like tossing a coin. Peter flicks one as MJ’s leaning forward and it drops straight down the front of her sweater. He makes an offhanded joke about retrieving it and they laugh until their eyes meet and they remember that they’re alone, that it doesn’t have to be a joke. They scatter the last of the checkers scrambling to get close to one another.

She kisses him fiercely. The fire makes one side of her body hot, one of her eyelids glow orange before her closed eyes. Every time they do this is one time closer to having to let him go, but MJ isn’t interested in that right now. His neck is warm under her palm and her foot slips on the empty checkerboard when his fingers hook behind her knee to draw her leg towards him. They aren’t in each other’s laps yet, but it’s close. She’s getting used to the scratch of his scruff against her cheeks, chin, and upper lip. Can Peter feel her sweating when he slips a hand up the back of her sweater? Is his shiver as she moves her leg over his more than a sign that he wants to scoot closer to the fire? Pulling back from the kiss, she lets him strip her sweater off. The checker plonks out. He smiles as he spots the pendant hanging against her t-shirt. He groans more than he did cutting his finger as she takes his hand and places it on her ribcage, urging him with her eyes to reposition his palm where they both want it to be. MJ watches him swallow. Looking down, she sees firelight rippling in the flower’s black glass and Peter’s hand rising to cup her breast. She leans into it and grabs the back of his neck for another kiss.

As she’s psyching herself up to straddle her boyfriend’s lap, there’s a trill from nearby.

“What was that? I thought you didn’t have a phone.”

MJ releases Peter and—it’s not her fault—her gaze skims down his body as he stands. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

“It’s an alert,” he says, tone so serious that she feels bad for staring at his erection. She only sneaks one more glance as he unearths a tablet from amongst the tools he’s been using to fiddle with his Spider-Man suit. Two glances.

“What happened?” she asks. “Are you in danger?”

“I’d protect you if there was any danger,” Peter promises, not looking away from the screen. He says it like it’s obvious, but the statement floors MJ, preventing her from quipping back about being able to protect herself. “But it’s not that. Just the weather.”

He tilts the screen in offer and she rises to stand next to him, looking at a swirling graphic.

“Snow?”

“Mhmm.”

“But it’s already snowed,” she says. “This is worth sending you an alert about? How do we set this thing to ‘do not disturb unless someone has a missile locked onto this house’?”

“Jesus, MJ.”

She shrugs.

“Or just a shifty-looking mail carrier driving by. Whatever. I don’t want to be narrowminded in my assumption of the appearance of a modern assassin.”

“Sometimes the people looking out for me go overboard about the wrong things,” he allows. “Looks like the snow isn’t coming until around three in the morning. We’ll be asleep. It won’t bother us.”

“It’ll bother me if I have to hear that sound again for no good reason.”

Peter tosses the tablet back onto the couch.

“I’m supposed to keep it on, but we can ignore it.”

“Yes,” she agrees, the heat of the fire around the level of her knees inspiring new heat to rise higher. “Let’s ignore it.”

“We can just get ready for bed. You’re probably tired from the drive today, right?”

And he’s looking at her so honestly, so innocently, that MJ finds herself nodding at his solicitousness. He’s too busy being kind to appreciate that she wants to stay right here by the fire and rub up against him until she sees stars. But maybe he doesn’t think they’re there yet. The timeline of their relationship is slightly fucked up, what with Peter having to flee the city as a fugitive. Have they been together the past six months or is this their second date? Maybe shyly holding hands is still their speed and MJ is majorly jumping the gun in wanting to pull his pants down and get a better look at what she started by putting Peter’s hand on her boob.

So, he puts the fire out and she brushes her teeth, then changes into her pajamas in the second bedroom. The house has central heating, meaning it’s still warm, but the walls and bedspread are bland, there’s no atmosphere without the hearth. MJ realizes she’s kept Peter’s slippers all day when she sits down on the edge of her mattress with a sigh and kicks her feet free. He’s right, she should be tired. The travel and the overwhelming joy of getting to see, hear, and touch him should make it easy to crawl into bed and let the sound of the wind—it’s picking up, carrying snowflakes—lull her to sleep.

MJ doesn’t even get the blanket folded down before she’s up, opening her door and crossing the hall to Peter’s room. Her hand hovers over the doorknob, then raises, ready to rap on the door instead. No, fuck it, she twists the doorknob and steps into his bedroom. Peter’s lying on his back in the dark with his eyes wide open. She leaves the door open behind her so the light he left on in the bathroom (in case she needed to get up during the night) can continue to show her the look on his face. The look of relief.

“I was gonna come to you, but I wasn’t sure…” He trails off.

“That would’ve been ok with me,” she assures him, holding her arms as the chill of standing around in a t-shirt starts to get to her, “but I don’t mind coming to you.”

“Come to me then,” Peter says, pushing back his bedsheets and shifting over.

“I missed you so much,” she gasps.

“I missed you.”

She strides to the bed and feels his arms tug her close even as she’s still drawing the blanket over herself. Peter hugs her hard and it’s ok that it’s horizontal because he’s also held onto her a hundred feet in the air, the two of them swinging between buildings. Any way he wants to hold her is ok.

What MJ thought, when she barged in here, was that they’d have some dramatic, fiery scene with passionate kissing and creaking bedsprings. She regrets undervaluing Peter’s warmth. As a person, but also physically. Cuddling into him beats slipping between cold sheets in the other bedroom. It’s nice to be wrapped around him in a moment that isn’t immediately following an attempt on his life, knowing that he isn’t going to leave her this time. Though she’s the one who’ll have to leave the next day, trusting Peter to stay put while she sleeps is what gets her to start drifting. This is better than having him as a captive napping buddy on the airplane. No motion sickness. They’ve already landed. He kisses her temple and she ducks her head into his chest, imagining she can count his heartbeats instead of sheep, knowing the steady glug of her own heart means more to him than he could tell her in words alone.

—

This morning is not last night.

The first thing MJ does is raise her head to squint at the time on the digital clock next to Peter’s bed. The second thing is pressing her mouth to his as he mumbles a sleepy, “Good morning.” It’s 6am, a disgusting hour at home, but here, a perfect time to start the day, and seize that day, as she is seizing a fistful of the t-shirt he slept in. She can feel him smiling. She can feel him reacting in lots of ways.

When she doesn’t slow the kisses, loosen her grip on the front of his shirt, or draw back entirely in embarrassment, Peter pulls her beneath him. It’s a lazy motion, like a cat swiping at something with a paw. His weight rests comfortably on top of her. Shifting around rucks her t-shirt up, so she drops a hand to his waist and slides his up too, until their skin meets from their ribs to the bands of their pajama bottoms. Her boyfriend groans and gropes for her thigh, hiking it against his hip. The noise and the blatant display of want (in addition to the erection now pressing directly between her legs) have MJ rubbing against him excitedly. She attempts to simultaneously kiss him harder and get his shirt off over his head. They struggle together, laughing, and once it’s gone, Peter drops back onto her with fervour.

His hands grip her hips, skim her waist, get tangled up in her hair. MJ catches one and guides it beneath her t-shirt. Their gazes lock and he seems to buck against her involuntarily, lightly squeezing her breast. With an airy moan from her, their kisses turn rabid. Their hips rock agonizingly out of sync for a minute—maybe less, maybe more, her mind isn’t on the clock anymore—then his erection strokes firmly up the center of her and they figure it out. They have to. She’s suddenly hellbent on feeling that again and, honestly, Peter doesn’t look any less devoted when their kisses are forced to stop thanks to the violence of their clothed grinding.

She comes first, clutching his back and his shoulder. He comes with a sharp flick of his hips that brings to mind the way he looses a web from his wrist. Kinda the same principle, she concludes, feeling the dampness of his pajamas against her abdomen before he flops to the side with a blissful, disbelieving sigh. MJ stretches out her legs and curls her toes. A grin creeps up her face.

“Good morning,” she replies.

Peter lets out a solo laugh.

Then he just says, “Wow.”

Still smiling, she buries her face in his pillow and lets him move around her as he gets up for the day.

“It’s early,” she says, lifting her head at the creak of him pushing the bedroom door wider.

“I know.” He stares at her adoringly. There’s no other word for it. “Being in bed with you is… too good. If I stay, I’ll go back to sleep, and I don’t want that. I want to see you as much as I can before you go.”

MJ’s smile fades. Right. That.

“And you’re walking out of the room,” she points out.

“Because I have to take a shower,” Peter laughs. “A short shower. Then you can shower, or not shower, and we’ll have breakfast and make the morning last as long as we can, ok?”

Can she just make him tuck himself into the box of kitchen stuff she brought and take him back home with her? Being apart from him again—willingly turning her back on this house and making new tracks in the snow—feels impossible. They aren’t supposed to be apart. But MJ nods, knowing it’s easier on them both that way. She watches him head towards the bathroom and reminds herself that this stay with him has already meant more to her than she anticipated.

She’s in her room gathering toiletries and clothes when she hears Peter shut the shower off. That’s on purpose. She doesn’t need to wonder any more about her lack of restraint today; seeing him walk back into his bedroom soaking wet and likely dressed in nothing but a towel would definitely test her. His presence in her thoughts as she shampoos her hair under the low pressure of the showerhead is sufficiently distracting. She braids her hair when she’s done, simply to focus herself with the task (and because she didn’t bring a hairdryer and accepts that her boyfriend’s probably not hiding one here someplace). Pausing at the door, she takes a deep breath, determined to look him in the eye and not just stare at the floor and blush because he’s touched her skin and brought her to orgasm. She smiles to herself in a moment of private congratulation.

Peter would probably hear her approaching footfalls no matter what, but with his too-big slippers flapping on her feet, MJ’s prepared for him to be looking at her when she makes her entrance into the kitchen. She’s not prepared for the box of Cheerios sitting on his table. Shit. Only now does she remember the condoms and where she stowed them. As she looks on, trying to think of what to say, Peter cheerfully pours himself a bowl and adds milk.

“Two things,” he says while she shuffles cautiously into the room. “First thing: you won’t believe what I found in with the cereal. Talk about a prize in every box.”

“Loser,” she mutters, rolling her eyes even as her cheeks flush.

“Super weird that that’s not the biggest thing I have to tell you, but I definitely want to get back to it, but, second thing, it snowed.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I remember.”

“Ok, well, it really snowed. Serious snow. Big, high, white and drifted snow.”

“You’ve slipped into song lyrics.”

“I got an alert,” Peter says, lifting the tablet he showed her the night before from the table.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“It came through when you were in the shower, though it is harder to hear the noise from down the hall.”

MJ gives him a questioning look.

“I might’ve been on my way to the bathroom to, uh, see if you needed anything,” he explains, blushing guiltily, “when I heard it and had to come back out here.”

“Is this your handlers overreacting again?” But even as she asks, she turns towards the window. Of course, for security reasons, the blinds are down and the curtains are shut. “Can I look?”

He nods and she crosses the kitchen to take a quick peek, not wanting to jeopardize his safety. The level of the snow dips down near the side of the house, but the drift rises steeply. Within a few feet, it appears high enough to come up to her hips if she waded outside. And it’s still falling.

“There’s a lot of snow out there,” MJ informs him in a mildly panicked tone, snapping the curtains back into place.

“Mhmm. Cheerios?”

“You should be eating the eggs I brought you while they’re fresh,” she counters.

Her comment is half-hearted and distracted though and she too goes for the cereal. Between spoonfuls, Peter, across from her when she sits down at the table, unspools the consequences of the heavy snowfall.

“So, obviously, this isn’t an emergency, but it’s not ideal. You’re probably gonna have to stay another night.”

“Ok,” MJ says slowly. “Another night. But my parents are expecting me home tonight.”

“I’m sure Fury or somebody’ll get in touch with May and have her make something up. Trust me, nobody wants any questions to come up that’ll lead back to me.”

“What’s the ‘probably’ depend on?”

“Hmm?” He slurps the milk off his spoon.

“You say I’d probably have to stay tonight. Does that depend on how much more snow we get?”

“Um, yeah, that and a couple other things,” Peter says vaguely. MJ frowns at him.

“I came all the way out here to be with you, Parker. I could not be more in the middle of things than I am right now. Tell me what you know.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He lets his spoon clink into his bowl. “So, the snow for sure. I mean, I’m guessing they have something heavy-duty that could plough the road if they had to, but getting a plough here would be conspicuous thing number one and having this rural road cleared when the rest of the area won’t be would be conspicuous thing number two. If you left that way, I’d have to leave too, get put in a new safehouse—”

“I don’t want to cause that big of a problem,” MJ assures him, finally pouring out her own bowl and trying to find some comfort in breakfast.

“You’re the furthest thing in the world from a problem,” Peter says with a quick smile. “But alright, so, with the alert, they suggested another option.”

“Which is?”

“To airlift you out.”

She bites down on her spoon as her jaw tenses.

“I don’t, um, really enjoy heights.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I remember.”

“You dropped me and it wasn’t funny.”

“Aw, that was months ago. Can’t we laugh about it now?” Her expression is his answer. “I actually did figure you’d feel that way. This would’ve been a helicopter, no landing, just somebody coming down a ladder to grab you and help you up into the chopper.”

“Don’t say ‘chopper’ like you’re Arnold Schwarzenegger. You’re way too much of a dork to be using that word. And yes, before you ask, I am criticizing you to mask my fear over how horrifying that sounds.”

“I told them no.”

“Wait… I thought… you didn’t have communication, right? Like, that’s why you can’t talk to your aunt.” Or me, MJ tacks on internally.

“Oh, it’s not a conversation. They just send through the planned course of action and usually I don’t have a choice, but this time I could basically give them a yes or no, proceed or no-go, you know?”

She sighs shakily.

“Thank you for not making me do that.”

“Well, based on the weather, they could ask again, so you always have a chance to change your mind, if you want.”

Peter’s not meeting her eye.

“Why the hell would I change my mind about dangling from a helicopter in a blizzard?”

“If you wanted to go,” he says quietly. “You’re the other thing this plan depends on. Like you said, your parents are expecting you and—”

“Peter,” MJ says, “the fact that I’m not being subjected to an extreme chopper rescue is only the thing that I’m second most grateful for. Getting to spend more time with you is number one. If they don’t have to draw attention to this house, and if your aunt covers for me, that’s great.”

Looking up, he gives her a mostly-convinced smile. Seeing it, she knows she has to press further. She taps her slipper against the top of his foot under the table.

“I hope it snows for a week,” she says firmly.

Peter beams. He lifts his cereal bowl and holds it out to her.

“Cheers,” he offers. After a derisive snort, she taps her bowl against his.

They eat in a comfortable silence for several minutes. Blocking out the death-defying premise of the recent plan, MJ considers the ramifications of staying put. She trusts May. May will know what to say to her parents, she’s very compassionate—and hopefully a believable liar. Well, MJ figures she’d have to be, with Spider-Man under her roof. School’s on winter break, so she doesn’t need to worry about an alibi for her teachers, though the flu would’ve worked as an excuse. It seems like she’s good from every angle. Resting her cheek against her hand as she scoops the remaining Cheerios onto her spoon, she observes Peter and feels herself smiling just to see him in front of her. His face in real life is still sorta miraculous.

“So,” he begins when she grabs his bowl (the guy’s been doing his solitary dishes for months—she doesn’t mind helping out), “I have a really important question.”

“Still a no to the helicopter.”

MJ has her back to her boyfriend, placing the bowls in the sink, when he responds.

“Should I shave?”

She turns, frowning in confusion.

“That’s up to you.”

“Well, see, maybe I would’ve this morning, except I promised I would be quick in the bathroom, and then anyway, I figured you’d be leaving soon and there wouldn’t be that many more opportunities for us to—”

“Oh my god,” she says as she catches on. “Please stop.”

“But if it bothers you,” Peter presses, rubbing the back of his fingers up his stubbled cheek, “when we’re kissing…”

“It doesn’t. It’s different, but… I’m good. You don’t have to shave for me.”

“Hypothetically though, if we were kissing for a longer period of time, I wouldn’t want to hurt your skin.”

“God, Peter, how long are you imagining we’d be kissing for that my face would be damagingly abraded?”

“Then,” he says, spreading his hands to their apparent future possibilities, “what if it wasn’t rubbing against your face?”

Spinning away from him, MJ stares with wide eyes at the wall above the sink.

“Does the idea of me kissing your neck freak you out?” Peter asks her back. “I don’t have to do that.”

Her shoulders slump as she laughs.

“My neck,” she murmurs to herself. “He meant my neck.”

“What do you— oh.” Goddamn enhanced hearing. “Uh, well, I-I didn’t know you had stuff in mind.”

“I don’t have anything in mind,” she says, turning to look at him.

Peter grabs the Cheerios and gets up to put them away. Holding her gaze, he pulls the box of condoms out of the drawer as he slots the cereal in.

“These showed up when you did. Unless some assassin broke in and left me a really sickening present.”

“I didn’t pack them, your aunt-slash-wingwoman did.”

His expression changes several times as he digests that.

“That seems like something May would do,” is what he lands on.

“It’s… thoughtful of her. Responsible parenting,” MJ agrees stiffly, trying to deal with the visual of Peter casually holding a box of condoms. Cool. Fine.

“So, the thought of… It’s just May making sure, in case anything… Yeah. I got it.”

But that’s not quite right.

“I’ve thought about it,” MJ blurts. “Not for this weekend, because I only expected to be here a night and this is something we should, you know, discuss.”

“Totally,” Peter says eagerly.

“I just don’t want you to think I haven’t…” She waves a hand.

“Thought about it,” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I’ve thought about it. Like, a lot,” he divulges with a relieved laugh that he quickly concludes with a clearing of his throat. “A normal amount.”

“That’s good,” she assures him. Her gestures feel gawky, her features feel misplaced on her face.

“I’d definitely be up for discussing it, especially after, uh…” Peter ruffles his damp hair as his face flushes. “…this morning.”

MJ’s suddenly made up of thoughts, so many thoughts that there’s no room for words, no possibility of speaking. This morning. Uh huh. Valid recollection on her boyfriend’s part. This morning was fantastic and kind of but not wildly unexpected and certainly closer to the sort of thing they’d need those condoms for than the few times they’ve made out have been.

“That makes sense,” she says, voice weak when it finally comes out, along with plenty of nodding. Too much nodding, really.

He sets the box on the counter.

“We could talk about it now.”

“We could do that,” MJ agrees, pulse accelerating with every additional second he spends looking at her. “The thing is, it’s early, it’s really early, and if we talk about that now, we’re gonna lose the whole day.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise.

“God, yeah, you’re right. You know, I think I’m, like, oversimplifying this discussion in my head because, yep, definitely, if you have a lot you want to say about it before—or if, even!—we, uh, proceed, then you should absolutely take the whole day to just get all your thoughts out there. For sure. I… yes. I support you and you should take all the time you need. More than a day! You could definitely take more than a day, obviously. You know that. I hope you do. Whatever you want, MJ.”

“I actually just meant that if we started talking about it, we’d lose the whole day to doing it.”

“Oh.” He sits with that thought for a minute, eyes roving the kitchen ceiling. “Why would that be a problem?”

He asks with such genuine confusion that MJ has to laugh, and that relaxes her.

“If we can’t think hard enough to determine why it’d be a problem, it’s a problem,” she reasons. “I want to think this through. I want us to both be ready. That alone—” She points at the condoms. “—doesn’t make us ready.”

“Ok. We’ll completely forget about them. No problem.”

Fueled by the intense focusing power of sexual tension, they pass the morning learning something that may actually be checkers as it was intended to be played. Anything around them making sense is an accident, as far as MJ is concerned, and mastering the probably-rules of the game isn’t really a win because it means they have to scramble to find something else to distract them. Peter takes up a post on the ceiling, cross-legged, and lets the body of his Spider-Man suit dangle down while he retools something in the hands. When he puts on the mask and starts talking to Karen, MJ quits watching him and goes into the kitchen to make them an early lunch of an extra-large omelette. It seems like a nice idea to curl up and eat together until Peter touches her hip a certain way and she looks at him too long. They force themselves to sit on separate couches.

After lunch, he digs out some non-Stark-tech supplies, like paper and pens. He lights a small fire and she draws. Once he starts paying more attention to her drawings than to his stuff, she draws for him, pulling her legs back so he can share her couch. She crafts caricatures of their friends, plays them across the page in short cartoons that are semi-faithful to the boring goings-on of their lives at Midtown this fall without Peter. He falls asleep with his head resting against the back of the couch and she executes swift sketches to capture the softness of his features. She doesn’t know how long his supine pose will last. She never knows how long anything will last, with him. He stays asleep, so MJ leaves her drawings and steals into the Lego room, disassembling at will. Peter’s a little panicked when he walks in half an hour later, but sorting the pieces she’s jumbled will give him something to do while she takes her own nap, she reasons.

But where to? The spare room doesn’t call to her in the slightest and returning to his bed will bring thoughts that’ll only keep her awake. She needs to revive after their too-early morning; she troops back to the couch and passes out with the warmth of the fire near her feet and the jangling of plastic Lego bricks in the other room.

The rustle of paper is the first thing MJ hears when she wakes up. She can’t remember dreaming last night, but during her nap, her subconscious played a short film of the two of them giggling as Peter cooked his Spidey suit in the fireplace. Weird. She blinks, tracing the sound to her boyfriend, cross-legged on the floor with his back against the couch as he flips through her rough portraits of him.

“Maybe you can do one of you,” he suggests without looking back at her. “And I can keep it when you leave. I don’t have any pictures of anybody.”

She hesitates a moment, then leans to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders from behind.

“How’d you know I was awake?”

“I heard your breathing change.” A pause. “It sounds pretty creepy when I say it out loud, but I’m just doing what you do.” Peter twists to look at her, putting his hand over the back of hers on his chest. “Observing.”

“Right.” MJ glances down abruptly. “Like with the cereal drawer this morning and what you observed in there.”

“I hate to tell you this, but it sounds like you’re gonna talk about the thing you said we shouldn’t talk about.”

“I found clarity in unconsciousness.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means our problems don’t just disappear. Obviously.” She waves one hand in front of him, indicating the room where Peter’s presumably spent most of his waking hours since arriving here. “We have to solve them.”

“Is it… us having sex… a problem?”

“I don’t want it to be. I just want us to be, you know, in agreement. Not rushing into anything.”

“I think…” Peter sighs and shifts so he can look at her without contorting. She withdraws her arms from him and sits up, crossing her legs in her lap, planting her elbows on her knees. “I think we’re not gonna get everything we want. How can we, with these conditions? I don’t even know when I’m gonna get to see you again. We can wait, which is alright with me, but I can’t tell you how long we’ll be waiting for.”

“I’m not asking.”

“Because you know I have zero control here,” he says in a tone full of more irritation than she’s seen him display yet. “I don’t even choose what I eat for breakfast! It’s not like they’ve asked me to write up a grocery list. I am so sick of Cheerios. Out there, I was helping people, but stuck here… I don’t know, MJ. I’m basically powerle—”

She folds forward and kisses him, grabbing his face to hold him in place for a few extra seconds until his lips copy hers and quit trying to form the rest of that word.

“No,” MJ insists, face still close to his, “you’re not. And just so you know where I stand…” She takes a deep, terrified breath, pushing out the only truth she’s ever had trouble articulating: “…you are everything I want.”

Peter’s eyes are awed and hopeful as his gaze darts across her face.

“What about what you said about not rushing?”

“That was for your benefit. Personally, I can’t rush what I’ve already decided.”

“Especially not when May sends you here prepared, I guess,” he checks with a coy smile.

“We don’t have to do anything else,” MJ emphasizes, sidestepping the dork’s comment. “It’s amazing just being with you—and I will deny I said that so bluntly if you ever tell anyone.”

She smiles so he knows she’s teasing. He still jerks his head back in mock offense. Suddenly, his expression clarifies to… horror.

“You don’t wanna do this because you’re worried, do you?” Peter demands. “Not because you think I’m gonna forget about you or stop caring about you like this?”

“No.” But she averts her eyes because she did have that concern on the drive here yesterday, right up until they hugged. “I’m not trying to use sex for anything. If… if you did stop… and you wanted to be just friends again, that’s not something I could prevent. I realize now that I can’t focus on that possibility because—”

“Because it’s not a possibility at all.” He ducks his head until her gaze is trapped by his. Shaking his head, Peter says, “I’m sure about you, MJ. I’m not sure when I’ll be home or if the world—or even just the neighbourhood—will still want a Spider-Man by the time I can be that guy again, but I know the first thing I’m gonna wanna do when I get back is give you a kiss. Not as friends.”

“What about now? Do you want to kiss me now?”

“I always wanna kiss you.”

Right as he stretches towards her—seemingly poised to prove what he said—MJ jerks back. Peter looks up at her quizzically.

“Anything while I was asleep? Any alerts? I don’t want a whole team to come storming in here while I’m taking your pants off.”

It takes her boyfriend a few seconds to get his words out.

“I-I don’t want that either,” he says, voicing cracking as his cheeks redden. He shakes his head. “No alerts. Nothing. That means no change to the plan for you to stay here tonight.”

“Good. I was sorta getting used to the idea. They would’ve had a fight getting me out of here.”

She raises her chin confrontationally and Peter grins.

“And some people think Spider-Man’s trouble. They should meet his girlfriend, who marches in with a box of condoms and won’t leave until he sleeps with her.”

MJ gapes at him.

“That’s not what I did.”

Peter pushes up to his knees, smiling as he cradles her face in his palm.

“It’s basically what you did.”

“You massively oversimplified the events of the past—” She squints and makes a guess. “—thirty hours.”

“I was hitting the highlights,” he argues, sliding his hand to the back of her neck to draw her down to him.

Her laugh is as brief as one of her quick heartbeats as Peter’s fingers stroke her neck and he angles his head.

“Is that how you’re going to tell this story to our grandkids?”

The mirth falls from both of their faces; they absorb her facetious quip in the same instant. Then, their mouths slam together—MJ diving down, Peter surging up. Though she has the high ground (and doesn’t say as much to the guy with a roomful of Star Wars Lego), he builds momentum out of nowhere, driving her up until he’s hovering, then lowering, on top of her. She’s holding him as tightly as she can as they continue to kiss hard.

On instinct, she assumes, their bodies copy the morning’s posture with her thigh against Peter’s hip. He grasps it and presses his hips to hers. MJ swipes her tongue along his when she feels him hardening between her legs. This was always only a maybe, she thinks, eyes moving fast behind her lids as they follow the red glow of the fire that the movement of his head is causing to shift across her face. But this definitely feels like they know where they’re going. Somebody’ll need to go get the condoms from the kitchen at some point. Peter swings his head to kiss down her neck and MJ sighs. Yeah, at some point.

These clothes might not come off as easily as the red suit on the opposite couch, but his eagerness compensates for the fact that he can’t just tap his chest to drop everything to the floor. When both their top halves are bare (as with anything, Peter does not mind lending a hand in undressing her), he pulls MJ up so he’s sitting with her straddling his lap. He groans into her mouth as she traces the muscles of his abdomen and she hops forward to nudge her hips into his again.

“If I don’t go now,” he pants, “I don’t know when I’m gonna get up to grab a condom.”

So, he’s been thinking the same thing she has. MJ smirks.

“You should probably get one,” she encourages.

But he has her jeans undone and her hand down the front of his sweats—still over his underwear, for the moment—before he manages to repeat his words with any resolve. She throws herself aside and stares into the fire, licking her lips to chase the memory of his mouth’s pressure, while he scurries to the kitchen. His naked torso is beautiful in the glow when he jogs (dork) back in.

“You think it’s safe to leave that?” MJ asks, nodding towards the fireplace. “My preference would be not doing this on a couch the first time.”

“Second time?” he jokes.

“Maybe,” she says seriously, just to see the dumbfounded look it puts on his face.

“Yeah… we can, yeah… It’ll be fine. So, you wanna… my bed?”

“The traditional yet practical choice.”

He happily sighs out his, “Yeah,” and she wonders if he heard anything following her agreement to a theoretical second round. Probably not—he spoke staring at her boobs.

“What if I carried you?” Peter blurts as she’s about to stand.

“…I can walk.”

“Yeah, but… can I carry you?”

She watches him for a moment as he awaits her answer. She’s watched him so many times, but never while he was waiting for her, trying to find something to grasp in the silence, this guy who’s more than human and always flitting from one web to the next. MJ ends his freefall.

“Ok, Peter.”

As giddy with nerves as she was on their first date when he held her tight and wrenched her off her feet, she stands. He steps in close, taking her face softly between his hands, kissing her. She hops into his arms the second he lets go and laughs at Peter and herself when the action tips him back. He holds on though, pulling her thighs in snugly around his waist before catching her back to press her to his chest. MJ’s scared to kiss him as he walks them to his bedroom; arms wrapped behind his neck, she stares at him instead. They’re about to do this. He’s going to be inside her.

“You got it?” she checks once he’s sat her on the edge of the bed.

Peter plucks the condom from his pocket to show her. MJ nods in acknowledgement and he sets it on the nightstand. With a condom nearby—this assurance that they are responsible people and can therefore do whatever the fuck they like—she reaches for his hand and draws him in. Kissing, she scoots back and he crawls over her. She gasps when he moves his mouth enthusiastically to her neck and he jerks his head up with a self-satisfied expression.

“The sheets are cold,” she lies defensively. Peter just smiles and burrows his face back into the warm crook between her neck and shoulder.

“They’ll get warmer.”

MJ can’t believe it when she’s the one being stripped out of her pants first (her boyfriend is such a willing undresser). She feels vulnerable, between the sheets in only her underwear, but she’s determined enough to relocate Peter’s hand from her waist to her breast. He thanks her in a passionate mumble that raises hairs on the back of her neck as he darts in to kiss her firmly. Parting her thighs, she thanks him in return, for the kiss or the way he’s kneading her nipple between finger and thumb or something, relieved when he lowers his hips and she can feel his erection under his sweats. Fuck, a week ago, she was trying to convince herself that she’d be lucky and get Peter back next year. This is the greatest surprise.

Though she doubts she could knock the wind out of him, he huffs when she squeezes her thighs to his hips and unbalances him, rolling him over and landing on top.

“Wow, you wanna do it like this? I mean, yeah, awesome.”

Sitting astride him, MJ rolls her eyes.

“I just thought it’d be easier to get you out of your pants this way, since you seem like you’ve forgotten that you need to actually take them off.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly.

“I just didn’t want to rush you, like you said. Or freak you out or scare you,” he rambles.

This idiot.

“Why would I be scared? Are you concealing a weapon or something?”

“No,” he jokes with a goofy smile, pressing his hips upward, “I’m just happy to see you.”

“You so did not deserve those condoms.”

“Didn’t I?” Peter asks, the two of them working his sweatpants and boxers down. (She’s touching his thighs. His bare thighs. Jesus.)

“No. Huge mistake. You’re not mature enough for this. I’m going to tell your aunt.”

As long as MJ keeps talking, dropping onto her side and slipping her own underwear off is just a background thing that’s happening while she speaks. Her heart is hammering.

“Oh, are you?” he questions, running a warm, tentative hand down the curve of her naked hip.

“Mhmm. She’ll be really disappointed in you for, uh, wasting supplies.”

“Maybe I could make it up to you and you could forgive me.”

Peter’s fingers trace low over her belly, making her stomach flinch with the anticipation. He touches between her legs, the contact the subtlest flirtation. The look in his eyes says he doesn’t know what he’s doing either, but that he wants to do it together. Holding his stare, she rolls onto her back.

He proceeds when she widens the space between her thighs. His touch feels… fine, but not exciting, and MJ wonders if it’s because she’s watching him, possibly making him nervous. She closes her eyes and instinctually angles her head to press her forehead against Peter’s shoulder. Gradually, he strokes her with more assurance and she quietly mutters “yes” each time he does something that feels good. By the time he’s gotten her seriously wet and turned on, she’s gripping the sheet with one hand and his wrist with the other, urging him to go faster. Her body’s not satisfied but humming as Peter jolts recklessly across her to snatch the condom. He kisses her right as she’s opening her eyes at the disturbance.

“Yeah?” he asks, dick in hand.

She nods, breathing quickly and needing him to act before the sensations he’s stirred up dim.

“Yeah.”

It’s out of character, how slowly he moves next. He’s capable of care in abundance, of course, but patience? Caution? Restraint? None of these are words that would come to mind if someone asked her to describe her boyfriend. They cling to each other as he works his way deeper in incremental thrusts. Because he’s trembling, she holds him tight. She probably would regardless. Things almost stall, but then he gropes between them, locating her clit, and her clutch on him squeezes and releases, allowing him to suddenly slide all the way home.

“Fuck,” he says softly, head hunched down beside hers.

MJ rubs her hands over the quivering muscles of his back, certain the two of them are generating enough heat to melt the snow around the house and all the way up the road.

“I’m gonna come if I do anything,” Peter says in a desperate tone. “I can’t move.”

“You can move.”

“No. I… I wanna take care of you. MJ, please.��

Between them, she finds his hand and guides it in rubbing her clit. His body’s held taut above her and she turns her head to meet his searching eyes. Her neck arches involuntarily at her first unexpected moan and Peter clamps his eyes shut like it’s all too much. So she watches his tense, determined face while manipulating his fingers over her. When she’s close, coating his cock in her arousal many times over, MJ tells Peter to open his eyes. Then, she begins to rock her hips, letting him glide in and out. Their hands continue to stimulate her until she orgasms with a wet cry and pulls his fingers away. They hold hands hard and he thrusts with crazed strokes, coming with an understated choked noise.

He hasn’t quit shaking when he climbs off of her to deal with the condom.

“I don’t know,” Peter says, sliding back into bed and allowing her to weave her limbs around his. She smiles at how baffled he sounds.

“You’re ok.”

“This feels like shock, like I get after a bad beating.”

She sighs exasperatedly at this news. She might’ve suspected his secret identity for a while before he confirmed it, but she doesn’t know everything, isn’t in on all the missions and outcomes yet. When he gets home—after all this bullshit—she’ll demand to be kept in the loop.

“I guess you’re just overwhelmed.”

“That felt really fucking good,” Peter confesses in a low, stunned voice.

MJ starts to giggle and can’t stop. Tears stream down her face, into her hair, onto her boyfriend’s skin. He laughs too, but holds her greedily all the while. It reminds her how temporary this is.

Except, no. It’s not. No one can stop them from remembering this after she goes and he stays. No one can stop them from making plans, having hopes. Days are temporary, like snow, but feelings can last. How she feels about Peter definitely can. She’s made it this far and, on his end, so has he. On impulse, MJ kisses his forehead.

“I know what’ll help. Something to eat. We can see what else you have that can be cooked in the fireplace.”

“Frozen lasagna?” he proposes.

“Why not? Let’s try it.”

#my writing #promptmas #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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kabira · 4 years ago

Text

07 | trust issues

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 3k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

Vernon swung over the busy street that led towards Central Park, disgruntled by the surprise subunit. Nova flew alongside him, just a few feet before him—he could probably fly a lot faster, but Vernon knew he was flying this close to him purposefully, letting him know that Nova would always be faster than Spider-Man.

God, the little things about this kid irritated him even more than the big stuff.

He spotted Shocker through the trees, the lining of his suit glinting like gold in the afternoon sunlight. The villain raised his gauntlets and slammed them into the ground with a yell, making it vibrate with the frequency of his sonic blasts. Vernon flipped in mid-air, perching on the branch of a tree out of his blast radius.

“So what’s the sitch?” Yangyang asked, hovering next to him, and Vernon cast a glance around. Terrorizing civilians seemed like a bit of a stretch since there weren’t really many civilians around, and those that were had managed to find a place that was protected from the blasts. The cops had been driven back by the blasts, and the few shots they took were easily deflected by the energy discharges.

The ground shook with every hit, but since Shocker was on hard-packed earth instead of concrete, most of the force was absorbed. The terrain was cracked in places, deep trenches left in the dry ground from the explosions. The few people in the area had been driven up the bridge, but Vernon didn’t like their chances—Shocker might not have intended to hurt them, but he was getting dangerously close. One misdirected blast was all it would take to topple the side holding up the bridge.

“Stay out of range of the vibro-shock gauntlets,” Vernon told him. It wasn’t the kind of crime that required their immediate, undivided attention, since Shocker didn’t seem to be doing any real damage, but who knew how long that mood would last? “They might look easy to dodge, but they’re actually pretty deadly and have a large discharge radius, so steer clear of them. Try to stay off the ground.”

“And the takedown?” Even though he wasn’t happy about being stuck with Nova on this mission, Vernon was still pleased to see that at least the guy was listening to him.

“I’ll web him up, hang him upside down from a tree or something,” Vernon replied. “You should fly up there first, distract him so I can get up close.”

“Why do that when I can just take him out with one blast?” Nova muttered, and Vernon shot him a dark look. “But I don’t want to get back to school that early, so we’ll do it your way. This guy sure looks like he could use some fun.”

Vernon pursed his lips, not feeling so sure. He wanted to say that it wasn’t like Shocker to behave so erratically, but that would probably just make him sound like an idiot—how was anyone supposed to know what normal behavior was for a criminal?

“Go,” he breathed, and Nova shot from his side like a rocket—a human rocket, as he often liked to describe himself. He was on Shocker in a second, zipping around him like an annoying, oversized fly, getting all up in his personal space and confusing him. Shocker’s face was covered, hiding his expressions, but from the rigid lines of his body Vernon could tell the guy was getting pissed. He took his chance, diving off the branch and executing a low swing worthy of Tarzan, kicking Shocker in the chest with both feet and sending him flying into a tree behind, which cracked and splintered under the blunt force.

“Oh, Herman, Herman,” he tutted, as Shocker righted himself with an angered yell. Vernon moved with the speed and grace of a—well, a spider, dodging a powerful blast from his gauntlets by executing a perfect helical flip. “Haven’t you learned the hard way that fighting back is only going to make it hurt worse?”

“Spider-Man!” Shocker yelled, booting up his gauntlets, which glowed like lamplights from the charge.

“Yes, of course, who else would it be?” he asked, webbing the overhead branches and pulling himself up to avoid the incoming blasts. “Did you really think I was going to leave you here all by yourself?”

“If you’re so smart, you should have known to stay out of my way!” Shocker said, sending a concentrated blast his way. Vernon rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch.

“I didn’t say I was smart, you did,” he said, flipping back onto his feet. “What’s gotten into you, Herman? I didn’t take you to be the terrorizing type.” He avoided another blast by leaning far right. “Why are you doing this? For funsies?”

He had succeeded in drawing Shocker away from the bridge, but the clearing was too small for Shocker’s blast radius. Vernon couldn’t contain him within the safe zone for long. “Nova!” he yelled. “Get the civilians out of the way! I’ll handle this guy.”

Nova jerked his head into a nod, flying towards the bridge to evacuate the trapped people. Vernon’s spider sense tingled, but he was too late to react—a blast caught him in the chest, sending him flying into the underbrush. He coughed out the air in his lungs, and pushed himself to his feet. Ow, ow, ow.

“You should know better,” Shocker said. His gauntlets glowed again, and Vernon’s eyes widened under the mask as he raised them both towards him, the light as blinding as direct headlights.

Nova swooped in out of the air, snatching Shocker up like a bird snatching up a worm (or maybe that was a bad analogy).

“Boring!” Nova yelled, carrying Shocker higher up in the air, preparing for a good old drop to let gravity do the rest of the work. Shocker twisted, jamming his fists towards the boy’s chest and sending a shockwave through him. Nova cried out in surprise, going flying through the air in the opposite direction and ending up dropping Shocker, who righted himself by aiming a blast towards the ground at the right angle, giving himself enough of a boost to be able to land on his feet.

Not too helpful, though, because before he had a chance to celebrate the little victory, Spider-Man was upon him, webbing his fists to his chests in a cross like an empty-handed mummy, if wearing highly enhanced vibro-shock gauntlets counted as being empty-handed. Vernon webbed the nearest tree trunk, pulling himself and the incapacitated Shocker along with him by jerking at his webstrings.

“It isn’t like you to behave this way,” he said, pulling himself up to a branch. He webbed Shocker’s body, turning him in the air with the torsion of each pull, until he had him all wrapped up like a caterpillar like a cocoon, leaving only his head out. Vernon lowered himself upside-down to face the man, cocking his head inquisitively. “Aw, come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

“You’re blind, Spider-Man,” Shocker spat.

Nova reappeared next to him, scowling under the mask. “Come on, web-head,” he said. “Leave the information-extraction to the experts. Bad guys never tattle.”

“Oh, you don’t know about us,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “We go way back.” He leaned closer to Shocker. “Don’t we, Herman?” He chuckled. “Remember the first time I stopped you from robbing a bank? Good times, good times.”

Instead of answering, Shocker thrashed around in the web trap, which was pointless, of course. Vernon sighed, dropping to the ground upright, and looked up at the dangling man who was now writhing like fish bait on a hook.

“Guess you’re not in the mood to talk,” he said, keeping the note of disappointment in his voice. “Maybe the Big House will fix that for you.”

“The Big House?” Nova scoffed. “This guy barely belongs in a regular prison. How long did the fight take? Ten minutes?” He shook his head. “Are all your villains this lame?”

Vernon shot him a look that he obviously couldn’t see through his mask. “You haven’t seen a single good one yet,” he said. “My villains are dangerous.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nova barked out a laugh. “Like that one guy with a huge hot glue gun? What was his name, Trapman?”

“Trapster.”

Nova snorted. “Yeah. Real dangerous.”

Vernon rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you handle being stuck to a wall with the same disgusting gunk that’s leaked down your pants,” he said. “It’s not always so much about danger as it is about being able to handle the grossness.”

Nova grinned, obviously not believing him. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m not messing around,” he said seriously. “Can you imagine doing a stakeout mission in the sewer, waiting for a truck-sized human-lizard hybrid to come out? Not everyone has that kind of patience and tolerance.”

“Yeah, because they don’t need to have it,” Nova said. “My villains aren’t geckos.”

Vernon gave up, waiting for the authorities to arrive and pick Shocker up instead of gracing him with an answer. Shocker had gone limp, but remained silent as stone. Vernon regarded him contemplatively, still unconvinced by the tough intimidation act.

Something was definitely up.

At the end of the team’s usual briefing in the Helicarrier that day, Vernon pulled Nick Fury aside. “Uh, Agent Fury, sir?” he asked in a low voice, casting a precarious glance at his teammates, who were in the middle of leaving. Yeji, last in the line, looked back at him questioningly, but he shook his head minutely. She raised an eyebrow, but left. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” the agent said, in the process of shutting down the holographic display system. He looked up when Vernon didn’t answer. “What is it, Spider-Man?”

“This might sound like a stupid question,” he started hesitantly, “but do you know if Norman Osborn is secure?”

Fury gave him a searching look, movements slowing somewhat as he took in the question. “Of course,” he said. “Norman Osborn is nice and locked-up in the Raft.”

“And he hasn’t shown any…Goblin-y tendencies?”

Fury’s curious look intensified. “Not so far, no,” he said. “Look, kid, I’m only telling you this because you put him in there and deserve to know what’s happened to him, but I can’t release any sensitive details about his capture. Just enough that you can sleep tight at night knowing he isn’t breaking out anytime soon.”

“Thanks,” Vernon said half-heartedly. “But I just wanted to know if the OZ levels in his blood were—normal.”

“That’s what his scheduled test runs say,” he replied. “Parker, you don’t need to worry about him anymore. If there are any abnormalities, S.H.I.E.L.D. will take care of them. Rest easy.”

“And if he gets out?”

“Long shot.” Fury leaned against the table, frowning at him. “Kid, is there something you want to tell me?”

Vernon hesitated, thinking back to the Shocker incident. Herman Schultz’s behavior showed all the symptoms of a man under threat from a higher authority, and the last time he’d seen that happen was under Norman Osborn. Any irregularities were to be reported, since the city had only come back to normal recently after repeated attacks from multiple supervillains, but Vernon wasn’t sure if deviant behavior from a low-level criminal counted.

Plus, Fury had only just begun to hand him bigger responsibilities, and he didn’t want to destroy all that buildup by giving him a false lead as a result of Goblin-induced paranoia.

“Nope, just wondering,” he replied, pressing his lips into what he hoped was a believable smile. “You know, one of those things.”

The man gave him an unconvinced look, but let it go. Vernon turned back and exited the briefing room as casually as he could. The doors slid shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway, plunging him in a dimmed lighting. He exhaled, mind buzzing with thoughts.

“Norman Osborn, huh?”

Vernon turned, finding Felix leaning against the wall next to the door. He straightened as Vernon faced him. “Don’t tell me you honestly expected him to believe you,” he said, talking about Fury. “No person asks about their supervillains unless they’re worried about a comeback. What did you see?”

Vernon sighed, realizing there was no point in trying to hide his doubts from Felix. “Nothing substantial,” he answered, starting to walk down the corridor. Felix followed him. “Just some everyday robber acting out.”

“That Shocker guy you and Nova turned in today?” Felix asked, and Vernon nodded. “Why?”

“Scaring civilians for no reason…it’s just not like him,” Vernon said. “He does what he does for money, not just to strike fear into people’s hearts. Well, I guess that’s an added bonus at times,” he added, “but doing that without making money along the way doesn’t seem like something he would do.”

“So you think he was hired to take you out.”

“Not exactly…” Vernon turned the mask over in his hands, thinking. It was hard to put into words, but the sense of oncoming danger was there, like a very general, very muted version of his spider sense. The problem was, he didn’t know how to explain that to Felix. Not everyone understood how it worked. “He seemed kind of reluctant to kill me, too.”

Felix gave him an amused look. “You’re upset because a villain gave you the brush-off?”

“Very funny,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I kept thinking that was being threatened or something. Now, what for, I couldn’t say, but—”

“I get it. It’s like intuition,” Felix said, and Vernon nodded. “What does that have to do with Norman Osborn?”

“If you’ve seen him in his Goblin form, you’ve probably noticed that he can be very threatening,” he said. “But he couldn’t be behind this, because he’s in a maximum-security prison with zero contact with the outside world.”

“But you think he is.”

“I can’t think of anyone else who’d want to do this, since he’s been the only one who’s ever operated in this particular way. But I guess there’s no shortage of people who want to kill me.”

“So he’s tried to get small-time criminals to kill Spider-Man before,” Felix said. “Doesn’t sound to me like a good judge of strength.”

“To kill Vernon Parker, actually,” Vernon corrected. “He kind of…knows my identity.”

Felix frowned. “He unmasked you?”

Vernon stopped close to the end of the corridor, glancing back to see if there was anyone around, but the place was empty. Fury had probably taken a left. “Do you know how I became Spider-Man?” he asked Felix.

“Didn’t you get bitten by a radioactive spider?”

“It was an Oscorp experiment, bonding OZ to spider DNA,” Vernon said. “One of the test spiders escaped while I was touring the facility with my class, and bit me. The enhanced spider DNA bonded with mine, giving me powers. Except here’s the thing—Norman Osborn knew.”

“He did?”

“Him, and a couple of other scientists working on the OZ formula,” he said. “Figured it out by taking a sample of my blood while I was on watch in the hospital. He took the same formula and bonded it to his own DNA to enhance himself, but it messed with his brain.” Vernon studied a tiny web in the corner of the ceiling. Spiders, even up here in a S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier hundreds of feet in the air. “He told me all of this just moments before accidentally killing Harry. Turned himself in when he realized what he had done.”

“Oh.” There was a short, awkward pause. Felix came to stand beside him, following his gaze up to the tiny spiderweb in the corner. “I’m sorry.”

Vernon shook his head, turning away from the web. “It wasn’t your fault.”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Felix spoke up again. “Tell you what,” he said, making Vernon raise his eyebrows. “I’ll ask Yeji to look up both Shocker and that Rhino guy in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. We’ll go over his record later, see if he has anything to do with Norman Osborn. If something comes up, we’ll report it to Fury. You don’t have that spider intuition for nothing.”

Vernon cracked a smile. “You mean my spider sense.”

“Same difference.” Felix smiled back, but it dropped from his face just as quickly. “Hey, I almost forgot to ask—did you tell that Joshua guy who you are?”

Vernon winced, sheepishly massaging the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he said, then added hastily, “But I was going to tell you soon.”

“Never mind that,” Felix muttered. “He figured out our identities already.”

“He told you that?” he asked, trying his hardest to suppress a smile.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of protocol about it,” Felix said, “but I’m not sure. Plus, it’s one of those things you gotta deal with yourself, you know? I’m not great with the whole secret identity thing because Iceman is a public figure, but not that I’m some kind of undercover agent—” He shivered, which was a bit ironic, because Iceman and all. “You know being out could get me killed, right?”

“Because of your supervillains?”

“No, because mutant-haters.” He gave Vernon a meaningful look. “Like that girl Liz Allan in History.”

“Nah, that one’s all bark no bite,” Vernon said. “Besides, Josh isn’t going to tell anybody. He kept my Spider-Man secret for a year and still going strong.”

Felix looked at him curiously. “You trust him that much?”

“I’ve known him for years,” the brunet answered confidently. “I’d trust him with my life.”

“Well, if that’s what you think,” Felix said, “then that’s good enough for me.”

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